It's good to be home!

After 20 hours in trans-Atlantic transit, I felt like my whole body sighed a great sigh of relief as I walked through the exit doors of Dulles. It was so good to be home. And then when I spotted my Mom, and then Dad, and Steven, and the puppies, all waiting for me, I think my whole body smiled so much that a few salty, exhausted tears squeezed themselves out too. My day had started at 2:15 AM, when I woke up for my 3 AM airport transfer. I was in the Madrid Airport by 4 AM, flew in to Amsterdam around 9 AM, and then amused myself in the duty-free shops and an airport cafe until 12:30 PM. My 8 hour flight would've been great, except the petite college girl sitting next to me traded seats with one of the biggest men I've ever seen in my life- 6'4 and 350lbs. He took up his seat, and half of mine.

Without the time zone change, I landed around 9:40 PM, but then spent the next hour standing in line for Customs. It took another 5 frantic minutes to locate my luggage as I'd been waiting in line so long that they had pulled everything off of the carousel and scattered them all about. By 11:30 PM I was finally home, although now it was 5:30 PM. It really wasn't that bad, but I was physically and mentally exhausted.

I can't even begin to say how nice it is to be home. I am so utterly content to sit on our couch and do absolutely nothing but think about how happy I am. I've had a wonderful Christmas, and in the next day or two I'll add a few stories and pictures from my last leg in Madrid. More importantly though, I want to thank each and every one of you for reading and humoring the last four months of my life. You (all) have been the motivation behind every time I've sat down and written a blog. Of course I've written it for myself as well, but I've written it well for you. And I appreciate that, because now I've got this fantastic collection of memories and stories that I will be forever thankful for composing. I would also like to add that despite my many references to alcoholic beverages, late nights out, and weekends spent gallivanting across Europe, I still managed to pull a 4.0 GPA for the semester. Yes, I did have a great time, but I also worked hard and studied. It's just that that sort of stuff is rather dry and boring compared to the Eiffel tower or the Austrian Alps, as you can imagine.

Now, I shall resume my Unpacking regime. Merry Christmas!

Tres Abuelas ("Three Grandmothers")

Despite the fact that I seem to be falling apart faster than our old Dodge Caravan, I've found it somewhere inside me to make some room in my heart for Valencia. It is the third-largest city in Spain with about 800,000 residents, and has a wonderfully mild character. It's more than just a sleepy Mediterranean town though. With history dating back over 2,000 years, it began as a Roman port city. Although the Roman walls are now gone, one can still wander the quaint and twisty alleys of the Old Town. Interestingly enough, 10 minutes away one can find one of the most modern architectural feats in all of Europe-- La Ciudad de Artes y Ciencias. And then if you go another 5 minutes from that, you've got beautiful beaches and some of the best paella in toda de Espana (all of Spain). There's so many faces to this city, and they all seem to fit just right.

As it worked out, I had checked the weather for Valencia the night we arrived, and learned that it was supposed to be rainy both days, but less so on Wednesday. So, we woke up Wednesday morning and were quite pleased to see that it was overcast, but not raining, and decided to spend the day exploring the Old City. We started with the Tourist Office, and were promptly armed with a map the size of a small Amish quilt. It proved to be much more helpful than the staff at the Office though, and so we continued on our way to the Museo Taurino- The Bullring Museum. I really enjoyed the exhibit; it was simple, but well done. The ring itself is pictured above, although in Valencia there are only bullfights three months out of the year, held during certain important festivals. Personally, I don't agree with it, but I still respect it as an important aspect of Spanish culture.

From there, we meandered along into the heart of the city. We stopped to peek into the Central Post Office, which is a spectacular building; beautiful arches and columns and a stained glass dome ceiling. And then onwards to the Cathedral, nestled in the heart of the city. We climbed to the top of the bell-tower, which really ought to be advertised as the best way to burn off the day's Menu del Dia because even I, spry little thing that I am, was feeling the burn as I fell up the last few steps onto the turret. The view was great- from the Mountains to the Gulf- and all of the little rooftops with morning underwear hung out to dry.


