Goiiiin to the chapel and we’re going to watch Kate and William get married: LONDON/End of Spring Break!

I have just returned from my first experience with socialized medicine.  After hacking up the majority of my lungs, I decided it was due time to conserve the remainder and go see a doctor.  My appointment lasted approximately four minutes and my two prescriptions cost 8 euros in total.  

But back to my spring break travels.  As a last stop on the Tara’s European Tour, I made my way to London to watch the royal wedding, drink tea, and enjoy the ND kids before they flew back across the pond to the good ol’ U. S. of A.  Even though it was a trip I originally did not have my heart set on, it ended up being one of my favorite trips of the semester and was the perfect way to end break.

After getting quizzed by the London customs patrol to make sure mine and Kathleen’s stories matched up (…yeah I don’t think we had any grand terrorist schemes for the three days we were there.  Here and I do look pretty shifty though don’t we?) we successfully made it from Luton into the city mostly thanks to the fact that people speak ENGLISH in this country.  We decided there was no better way to celebrate our successful trip than to have a traditional English breakfast at 3 pm.  What a delicious decision.  We then quickly dropped our stuff at the hostel before meeting up with the ND London kids so we could see one of the ND classes perform Shakespeare at the Globe.  I don’t know which was better, being in the Globe or being surrounded by ND students, but the whole experience was fabulous and the performers did an incredible job.  We followed our theatre rendez vous with an equally classy excursion to Perfect Chicken for dinner and then drinks at a pub.

Day two began with a grand event: the Royal Wedding! We chose not to camp outside the palace and instead joined thousands of Brits in Trafalgar Square where we watched the wedding on big screens. It was so fun to be in the middle of the excitement and to see everyone waiving flags and wearing ridiculous Kate and William things. Our view wasn’t fabulous so during the ceremony we took the tube to Harrod’s where we were able to peruse the store free of crowds. We then made our way to Hyde Park to see the first kiss on the big screens. 

 After the royal hub-bub died down, Jane led us through the tourist circuit as we hit Picadilly Circus, Buckingham Palace, Ben’s Cookies at Coventry Garden, red phone booth pictures, and finally a dinner of fish and chips.  So London.

Day three we tourist-ed once again with our fearless guide Meg, who I have missed dearly in the past semester!  It was so good to see her.  She brought us to the Millenium Bridge which is in Harry Potter, then to the Burough Market for a taste of London, Parliament, Big Ben, the London Eye, Westminster Abbey, and Buckingham Palace. 

We concluded the perfect London day with tea time at a beautiful tea house called Bea’s with a group of London and Angers girls.  With our steaming pots of tea we were served trays of sandwiches, scones and jam, cookies, brownies, macaroons, meringues, and gorgeous cupcakes.  We were all so full by the end but it was truly one of the perfect London experiences and one of my favorite memories from all of spring break.  Unfortunately, we were tight on time and had to run back to the hostel to get ready for the ND booze cruise.  This semester we actually were allowed to stay on the boat so it was a great success. 

On my final morning in London I enjoyed some quality time with Jane before agreeing to go on a Burberry search with John.  Sadly, my feet had all but given up during my 16 days of traveling and I struggled on our walk, only to find that Burberry was closed.  Boo, but it was nice to catch up.  I remet up with Jane for lunch where we said our au revoirs before I headed back to the land of baguettes.  London truly was the perfect way to end the perfect spring break.  I was surrounded by people I love who went above and beyond to make sure I had an amazing weekend.  I am so grateful for their friendship and am so excited to be reunited with them when fall comes. 

And thus I conclude (admittedly very en retard) my blogs about spring break.  I am currently a little bogged down with finals and such but will update you on trips to Ile de Ré, Barcelona, and Paris as soon as possible.  Until then, wait in suspense dear readers.  Good blogs come to those who wait. xoxo.

Spring Break continued..Malta (don't worry I'll post a map)

I’m sure you’ve all been wondering what I did for the second week of my spring break…and for the two weeks since then…but I’m a little backed up on schoolwork (I don’t know when I started having homework and exams) and a little behind on sleep so I took a short break from blogging.  My apologies, I promise to update you in full eventually.  But let’s get back to spring break. 

From April 25-28 I went to Malta.  Not originally on my list of places to see, but Stephanie’s uncle has an apartment there which we more or less got to stay in for free so with the promise of lodging gratuity, we all booked flights on janky airlines to the little country of Malta, which awesomely enough is not in the Schengen Zone so I got a stamp on my passport.  Woowoo.

Being the lovely hostess she is, Stephanie had a driver pick us up at the airport and upon our arrival she had breakfast waiting on the table, complete with PEANUT BUTTER (the French don’t do pb)!! We all went a little crazy and three jars of peanut butter may or may not have been consumed that weekend.  It wasn’t that warm, but we were all sick of sight-seeing so we donned our swimsuits and went to the ocean and laid on some rocks for a few hours while the natives wondered why we were out there while it was cold.  The rest of the night was relatively low key: grocery shopping, made dinner, and then hung out until bed. 

