My previous post, "travel woes, but blessed" paints an exhausting picture of travel. Here, I want to share with you my travel from Paris to Munich.
I sat down next to this older lady. She was sweet, composed, maybe a bit wealthy or at least she knows how to look nice. We got to talking and she was visiting her son and daughter-in-law in Paris. This lady, Barbara, lived in Paris for 25 years of her life. She knows English, French, German, Italian, and is currently learning Russian. The peope here really know and care about knowing the surrounding culture's languages.
(Side note: We Americans live in such a big place, where English is so dominant. I am not blaming the us for not knowing other languages, but I think it might be a good idea in order to connect with other cultures. It would help us with foreign relations, that's for sure. Knowing someone's language is so deep and intimate. It means a lot, I think.)
Anyway, she was telling me how she has Parkinsons...she was actually telling me a lot of things. She likes to talk, about her life, her family. And, I can listen.
The train was late, so we were both to miss our connection to Munich. Usually, this would bother me, but it didn't. Mainly because I am now getting used to how all these trains work. The thing that did bother me, however, was knowing that I would have to purchase another seat reservation for the next train to Munich--when really, I already did, I just missed that train because the train I was on was late! Seat reservations can vary from 5 euro to 18 euro.
So, back to Barb--remeber how she has Parkinsons? That means she has this "handicap" card where she can have special arrangements made for her in some public places. A train being one of them. She told me that she has never used her handicap card yet--but was willing to use it in order to ensure herself a seat on the next train to Munich. She informed me that the card covers herself and a "friend" or "helper." She told me I can be her "friend." So, this whole card story was for the purpose of telling you that I did not need to worry about finding an open seat on the next train, or even purchasing another seat reservation. It was all taken care of with that pass.
I think God wanted to spare me some anxiety and make me feel taken care of. I did.
Barbara and I will most-likely grab lunch toghether one of these day in Munich (as she lives there).
The thing with travel, and specifically solo-travel is random things like this happen. I get a free seat, I make a friend I never would have had, etc. It's all very interesting. I am taking it all in and figuring out how to live a life like this for the time-being.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Paris. Need I say more?
I, however, will say more.
I was a bit anxious to travel to Paris at first. Partially, because I had to go alone and be alone for a while. And, partially because the French scare me. Not that I have deduced through my own personal experience, but rather, through the mouths of others and stereotypes built up over the years in my head.
Even with my anxieties, how could I not go to Paris? So, I was going no matter what. One night (at L'Abri) I was talking about my plans to head to Paris for Thanksgiving. Mari overheard and said she was ´planning on going to Paris the exact same dates. Perfection. We planned our trip to Paris together. I also planned to meet an Edina family (The Olsens) that I know very well for Thanksgiving dinner and other activities. Dana Olsen was my childhood best friend.
Everything happened to work out perfectly. I never felt like I was ditching Mari, or ditching the Olsen's for the other. I spent 2 1/2 days in Paris. During all of the daylight hours that I spent there, I was wandering the streets of Paris. Well, not exactly wandering.
Thanksgiving dinner was more like just a dinner in France. But, it was nice to have the American company at any rate. We had wine, and lots of memories and laughs about the good old times of being young and michevious.
Dana was the travel guide--she made the itinerary for her family. I kid you not, her parents had not a clue what they were going to do...until Dana told them. This, was so curious to me. No offense mom and dad, but I don't think you would ever trust me with such a task.
One of Dana's huge successes was her planning for this wine-tasting. We all did not really know what to expect. Dana just found it on Google. We entered a very small establishmet and walked down a old crumbly winding staircase to the basement. We saw a couple tables set with wine glasses. Everyone there was American (okay, that's not fair, there were Austrailians too). So, this also made us a bit wary of the whole thing. Finally, the young (maybe 27 year-old) french-man started his presentation. It was clear this guy knows wine. He was not only educated, but he spoke so well and was very engaging with everyone there. I have learned so much about wines (particularly those from France)--I am excited to show off my new skills. More than that, I have a better appreciation for wine.
I was thinking about this: you know how we Americans are always trying to figure out how to introduce our children to alcohol? Should we be completely silent? Should we tell them alcohol is the devil? Should we buy alcohol for our underage kids and host drinking parties at our house so we can watch all the kids get smashed in the basement (because that's a safe way to do it)?