The central market in the Old Town was quite similar to the one in Budapest- a grand open-air building with lots of vendors selling fresh wares. It was all fine and dandy until we saw a man packing the leftover deer legs-- hoof included-- into the back of his small sedan. The weather was still holding out for us, though looking ever more ominous, and so we continued on, now in a pedestrianized pursuit of food. If you haven't noticed, I love the "Menu del Dia" that seems to be everywhere here. We eventually found a nice little bistro with food that we could roughly translate to as appealing, and both ordered the Valencian paella, which came from the dish as pictured. The word "paella" actually means pan, and generally speaking it's a rice dish with either surf, or turf, but not both. The key ingredient is saffron, and you know it's Valencian because it will have delicious crispy bits that come from the bottom or the edges of the dish.


After our late lunch, it still had not begun to rain, so we ventured off to the Modern Art Museum. Though the exterior of the building looked like a Soviet bunker, the interior was significantly nicer. Even though I don't always "get" modern art, I love how it makes me feel. There's this sense of childlike wonder that I get from looking at pictures that resemble my scribbles in Kindergarten; but the sophistication of their nature is what really draws me in. In one exhibit, the artist, Jaume Plensa, chose to explore the use of letters as art-- strung across each room was a "wall" of metal letters dangling down like an alphabetical windchime through which you had to walk through to get to the next. Just beautiful, really.

I believe at this point, we were both so tired from all of the food and walking that we worked our way back to the hotel. The evening was so warm and balmy that we took a seat on a bench in the central plaza and simply sat and relaxed, watching the palms sway and the clouds of the deepest azul you can imagine tumble along the skyline.


We certainly picked the right day to do things because this morning we woke up to a grey sky and intermittent rain. Our plan was to go to the City of Arts and Sciences and spend the better part of the day at L'Oceanografia-- the aquarium. For as small as the city feels, it's rather big to walk everywhere, so we took the bus. This is where the title comes from, because on the bus we were both looking at our map the size of an Amish quilt, trying to figure out where to get off, and while doing so a little abuela "Grandma" sitting behind us tells us we have a few more stops to go. Then another little abuela says that it is a lovely place, and we still have a few more stops, but see over there-- that's the Arts Building! And as the first abuela is getting off, another abuela tells us in broken English that it's just around the bend, "solo otra mas" or "one more stop." Here we are, American tourists speaking Spanish that probably sounds like nails grinding down a blackboard, and we have three Grandma's all making sure that we get to where we need to go. I love it! Que bueno!



I think I read somewhere that the new aquarium here is the third largest in Europe; maybe the world, but my memory is fuzzy. The Oceanografic facility is actually about a half mile to my right while I was taking this photo, but as you can see the buildings are incredibly modern. For the most part, we had the place to ourselves. One or two school groups, an occasional family, and a really nice couple from Ecuador that took our photo. The dolphin show was absolutely incredible-- I've never seen anything like it. The handlers spent just as much time in the water performing various tricks in stunts with the dolphins as they did out of the water. One even stood on the swimming dolphin like a surfboard! We were both very impressed with the variety of party tricks that were performed.


After the show we went over to the Arctic exhibit, which was really neat. I've never before seen a Beluga whale, or a walrus, but there they were. The whales looked unreal; perfectly white, and smooth as an ivory bar of soap. And then when I saw the walrus I was nearly taken aback at the sheer size of it; easily the size of our two-person couch in the loft at home. It seemed to be bumping it's head on the glass too, and then we realized it was licking the wall. Adorable! This great hulking mass of blubber and muscle licking the glass of the aquarium right in front of us (we had the place to ourselves.) The most spectacular experience though was walking through these massive aquarium tunnels. Not only were we the only two people in the whole place, but it was so enormous and clear, it felt and looked as if the fish and sharks were literally swimming over your head. I was in awe.

