Where do you even start talking about how much I miss Europe? I was there for nearly 8 months, 222 days and not a day goes by where I’m not tempted to go to the airport and catch a last minute flight back.
Don’t get me wrong: it’s great to be back and see friends, and family but a part of me is still in Europe. I really do think I will end up living over there. And if I ever get the chance to go back (fingers crossed sooner than later) I’ll be there in a heartbeat.
It has been 1 month and 11 days since my return and it’s been a whirlwind of seeing friends, becoming a brunette, going camping, enjoying home cooked meals and travelling to Michigan to see Petey and Ohio to see the crazy famjam. Ironically enough, I am not home all that often. Hmm.
I think the things I miss most about Europe are the means of transportation which are just so damn effective, the food, the fantastic wine, and the adventures. Everywhere you go you meet new people, hear great stories, and can walk for hours, becoming incredibly lost and I have never been happier. It’s wonderful. I loved getting lost. And considering I am not the best with a map…that was common.
Mind you, it’s nice having a hair dryer, proper internet access and a dryer for the clothes, but those are just things a bonus. But I miss my apartment in Lille, I miss walking the cobblestone streets. I miss the fresh bread, and the smell of pastry in the morning. Also, I miss my ladies. A ton.
Thank goodness for technology though eh: between facebook and the good ol blackberry messenger, the Storm Troopers 167 group stays in touch almost every day.
We are planning the reunion for summer 2011 in NYC. Stay tuned.
NYC has no idea what they are in for…excellent. Let the countdown begin.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Back to Canadaland!
*Cue deep voice*
This is the tale of a girl who spent 8 months in Europe travelled back to Canada…
Just kidding. But really, this is the post about my trip back to the homeland. It’s a keeper full of ridiculous moments and only “that would happen to me” moments.
So there I was, waving bye to Nunzia as my train took off from Essen to Aachen Germany. It really is a strange feeling thinking of the past 8 months. 8 months or 222 days I had lived in Europe. A part of me felt like I had lived in Europe my entire life and then the other part of me felt like I had only taken a two weeks trip. We had done so much; 13 countries and over 27 cities and my travel bug fever was just beginning. I wanted to see more.
So back to the story, I actually had an incredibly smooth ride from Essen to Aachen. I met some other travelers on the way who were admiring (more like staring) at my collection of bags and the Canada flag tattooed to the side. They key was not to miss the connection to Aachen to Liege. If I did…the next train only came at 5am, and it was 9pm at this point. If I missed this connection…I would not be arriving in Paris on time. That was not an option. So I arrived and had 29 minutes before my connecting train. Time and karma seemed to be on my side this time.
I had some help lifting my bag onto the second train and with that came a sitting buddy. I swear there must have been 5 of us on the train. No sarcasm whatsoever. It was dead empty. This was a leg only of 1.5 hours, so not a big deal, but regardless, it was nice to have some company. My new friend was from Turkey and extremely chatty. In 1.5 hours I can confidently say I know all about his past marriage, affair and current re-dating of his ex-wife. The ride was more so him talking and me nodding and smiling every once in a while.
I was relieved to finally arrive in Liege, except that this leg would sort of suck. I had to wait 5 hours before my next train. This was fine since I had packed a book and my laptop was fully charged with movies. However when I arrived, the train station was more a bridge…and open to the cold night air. Super. In addition, since it was almost midnight, all of the washrooms were closed. Right. Of course they are. And I had to pee. Excellent timing Sarah.
All of a sudden this guy approaches me and asked me if I was waiting for the next train to Brussels. I sure was. We started chatting and he had been on the previous train with me, and since there was only 5 of us, he thought he would come over. Super. A friend to sit with. Turns out he spoke excellent English since his mum is Irish but he grew up in Belgium. Cool! So we get to talking and he mentions that Liege isn’t really the safest part of town. Right. Long story short he offered that I could stay with him at his mums house. I said no thanks, I’ll be fine, but great offer. He was waiting for his mum to pick him up and when she arrived she started filling me in on how it’s incredibly unsafe, how if she had a daughter she would never let them stay here, etc. etc. I start doing the math in my head and 1) the train station was more an open area so anyone from outside can walk in throughout the night 2) there are no security guards 3) washrooms are closed 4) it was freezing.
I weighed the risks and went for it. I got in the car with Alex and his mum and we started driving to their place. They were incredibly nice; we talked the whole ride about travelling and our adventures. We must have arrived at their place by 1am, and Alex would drive me back to the station next to their house the next morning where I could use the same ticket to go to Brussels. Excellent.
So I slept for a couple hours and in the blink of an eye we were up again, and Alex was driving me to the station. The two of them were so incredibly nice and in the long run it was an excellent choice to go with them. I’ll never forget it.
So I jumped on the train and I was back to the races going to Brussels. I arrived nice and early and sat down with a book until my final train from Brussels to Paris CDG airport arrived.
This was it. This was the last train until the airport, and then I would be home. The excitement started kicking in.
Before I knew it I was boarding my last train. Of course with so many people, there was no room for my bag, so I sat the bad boy down in the hallway and grabbed my seat. It was to the side and in nobody’s way, but hey. It had to go somewhere. That was by far the fastest train ride of my life. In my excitement I was the first one off the train and booked it upstairs to check into my flight. In line I met another fellow from Ontario who had just finished his tour of Europe for business: how exciting. We chatted while we waited in line and the main debate was whether my bag was going to be over. Fingers crossed.
As I approached the desk I wasn’t feeling totally sold on the idea that my bag would be under, but all would be well. Anddd….MY BAG WAS GOOD! Wow! Totally shocking considering all of the shopping I did in Cologne, but alas I was on my way.
We boarded the flight, and I got into my seat (the window seat, duh) and was amped to see who would sit beside me for this 8 hour flight. A couple in fact, so that was cool. We didn’t chat much, but when the flight took off I enjoyed some wine and my movies. About 30 minutes into our flight I look over and see this:
She had covered her entire self with the blue blanket provided by Air Canada. Are you joking? Oh no. That bad boy was tucked in and over her head. Right. Thank god I was watching a comedy movie because I burst out laughing. Who does that? I mean, her hubby had the black satin eye wear trimmed with lace to block the light…but to be a blue blob? Too good.
4 movies later we were landing. HI CANADA! Boom, boom, boom I ran out, and waited for my suitcase. I had 2 hours from when I landed to when my next flight took off which was great, but I wanted to get this ball rolling. I was now in Toronto. Welcome back to Canada eh? Woo!
When I finally saw my bag coming around, we were gone like lightning. Now the real test: customs. My VISA for France was 6 months and I had been gone almost 8…so I was really hoping I wouldn’t get into trouble. I had done my research and I had received permission from every country in writing saying I was permitted to enter their country, so I should be okay. But what if you know?
I go up and he asked where I’m coming from, how long I was gone for, how much stuff I brought back (I wrote $50 cause really…I could not even tell you how much I spent). He looked at me and said “Really? $50?”. I laughed and said exactly that: I had no idea what to write. Alcohol or tobacco? Nope. Cough cough. With that he said have a great day. Are you kidding? Not one word about me being gone 2 months past my VISA. Superb. Let’s get out of here.
I tossed my bags onto the carousel to take my bags away again and with that I got into the security check again. This was getting old. One lane was open for like 60 people so a security guard came over and told me I could go upstairs which was empty and tons more lanes open. Off I went. On the way up the escalator I met this 15 year old boy who was chatty as anything. He was from Calgary and had just travelled Europe with his dad who lived in Paris. We flew through security and me and my new friend kind of stuck together. I didn’t even have to talk much: he was so damn chatty. It was great.
But it was weird: I was back in Canada. Tim Horton cups were everywhere and everyone spoke English. Weird. Weird. Weird. Breath. I just had to keep breathing. I mean I was excited to be home, but I really loved Europe.
The flight was quite smooth and since I am only in the air 49 minutes, it was a total joke. Shortest flight ever. Before I knew it we were landing. Holy crap batman: this was it. I booked it out of there, and was jogging for the baggage section. Now Petey and I had planned this: we would tape our parents when we arrived. Fabulous. So in my head I was coming back from overseas, so I had another gate to go through. False. The baggage section is open to people…aka parents. So I am coming down the escalator when all of a sudden I hear “SARAHHHHHH! SARAHHHHH!” No way that’s me…is it? Omg. My mum! My mum was standing at the bottom of the escalator – smart woman had pinpointed her baby.
Of course as soon as I reached my mum the waterworks start. It was the best ‘mum’ hug, the kind you can only get from your mum you know? Too good. So the hugs are passed around to Emmy (my baby sister – well not baby…she is 13; but she is my baby) and then dad. Wait. Where is dad? “He went to go get you an ice-cap from Tommy Nortons” To clarify: to us Tim Hortons is Tommy Nortons. Right. Good ol dad. So I see dad turning the corner with an ice-cap in each hand and I start running. Picture one of those beach scenes where two people are running towards each other and then the waterworks start all over again. Oh dad.
As if it had been 8 months since I had seen my family: too long really. But man it was good to be back.
As I’m standing there chatting to my mum, my buddy from Calgary came and said “have a great time with the fam….call me sometime” and hands me his number. Speechless I stare some more and he has gone over to greet his nana. He gave me his number before he said hi to his family; unreal. And don’t get me wrong: he knew I was 22, cause half of our conversation is when he wasn’t in high-school he would travel. Too cute. My mum is just staring speechless and I say “We met in Toronto. He is my 15 year old friend from Calgary” Of course he is hun.
Oh the many moments of my time in Europe: that was the cherry on top as I was finally back in Ottawa. Home at last.
8 months, 222 days in Europe and as fast as it started, it was over with the blink of an eye.
This is the tale of a girl who spent 8 months in Europe travelled back to Canada…
Just kidding. But really, this is the post about my trip back to the homeland. It’s a keeper full of ridiculous moments and only “that would happen to me” moments.
So there I was, waving bye to Nunzia as my train took off from Essen to Aachen Germany. It really is a strange feeling thinking of the past 8 months. 8 months or 222 days I had lived in Europe. A part of me felt like I had lived in Europe my entire life and then the other part of me felt like I had only taken a two weeks trip. We had done so much; 13 countries and over 27 cities and my travel bug fever was just beginning. I wanted to see more.