Well, I think I will bring my kids (slightly underage) to wine tastings. There, they will have to think about the wine, smell it, taste it, appreciate it. It will be fun.
One word about the Paris Metro--sort of intimidating, but once you get the hang of it, pretty easy. My proudest moment in Paris is when I answered a question about the metro--to a French girl. She asked me the question in French, but I could understand what she said because she used the name of a metro stop and pointed in a direction. I knew that stop, and I knew that direction. I nodded yes. I didn't reveal my American status. Ha.
That's another thing. I have nothing bad to say about the Parisians. Nothing. No one was mean to me. Or, that I witnessed. Whenever I did need help and asked for it, everyone was willing to help me. One of my tactics was to first of all, dress the part, second of all approach the person in a kind and humble way, say, "pardon" as French as you can and as soft and humble as you can, then bring on the English for your actual question. I have yet to be turned down. Knock on wood.
I loved Paris, but I think I need a round 2, 3, and 4 as well. Something to look forward to.
I was a bit anxious to travel to Paris at first. Partially, because I had to go alone and be alone for a while. And, partially because the French scare me. Not that I have deduced through my own personal experience, but rather, through the mouths of others and stereotypes built up over the years in my head.
Even with my anxieties, how could I not go to Paris? So, I was going no matter what. One night (at L'Abri) I was talking about my plans to head to Paris for Thanksgiving. Mari overheard and said she was ´planning on going to Paris the exact same dates. Perfection. We planned our trip to Paris together. I also planned to meet an Edina family (The Olsens) that I know very well for Thanksgiving dinner and other activities. Dana Olsen was my childhood best friend.
Everything happened to work out perfectly. I never felt like I was ditching Mari, or ditching the Olsen's for the other. I spent 2 1/2 days in Paris. During all of the daylight hours that I spent there, I was wandering the streets of Paris. Well, not exactly wandering.
Thanksgiving dinner was more like just a dinner in France. But, it was nice to have the American company at any rate. We had wine, and lots of memories and laughs about the good old times of being young and michevious.
Dana was the travel guide--she made the itinerary for her family. I kid you not, her parents had not a clue what they were going to do...until Dana told them. This, was so curious to me. No offense mom and dad, but I don't think you would ever trust me with such a task.
One of Dana's huge successes was her planning for this wine-tasting. We all did not really know what to expect. Dana just found it on Google. We entered a very small establishmet and walked down a old crumbly winding staircase to the basement. We saw a couple tables set with wine glasses. Everyone there was American (okay, that's not fair, there were Austrailians too). So, this also made us a bit wary of the whole thing. Finally, the young (maybe 27 year-old) french-man started his presentation. It was clear this guy knows wine. He was not only educated, but he spoke so well and was very engaging with everyone there. I have learned so much about wines (particularly those from France)--I am excited to show off my new skills. More than that, I have a better appreciation for wine.
I was thinking about this: you know how we Americans are always trying to figure out how to introduce our children to alcohol? Should we be completely silent? Should we tell them alcohol is the devil? Should we buy alcohol for our underage kids and host drinking parties at our house so we can watch all the kids get smashed in the basement (because that's a safe way to do it)?
Well, I think I will bring my kids (slightly underage) to wine tastings. There, they will have to think about the wine, smell it, taste it, appreciate it. It will be fun.
One word about the Paris Metro--sort of intimidating, but once you get the hang of it, pretty easy. My proudest moment in Paris is when I answered a question about the metro--to a French girl. She asked me the question in French, but I could understand what she said because she used the name of a metro stop and pointed in a direction. I knew that stop, and I knew that direction. I nodded yes. I didn't reveal my American status. Ha.
That's another thing. I have nothing bad to say about the Parisians. Nothing. No one was mean to me. Or, that I witnessed. Whenever I did need help and asked for it, everyone was willing to help me. One of my tactics was to first of all, dress the part, second of all approach the person in a kind and humble way, say, "pardon" as French as you can and as soft and humble as you can, then bring on the English for your actual question. I have yet to be turned down. Knock on wood.