After the aquarium, we went down to the beach, which was very much asleep. Windy, rainy, and a bit chilly on the waterfront, I have no doubt that it's a wonderful place to be in the summertime (not so much in the middle of December). We took the bus back to the hotel, and from there I retired to my room and Shelley went to check out the Ceramics museum and a local market. I seem to have come down with another cold, so sleep is a must, in spite of the fact that I'd much rather be out and about. Around 9 o'clock, we walked about three storefronts down to a warm and welcoming little restaurant for dinner, and then walked about four storefronts in the other direction for gelato. Which brings me back to here, getting ready for bed once again, and preparing for the train ride tomorrow to Madrid.

Barcelona -> Valencia

It was only after we had shifted our plans a bit that we realized most museums in Barcelona are closed on Mondays. Oops! After a bit more searching in the Lonely Planet Bible of Spain Tourism, we did uncover a few options to keep us busy. We met Matt around 10 or so, and headed off for the Palau de la Musica Catalana. It had been recommended to Shelley by a friend of hers, so we bought tickets for the morning English tour and then spent the next 10 minutes gawking at the fantastical façade of the building. It was built in the “Art Nuevo” style, with the theme that one is not inside a music house, but in a garden. Pictures were not permitted inside the building, which is really too bad because it is SO gorgeous. It seats over 2,000 people, but feels as intimate as a 100 person theater. I was surprised to learn that it was built in the similar manner of the Eiffel tower, with a great iron frame as its fundamental structure. The elaborate display of stained glass and mosaic tiles, made in various factories around Catalonia and then shipped to the site, were then placed on top; the building only took 3 years to construct! In regards to the music, the theatre hosts over 300 shows a year in every genre of music and dance except Opera. As we were sitting in the theater, the guide explains to us the significance of the Organ that has something like 4,000 pipes and was brought in from Germany. After its recent renovation, a computer program was installed so the organ could play automatically. Our guide then proceeds to pull out a clicker, press a button, and the Organ begins to play an elaborate song. Even I, a teenager who has grown up with all of these technological innovations and thinks nothing of them, was absolutely floored to see an Organ play a song with the same ease as when I open our garage door at home.

After the tour, we set off in the direction of the Poble Espanyol. It was built for a World Exhibition, and is a relatively expansive community that shows the architecture and design of houses across the country. Both Shelley and I purchased audio guides, which were a wonderful asset in understanding the significance of the architecture. There were also many shops selling the works of artisans, and also showing how they were made. I was fascinated by a glass blowing workshop where I could see the process of heating, cooling, and shaping a glass pitcher. The craftsmanship was fun to browse through, and the weather was just beautiful. It was also empty, which made for a very pleasant experience. I can only imagine that it looks a bit like Disney World during the summer season. In fact, everything we’ve done so far has been so nice because we haven’t had to wait in line for three hours, or fight through masses of people to catch a glimpse of Gaudi. And it’s still in the 50’s and sunny!

We spent quite a few hours in the Poble, and then decided to check out a local flea market that was on the other side of the city. I think we came at the worst time because it was late afternoon and most people had already left or were packing up. What we did see was nothing to write home about. So, we got back on the metro and headed to the hostal. I was shocked, although I know I shouldn't be, as I witnessed the expertise of three pickpockets that were working their way along in the metro car. They had targeted a young girl standing across from me, who held a very large pocketbook and was listening to her iPod; she had no idea what was going on. I glared at the fellow who was about to dip his hand into her bag, and he immediatly retreated. I wasn't sure what to do though because I felt like if I pulled her, or her bag, towards me it would have created the ideal "distraction" for which they might steal something. So instead, I continued to glare and make it quite obvious that if they did anything I would personally rip their eyes out with a blunt spoon. I made eye contact with the girl and motioned for her to pull her bag close, and with that the theives got off at the next stop. Jerks. She was so thankful that I'd been watchful; I knew they hadn't stolen anything, but I hope she's more careful next time. I'd never actually seen pickpockets work, but now I understand how they work and how swift and horribly sneaky they can be. For that reason, I keep my money, passport, and credit cards in a money pouch that's around my neck and under my shirt at all times.

