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.
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