I loved Paris, but I think I need a round 2, 3, and 4 as well. Something to look forward to.
people
I said I would talk a little more about L'Abri. Rather than talk about it, I want to tell you about some of the people that I met...which really makes up my experience there. Here are some of the people that surrounded me...
Sarah- is 29. but looks 25. She's American. She was my yoga instructor throughout my time at L'Abri. She was one of the first people to welcome me. She will be in Germany for the month of December, so I will visit her there and stay with her brother's family. Sarah has a problem in that she is always moving around. After Switzerland, she is going to try and get a job and stay in one place.
Mari- is 40. she is from Finland. She lived 6 years in L.A. and now lives in China and is a professor at an University. She teaches classical piano. Mari and I traveled to Paris together. More on that later.
Michael- is 26? American. He is so funny. The first night I arrived, we talked about life and why it matters so much for us to live truly. But, that's not why he is funny. His mannerisms and habits make him hilarious. Plus, he was an actor, so he is very expressive. Very. He always carried around a hot water bottle. He just did. To keep his hands warm...?
Emily- is 26 also...I think. She is from England. We hit it off right away. I think I might visit her the beginning of Jan. She is the sweetest thing, and says things in the most entertaining ways. She is a very deep person.
Brent- 22. Canadian. So funny. He had these facial expressions. To die for. I think it took a while for him to understand I wasn't laughing at him, but I was actually 'on his side' and laughing with him--encouraging such behavior from him. One night, I told him what I thought he was like in high school...and he was like, 'scary! dead on.' I feel like I know him. He is somewhere in all my friends made up into one person.
There were many more people there, of course. However, these are the few that made the biggest impressions on me.
Sarah- is 29. but looks 25. She's American. She was my yoga instructor throughout my time at L'Abri. She was one of the first people to welcome me. She will be in Germany for the month of December, so I will visit her there and stay with her brother's family. Sarah has a problem in that she is always moving around. After Switzerland, she is going to try and get a job and stay in one place.
Mari- is 40. she is from Finland. She lived 6 years in L.A. and now lives in China and is a professor at an University. She teaches classical piano. Mari and I traveled to Paris together. More on that later.
Michael- is 26? American. He is so funny. The first night I arrived, we talked about life and why it matters so much for us to live truly. But, that's not why he is funny. His mannerisms and habits make him hilarious. Plus, he was an actor, so he is very expressive. Very. He always carried around a hot water bottle. He just did. To keep his hands warm...?
Emily- is 26 also...I think. She is from England. We hit it off right away. I think I might visit her the beginning of Jan. She is the sweetest thing, and says things in the most entertaining ways. She is a very deep person.
Brent- 22. Canadian. So funny. He had these facial expressions. To die for. I think it took a while for him to understand I wasn't laughing at him, but I was actually 'on his side' and laughing with him--encouraging such behavior from him. One night, I told him what I thought he was like in high school...and he was like, 'scary! dead on.' I feel like I know him. He is somewhere in all my friends made up into one person.
There were many more people there, of course. However, these are the few that made the biggest impressions on me.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
my current shelter
Since I have access to a computer...I must make the best of it and tell you more about my life here while I can.
I have been spending the past 2 weeks (just about) here at L'Abri. A community center in Huemoz. Community center sounds weird and creepy. I will try and explain better. "L'Abri" means shelter in French. Huemoz is a French speaking part of Switzerland. L'Abri is a Christian based community. It is meant to be a place for travelers like me...travelers who are looking for a place to meet other travelers and think about life, God and live in community with one another. There are several christians here, there are also several non-christians. It's an open community.
I have met such amazing people here. There are probably 30 people here right now. On a typical day, I do yoga every morning (almost) with 3 other women. Everyone eats breakfast, lunch and dinner together. We cook all the meals, help clean, etc. Half the day is study and half the day you do some sort of work (clean, cook, whatever). We have days off from work as well. You study whatever the heck you want. They have a whole library full of books. It's such an interesting way of living. It's not like college, it's not like just hanging out...it's a little inbetween. The community is intentional and thoughtful.
Particularly, I have made friends with a couple people. I feel so blessed to know the lives of these few people. It makes me wonder about all the lives of everyone in the world. We are all so unique and have our own wonderful stories.