Anyways, on our way back we stumbled upon a fresh-food market that was tucked away off Las Ramblas. They had bowls of fresh fruit for sale that were so good and refreshing; that was the best dinner I’ve had in a while. As much as I love travel, I’ve never been a fan of always having to go out and find food in a foreign city. It’s just a lot of work, a lot of walking, and doesn’t strike me as an “adventure” as I’m sure some would argue. It’s also a bit of a challenge to make sure one is eating healthy and balanced, but I suppose that it’s all simply part of the traveling experience.

It was a decidedly quiet evening for the two of us, and the next morning we headed off to the Picasso Museum with the plans of catching an afternoon train to Valencia. The exhibit was very interesting in how it traced Picasso’s works from his early beginning in the late 1880’s, primitive sketches and such all the way through to his later Cubism era and ceramic innovation. I’d only really associated Picasso through his stereotypical portraits of strange-looking faces, but in fact the museum shows such a variety of his works that I walked away with a much more in-depth understanding of the artist than I had started the day with.

The train to Valencia was an incredibly simple affair—we bought our tickets, hung out in the station for an hour or so, boarded our train (which was on time) and then enjoyed the next 3 hours as we breezed down the coast. As I’ve said before, I love train travel because it allows you to really see the landscape—and in this case I was thoroughly enamored by the rocky cliffs and sandy beaches of the Spanish coastline. The ride is so smooth and quiet that you have to double check that there is indeed a boarding ticket in your pocket, and of course it was wonderful to arrive in the heart of Valencia’s city center. We were both pleasantly surprised that our hotel of choice had been recently renovated, and both modern and comfortable.

This evening we stopped by a small café that had great vibes, and chatted for quite some time over wine and a few tapas. Most restaurants here don’t open until 8:30 or 9pm, so we also had some time to kill before actually finding a place open for dinner. It worked out nicely though, as we moved from the cozy café to a Greek bistro down the block which had great food. We weren’t thrilled with eating Greek in Valencia, don’t get me wrong, but it was gooood. And so, here I am, very content and just about to head to bed. The good life, indeed.

Barthelona!

It was 20 degrees Farenheit and snowing in Budapest, getting dark around 4:oo pm, and just really, really cold as we boarded the plane to Barcelona. Two hours later, it's now 5:30 and I look down to see palm trees swaying in the mild breeze of the Barcelona sunset; it's in the low 50's, and very, very cold by Catalan standards. Quite frankly, I don't know what is wrong with those folks. I couldn't believe it was December and all I needed was a light coat to keep warm! It's just lovely, and we've still got further South to go; who knows, maybe I'll even come home with a sun-kissed glow.

I really don't know how we would have managed to do all that we've done in the past few days without my friend Matt, who's been our tourguide for the weekend. He's also from McDaniel College, but came to study in Spain because he's a Spanish major. Not only did he get us from the airport to our hostal, but he then took us out that evening to see the very beautiful, and very unfinished Sagrada Familia. It is an incredible spectacle to behold. Some joke that with the Spanish work ethic, it'll be another 200 years before it's actually finished, but even now it's so wild and imaginitive and big, you think to yourself - how in the world did he come up with this stuff? Then you see a few of his other buildings in the city, as we did, and you think to yourself -- was he on drugs? Who knows for sure, but his architecture is just wild. For dinner we stopped in a hole-in-the-wall bar and shared a variety of Tapas and Sangria, and then continued on through the electric buzz of Barcelona on a Friday night.

Saturday was another gorgeous day, but from the sounds of it, bad weather is a rarity in Barcelona. Clear blue sky, warm sun. I could have been walking around with pneumonia and I would still have been happy because it was so gosh darn nice out. Our walk began in the Gothic Quarter, which is full of narrow winding streets and charming old apartment buildings. We browsed through one of the many Christmas markets, and also took a few minutes to enjoy the Cathedral. As we were wandering from one vendor to the next, I noticed that many had this smiling creature that looked as if someone had put Rudolph's nose and two eyes on a piece of firewood and threw a blanket over it. Turns out "Caga Tio" is the Catalan Christmas tradition; his name translates roughly to "easing of the bowels" and on Christmas Eve he is set upon a mound of presents, which are then covered with a blanket. In the morning, little Catalan children come down and beat this smiling piece of firewood with a stick while singing a song that goes something like "Empty your bowels and poop out our gifts." Charming, really.