Day two was supposed to be beach day but it turned into beached day when opened the windows to discover rain.  After trying to wait it out, we ventured out with our umbrellas, hoping it would clear up before we reached the beach.  Wrong.  It rained harder.  We took cover in a small café so we could nibble on appetizers and use the free wifi.  Really late in the afternoon it finally cleared up and we got an hour on the rocks once again.  We returned home to make fajitas and then decided we could not sit in the house any longer so we went to a local pub where we knew the Man U game would be playing (so Euro right?).  Home and bed happened shortly thereafter.

Day three turned into an adventure.  We decided to visit the island of Gozo where we heard there was a beautiful red-sand beach.  So, we took a ridiculously old bus to the other side of the island.  Then we took a ferry.  Then we took a bus to Victoria.  Then we took a bus to a rando-town that looked like Iraq.  Then we started walking because our directions indicated the beach was only a half-hour walk.  False information.  After 45 minutes of walking through what looked like a deserted portion of the Middle-East, we saw the beach from a hill-top. 

The only problem was that we had at least another hour walk if we wanted to reach it.  Knowing the last bus stopped running at six, we were a little pressed for time and many of us chose to head back early.  We got back to the main town and walked around and found some cliffs before shipping back to Malta for the evening.

 

All and all, Malta wasn’t the beach experience we had all anticipated, but it was really nice to not sleep in a hostel, to cook our own meals, and to have time to hang out with everyone and relax.  It was a good break from being a tourist and to calm down before jetting off to London.

Ro ma ro ma ma : Rome for Easter Weekend

When I got to Rome I had the Lizzie McGuire soundtrack in my head so just to help you all get in the mood (don't worry it's not Hilary Duff): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m4iISqiSeDk&feature=BFa&list=PLE9E8B7B642F856DF&index=11

Anyway, the trip to Rome was rather uneventful as I had already discovered Italians are really loud and scary.  But scary does not even begin to describe our first lodging experience in Rome:

I arrive at the address given to me by the B&B owner, Sandra.  Sandra is not present so Kathleen, Kaitlin, Micahlyn and I wait…for 40 minutes, in the China town ghetto of Rome—quick question: why does Rome have a China town ghetto?  Sandra, a large black Italian woman, finally arrives and sizes us up..literally there was an up and down head motion.  “There are a lot of you,” she says.  No Sandra, we have a reservation for four, and there are four of us.  You are already freaking me out.  Before entering, she tries to convince us to move to another building.  We ask her why we can’t have the room she had originally designed for us, and she explains “well it will just be easier and you can have free wifi over there…but you won’t have a private bathroom.”  We want a private bathroom but she insists we look at both rooms.  So she unlocks the door and it was like pandora’s box exploded and doom was all over the place.  It was dark, dirty, the closet door was literally falling off, and there was one bed for four of us.  Upon seeing this disaster, we decide to check out our other option, though we are skeptical.  In an attempt to persuade us, she starts rattling about how if we change, she will take off the city tax so we can save $20.  We cross the street and enter building #2, which is, believe it or not, creepier than the first.  It is even darker.  There are stale pastries in a box which she claims are “fresh” for us to eat every morning.  Then she opens the door and I’m pretty sure I caught a glimpse of hell.  The bed had been slept in the night before and it hadn’t been made.  There was trash on the floor.  And it smelled.  I was already ready to abort mission when she introduced us to the people we would be “sharing a bathroom with”…aka the people who were going to sell us into the slave trade.  They were four huge, middle-aged, men who looked like they might pounce on us.  Every siren and red flag in my head was going off.  The scene was literally out of the movie, Taken. 

To avoid being taken, I asked Sandra for a minute for us to discuss.  She went into the room with the scary men and started talking quickly in Italian, probably negotiating our prices.  Meanwhile, Kaitlin and I went downstairs and called every person we knew in Rome.  Unfortunately, ND was hosting an event at this time so they were all busy and could not answer their phones.   As a group, we decided we’d rather be homeless than stay in this place, so we told her we wanted to check out.  A battle-royale Italian-style ensued and Sandra started yelling and waving her arms at me that we could not do this.  We started leaving and she continued to yell, and finally she started summoning her male friends.  This is when we knew it was time to book.  So we got to a main piazza as quickly as possible and then freaked out because we were homeless on Easter weekend in Rome.   Luckily, Jeannie and God came to the rescue and the hostel the Dublin kids were staying at had one room left—a four person private room.  I have never been so relieved in my life.

We checked in and almost cried with glee when we saw a clean room with four beds and fresh towels awaiting us.  After a few deep breaths, we continued on and got pizza before heading to the Trevi Fountain! 

Starting at the Trevi was literally the best way we could have started Rome.  It was crowded, but it truly is a stunning fountain and well worth seeing.  We then wandered towards the Roman Forum, ruins, and some chapels before making our way towards the Coliseum where we were meeting up with the other ND kids for Good Friday Stations of the Cross.  