So back to the story, I actually had an incredibly smooth ride from Essen to Aachen. I met some other travelers on the way who were admiring (more like staring) at my collection of bags and the Canada flag tattooed to the side. They key was not to miss the connection to Aachen to Liege. If I did…the next train only came at 5am, and it was 9pm at this point. If I missed this connection…I would not be arriving in Paris on time. That was not an option. So I arrived and had 29 minutes before my connecting train. Time and karma seemed to be on my side this time.
I had some help lifting my bag onto the second train and with that came a sitting buddy. I swear there must have been 5 of us on the train. No sarcasm whatsoever. It was dead empty. This was a leg only of 1.5 hours, so not a big deal, but regardless, it was nice to have some company. My new friend was from Turkey and extremely chatty. In 1.5 hours I can confidently say I know all about his past marriage, affair and current re-dating of his ex-wife. The ride was more so him talking and me nodding and smiling every once in a while.
I was relieved to finally arrive in Liege, except that this leg would sort of suck. I had to wait 5 hours before my next train. This was fine since I had packed a book and my laptop was fully charged with movies. However when I arrived, the train station was more a bridge…and open to the cold night air. Super. In addition, since it was almost midnight, all of the washrooms were closed. Right. Of course they are. And I had to pee. Excellent timing Sarah.
All of a sudden this guy approaches me and asked me if I was waiting for the next train to Brussels. I sure was. We started chatting and he had been on the previous train with me, and since there was only 5 of us, he thought he would come over. Super. A friend to sit with. Turns out he spoke excellent English since his mum is Irish but he grew up in Belgium. Cool! So we get to talking and he mentions that Liege isn’t really the safest part of town. Right. Long story short he offered that I could stay with him at his mums house. I said no thanks, I’ll be fine, but great offer. He was waiting for his mum to pick him up and when she arrived she started filling me in on how it’s incredibly unsafe, how if she had a daughter she would never let them stay here, etc. etc. I start doing the math in my head and 1) the train station was more an open area so anyone from outside can walk in throughout the night 2) there are no security guards 3) washrooms are closed 4) it was freezing.
I weighed the risks and went for it. I got in the car with Alex and his mum and we started driving to their place. They were incredibly nice; we talked the whole ride about travelling and our adventures. We must have arrived at their place by 1am, and Alex would drive me back to the station next to their house the next morning where I could use the same ticket to go to Brussels. Excellent.
So I slept for a couple hours and in the blink of an eye we were up again, and Alex was driving me to the station. The two of them were so incredibly nice and in the long run it was an excellent choice to go with them. I’ll never forget it.
So I jumped on the train and I was back to the races going to Brussels. I arrived nice and early and sat down with a book until my final train from Brussels to Paris CDG airport arrived.
This was it. This was the last train until the airport, and then I would be home. The excitement started kicking in.
Before I knew it I was boarding my last train. Of course with so many people, there was no room for my bag, so I sat the bad boy down in the hallway and grabbed my seat. It was to the side and in nobody’s way, but hey. It had to go somewhere. That was by far the fastest train ride of my life. In my excitement I was the first one off the train and booked it upstairs to check into my flight. In line I met another fellow from Ontario who had just finished his tour of Europe for business: how exciting. We chatted while we waited in line and the main debate was whether my bag was going to be over. Fingers crossed.
As I approached the desk I wasn’t feeling totally sold on the idea that my bag would be under, but all would be well. Anddd….MY BAG WAS GOOD! Wow! Totally shocking considering all of the shopping I did in Cologne, but alas I was on my way.
We boarded the flight, and I got into my seat (the window seat, duh) and was amped to see who would sit beside me for this 8 hour flight. A couple in fact, so that was cool. We didn’t chat much, but when the flight took off I enjoyed some wine and my movies. About 30 minutes into our flight I look over and see this:
She had covered her entire self with the blue blanket provided by Air Canada. Are you joking? Oh no. That bad boy was tucked in and over her head. Right. Thank god I was watching a comedy movie because I burst out laughing. Who does that? I mean, her hubby had the black satin eye wear trimmed with lace to block the light…but to be a blue blob? Too good.
4 movies later we were landing. HI CANADA! Boom, boom, boom I ran out, and waited for my suitcase. I had 2 hours from when I landed to when my next flight took off which was great, but I wanted to get this ball rolling. I was now in Toronto. Welcome back to Canada eh? Woo!
When I finally saw my bag coming around, we were gone like lightning. Now the real test: customs. My VISA for France was 6 months and I had been gone almost 8…so I was really hoping I wouldn’t get into trouble. I had done my research and I had received permission from every country in writing saying I was permitted to enter their country, so I should be okay. But what if you know?
I go up and he asked where I’m coming from, how long I was gone for, how much stuff I brought back (I wrote $50 cause really…I could not even tell you how much I spent). He looked at me and said “Really? $50?”. I laughed and said exactly that: I had no idea what to write. Alcohol or tobacco? Nope. Cough cough. With that he said have a great day. Are you kidding? Not one word about me being gone 2 months past my VISA. Superb. Let’s get out of here.
I tossed my bags onto the carousel to take my bags away again and with that I got into the security check again. This was getting old. One lane was open for like 60 people so a security guard came over and told me I could go upstairs which was empty and tons more lanes open. Off I went. On the way up the escalator I met this 15 year old boy who was chatty as anything. He was from Calgary and had just travelled Europe with his dad who lived in Paris. We flew through security and me and my new friend kind of stuck together. I didn’t even have to talk much: he was so damn chatty. It was great.
But it was weird: I was back in Canada. Tim Horton cups were everywhere and everyone spoke English. Weird. Weird. Weird. Breath. I just had to keep breathing. I mean I was excited to be home, but I really loved Europe.
The flight was quite smooth and since I am only in the air 49 minutes, it was a total joke. Shortest flight ever. Before I knew it we were landing. Holy crap batman: this was it. I booked it out of there, and was jogging for the baggage section. Now Petey and I had planned this: we would tape our parents when we arrived. Fabulous. So in my head I was coming back from overseas, so I had another gate to go through. False. The baggage section is open to people…aka parents. So I am coming down the escalator when all of a sudden I hear “SARAHHHHHH! SARAHHHHH!” No way that’s me…is it? Omg. My mum! My mum was standing at the bottom of the escalator – smart woman had pinpointed her baby.
Of course as soon as I reached my mum the waterworks start. It was the best ‘mum’ hug, the kind you can only get from your mum you know? Too good. So the hugs are passed around to Emmy (my baby sister – well not baby…she is 13; but she is my baby) and then dad. Wait. Where is dad? “He went to go get you an ice-cap from Tommy Nortons” To clarify: to us Tim Hortons is Tommy Nortons. Right. Good ol dad. So I see dad turning the corner with an ice-cap in each hand and I start running. Picture one of those beach scenes where two people are running towards each other and then the waterworks start all over again. Oh dad.
As if it had been 8 months since I had seen my family: too long really. But man it was good to be back.
As I’m standing there chatting to my mum, my buddy from Calgary came and said “have a great time with the fam….call me sometime” and hands me his number. Speechless I stare some more and he has gone over to greet his nana. He gave me his number before he said hi to his family; unreal. And don’t get me wrong: he knew I was 22, cause half of our conversation is when he wasn’t in high-school he would travel. Too cute. My mum is just staring speechless and I say “We met in Toronto. He is my 15 year old friend from Calgary” Of course he is hun.
Oh the many moments of my time in Europe: that was the cherry on top as I was finally back in Ottawa. Home at last.
8 months, 222 days in Europe and as fast as it started, it was over with the blink of an eye.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Repeat that? Gummy Bear Vodka Festival? Yes…sign me up.
I arrived in Dusseldorf to Petey and Nunzia; beers in hand. God that girl knows me well eh. What a hell of a welcome. I was so excited to be back in Germany; Easter week was just ridiculous in all sense of the word and it had been a whirlwind of Petey’s family, Italian cuisine and some serious belly laughs.
Just to make my welcome even better, I was able to score some of Oma Nunzia’s homemade lasagna. I’m sorry, but that woman has ruined pasta for me forever. I can’t buy store bought anymore. I don’t know what she puts in her homemade recipe, other than crack of course. Honestly, its addictive. I mentioned last time that her Opa didn’t think I could handle it, that I wouldn’t be able to finish: but he knew me better this time. I finished every last drop off my numerous plates (minus licking the plate). That woman should get a Nobel prize for cooking or something. Note to self: look into that.
It was a jam packed week, but one day we managed to get ourselves to the so-called Phantasialand. Now, when saying ‘Phantasialand’ please put on a heavy German accent and really use the ‘zzzzzzzzzz’ instead of the ‘s’. Excellent. So basically what this theme park is the German version of a Cedar Point, or La Ronde. We spent the whole day, even in the rain, and managed to get on some really good rides.
We did a whole array of rides: some kid rides, some 3D moving thingy rides, some serious roller coasters, and just some rides that had us in tears laughing. Two stories: first off the drop zone. So we have this in Canada; I am familiar with it. I have done it. We go to this so called ‘drop zone’ esk ride and a) there were guys jumping out at me that just scared the crap out of me and b) the ride tricks you! Okay, so you are sitting, and all of a sudden you get BLASTED to the top. That was trick 1. So then the expected ‘drop’ happens and you think it’s all over. Trick 2. They BLAST YOU BACK UP! Oh man, it was an up and down, up and down frenzy. I was expecting one big ol’ drop. Nope. Germans just had to show off and top it all.
Second story: the world’s largest indoor all dark rollercoaster is at the park. Super cool. So Petey and I go on and we are sitting in the middle. Nice and easy, but a really great ride. Being 22, naturally my first reaction was “LETS DO IT AGAIN!”. So we did. This time Petey and I sat in the first row. Great decision. I have never laughed so hard in all my life. The smooth aspect of the ride was demolished, we were jolting side to side and literally crying laughing. To make it even better; Petey took pictures. Behold maybe THE funniest picture we have ever taken together.
All in all, it was a great day and we had a blast. To celebrate such a great day we ordered a pizza and watched some more office. Note: I ordered the four cheese pizza, which Petey was terrified of, or made her momentarily nautious (she doesn’t like cheese remember? Weirdoooo). Anyways, great day.