After that, we took a quick detour through one of the many Barrio Markets where one can find almost anything under the sun, and then some. I swear to goodness the meats and poultry looked like they'd been killed that morning. The fish looked like they might twitch at any moment, and by the end I felt like even my own tolerance for the "fresh factor" was wearing thin.

From the market, we took the metro out to Park Guell, home of some of Gaudi’s most famous architecture. I’ve never before taken an escalator up a hillside that looked like it’d just been shipped in from San Francisco, but such was the case in ascending to the entrance of the park. Matt took us to the highest point, from which one can see all of Barcelona scattered about below. We then worked our way down and instantly fell in love with the mosaic tile work of Gaudi’s creation: whimsical, colorful, and nothing like what I had ever seen before. We spent a good deal of time wandering about and admiring everything, and also stopped in to see the Gaudi Casa Museum. I loved the jewelry and artwork that was for sale around the area as most of it was inspired by Gaudi motifs. It was hard to leave, but hunger won us all over eventually. After a very filling “Menu del Dia” we went underground again and came up to see Barcelona’s Arc de Triomf. Quite ironic though as there is no triumph associated with it whatsoever- it was built for the World’s Fair. We walked down one of the grand boulevards, lined with palm trees, and stopped to admire the building of the Catalonya Parliament. The independence situation is very similar to Quebec, and it’s only been in the last thirty years or so that the Catalonian culture has resurfaced from its oppression.

You’re probably just as tired from reading all this as I was from actually doing it! We were all in need of a Siesta, so it was agreed that after a rest we should meet up again around 9:30 or so. I felt like a million bucks after a short nap, and was quite pleased with myself that I got to sample some authentic Catalonian Cava (sparkling wine). It was very good, to say the least. The night was still young after wine and tapas, so we headed over to a cheerful looking Irish Pub. Of course I ordered a Guinness (I’ve been reformed!) and it was just a good time to be had all around.

Somewhere along the way yesterday, Shelley and I realized that we had both been toying with the idea of rearranging our travel plans a bit. There is so much to do in Barcelona that we eventually opted to stay for another day and cancel our one-night visit to Tortosa. That way we would be able to go out and see the Salvador Dali Theatre Museum in Figueres. It’s about an hour and a half train ride to get there, but the museum was well worth it. The entire exhibit was designed by Dali himself, and so creates a unique experience of looking at art while also walking around in it. For the most part, one couldn’t even begin to explain the logic of the art. It just was what it was. That’s the beauty of it though; Dali didn’t color inside the lines. He took the lines, melted them, twisted them inside out, and then called them art.

Aside from the museu, there wasn’t a whole lot going on in the city. We were both on the fence about stopping in Girona on the way back for an hour or so, but in the end opted to stay on the train and simply return to Barcelona. The way I see it, it’s just another reason to come back again sometime. This evening we took a paseo (stroll) along Las Ramblas, and were literally in awe at the sheer number of people that were out and about on a Sunday night. People hustling and bustling; most of the stores were still open too. Holiday shopping, perhaps?

The most shocking phenomenon for me is listening to a foreign language and actually understanding it. After four months in Hungary, knowing enough to get by but not enough to get the gist of a conversation, and then traveling in French and German-speaking countries, this whole Spanish thing is just dandy. The Castillian lisp makes my heart chuckle whenever I hear it (I think it sounds silly) but it doesn’t really make the Spanish any harder to understand. It’s just when they try to speak English that I’m thinking “What the hell are they saying??” Now that’s what I call irony!

Goodbye Budapest

I honestly can't believe I'm leaving. Some days felt as slow as molasses, but wow, it's been 16 weeks and it feels like yesterday that Dr. Mandy was having us all together for pizza in the hotel, about to explain the details of school registration and moving into our flats. I could not have imagined how much could possibly happen in the span of a semester, and yet I'm looking back thinking to myself-- did this all really happen to me? Yes, Stacey, it did.