I suppose I will expand on L'Abri at a later time...I have more good things to say about it. I am just tired.
PS--SWITZERLAND IS BEAUTIFUL. gorgeous. absolutely wonderful. I am loving it more and more every day. We played ultimate frisbee in the mountains last sunday...one of my fondest memories here. I taught non-american boys how to throw a football--my proudest moment.
I am walking up hills and mountains like it's nobody's business...but I am eating lots of good food that may distract from any body sculpting effects...
I am going to go climb down the mountain now...to go eat dinner :)
I have been spending the past 2 weeks (just about) here at L'Abri. A community center in Huemoz. Community center sounds weird and creepy. I will try and explain better. "L'Abri" means shelter in French. Huemoz is a French speaking part of Switzerland. L'Abri is a Christian based community. It is meant to be a place for travelers like me...travelers who are looking for a place to meet other travelers and think about life, God and live in community with one another. There are several christians here, there are also several non-christians. It's an open community.
I have met such amazing people here. There are probably 30 people here right now. On a typical day, I do yoga every morning (almost) with 3 other women. Everyone eats breakfast, lunch and dinner together. We cook all the meals, help clean, etc. Half the day is study and half the day you do some sort of work (clean, cook, whatever). We have days off from work as well. You study whatever the heck you want. They have a whole library full of books. It's such an interesting way of living. It's not like college, it's not like just hanging out...it's a little inbetween. The community is intentional and thoughtful.
Particularly, I have made friends with a couple people. I feel so blessed to know the lives of these few people. It makes me wonder about all the lives of everyone in the world. We are all so unique and have our own wonderful stories.
I suppose I will expand on L'Abri at a later time...I have more good things to say about it. I am just tired.
PS--SWITZERLAND IS BEAUTIFUL. gorgeous. absolutely wonderful. I am loving it more and more every day. We played ultimate frisbee in the mountains last sunday...one of my fondest memories here. I taught non-american boys how to throw a football--my proudest moment.
I am walking up hills and mountains like it's nobody's business...but I am eating lots of good food that may distract from any body sculpting effects...
I am going to go climb down the mountain now...to go eat dinner :)
travel woes, but blessed.
oh goodness gracious, where do I start? I will go back a ways...
on Nov. 10, I left Norway and started my trek to Huemoz, Switzerland. Yikes. The reason it's so "yikes" is because I have a rail pass...and I need to utilize it. So, that means more train stations, more sleepless nights.
My train from Bergen to Oslo. Fine. No big. It was actually beautiful. I don't understand how people live in the middle of nowhere on the top of a mountain, however. That is curious to me. What do they do for a living? It's like the north pole in early Nov. What's Jan. like? Food for thought.
I took a plane back to Frankfurt. Frankfurt is not top on my list at this point...simply because of my complicated middle-of-the-night travel I have had to do there.
I arrived at the Frankfurt main train station at 10 p.m. My train to Switzerland was scheduled to leave at 2:22 a.m. I took refuge in a McDonalds (never thought that would come out of my mouth), as it was the only establishment connected to the train station open until 2:00 a.m. Around 12 a.m. I was suddenly aware that I was very nearly the only girl around--at least the only girl alone. Over my 4 hours of sitting in McDonalds with my eyes glued to my Time magazine (trying to avoid any strange encounters with others) I witnessed a drug dealer try and sell something to several guys. He made several rounds throughout the night. He was harmless, but his presence made me a bit uncomfortable. He didn't ask me. If he did, I don't think anything bad would have happened. Just saying.
I was a bit distracted as well, since, the only other lady that was by her lonesome in McDonalds was talking and laughing decently loud. She was talking to...no one. She was a bit crazy. She, also, was harmless. It was interesting though, because she was quite enjoying herself. Whoever she was talking to was making her happy.
Okay, what I am about to tell you are some of the reasons why the actual travel part of traveling is so stressful to me. Of course the odd people (drug dealers, crazies that sleep in train stations, and theives) all make my anxiety level rise. Here are some additional experiences...