One of our days was also dedicated to go visit Cologne, Petey’s city in Germany! Yay! Heritage day for Petey. So we took the train which was only an hour and were off like lightning ridiculously early in the morning. We did some serious shopping (it appeared I totally forgot the weight limit on my suitcase) and went to the legendary Koln beer brewery to have some Früh beer. Talk about a great beer; no wonder she raved about it so much over the past 7 months. We also had the chance to go up the Cologne Cathedral which was gorgeous. Once again, something over 500 stairs, and when we got to the top the view was worth it as always.
Cologne Cathedral
View from the Top
At the Brewery
Früh beer
We were there with a group of friends and cousins of Petey and Nunzia in addition to her aunt/uncle. The first thing we did when we arrived: beer and gummy bear vodka. Let me paint you a picture here: the shots come with an actual gummy bear in the bottom of your shot. Using a toothpick, you must stab the bear, eat him and then take the shot. To make it all the much better: yes, the vodka tastes identical to gummy bears. Where has this vodka been all my life?
The next morning it was time for the parade so we got up obscenely early and headed downtown to meet Petey’s Oma Elisabeth and some other family members. Now this isn’t any parade; they tossed out candy, roses, beer, popcorn, and I even got a collectors beer plaque. Insane. Tons of people, blaring music from the floats and in general just a really neat experience. Luckily, it was perfect weather too, so we caught what would be some of our last rays of European sunshine. Boo.
Being busy bees, that night was Oma Nunzia’s 75th birthday! Cute! We went over to their place for some pre-dinner? Yeah, coffee, cake, and champagne. Oh yes, nice and early. So they kept pouring and we kept chatting. Started with wine, continued with Prosecco, and ended with this insane Italian mixed drink think they made. Orange and fizzy, but pure alcohol it seemed. Insane. So clearly, everyone was smiley and happy when it came time to go to the restaurant for dinner.
The group had about 20 people and we took up a table the length of Texas. Impressive crowd to say the least. It was so cool though to see all her family at one table. The mix of German, Italian and Petey’s American accent in English, with a slice of Canadian on the side was superb.
When we got back to Nunzia’s place we had to pack. Now what did I say about packing…I hate it. I had to pack all the stuff I bought in Cologne into my one suitcase, and make sure it didn’t weigh more than 23kg. Ha. Good luck. Somehow both Petey and I did it, and funny enough she had to send home a box of about 16kg. She felt my pain of sending boxes…finally. Our last night was spent packing, watching the office and recapping our favorite moments from the past 8 months. Of course we barely got any sleep since we were getting up super early so we could get Petey to the airport on time. She would be leaving at 11:30am and I would be taking the train at 8pm that night to get back to Paris for my flight.
Where the hell did 8 months go?
The ride to the airport is about 30 minutes, so in case of traffic we gave ourselves an hour to get there. We would leave at 730ish to get there with almost 3 hours for her flight. Excellent. Of course, since it was our last day together: things went a bit wrong for the worse. We were stuck in traffic for over 2 hours. Yes friends, wayyyy too long. Petey is in the back seat with me almost hyperventilating while I’m trying to be funny, get her mind of it while deep down laughing cause THIS WOULD HAPPEN TO US. We got to the airport after 9:30am, and we dashed in. Luckily there was no waiting really, her bag was way over but she wasn’t charged a fine and we had time to get breakfast. Karma was on our side again.
Where was our last meal? McDs. Oh boy: however, the plus: they had excellent breakfast.
Saying bye to Petey felt like a joke. I had literally been with the girl everyday for the past 8 months and not talking for over a 24 hour span was rare. In fact, exceedingly rare. We knew each other to a tee and both tried to hold back the tears. My buddy was going back to the USA (much better than being on the other side of the world), but I still wouldn’t see her for about a month. A MONTH!? What was I supposed to do with my days….who would I tell my funny stories to? Who else would have the patience to listen? It was going to be hard adjusting. That was guaranteed.
We were judged hardcore as she cried going through security and sobbed like a child waiting for her plane. I did the classic wave from a distance and then….she gave me the look. Shit. I forgot to grab the umbrella from her backpack that she made me promise I would take from her so she didn’t have to bring it. I forgot. Shock. And there she was…holding the damn umbrella.
Nunzia and I walked back to the car…until she realized she forgot where she parked the car. Excellent. Nothing like a good game of car finding in the AIRPORT PARKING LOT. No worries, we had this. Yeah, not at all. We must have searched for almost an hour but then…we found her. The ride back to her place was 30 minutes. Too funny.
The rest of the day was kind of a blur. We went and sent Petey’s package to the USA, shopped a little (of course, I wasn’t allowed to buy anything) and we had some dinner before I would be leaving for my quest to Paris.
We got the train station with tons of time to spare and I thanked every god that I sent one suitcase home. This mother red weighed a TON. Then my backpack and computer bag. I was in for a hell of a night.
Petey had left that morning and now so was I. Probably the strangest feeling I have ever had.
A huge hug and a big ol Canadian wave I was off on my first train.
Just to make my welcome even better, I was able to score some of Oma Nunzia’s homemade lasagna. I’m sorry, but that woman has ruined pasta for me forever. I can’t buy store bought anymore. I don’t know what she puts in her homemade recipe, other than crack of course. Honestly, its addictive. I mentioned last time that her Opa didn’t think I could handle it, that I wouldn’t be able to finish: but he knew me better this time. I finished every last drop off my numerous plates (minus licking the plate). That woman should get a Nobel prize for cooking or something. Note to self: look into that.
It was a jam packed week, but one day we managed to get ourselves to the so-called Phantasialand. Now, when saying ‘Phantasialand’ please put on a heavy German accent and really use the ‘zzzzzzzzzz’ instead of the ‘s’. Excellent. So basically what this theme park is the German version of a Cedar Point, or La Ronde. We spent the whole day, even in the rain, and managed to get on some really good rides.
We did a whole array of rides: some kid rides, some 3D moving thingy rides, some serious roller coasters, and just some rides that had us in tears laughing. Two stories: first off the drop zone. So we have this in Canada; I am familiar with it. I have done it. We go to this so called ‘drop zone’ esk ride and a) there were guys jumping out at me that just scared the crap out of me and b) the ride tricks you! Okay, so you are sitting, and all of a sudden you get BLASTED to the top. That was trick 1. So then the expected ‘drop’ happens and you think it’s all over. Trick 2. They BLAST YOU BACK UP! Oh man, it was an up and down, up and down frenzy. I was expecting one big ol’ drop. Nope. Germans just had to show off and top it all.
Second story: the world’s largest indoor all dark rollercoaster is at the park. Super cool. So Petey and I go on and we are sitting in the middle. Nice and easy, but a really great ride. Being 22, naturally my first reaction was “LETS DO IT AGAIN!”. So we did. This time Petey and I sat in the first row. Great decision. I have never laughed so hard in all my life. The smooth aspect of the ride was demolished, we were jolting side to side and literally crying laughing. To make it even better; Petey took pictures. Behold maybe THE funniest picture we have ever taken together.
All in all, it was a great day and we had a blast. To celebrate such a great day we ordered a pizza and watched some more office. Note: I ordered the four cheese pizza, which Petey was terrified of, or made her momentarily nautious (she doesn’t like cheese remember? Weirdoooo). Anyways, great day.
One of our days was also dedicated to go visit Cologne, Petey’s city in Germany! Yay! Heritage day for Petey. So we took the train which was only an hour and were off like lightning ridiculously early in the morning. We did some serious shopping (it appeared I totally forgot the weight limit on my suitcase) and went to the legendary Koln beer brewery to have some Früh beer. Talk about a great beer; no wonder she raved about it so much over the past 7 months. We also had the chance to go up the Cologne Cathedral which was gorgeous. Once again, something over 500 stairs, and when we got to the top the view was worth it as always.
Cologne Cathedral
View from the Top
At the Brewery
My lunch :)
Früh beer
I could have easily spent a few days shopping there, but both my credit card and Petey suggested otherwise. But the day wasn’t over yet, when we got back we quickly got ready to head to the gummy bear vodka festival. Are you kidding me? Yes please. Now, don’t get to crazy, the festival is really called Cranger Kirmes, however…it’s so much more fun saying gummy bear vodka festival. But seriously, this festival is enormous. Over 5 million people go every year in the 10 days the festival runs. That is a lot of Germans friends. So the stand called Steinmeister…which serves the gummy bear vodka is the main shebang. For good reason. No wonder you attract 5 million people. Duh.
We were there with a group of friends and cousins of Petey and Nunzia in addition to her aunt/uncle. The first thing we did when we arrived: beer and gummy bear vodka. Let me paint you a picture here: the shots come with an actual gummy bear in the bottom of your shot. Using a toothpick, you must stab the bear, eat him and then take the shot. To make it all the much better: yes, the vodka tastes identical to gummy bears. Where has this vodka been all my life?
So of course, since Easter my quest has been to speak German. More like imitate what they are saying to me, but really, that language is so complex. There are words with 28 letters…that is more than our alphabet. HOW IS THAT POSSIBLE TO SAY!? But it is. And it sounds so damn cool. So the test came for me to order a round of gummy bear vodka shots: 4 to be precise. I got up, cleared my throat and in my best German accent asked: “Vier Gummibaerschenschnapps bitte!" (yeah that’s how you spell it…I told you the language is hard) FOUR GUMMY BEAR SHOTS PLEASE! I did it. I freaking nailed it. The guy smiled, quickly clueing in that I am not from here, and with pleasure handed me my order. A++. Of course no party is complete without jagger shots, so we brought some left over’s from my birthday shot suspenders. Too many actually. Those were quickly handed out like souvenirs and we were happy as can be.
The next morning it was time for the parade so we got up obscenely early and headed downtown to meet Petey’s Oma Elisabeth and some other family members. Now this isn’t any parade; they tossed out candy, roses, beer, popcorn, and I even got a collectors beer plaque. Insane. Tons of people, blaring music from the floats and in general just a really neat experience. Luckily, it was perfect weather too, so we caught what would be some of our last rays of European sunshine. Boo.