In regards to the dentist appointment earlier this week, I'm just fine. Between my traveling and excess stress with finals and moving out, it's undoubtedly made me vulnerable to such an inconvenience. That's life as it is. After the dentist, Shelley and I went to the thermal baths of the Gellert Hotel, and there is nothing better than soaking in the 38 degree Celsius pool. Sure, the system is so utterly confusing that you have to just go along with it, and the staff have attitudes like they've been working there 100 years and don't give a hoot whether you want to buy a massage or not, but it's Gellert. It's posh, esteemed, and beautiful.

The rest of the week has been a bit of a blur. I did some shopping with Shelley at the Central Market, bought some Hungarian Christmas ornaments to take back with me, and a few Christmas gifts. Shelley loved the fact that I knew where all the good stalls where with the best items for the most reasonable prices; she told me she would not have enjoyed Budapest as much as she has had I not been with her to give her advice, recommendations, directions and such. I would agree though; it's really nice to have a local show you around a city!

As kind of a way to wrap things up, I thought I'd post a few emails and such that I exchanged with my Mom and Dad in the first few days that I arrived...

Mom and Dad,
I just wanted to let you know that I made it to Budapest safe and sound. I'm exhausted, but very happy because all of my luggage arrived and in tact. I haven't seen any of the city yet, but we'll be doing a lot of that stuff this week...Now it's time for a nap! Love, Stacey

Stacey,
It is really nice to read your letter. I hope the Internet access works out. It probably will be fine to use the one at school...I hope you like your apartment. I am anxious to hear about it. You and Sarah will have a big grocery shop to do. That should be quite an experience in a Hungarian grocery store! Love, Mom

Hi Mom and Dad
I have been in Budapest for one day now, and I think I will like the city. I am so glad I took the Hungarian class- everyone is asking us questions about this and that so I feel a little special. We get our apartment tomorrow, and Sarah is very excited, but I'm not as much. Apparently it is quite nice though, and in a very central location of the city... Love, Stacey

Hi Sweetie,
Your blog will be widely read so here is some good advice: "Before you speak, ask yourself, is it kind, is it necessary, is it true, does it improve on the silence?" Love, Dad

Thank you Mom and Dad for all of your support!

I've also kept a running list of some cultural differences between Budapest and Glenelg...

• Water is "with" or "without" gas
• Tap water tastes good
• Very little smiling and friendliness
• Staring is an accepted practice
• So are elaborate displays of public affection
• No free refills, free water, or ice
• Smaller serving sizes of food
• Women show a lot more skin in warm weather
• Communist memorabilia
• Fresh seafood from the river or the Balaton
• No English cognates in language
• Greeting is one kiss on each cheek, left then right; called a "puszi"
• Dark at night
• Enforces a 10pm noise curfew
• Front flush shelf-toilets used
• Toilets have a big flush button, and a small flush button
• Fantastic public transportation
• Universal tip of 10%
• Paying with too big of a bill warrants the Look of Death
• Eating out, one must ask for the bill; it will not be given to you
• You see your waiter twice: once to give your order, and once to get your food
• Homeless people are everywhere
• Many buildings still have bullet holes
• In grocery stores, bring your own bag, and bag your own items
• Babies must always be wearing a hat starting October 1
• Open-air drinking is technically illegal, but never enforced
• Men and women always look "put together" in their outfits
• Hungarian women in politics must use "coquettish" means to climb the ladder
• The oppressed minority are the Roma, formerly known as 'Gypsies'
• No muffins, no cookies, no bagels
• One can find pig lard, knuckles, chicken legs, and just about every organ you can think of in the grocery store
• Most Hungarian wine is only sold domestically
• "Hungaricum" is a product patented by Hungary
• Many restaurants and stores do not take Visa or Mastercard

Those are just some of what I came up with; I'm sure there were many more that I've thought of as I'm going about my business but can't seem to recall at the moment. All in all, it's been a great experience. I've learned so much about people, traveling, history, and culture. I have a whole new perspective on the Nazi and Soviet terrors; of the extermination and labor camps. Sure, they teach us about it in school; but actually living in and experiencing the history for myself? That, for me, is life-changing. Budapest is so unique-- it's a gorgeous, run-down city that is on the rebound. Buildings are being renovated everywhere, and the younger generation is shedding the oppression that many of the older folks still carry from the Soviet era. I would love to come back and see the city someday, if only to see how much it has changed. Thank you Budapest, for all that you've shown me! It has been a truly unforgettable experience.