I feel blessed. I just pray my anxiety doesn't get the best of me next time I have a troublesome travel experience...
on Nov. 10, I left Norway and started my trek to Huemoz, Switzerland. Yikes. The reason it's so "yikes" is because I have a rail pass...and I need to utilize it. So, that means more train stations, more sleepless nights.
My train from Bergen to Oslo. Fine. No big. It was actually beautiful. I don't understand how people live in the middle of nowhere on the top of a mountain, however. That is curious to me. What do they do for a living? It's like the north pole in early Nov. What's Jan. like? Food for thought.
I took a plane back to Frankfurt. Frankfurt is not top on my list at this point...simply because of my complicated middle-of-the-night travel I have had to do there.
I arrived at the Frankfurt main train station at 10 p.m. My train to Switzerland was scheduled to leave at 2:22 a.m. I took refuge in a McDonalds (never thought that would come out of my mouth), as it was the only establishment connected to the train station open until 2:00 a.m. Around 12 a.m. I was suddenly aware that I was very nearly the only girl around--at least the only girl alone. Over my 4 hours of sitting in McDonalds with my eyes glued to my Time magazine (trying to avoid any strange encounters with others) I witnessed a drug dealer try and sell something to several guys. He made several rounds throughout the night. He was harmless, but his presence made me a bit uncomfortable. He didn't ask me. If he did, I don't think anything bad would have happened. Just saying.
I was a bit distracted as well, since, the only other lady that was by her lonesome in McDonalds was talking and laughing decently loud. She was talking to...no one. She was a bit crazy. She, also, was harmless. It was interesting though, because she was quite enjoying herself. Whoever she was talking to was making her happy.
Okay, what I am about to tell you are some of the reasons why the actual travel part of traveling is so stressful to me. Of course the odd people (drug dealers, crazies that sleep in train stations, and theives) all make my anxiety level rise. Here are some additional experiences...
- Got on train in Bergen, all situated. Some trains you need seat reservations, others you don't. You can figure it out by looking up online. I DID NOT need a reservation for this train. Just to be thourough, however, I asked the conductor as he walked by. He told me "you most definitely do need a reservation. You have 10 minutes to get one." Well shoot, I have to grab all my crap just in case I don't make it back on the train. Then, get a reservation, and run back. Fricken-a.
- Sometimes trains split during their journey at certain locations. Make sure you are in the "correct compartment" so you actually make it to the destination you want to.
- The McD's @ Frankfurt was connected to the train station, but also had a door leading to outside. I assumed the door leading into the station would stay open as long as McD's was. Nope. When I tried to open the door, it was locked. It was one of those moments when your heart starts beating rapidly and blood rushes to your face, and when you try to talk it's hard because you throat has closed up a bit. I asked them to open the door for me. They wouldn't. They told me to go around to the main door. None of them could speak English very well, so I had a hard time feeling confident in their suggestions. My train was leaving in 20 minutes. There was no way I was going to spend the night with druggy and Miss talkerson. Walked outside pretty upset. I was telling myself if this doesn't work out...then...SCREW traveling! I give up! I walked by a couple guys that looked me up and down...but by that point I was so mad, I probably would have had the adrenaline to beat them up all by myself anyway. The first door I tried was locked. Praise the Lord the next set of doors was open. Oh dear.
- Not long after I found my platform for my 2:22 a.m. train...it played over the loud speaker over and over that, "Train from Frankfurt to Aigle will be 25 minutes late due to persons on the track." First, that made me more mad. I am sitting in this cold station, and I have to wait even longer for my train?! Not only that...I was almost sure I was going to miss my connections. That meant, I had to go over to a self-serving train-router-machine to re-plan my journey. I was SO over this. I did what I needed to do, and then got over myself.
- You can't sleep on night trains in 2nd class. People talking, lights on all night, people getting on and off train, ticket checker walking through the cabins after every stop, each stop being announced over the loud speaker...in several different languages.
I feel blessed. I just pray my anxiety doesn't get the best of me next time I have a troublesome travel experience...
Friday, November 5, 2010
my education in norway
Ooftah. Lots of posts, I know. There are just so many things to say on separate topics. Hence, my multiple postings in an hour.