Being busy bees, that night was Oma Nunzia’s 75th birthday! Cute! We went over to their place for some pre-dinner? Yeah, coffee, cake, and champagne. Oh yes, nice and early. So they kept pouring and we kept chatting. Started with wine, continued with Prosecco, and ended with this insane Italian mixed drink think they made. Orange and fizzy, but pure alcohol it seemed. Insane. So clearly, everyone was smiley and happy when it came time to go to the restaurant for dinner.
The group had about 20 people and we took up a table the length of Texas. Impressive crowd to say the least. It was so cool though to see all her family at one table. The mix of German, Italian and Petey’s American accent in English, with a slice of Canadian on the side was superb.
The troublesome trio that night included myself, Petey and Oma Elisabeth; she is a quick one that oma. So Petey and I somehow got wind that there was a wedding down the hall. Wedding crashers anyone? No really though, we totally went to check it out. We get down the hall walk in and BAM. The bridge & groom having their dance. Omg, omg omg omg….slowly back away, a little faster……RUN! Needless to say we were in tears laughing in the bathroom and still thinking about it makes me laugh. We were so close…
The Sunday we spent the day with family, as a kind of ‘happy trips back to north America’ gathering. We were able to show the fam our pictures from glacier rafting and bungee jumping, and well, we ate a ton. It was a fantastic experience to be in a family atmosphere like that. The kind of family I have back in Canada; loud, busy, full of food, drinks and best of all laughter. I can only imagine how hard it was for Petey to say bye to the fam. I’m pretty sure she had seen the more in the past 8 months than in the past few years. Crazy to think of. They were wonderful and invited me back anytime and of course I extended the invitation to Canada. Petey thinks they might show up any day now…
When we got back to Nunzia’s place we had to pack. Now what did I say about packing…I hate it. I had to pack all the stuff I bought in Cologne into my one suitcase, and make sure it didn’t weigh more than 23kg. Ha. Good luck. Somehow both Petey and I did it, and funny enough she had to send home a box of about 16kg. She felt my pain of sending boxes…finally. Our last night was spent packing, watching the office and recapping our favorite moments from the past 8 months. Of course we barely got any sleep since we were getting up super early so we could get Petey to the airport on time. She would be leaving at 11:30am and I would be taking the train at 8pm that night to get back to Paris for my flight.
Where the hell did 8 months go?
The ride to the airport is about 30 minutes, so in case of traffic we gave ourselves an hour to get there. We would leave at 730ish to get there with almost 3 hours for her flight. Excellent. Of course, since it was our last day together: things went a bit wrong for the worse. We were stuck in traffic for over 2 hours. Yes friends, wayyyy too long. Petey is in the back seat with me almost hyperventilating while I’m trying to be funny, get her mind of it while deep down laughing cause THIS WOULD HAPPEN TO US. We got to the airport after 9:30am, and we dashed in. Luckily there was no waiting really, her bag was way over but she wasn’t charged a fine and we had time to get breakfast. Karma was on our side again.
Where was our last meal? McDs. Oh boy: however, the plus: they had excellent breakfast.
Saying bye to Petey felt like a joke. I had literally been with the girl everyday for the past 8 months and not talking for over a 24 hour span was rare. In fact, exceedingly rare. We knew each other to a tee and both tried to hold back the tears. My buddy was going back to the USA (much better than being on the other side of the world), but I still wouldn’t see her for about a month. A MONTH!? What was I supposed to do with my days….who would I tell my funny stories to? Who else would have the patience to listen? It was going to be hard adjusting. That was guaranteed.
We were judged hardcore as she cried going through security and sobbed like a child waiting for her plane. I did the classic wave from a distance and then….she gave me the look. Shit. I forgot to grab the umbrella from her backpack that she made me promise I would take from her so she didn’t have to bring it. I forgot. Shock. And there she was…holding the damn umbrella.
Nunzia and I walked back to the car…until she realized she forgot where she parked the car. Excellent. Nothing like a good game of car finding in the AIRPORT PARKING LOT. No worries, we had this. Yeah, not at all. We must have searched for almost an hour but then…we found her. The ride back to her place was 30 minutes. Too funny.
The rest of the day was kind of a blur. We went and sent Petey’s package to the USA, shopped a little (of course, I wasn’t allowed to buy anything) and we had some dinner before I would be leaving for my quest to Paris.
We got the train station with tons of time to spare and I thanked every god that I sent one suitcase home. This mother red weighed a TON. Then my backpack and computer bag. I was in for a hell of a night.
Petey had left that morning and now so was I. Probably the strangest feeling I have ever had.
A huge hug and a big ol Canadian wave I was off on my first train.
Hasta la Vista baby
Te quiero Espana
After Interlaken, you would think the madness would subside. Absolutely not. This was the last 2 weeks in Europe and it was full bore ahead to wonderland. Not literally, but you know what I mean. I was off to Espana! Petey and I had about 3 days to pack up our life and get organized before I jetted off for 5 days of beautiful weather and people in Zaragoza. But first things first: I had to visit the Olympic Stadium. It was the last site I hadn’t seen yet in Berlin, and it was a must do. How cool though, seeing such history that close to you. Of course we took a walk around, but it really was a pleasure seeing that in person.
Now long story short, Petey was supposed to come on this extravaganza, but we had some minor setbacks in the planning department. Alas, I had to go solo. I would be taking off Wednesday night at midnight on what would be the stupidest train rides of my life. You see, I had to get to Dusseldorf for my flight, which is technically a five hour train ride from Berlin. Sure, well that turned into 9 hours of train rides, buses, and cabs.
We, Petey and I, had mentally prepared me for this trip I was taking. I of course do not speak German, as much as I would like to this so, so I was presented with cue cards that would help me out in the case of an emergency. Things like “where is the bus?”, “where is this train?” and “this is my friend Paddy’s phone number…please call her immediately to help me”. Great cue cards really; very effective.
I got on the train just before midnight and was on my way. I was supposed to be arriving at my first transfer just after 5am, and needless to say it arrived late and therefore I missed every connecting train/bus/shuttle after that. Awesome. Way to start things off wonderfully at 5am. Being resourceful I got my stuff together ASAP and went to find someone to show my cue cards too. Turns out I came across the two sweetest older men who worked at the station and they helped me out! I didn’t even need my cue cards! Yay! I was directed to platform 9 and there two more fellas helped me out. One actually spoke to the conductor and then the conductor promised he would let me know when I had to transfer off his train! So nice.
So there I was, on train two, transferred onto a bus, back onto another train, and finally a shuttle taking me to the airport. Exhausting to say the least, but of course making friends all the way. At a certain point, there seemed to be a group of us that all migrated together for the airport so everything worked out well.
All I can say is I have never in my life been so relieved to get to an airport. I mean this thing was in the middle of nowhere, bordering the Netherlands, but fields, cows, who knew what surrounded this airport. I freshened up, made sure my bags were good to go and went to check in. I had not been able to weigh my suitcase before hand, but I was just praying that it would be 20kg or under. Please, please, please. I had it all planned out in my head that if it was over, I would wear my sweater, my winter coat, and put on a pair of my heaviest high heels. Okay, mentally prepared: check.
When I got up there, to my amazement…my bag was 19kg. WOOO! The guy laughed at me clearly because of my reaction and I tossed in my coats. No need to carry those around unnecessarily right? Excellent! Things were looking up! After this, is was smooth sailing. My flight was great and we arrived a little bit ahead of schedule.
Of course, Pabs was there to pick me up and I was once again loving life. I swear I should have been born in Spain. For once, the sun loves me. The five days went by like THAT (cue finger snap) and it was legendary weather. But before I get ahead of myself, let’s talk about the night life!
I was thrilled to be meeting up with Pabs boys again; after all they are probably some of the funniest people I have ever met. So we got together, had some drinks and hit the town. Somewhere in our pre-drink basketball came up, Canada came up and then of course, Toronto. Turns out a Spanish player plays on Toronto’s team, anyways, news to me, so of course it became a fashion show of jerseys. Excellent. And true to their jerseys, the boys wore them to the bar: even better. What a great night. I don’t know what it is about Spain but I could be out at the bar until 6am, 9am, and have no concept of time. I think the whole notion that you only get together around 11pm-midnight, go to the bar at like 2, and well, dance until 6 is crazy…but it works. In Canada my ass is in bed by 2am. Nobody stays until last call. Funny eh?
My days were spent wisely: reading outside in the sun. I can honestly say I would happily do that for the rest of my life. Sit outside in the Spanish sun, and read my novels It was heaven on earth. And like I said, the Spanish sun is the only one that doesn’t seem to burn me. Even better. It’s the little things right. Us pasty whites can appreciate some good tanned colour; which happens once in a blue moon.
We also had the chance to go to dinner (sushi! Finally!) with Pabs cousin and his girlfriend. The food was fantastic and the conversations just as interesting. Post our dinner we started a little bar hop. This is what you do. You eat, and then you go to 2-3 places for drinks. This is normal. God I love Spain. So we went to a little cocktail joint, then a sort of rock bar. Really, really cool. A wonderful night to say the least.
On Sunday I was lucky enough to go with Pabs to the Pyrenees. It was my fourth time to Spain, third time to Zaragoza, and I had never been. I was psyched to say the least. We packed some lunch meats to have a picnic somewhere when we arrived, but the picnic just never happened.
First off: this was supposed to be a 2 hour drive, which somehow turned into 3+. Those zoom zoom commercials with the winding roads up the mountain…yep. That is totally accurate and then some. We were winding all over the place and it got to a point where we were both laughing. “Do you know where you are going anymore?”. Only one way to find out. Of course he was relieved when we got there, we parked the car, debated the sandwiches in the car and then saw the restaurant across the street. Bye bye sandwiches. This cute little veranda, covered in ivy leaves, was to die for. Not to mention the weather was like 40C outside that day. I ordered a steak and he ordered a meat of sorts and we were starving. Well…I think she thought we were giants or something because I swear the steak was the size of my face: it was massive. Never in my life have I seen such a large piece of meat. His either! I think when I chocked on my beer, I realized I had to take a picture since no-one would believe me.
And the best part? Rare as anything. How is that even possible when it’s as thick as a house? Oh Spain…you never cease to amaze me.