Bienvenida Aunt Shelley!

It is with the greatest pleasure that I can say that Aunt Shelley has arrived in Budapest! I was so glad that I was able to pick her up at the airport, and her flight -though long- went smoothly. I decided to bring her back to the flat since hotel check-in was not until later that afternoon, so while she rested I walked a block around the corner and picked up some lunch- my favorite too. An XXL Don Pepe's Garlic-Sour cream- Chicken pizza. Mmm mmm.

Funny thing though; I've realized that there are two things the always seem to make Hungarians smile. One is the sight of a baby or a young child. Their faces seem to light up at the garble of words and sounds, and the precious little features that we all know and love. The other is the sight of me walking down the street carrying an XXL pizza (just shy of two feet in diameter). I think it's hysterical how I march along and everyone seems to smile and laugh, sometimes even asking me if they can have a slice too. Aunt Shelley's eyes looked like saucers when she first saw how big the pizza is, but no worries, I assured her, whatever we don't finish I'll just have for breakfast. And so we munched on fantastic pizza and talked a bit about some of the things there are to do and see in Budapest.

That evening, after checking Shelley into the Marriott (the rooms are fantastic, by the way, and the view of the Danube...wow) and then set off for the Christmas market about a block away. I was really surprised at how many nice things there were at the market because the usual stuff that I've seen just isn't of the same quality. It was a rainy evening, so the market was quiet, and after strolling the booths we hopped on the old metro and set off for Hero's Square and City Park. Beautifully lit, I think the sights are just as nice at night as they are during the day. We ended the evening early- partly due to the weather and partly because I have to study too- but it was a nice way to introduce Shelley to Budapest.

This morning, however, I am filled with dread because I have to see a dentist. Much to my dismay, a gum infection has persisted for more than a week, and I am rather concerned because I'm going to be traveling for another week and a half before coming home. So, Dr. Mandy gave me the information for her own dentist (she's amazing) and they've managed to squeeze me in today for a cleaning. I have to be frank, going to a dentist in a country like Hungary is the absolute last thing I would ever want to do, but the circumstances make it unavoidable. The office speaks English, as does the dentist (who is from the U.S.) and the practice has a U.S. license, so as horrible as the notion is to me, I'm pretty darn lucky regardless. Wish me luck! I really hope it's nothing serious, or at least can wait till I get home.

Statue Park

After the fall of the hegemonic Communist party, Budapest did something no other city has done. They collected all that was left of the Communist-era statues, and plunked them down in a little park on the very outskirts of the city where anyone and everyone could see them. This morning, Didi and I decided to check out what Statue Park was all about; I had been on the fence about it all semester long, but with Didi's initiative it was enough reason to justify the hour-long trek to get out there.

I find myself repeating over and over again that as wonderful as Budapest is, it's so tourist unfriendly that you have to laugh sometimes. Lucky for us, Sarah had gone a few weeks before and was able to warn us that finding the bus depot was a bit of a challenge as the signs to the park actually point you into the train station (opposite of the bus depot) and that the stop for the park was both quick to pass by and unannounced. Many, many students have described the phenomenon of watching the park go by before realizing that they should have pressed the 'Stop' button a minute or two ago. We, too, found ourselves scrambling to get off the bus once we realized where we were, but it was all in good spirit. With Stalin's great big boots looming above the entrance, it was rather obvious that we had come to the right place.

Some say that the park is the neatest thing; others will confess that it is a bit of a let-down. I kept an open mind about the whole thing and decided that although it wasn't as big as thought it would be, the whole concept of it and the rarity in the preservation of these statues and monuments made it very much worthwhile. Some of them seemed larger than life! Can you see me between the man's legs mimicking his pose? Really puts things in perspective doesn't it?