'Ooftah'--Let's start with that. I am now in Bergen, as mentioned. I am staying with my relatives. I said 'ooftah' the other day, and one of people I am staying with was utterly amazed that I said a Norwegian word. I told her it's Minnesotan too. Or, at least it's only Minnesotan because of the Norwegian immigrants. She absolutely loved it. We figured out that we use the word in slightly different cases.
My great great grandfather (I think) came over to Minnesota. He and his brother came over together. Let's call my great great grandfather A and his brother B. Brother B decided to moved back to Norway, while Bro-sef A decided to stay.
From lineage A, I am brought to life. The family I am currently staying with calls Bro B their great grandfather. If bro-sef A decided to go back to Norway, I wouldn't be typing this..because I wouldn't exist. Thanks Khristian! (that is actually A's name).
But seriously, I have had an amazing time here with my family learning about my Norwegian roots. It's been very educational. Jorill and Paul (who I am staying with) have a wealth of knowledge. And not just about the family, but about the world and obviously particularly Norway.
I swear Paul was secretly assigned to be my professor for the week. He and I have sat in front of GoogleEarth (his best teaching tool) for hours on end. He has introduced me to many parts of Norway. Including where Khristian is from (Rake, which in America he used as his last name, only changed it to Rachie--my Grandma Groth's Maiden name). Are you confused yet? It's okay, you don't need to remember anything of my ancestry, I don't know anything about yours.
Paul is an accomplished photographer. He has thousands upon thousands of pictures! And, they are very beautiful. Many of them are on GoogleEarth, as well. I love how much this family likes to teach and talk about Norway. It's the best kind of family to stay with, because they are not annoyed to ever re-explain anything to you, they love it.
I must come back to Norway.
thank you over-worked german man
I traveled from Prague to Bergen, Norway. Want to know how I got there? Planes, trains, buses and my feet. Over 36 hours worth. This information might be boring, but it's pertinent to the point of my post (say that 5 times fast).
Overnight train from Prague to Frankfurt, Germany. Train to airport shuttle. Shuttle to airport. Feet to bus stop. Bus to another airport 2 hours away from main airport. Plane to Oslo, Norway. Bus to Train. Train to another train. Overnight train to, finally, Bergen.
I am learning a lot about the actual travel part of traveling. Especially because I am alone. And, that leads me to my next point. I was alone. When I arrived in Frankfurt, Germany (at 4:00am, middle of the dang night), I found myself in a cold dark, empty train station. No one working anywhere, but a couple people sleeping against the walls. With no sleep myself, my awareness quickly got into gear. On the train, I had asked a man behind me to grab my heavy backpack from the shelf for me. I sort-of walked down into the train station with him. I asked him a couple of questions. Questions about a bus I thought I should take to the main airport. He didn't know about a bus, but knew about a train that took you there. Being skeptical of his answer, as one traveling alone should always double check things, I went outside to look at the bus schedules. For some reason this guy followed me out there. I asked him to come over and help me read the schedule. He did. I was kind of wandering, trying to figure out what to do, ended up talking to him some more, and he assured me that the train does take me to the airport. I looked around and he seemed like my best bet.
Turns out he works at the airport. So, he would know. He took me on the train, then the shuttle (which I wouldn't have been able to figure out by myself, or at least it would have taken me MUCH longer), then he walked me to 'information' to find out where I catch my bus to the other airport 2 hours away. He had to be at work at 6a.m. yet he walked with me the whole way, even offered to hold my backpack. I didn't let him take it, I told him I need to get used to it--which is the truth. If I am doing this whole 'traveling alone' thing I need to know that I can handle it.
Once the lady at info told me where the bus stop was, he walked me even there. Then, he said we should make sure and look at the time-table to see when the bus comes exactly. He did EVERYTHING for me. Literally.
About this helpful man:
- He is 25, but looks 30
- He hasn't traveled that much because he thinks he needs to get a good start on his career (he teaches airport employees how to use the airport technology)
- He works 12 hours a day. He sleeps 3 hours every night
- He said he works so much because of capitalism
- He's German
After I shook his hand and told him for the 12th time, 'thank you,' we parted ways. I went to the bathroom after that. If I had any inclination that he was helping me only because he thought I was cute, the mirror in the bathroom was quick to tell me 'no.' Mascara was all over my face, and my hair needed a good wash.
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