The rest of the afternoon was spent wandering through the wonderful city of Ainsa. Gorgeous doesn’t even cut it. It was quirky, small, quaint, majestic, smelled like heaven and had history you couldn’t even imagine. And then the other thing: the view from the top of the Pyrenees. Go figure. The balconies were covered in ivy leaves and flowers, horses pulling tourists and cobblestone galore. It was a privilege to see it.
We came across this bell tower and I decided we had to go up to the top. It wasn’t that tall, but the history was calling my name. Now I am no history major, but I think mankind was doubled in size over the years. These staircases were made for my sister. We were bent in half, laughing our head off, but secretly holding on for dear life since it was so steep. Just mind boggling. Getting to the top was well worth it though! What a view! 
Now, like I said it was over 40C so drinks were well needed. We are sitting there, chatting, me taking in the scenery and I look over and this horse is just chilling beside our table. Pardon? Fantastic. Just hanging out. No big deal. Totally normal. As much as I was tempted to go over and introduce myself to this beautiful horse, I figured if he wasn’t a fan, my previous 15 foot fall would be a laugh compared to this drop over the edge. Yeah, I passed.
On our drive home we were able to pass through the town of Bielsa which was also quite pretty. However, while driving it occurred to us we were going the wrong way. We were about to go into France. Bah. So we crossed the border, into France, took in the view for a good second or two (since it was now raining) and dashed back over to Spain. How funny, simple and yet so exciting all at the same time.
I was supposed to return to Dusseldorf Tuesday at lunch, so Monday night we finished off on a total high. Pabs got all his cousins together and we did tapas. Now, I’m sorry, but Tapas is probably my new addiction. I love everything about it. We started at my absolute fav place with the loaded mushrooms, garlic and shrimp on a slice of baguette. After we literally inhaled those we crossed the street where I was introduced to ‘broken eggs’.
Basically you take potatoes cut extremely thin, toss on some sunny side up eggs on top, and your choice of prociutto, foie de gras, sausage, anything. I wasn’t really sure what to expect, other than the obvious: I would love it. Shocking right. Yumm is the understatement of the century. This was heaven in your mouth. No really though. We inhaled the first jamon covered on so fast, we ordered a second with foie de gras.
Is your mouth salivating yet? I think yes. Mine is just writing this again. To top all things off, we each ordered another dish. Mine was black rice with aiolo smothered on top. To sum this up, Masterchef Graham Elliot would have said it was an orgasm in your mouth. To die for.
Estaré de vuelta tan pronto como pueda; I will be back as soon as I can.
Now long story short, Petey was supposed to come on this extravaganza, but we had some minor setbacks in the planning department. Alas, I had to go solo. I would be taking off Wednesday night at midnight on what would be the stupidest train rides of my life. You see, I had to get to Dusseldorf for my flight, which is technically a five hour train ride from Berlin. Sure, well that turned into 9 hours of train rides, buses, and cabs.
We, Petey and I, had mentally prepared me for this trip I was taking. I of course do not speak German, as much as I would like to this so, so I was presented with cue cards that would help me out in the case of an emergency. Things like “where is the bus?”, “where is this train?” and “this is my friend Paddy’s phone number…please call her immediately to help me”. Great cue cards really; very effective.
I got on the train just before midnight and was on my way. I was supposed to be arriving at my first transfer just after 5am, and needless to say it arrived late and therefore I missed every connecting train/bus/shuttle after that. Awesome. Way to start things off wonderfully at 5am. Being resourceful I got my stuff together ASAP and went to find someone to show my cue cards too. Turns out I came across the two sweetest older men who worked at the station and they helped me out! I didn’t even need my cue cards! Yay! I was directed to platform 9 and there two more fellas helped me out. One actually spoke to the conductor and then the conductor promised he would let me know when I had to transfer off his train! So nice.
So there I was, on train two, transferred onto a bus, back onto another train, and finally a shuttle taking me to the airport. Exhausting to say the least, but of course making friends all the way. At a certain point, there seemed to be a group of us that all migrated together for the airport so everything worked out well.
All I can say is I have never in my life been so relieved to get to an airport. I mean this thing was in the middle of nowhere, bordering the Netherlands, but fields, cows, who knew what surrounded this airport. I freshened up, made sure my bags were good to go and went to check in. I had not been able to weigh my suitcase before hand, but I was just praying that it would be 20kg or under. Please, please, please. I had it all planned out in my head that if it was over, I would wear my sweater, my winter coat, and put on a pair of my heaviest high heels. Okay, mentally prepared: check.
When I got up there, to my amazement…my bag was 19kg. WOOO! The guy laughed at me clearly because of my reaction and I tossed in my coats. No need to carry those around unnecessarily right? Excellent! Things were looking up! After this, is was smooth sailing. My flight was great and we arrived a little bit ahead of schedule.
Of course, Pabs was there to pick me up and I was once again loving life. I swear I should have been born in Spain. For once, the sun loves me. The five days went by like THAT (cue finger snap) and it was legendary weather. But before I get ahead of myself, let’s talk about the night life!
I was thrilled to be meeting up with Pabs boys again; after all they are probably some of the funniest people I have ever met. So we got together, had some drinks and hit the town. Somewhere in our pre-drink basketball came up, Canada came up and then of course, Toronto. Turns out a Spanish player plays on Toronto’s team, anyways, news to me, so of course it became a fashion show of jerseys. Excellent. And true to their jerseys, the boys wore them to the bar: even better. What a great night. I don’t know what it is about Spain but I could be out at the bar until 6am, 9am, and have no concept of time. I think the whole notion that you only get together around 11pm-midnight, go to the bar at like 2, and well, dance until 6 is crazy…but it works. In Canada my ass is in bed by 2am. Nobody stays until last call. Funny eh?
My days were spent wisely: reading outside in the sun. I can honestly say I would happily do that for the rest of my life. Sit outside in the Spanish sun, and read my novels It was heaven on earth. And like I said, the Spanish sun is the only one that doesn’t seem to burn me. Even better. It’s the little things right. Us pasty whites can appreciate some good tanned colour; which happens once in a blue moon.
We also had the chance to go to dinner (sushi! Finally!) with Pabs cousin and his girlfriend. The food was fantastic and the conversations just as interesting. Post our dinner we started a little bar hop. This is what you do. You eat, and then you go to 2-3 places for drinks. This is normal. God I love Spain. So we went to a little cocktail joint, then a sort of rock bar. Really, really cool. A wonderful night to say the least.
On Sunday I was lucky enough to go with Pabs to the Pyrenees. It was my fourth time to Spain, third time to Zaragoza, and I had never been. I was psyched to say the least. We packed some lunch meats to have a picnic somewhere when we arrived, but the picnic just never happened.
First off: this was supposed to be a 2 hour drive, which somehow turned into 3+. Those zoom zoom commercials with the winding roads up the mountain…yep. That is totally accurate and then some. We were winding all over the place and it got to a point where we were both laughing. “Do you know where you are going anymore?”. Only one way to find out. Of course he was relieved when we got there, we parked the car, debated the sandwiches in the car and then saw the restaurant across the street. Bye bye sandwiches. This cute little veranda, covered in ivy leaves, was to die for. Not to mention the weather was like 40C outside that day. I ordered a steak and he ordered a meat of sorts and we were starving. Well…I think she thought we were giants or something because I swear the steak was the size of my face: it was massive. Never in my life have I seen such a large piece of meat. His either! I think when I chocked on my beer, I realized I had to take a picture since no-one would believe me.
And the best part? Rare as anything. How is that even possible when it’s as thick as a house? Oh Spain…you never cease to amaze me.
The rest of the afternoon was spent wandering through the wonderful city of Ainsa. Gorgeous doesn’t even cut it. It was quirky, small, quaint, majestic, smelled like heaven and had history you couldn’t even imagine. And then the other thing: the view from the top of the Pyrenees. Go figure. The balconies were covered in ivy leaves and flowers, horses pulling tourists and cobblestone galore. It was a privilege to see it.
We came across this bell tower and I decided we had to go up to the top. It wasn’t that tall, but the history was calling my name. Now I am no history major, but I think mankind was doubled in size over the years. These staircases were made for my sister. We were bent in half, laughing our head off, but secretly holding on for dear life since it was so steep. Just mind boggling. Getting to the top was well worth it though! What a view!
Now, like I said it was over 40C so drinks were well needed. We are sitting there, chatting, me taking in the scenery and I look over and this horse is just chilling beside our table. Pardon? Fantastic. Just hanging out. No big deal. Totally normal. As much as I was tempted to go over and introduce myself to this beautiful horse, I figured if he wasn’t a fan, my previous 15 foot fall would be a laugh compared to this drop over the edge. Yeah, I passed.
On our drive home we were able to pass through the town of Bielsa which was also quite pretty. However, while driving it occurred to us we were going the wrong way. We were about to go into France. Bah. So we crossed the border, into France, took in the view for a good second or two (since it was now raining) and dashed back over to Spain. How funny, simple and yet so exciting all at the same time.
I was supposed to return to Dusseldorf Tuesday at lunch, so Monday night we finished off on a total high. Pabs got all his cousins together and we did tapas. Now, I’m sorry, but Tapas is probably my new addiction. I love everything about it. We started at my absolute fav place with the loaded mushrooms, garlic and shrimp on a slice of baguette. After we literally inhaled those we crossed the street where I was introduced to ‘broken eggs’.
Basically you take potatoes cut extremely thin, toss on some sunny side up eggs on top, and your choice of prociutto, foie de gras, sausage, anything. I wasn’t really sure what to expect, other than the obvious: I would love it. Shocking right. Yumm is the understatement of the century. This was heaven in your mouth. No really though. We inhaled the first jamon covered on so fast, we ordered a second with foie de gras.
Is your mouth salivating yet? I think yes. Mine is just writing this again. To top all things off, we each ordered another dish. Mine was black rice with aiolo smothered on top. To sum this up, Masterchef Graham Elliot would have said it was an orgasm in your mouth. To die for.
What a perfect way to cap off Spain. I think, out of all the countries I have visited Spain is still the most near and dear to my heart. I love everything about it and I can’t wait to visit again.
Estaré de vuelta tan pronto como pueda; I will be back as soon as I can.
xoxo
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Doesn't Everyone Love Packing?
The answer is no. I hate packing. I don’t know what it is about it but I can’t do it. I love unpacking, but hate packing. Which doesn’t make too much sense. Packing gives the sense that you are moving forward to something new and exciting and yet I dread it every single time.