Overall, I really enjoyed walking around memories of days gone by. It's a once-in-a-lifetime experience, you could say, given that all other Communist artwork and such has been destroyed. It's a shame that they don't have more, but you really can't expect the oppressed to want to keep around things that remind them of their oppressors. I don't really have any other big plans for this weekend except for studying for my finals. It's really hard to believe that the semester is over. I just can't seem to wrap my mind around it. So many places, faces, new cities and new friends. Does it really have to end?

Yes, yes it does. But there is no better way to end it than in the company of loved ones. I am SO EXCITED to see Aunt Shelley and show her around Budapest, and then we're off to Spain-- where I actually speak a bit of the local tounge *phew* Until next...

An Irish Adventure

About a week ago, my friend Corey and I decided on a spur-of-the-moment decision to go on one last trip before the end of the semester, and so I found myself packing up my backpack once more and boarding a plane for Dublin. We arrived late Thursday night, found the hostel with little hassle, and decided to tackle the city bright and early the next morning. Aside from the fact that we could actually understand people, one of the biggest shocks was the cars all driving on the wrong side of the road. Thank goodness they painted these warnings at all the crosswalks!

We decided to do our own walking tour of Dublin, and first stopped to admire the campus of Trinity College. It was amazing how once we stepped through the gate, we seemed to have entered an entirely different world; one with much less traffic, noise, and drunk Irish folk. The College is home to the Book of Kells, a prized ancient artifact of the Celtic culture, so we figured we would come back on Monday to check it out. Continuing on, we saw the Dublin Castle, and then made our way to none other than the Guinness factory. If there is one thing about Irish culture that every Irishman is proud of, it's the Guinness Legend. The infamous stout has been brewed in the heart of Dublin since 1759, and many attribute it's fantastic taste to the purity of the local water. I had never tried the drink before, but quite liked it, and made a point to have at least one pint of it each day I was in Ireland. So I'm not actually Irish, but I can still drink like one!

We were both quite cold and chilly as it had begun to rain (big surprise) and headed back for some rest at the hostel. It was there that we met two other students who were bunking with us, from the U.S. and studying in Milan. We decided to all go out for some dinner and then a drink or two, and I must say it was an absolutely fantastic night. After a nice meal, we headed over to a favorite local pub, The Celt to have a few drinks and listen to the live music. Never before have I been in such a cheerful, warm and jovial environment. We were all dancing and singing to traditional Irish tunes, and I felt like my Ireland experience really couldn't get any more authentic than this. It was pure fun!

The next day, we headed out on a tour to the Wicklow mountains and the Lake of Glendalaugh. As they say with the Irish accent, the landscape was "gargeous" and so very, very vast. We saw endless rolling hills and mountains, and waterfalls; I couldn't believe how green and lush everything was in the middle of December! Our guide even stopped to show us the fields where the great battle scenes of Braveheart were filmed (not Scotland) and explained that the reason why it was shot in Ireland is because the government offered to provide the 2,000 necessary extras for free. How exactly does one go about that? The Irish army! Interesting, eh? In our tour group were 7 German students that we got to chatting with, very friendly they all were, and it made the day all the more memorable when we came back with a few more friends than we'd started with.

Words can't really describe the rugged beauty of the countryside...

The next morning we took the DART train to a small fisherman's town on a penninsula North of Dublin. We hiked along the coastline, in a seemingly perpetual state of wonder and amazement at how gorgeous this island was. It was very windy, and began to rain in the evening (we weren't surprised at this point) so we relaxed more or less in and around the hostel. By Monday, I really wasn't looking foward to leaving. Originally we had wondered what could be so great about a big old book, but after seeing the Book of Kells exhibit, I can now say "What isn't great about this big old book?" It was written more than 1,200 years ago and has been so preserved that one can still admire the intricate detailing of its images and manuscript. Pretty darn cool if you ask me.

And then it was back to Budapest, one last time. I am so very, very excited to see Aunt Shelley-- I think I might even be able to pick her up at the airport-- and then jet off to Spain! Goodness gracious, this has been one crazy semester...