This time was no different. I had over 7 months of Europe to pack into 2 suitcases. Funny? I’m not joking. Is that even possible? Considering both of my bags were overweight in the first place COMING to Europe, they would be a struggle to get home. But I had to do it. Moving to Berlin had been a challenge enough and we all know how that ended up: 3 bags, a backpack and a computer bag. And I had sent a box home.
The moral of this story: I had too much stuff and not enough space for it.
So when Petey and I started this quest for packing, you should have seen the place. Clothes EVERYWHERE. It looked as if maybe 4 people lived there, and alas, there was 2 of us, although I think my possessions may have dominated just a bit.
The goal was to send one suitcase home and to bring home only 1 suitcase, my backpack and computer bag. Totally do-able. Right? This was going to be hard.
We got to packing and somehow we managed to make it work. I sent home one suitcase weighing 30kg (approx. 70 pounds) and keeping my other suitcase under 20kg. RyanAir regulations, when I would fly to Spain I could not have more than 20kg although flying back to Canada I can have up to 23kg. So. Many. Rules.
In the end, I sent home 3 boxes from Berlin, managed to get my suitcase to under 20kg and sent home a suitcase weighing 30kg.
I knew my parents would be thrilled receiving those.
But it was done. I managed to fit my life of the past 7 months. How? I have no idea.
Needless to say…I’ll be unpacking for a long time to come.
This time was no different. I had over 7 months of Europe to pack into 2 suitcases. Funny? I’m not joking. Is that even possible? Considering both of my bags were overweight in the first place COMING to Europe, they would be a struggle to get home. But I had to do it. Moving to Berlin had been a challenge enough and we all know how that ended up: 3 bags, a backpack and a computer bag. And I had sent a box home.
The moral of this story: I had too much stuff and not enough space for it.
So when Petey and I started this quest for packing, you should have seen the place. Clothes EVERYWHERE. It looked as if maybe 4 people lived there, and alas, there was 2 of us, although I think my possessions may have dominated just a bit.
The goal was to send one suitcase home and to bring home only 1 suitcase, my backpack and computer bag. Totally do-able. Right? This was going to be hard.
We got to packing and somehow we managed to make it work. I sent home one suitcase weighing 30kg (approx. 70 pounds) and keeping my other suitcase under 20kg. RyanAir regulations, when I would fly to Spain I could not have more than 20kg although flying back to Canada I can have up to 23kg. So. Many. Rules.
In the end, I sent home 3 boxes from Berlin, managed to get my suitcase to under 20kg and sent home a suitcase weighing 30kg.
I knew my parents would be thrilled receiving those.
But it was done. I managed to fit my life of the past 7 months. How? I have no idea.
Needless to say…I’ll be unpacking for a long time to come.
24hr Interlaken Madness: Glacier Rafting + 450ft Bungee Jumping!
Where do you even begin? It has been the craziest 7 months of my life and it wasn’t over yet. Petey and I needed to go out with a bang, and you could count on us to pull that off. What to do, what to do? I mean we have fell 15 feet, travelled the world, and done crazy things everywhere we went…but we needed to top that. Skydiving was my answer. Now I’m sure you can imagine Petey’s face when I told her this was my request for my 22nd birthday. She was thrilled….not. Petey is scared of heights and I told her I would cure her. We had done the Vatican in Rome, the Eiffel tower in Paris, and now this. Third time the charm and this was the big one. Her enthusiasm wasn’t quite there yet, but I was guaranteed to hear swearing in a multitude of languages. That…was certain.
Now if you have been following the blog, you know that Petey butchered her toe on her birthday (5 days before my birthday), and was bandaged all over. Excellent. Well, funny thing is you can’t go skydiving with a wrapped up toe because it doesn’t fit in a shoe. Hmm…Well we decided to postpone that bad boy until the end of the month. She was momentarily getting out of skydiving, but she promised we would do it. The date would be the end of July. Excellent.
This is the tale of the time we booked a trip to Switzerland for 24 hours, it rained and we turned a ridiculous day into a legendary one. Only us eh? Grab a muffin and read on. This one is a winner.
The night of July 23rd we took off for our 13 hour train ride from Berlin to Interlaken, Switzerland for skydiving. Can you say psyched?! I couldn’t believe we were going to do this. This has been on my bucket list for eternity and I was going to be able to scratch it off in under 24 hours. Wow!
Naturally being on a train for 13 hours isn’t the most thrilling, but we read, chatted and even witnessed the world’s craziest fight in Frankfurt. Yikes. We were ready to arrive in sunny Switzerland when the last couple hours of our train we noticed some rain; but no big deal. When we get to Switzerland it will be beautiful and warm (that had been there weather for the past several weeks; gorgeous). Not ONCE did it even occur to us that skydiving would be cancelled. No way. No how.
We arrived at the train station in Interlaken to rain. Of course. Okay, still breathing at this point we awaited the van to pick us up at 8:30am, like they had mentioned. Waiting, waiting, still waiting. It was after 9am, and we’re getting a little nervous at this point. All of a sudden this green van pulls in with writing saying “Outdoor Activities”. Excellent – maybe this was our ride. Absolutely not. The guy was super nice and called our skydiving company and officially broke us the news that everything was cancelled due to rain. LUNCH BOX LET DOWN. And then since he seemed to be our savior of the day…he offered us this alternative: “I’m actually here to pick up a bachelor party of germans and I am taking them glacier water rafting and then 450ft bungee jumping in the afternoon. Do you want to come?”. Two words: hells yes. Being pissed at life and the weather lasted momentarily, and then the realization that we were only here for 24 hours hit and us and why the hell not? How cool!
If we were gonna be insane and go skydiving…mine as well continue the streak of ridiculous outdoor activities and go with glacier rafting and bungee jumping.
Right: so we jump in this van and wait the group of boys who without fail were in sailor costumes. Excellent. We get there and quickly tossed our suitcases in the basement of their building, grabbed our towels and met the rest of the group. Fun fact: we did not bring bathing suits. Why would we have right? So jumping into wet suits was the most ridiculous event of my life. A) they are wet b) we were in our undies/bra and c) it was just so damn cold. We got our wet suits, lifejacket and helmets and then hopped on the bus. We were told the water would be 6 degrees Celsius and to prepare for the cold. ARE YOU JOKING? We’re gonna die. Not from falling out of the boat, but the damn water. Yikes.
When we arrived at our site our boat guide led us through some dry run stuff; simple right, like the way you paddle, different instructions and how to rescue a drowning friend. Ha. I was the demonstrator and had to pull Petey from her knees outside the boat back into our boat. Excellent. Petey may say I epically failed, however, I think I got an A++ for bringing her back to safety. So the boat commands were “left”, “right”, “hold”, “hold on!”, “GET DOWN” and I’m pretty sure a “holy crap GETTT DOWNNNN” was quickly added.
Then the moment we were all waiting for: going in the water. Now I have down water rafting before in Ottawa, but the conditions were polar opposite. It was warm, sunny, no wet suit required, bigger boat but funny enough the same month…only 10 days apart. This time our boat only had 7 people, wetsuits, rain and freezing water conditions. Awesome. So we get our boat down and of course are warned that the water is rough and to follow everything the guide had to say. I was on it. So you are jacked on life, feeling the adrenaline and I swear to you….not even 30 seconds into the ride we lost someone. We hit a wave and myself and the guy behind me flew into the air.
Thank goodness my foot was shoved in the safety piece because that was the only thing that kept me in place. We both go up, 2 hands in the air, dropped our paddles and he fell out and I slammed back into the boat. Ouch. I guess I must have nailed my hand on a rock because it was cut open with a nice gash and then the part where I must have bit down extremely hard on my lip…because well it swelled big time. Let’s just say that Angelina Jolie and I could have been sisters. Ridiculous. Of course the boat thought it was hilarious, but my speech sounded a tad sloppy. Excellent. Always good with first impressions.
We got back to our hostel at around 1pm and were finally able to check in. What a hostel. It was like Heida and her grandfather had done it themselves. Super cute, great location (literally 5 minute walk from where Alpin company was located) and although the rooms weren’t fantastic, we didn’t plan on sleeping much. First things first though: a shower. I can’t even begin to express how cold I was. I literally could not feel my fingers. Not even a little bit. That might be the record for the worlds longest shower and I was fine with that. I must have stood there for a good 30 minutes waiting for the sensation to come back. Well worth it though. Once we managed that hurdle, it was time for some food. Eating, but not eating too late since we would be bungee jumping at 4. Oh baby.
During lunch we met a guy named Ryan who was travelling on his own and turns out he was bungee jumping as well. Awesome. We had a buddy! It was time to walk back to Alpin and there we met the other 30 something people who would be jumping as well. Nuts. When we got to base, we were greeting with a beer which they liked to call “liquid encouragement” which just made me laugh. Petey’s face said it all and I could tell more of those were in our future to say the least.
Waiting to load the buses we met Paige and Kelly; two other Canadians who were travelling. Go Canada. The bus ride wasn’t too long, 30 minutes, and when we got there the excitement began flooding in. We took some pictures, had a nervous pee and were off to the races. We jumped in the first gondola which would be taking us up the what we called ‘the base’ for the night. It was the half-way mark to where we were going. As my face was nearly pressed against the window taking in the scenery, the silent treatment had began from Petey and she was ready to throw me overboard for convincing her to do this.
We got the speech on how this is going to be the time of our life and the basic ‘jumping’ technique we should have. Mental pictures were being taken every second. We were then split into two groups: I was the first and Petey was the second. This one sucked until we realized we could watch each other fall! I gave her my camera and we were off. I got the yellow harness put on, then the red bits that go around your ankles to hold another cord that would be attached. “As if I am going to jump 450ft” was all I could think. My thoughts were working in the sense that skydiving I would have been tandem, so attached to someone, he would push me out the plane, he would pull the cord and he would land us. Bungee jumping I was responsible for pushing my own ass out of the gondola, soaring and landing. Solo.
When we got up the system was clockwork. They strapped you in, fixed the cords, did the countdown from 5 and you had no choice but to jump. OMG. This was no longer a joke. I was in the gondola, in line, and this was happening. Adrenaline on maximum: absolutely. There were three guys working on the gondola with us: 2 did the cords and 1 photographer who kind of dangled outside the gondola. He would take a picture of you pre-jump and then catch every second of you falling towards the ground. Right. Great job.
So the music is playing to get us jacked up and people are dropping one by one. Finally it came down to the last four: Ryan, Paige, myself and Kelly. We got a group photo of the four of us and it was go-time. All of a sudden one of the guys looks at us and says “here is some food for thought: the white cord that gives you that bounce and the rebound in your jump is made from the same elastic in your underwear”. Pardon? Are you kidding me right now? Oh yes. He was serious. When you looked at the cord, it was millions and millions of white elastics. I could have killed him on the spot. I mean underwear aren’t THAT reliable are they? Frig.
I cannot even begin to describe the feeling. I soared out trying my best to get that ‘perfect arch’ they talked about in jumping techniques and was off. You feel like you are floating; it was so smooth. Then you finish the arch and go straight towards the water: the boat looked so tiny. Still soaring. And then comes the rebound. Probably one of the coolest sensations I have ever felt. I’m trying to look back up at the camera that is still taking pictures every other second while trying to focus on how far I am from the water. Only did then I scream the classic “wooooooo!” which I later found out is how Petey identified me as the jumper. So cool! I had just jumped 450ft! Wow, wow, wow!
Once you stop spinning, the guys on the boat hand you this enormous stick that you are supposed to grab onto. You hold on and they slowly pull you down into the boat. Unreal. Once in the boat, they asked you “So – how was it!?”. Amazing. Simply amazing. I started taking in the scenery around us: the fields, the mountains, the cows, and this little lake we were in. Then I noticed Paige dressing down. “What the hell are you doing?”, “I’m swimming back to shore!”. WHAT?! I’m sorry but I was in that water earlier that morning and you could not have paid me a million dollars to jump in with bra/undies. Absolutely not. Funny thing is this water was really warm. No way. Count me in. Ignoring the two guys working the boat, we undressed and dove in. Wow, the coolest experience by far. It was cool but surprisingly warm. It was a pleasure swimming back to shore where we were then greeted by some locals. We got ourselves dried off with towels and dove right into the drinks and food they had made.
Imagine the locals afternoon? Watching all these people jump out of the gondola and then sharing some drinks, food and stories with them. Not to mention watching the last four of us from the first group swimming back into shore. Surreal. While we nursed our beers, and warmed up we were able to watch what the second group had: the jumps.
I had no way of actually identifying anyone, but all I knew is that I had to capture someone jumping to be able to show what the drop was like. I got out my camera and waited for the next person to jump. Then you hear the 5-4-3-2-1 from the crowd and the cheer parade that follows; granted when you are the second last person jumping from the gondola your cheer parade is quite small (4 people to be exact) but that doesn’t change your excitement one bit. So I am in the midst of filming someone when Paige says “Isn’t that your friend Paddy?”. No FREAKING way! OMG – IT IS! PEETEEYYYYYYYYYY! I later learned that she heard this while jumping – excellent. But I mean c’mon, what are the chances of the ONE person I decide to film jumping that’s its Petey! So neat! So I caught the whole thing and even took some pictures of her dangling in air. A++ for Sarah!
I am still to this day 99% sure Petey passed our mid-jump because she didn’t scream. I am thinking someone terrified of heights is going to let out a good ol wail, but nothing. Silence. Even when she got in the boat; nothing. She passed out. I’m sure of it. I went in and out of thinking it was Petey. It is her! No, its not. Yes it is, no, maybe? Then when the rowboat came back in I saw the red Michigan shirt and knew for sure. She did it! I could not have been more proud. Like a proud mum and I ran out to greet her with the biggest hug and a beer. Hey, she just jumped 450ft: she deserved a beer.
We spent the next hour plus sitting by the campfire with the locals eating, drinking, singing (more so the locals…and in German) and watching the second group of jumpers. In hindsight I was glad I was the first group. By the time it was time to go, my blood pressure had returned to normal and I was pure happiness.
The ride back to the site was a quiet one with people sleeping and Kelly and I chatted in the front seat about all our travels. Once we got back, we planned to meet the girls in an hour or so for some drinks and dinner. Naturally, we chatted about how ridiculous our day had been and with it being such a small world, ran into the guys we had glacier water rafted with! It was not a late night since Petey and I had to catch our train at the hour of 8:01am. We had managed to have a train that would take us directly back to Berlin – how sweet. For 13 hours? Wonderful.
Oh baby when we got back to Berlin, we made ourselves some Ramen noodles, put on some episodes of the office and called er’ a day. We were exhausted, surprisingly sore, and still suffering the blow of an extra 120 Euros. Thank goodness for the Office, which we quickly became obsessed with, but man that saved the day.
It has been the craziest 24 hours of my life. And I wouldn’t have changed anything about it. Well…maybe the 120 Euros. But still…we can now laugh about it. Kind of. We might always be a little bitter against that part, but the pictures and the stories: epic.
Now if you have been following the blog, you know that Petey butchered her toe on her birthday (5 days before my birthday), and was bandaged all over. Excellent. Well, funny thing is you can’t go skydiving with a wrapped up toe because it doesn’t fit in a shoe. Hmm…Well we decided to postpone that bad boy until the end of the month. She was momentarily getting out of skydiving, but she promised we would do it. The date would be the end of July. Excellent.
This is the tale of the time we booked a trip to Switzerland for 24 hours, it rained and we turned a ridiculous day into a legendary one. Only us eh? Grab a muffin and read on. This one is a winner.
The night of July 23rd we took off for our 13 hour train ride from Berlin to Interlaken, Switzerland for skydiving. Can you say psyched?! I couldn’t believe we were going to do this. This has been on my bucket list for eternity and I was going to be able to scratch it off in under 24 hours. Wow!
Naturally being on a train for 13 hours isn’t the most thrilling, but we read, chatted and even witnessed the world’s craziest fight in Frankfurt. Yikes. We were ready to arrive in sunny Switzerland when the last couple hours of our train we noticed some rain; but no big deal. When we get to Switzerland it will be beautiful and warm (that had been there weather for the past several weeks; gorgeous). Not ONCE did it even occur to us that skydiving would be cancelled. No way. No how.
We arrived at the train station in Interlaken to rain. Of course. Okay, still breathing at this point we awaited the van to pick us up at 8:30am, like they had mentioned. Waiting, waiting, still waiting. It was after 9am, and we’re getting a little nervous at this point. All of a sudden this green van pulls in with writing saying “Outdoor Activities”. Excellent – maybe this was our ride. Absolutely not. The guy was super nice and called our skydiving company and officially broke us the news that everything was cancelled due to rain. LUNCH BOX LET DOWN. And then since he seemed to be our savior of the day…he offered us this alternative: “I’m actually here to pick up a bachelor party of germans and I am taking them glacier water rafting and then 450ft bungee jumping in the afternoon. Do you want to come?”. Two words: hells yes. Being pissed at life and the weather lasted momentarily, and then the realization that we were only here for 24 hours hit and us and why the hell not? How cool!
If we were gonna be insane and go skydiving…mine as well continue the streak of ridiculous outdoor activities and go with glacier rafting and bungee jumping.
Right: so we jump in this van and wait the group of boys who without fail were in sailor costumes. Excellent. We get there and quickly tossed our suitcases in the basement of their building, grabbed our towels and met the rest of the group. Fun fact: we did not bring bathing suits. Why would we have right? So jumping into wet suits was the most ridiculous event of my life. A) they are wet b) we were in our undies/bra and c) it was just so damn cold. We got our wet suits, lifejacket and helmets and then hopped on the bus. We were told the water would be 6 degrees Celsius and to prepare for the cold. ARE YOU JOKING? We’re gonna die. Not from falling out of the boat, but the damn water. Yikes.
When we arrived at our site our boat guide led us through some dry run stuff; simple right, like the way you paddle, different instructions and how to rescue a drowning friend. Ha. I was the demonstrator and had to pull Petey from her knees outside the boat back into our boat. Excellent. Petey may say I epically failed, however, I think I got an A++ for bringing her back to safety. So the boat commands were “left”, “right”, “hold”, “hold on!”, “GET DOWN” and I’m pretty sure a “holy crap GETTT DOWNNNN” was quickly added.
Then the moment we were all waiting for: going in the water. Now I have down water rafting before in Ottawa, but the conditions were polar opposite. It was warm, sunny, no wet suit required, bigger boat but funny enough the same month…only 10 days apart. This time our boat only had 7 people, wetsuits, rain and freezing water conditions. Awesome. So we get our boat down and of course are warned that the water is rough and to follow everything the guide had to say. I was on it. So you are jacked on life, feeling the adrenaline and I swear to you….not even 30 seconds into the ride we lost someone. We hit a wave and myself and the guy behind me flew into the air.
Thank goodness my foot was shoved in the safety piece because that was the only thing that kept me in place. We both go up, 2 hands in the air, dropped our paddles and he fell out and I slammed back into the boat. Ouch. I guess I must have nailed my hand on a rock because it was cut open with a nice gash and then the part where I must have bit down extremely hard on my lip…because well it swelled big time. Let’s just say that Angelina Jolie and I could have been sisters. Ridiculous. Of course the boat thought it was hilarious, but my speech sounded a tad sloppy. Excellent. Always good with first impressions.
Our boat had 5 Americans, myself and our guide who was Aussie/American. Great combo. The day turned out to be sensational. Our first stop we even got to drink the water, it was beyond cool. We did first half of the river then got back on the bus to take us to the second section which was dubbed the hardest area of the river. The title says it all, but it was called “double effer”…but not censored. The name alone had my adrenaline running and our guide said if anyone falls out that’s it, goodbye. Super. Note to self to hold on for dear life the whole way down. Got it. At the end of the river we came out into a large lake and all I can say is “wow”. It was gorgeous! The mountains, the water, there were even swans. Picturesque to say the least. We were told that the water here was a lot warmer than what we had been in before so we all got to jump in. Talk about cool; no pun intended. It was cold of course, but the worst was when the water came up and over your wet suit and touched your skin. No good.
Our boat had 5 Americans, myself and our guide who was Aussie/American. Great combo. The day turned out to be sensational. Our first stop we even got to drink the water, it was beyond cool. We did first half of the river then got back on the bus to take us to the second section which was dubbed the hardest area of the river. The title says it all, but it was called “double effer”…but not censored. The name alone had my adrenaline running and our guide said if anyone falls out that’s it, goodbye. Super. Note to self to hold on for dear life the whole way down. Got it. At the end of the river we came out into a large lake and all I can say is “wow”. It was gorgeous! The mountains, the water, there were even swans. Picturesque to say the least. We were told that the water here was a lot warmer than what we had been in before so we all got to jump in. Talk about cool; no pun intended. It was cold of course, but the worst was when the water came up and over your wet suit and touched your skin. No good.
We got back to our hostel at around 1pm and were finally able to check in. What a hostel. It was like Heida and her grandfather had done it themselves. Super cute, great location (literally 5 minute walk from where Alpin company was located) and although the rooms weren’t fantastic, we didn’t plan on sleeping much. First things first though: a shower. I can’t even begin to express how cold I was. I literally could not feel my fingers. Not even a little bit. That might be the record for the worlds longest shower and I was fine with that. I must have stood there for a good 30 minutes waiting for the sensation to come back. Well worth it though. Once we managed that hurdle, it was time for some food. Eating, but not eating too late since we would be bungee jumping at 4. Oh baby.
During lunch we met a guy named Ryan who was travelling on his own and turns out he was bungee jumping as well. Awesome. We had a buddy! It was time to walk back to Alpin and there we met the other 30 something people who would be jumping as well. Nuts. When we got to base, we were greeting with a beer which they liked to call “liquid encouragement” which just made me laugh. Petey’s face said it all and I could tell more of those were in our future to say the least.
Waiting to load the buses we met Paige and Kelly; two other Canadians who were travelling. Go Canada. The bus ride wasn’t too long, 30 minutes, and when we got there the excitement began flooding in. We took some pictures, had a nervous pee and were off to the races. We jumped in the first gondola which would be taking us up the what we called ‘the base’ for the night. It was the half-way mark to where we were going. As my face was nearly pressed against the window taking in the scenery, the silent treatment had began from Petey and she was ready to throw me overboard for convincing her to do this.
We got the speech on how this is going to be the time of our life and the basic ‘jumping’ technique we should have. Mental pictures were being taken every second. We were then split into two groups: I was the first and Petey was the second. This one sucked until we realized we could watch each other fall! I gave her my camera and we were off. I got the yellow harness put on, then the red bits that go around your ankles to hold another cord that would be attached. “As if I am going to jump 450ft” was all I could think. My thoughts were working in the sense that skydiving I would have been tandem, so attached to someone, he would push me out the plane, he would pull the cord and he would land us. Bungee jumping I was responsible for pushing my own ass out of the gondola, soaring and landing. Solo.
So the first group (about 15 people) loaded up the first gondola and we started moving. The half-way point where I left Petey was the perfect spot to watch us jump. We would be jumping from the gondola into a lake. Of course there would be a boat there to get us, but we were dropping 450ft towards water. Excellent. Sadly, when we boarded we were the first ones in the gondola meaning we would be the last to jump. Turns out I would be the second last one to jump.
When we got up the system was clockwork. They strapped you in, fixed the cords, did the countdown from 5 and you had no choice but to jump. OMG. This was no longer a joke. I was in the gondola, in line, and this was happening. Adrenaline on maximum: absolutely. There were three guys working on the gondola with us: 2 did the cords and 1 photographer who kind of dangled outside the gondola. He would take a picture of you pre-jump and then catch every second of you falling towards the ground. Right. Great job.
So the music is playing to get us jacked up and people are dropping one by one. Finally it came down to the last four: Ryan, Paige, myself and Kelly. We got a group photo of the four of us and it was go-time. All of a sudden one of the guys looks at us and says “here is some food for thought: the white cord that gives you that bounce and the rebound in your jump is made from the same elastic in your underwear”. Pardon? Are you kidding me right now? Oh yes. He was serious. When you looked at the cord, it was millions and millions of white elastics. I could have killed him on the spot. I mean underwear aren’t THAT reliable are they? Frig.
Then it was my turn. I took the step forward and the 30 second process began of them attaching my cords and double checking I was hooked up properly. I took the step forward, the photo was snapped and the countdown began: 5-4-3-2-1! JUMPPPPPPP! I soared. I was freaking Pocahontas alright.
I cannot even begin to describe the feeling. I soared out trying my best to get that ‘perfect arch’ they talked about in jumping techniques and was off. You feel like you are floating; it was so smooth. Then you finish the arch and go straight towards the water: the boat looked so tiny. Still soaring. And then comes the rebound. Probably one of the coolest sensations I have ever felt. I’m trying to look back up at the camera that is still taking pictures every other second while trying to focus on how far I am from the water. Only did then I scream the classic “wooooooo!” which I later found out is how Petey identified me as the jumper. So cool! I had just jumped 450ft! Wow, wow, wow!
Once you stop spinning, the guys on the boat hand you this enormous stick that you are supposed to grab onto. You hold on and they slowly pull you down into the boat. Unreal. Once in the boat, they asked you “So – how was it!?”. Amazing. Simply amazing. I started taking in the scenery around us: the fields, the mountains, the cows, and this little lake we were in. Then I noticed Paige dressing down. “What the hell are you doing?”, “I’m swimming back to shore!”. WHAT?! I’m sorry but I was in that water earlier that morning and you could not have paid me a million dollars to jump in with bra/undies. Absolutely not. Funny thing is this water was really warm. No way. Count me in. Ignoring the two guys working the boat, we undressed and dove in. Wow, the coolest experience by far. It was cool but surprisingly warm. It was a pleasure swimming back to shore where we were then greeted by some locals. We got ourselves dried off with towels and dove right into the drinks and food they had made.
Imagine the locals afternoon? Watching all these people jump out of the gondola and then sharing some drinks, food and stories with them. Not to mention watching the last four of us from the first group swimming back into shore. Surreal. While we nursed our beers, and warmed up we were able to watch what the second group had: the jumps.
I had no way of actually identifying anyone, but all I knew is that I had to capture someone jumping to be able to show what the drop was like. I got out my camera and waited for the next person to jump. Then you hear the 5-4-3-2-1 from the crowd and the cheer parade that follows; granted when you are the second last person jumping from the gondola your cheer parade is quite small (4 people to be exact) but that doesn’t change your excitement one bit. So I am in the midst of filming someone when Paige says “Isn’t that your friend Paddy?”. No FREAKING way! OMG – IT IS! PEETEEYYYYYYYYYY! I later learned that she heard this while jumping – excellent. But I mean c’mon, what are the chances of the ONE person I decide to film jumping that’s its Petey! So neat! So I caught the whole thing and even took some pictures of her dangling in air. A++ for Sarah!
I am still to this day 99% sure Petey passed our mid-jump because she didn’t scream. I am thinking someone terrified of heights is going to let out a good ol wail, but nothing. Silence. Even when she got in the boat; nothing. She passed out. I’m sure of it. I went in and out of thinking it was Petey. It is her! No, its not. Yes it is, no, maybe? Then when the rowboat came back in I saw the red Michigan shirt and knew for sure. She did it! I could not have been more proud. Like a proud mum and I ran out to greet her with the biggest hug and a beer. Hey, she just jumped 450ft: she deserved a beer.
We spent the next hour plus sitting by the campfire with the locals eating, drinking, singing (more so the locals…and in German) and watching the second group of jumpers. In hindsight I was glad I was the first group. By the time it was time to go, my blood pressure had returned to normal and I was pure happiness.
The ride back to the site was a quiet one with people sleeping and Kelly and I chatted in the front seat about all our travels. Once we got back, we planned to meet the girls in an hour or so for some drinks and dinner. Naturally, we chatted about how ridiculous our day had been and with it being such a small world, ran into the guys we had glacier water rafted with! It was not a late night since Petey and I had to catch our train at the hour of 8:01am. We had managed to have a train that would take us directly back to Berlin – how sweet. For 13 hours? Wonderful.
We were prepped and ready to go. We bought our shotglass and magnets, had breakfast and asked for directions to the train station. 15 minute walk you say? Wonderful! Simple, simple. Or so we thought. We had given ourselves tons of time to get there…except we didn’t account for getting lost. Right. Turns out her directions were garbage and we absolutely ended up in the middle of nowhere. I’m talking…the forest/field middle of nowhere. Are you kidding me? We kept watching the time and the point came to start running. We had no idea where we were going but we just kept running. Now in case you think this sounds easy…my 8 months in Europe was not spent at the gym. Shocker. Cardio? That would be dancing at the club all night. Oh yeah, we were feeling it, but damn adrenaline kicked in and we were NOT missing this train.
With our bags (mine = big blue, Petey’s = Bertha which had travelled to 12/13 countries with me) we were sprinting like that Bolt guy in the Olympics. With minutes to spare we hear a car horn honking. It’s the “Outdoor Interlaken” van – the company that was supposed to pick us up skydiving. Ironic much? So we jumped in and turns out we weren’t even close to the train station. We pull in at 8:03am and book it. We get to the platform…just as our train is driving away. NOOOOOOOOOOOOO! We had freaking missed it.
Now Petey and I are used to these things happening you know, but seeing as we were 13 hours away from Berlin, trains don’t come every hour. Oh man we were mad. We sat in silence (which for the record – NEVER happened before and hasn’t happened since). Thank god Petey is German since she was able to talk to the ticket guy and figure out how the hell we were getting back to Berlin. With some luck we only had to wait an hour until the next train and it turned out we could use our tickets we had and just pay the price difference when we were onboard. Excellent! Can’t be that bad eh? I’m guessing like 50 Euros or something. Nope. 120 Euros…each. Right. Good feeling gone.
Oh baby when we got back to Berlin, we made ourselves some Ramen noodles, put on some episodes of the office and called er’ a day. We were exhausted, surprisingly sore, and still suffering the blow of an extra 120 Euros. Thank goodness for the Office, which we quickly became obsessed with, but man that saved the day.
It has been the craziest 24 hours of my life. And I wouldn’t have changed anything about it. Well…maybe the 120 Euros. But still…we can now laugh about it. Kind of. We might always be a little bitter against that part, but the pictures and the stories: epic.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)