 Following the ND flag we all assembled next to the Coliseum where I finally found Jane and Jeannie!  I almost started crying because it was so good to see friends from school and I have missed them both so much this semester.  It was just beautiful to reconnect with all the ND kids who have been all over Europe all semester and join together under the Pope and do the stations of the cross.  Even though it was an incredible experience, it was really long, and in Italian and Latin, and we had some feisty nuns behind us who kept elbowing us to try to get ahead of us.  Rude.   So we headed back, used our 30 minutes of free internet/ipads, and then went to sleep.

 

Saturday, ND organized a tour of the Vatican for us.  It was MASSIVE and the tour lasted over three hours, but I did learn a lot about all the art in the Vatican.  

After the tour, I went to find Stephanie but on the way my phone ran out of minutes.  Luckily, I had bought extra in France.  Unluckily, it would not let me call the phone company because I was not in France and did not have minutes to call outside of France. Wah wah.  So, stranded in the streets of Rome, I was minorly freaking out.  Then I heard a man speaking French to his wife, and hey, I speak French and their phones work in Italy so I politely asked him if I could use his to make a very quick phone call.  He was not pleased and said it was his work phone.  But then I got teary eyed and he said okay and alas, I called Stephanie and found her.  Alleluia that I’m bilingual!  Then I was supposed to meet Mason, who I also could not contact.  So Stephanie and I made it to the Pantheon and somehow picked him out of the crowd.  So so so happy to see him after a year of him being abroad!!  He then brought us to the “best gelato in Rome” at Giolitti’s where we did have some ridiculously amazing gelato.  We ate the gelato while walking, and Mason showed us his apartment and architecture studio (and all his sketches—they are STUNNING!!  He is so talented.) before he gave us a grand/hyper speed tour of Rome. 

He then left us to go to mass and Stephanie and I returned to the hostel to grab Micahlyn and head to dinner.  There, we had Roman showdown number two with the rudest waiter/manager I have ever met.  After we sat down and were looking at the menus, he came over and said we were going to order.  We asked him if we could have a minute to which he yelled, “NO!  I COOK NOW SO YOU ORDER NOW!” ahhh!  Not happy but we somehow managed to spit out an order, though we probably should have left.  Then he brought us the bill and there were four different charges on it, plus he overcharged me so we politely asked him if he could explain what the Italian taxes were.  Instead, he threw a menu at us and told us “When you eat in my restaurant you read the WHOLE menu.”  The menu was still not clear about the charges but I was not in the mood to test my luck in Rome any further.  On our way home, we got summoned into an Italian bakery where Stephanie met the love of her life, a 5’5” man with a wig named  Leo who is a singer.  There was a rather large language barrier but we all got discounted pastries so all was well with the world. 

Sunday was Easter!  Alleluia Chris is risen!  What better way to celebrate Easter than with the Pope in the Vatican?  I really don’t think I can describe what a beautiful scene it was.  Yes, most of the mass was in Italian and Latin (except the second reading…that was in English for some reason), and yes we got there super early (but we got really good seats—the fact we got seats at all was rather ridiculous), but hearing the Pope speak and gathering with thousands of Catholics to celebrate the crux of our faith was truly the experience of a lifetime.  I am so unbelievably blessed and cannot believe how wonderful Easter was surrounded by people I love, all sharing the gift of life and redemption. 

 

After mass, several of the girls gathered for Easter brunch and Easter gelato (to answer the obvious question, yes, all we did in Italy was eat).  The gelato place was back by the Vatican so we saw it one last time before leaving for the day.  After a few more sights--the Spanish Steps, the Trevi Fountain again, the inside of the Pantheon—it was time to conclude our Roman excursion and prepare for Malta.  I said goodbye to everyone, including Jeannie who I will miss in Chicago this summer L, but was so grateful I had had time to see them all.  And thus I concluded the Italian portion of my journey, much larger than I had started, but much more cultured and happy I had experienced it all.

 

Next up, Malta.  

Days 4-6: Florence, Italy

This blog is very en retard, and I’ve realized that if I don’t start blogging about spring break very soon, Marilyn might fly to France and murder me.  But then I would have a visitor…so it might be worth it.

While I may not have blogged for the entirety of my trip, I did keep an extensive journal so I would have accurate and detailed anecdotes for all my readers!  Alas, we will today recount my three glorious days in Florence, Italy, truly one of my favorite stops along my spring break adventure.

Our trip to Italy started very interestingly as we were picked up by taxi from our lovely hotel at 4:25 a.m. because we were going to a train station that was far away and we were unfamiliar with.  Alors, it was not that far.  And we were very early.  And the train station was closed.  So there we were, three American girls, at a single track station in the middle of the night, waiting for a 5:30 train.  Something strange was bound to occur.  We sat alone for the first 40 minutes and all was creepy, but well.  Then we were joined by a middle-aged man from Senegal who was wearing a robe of sorts, had gray feet (I am not lying—they were GRAY) and who wanted a smoke.  We did not have one, but he told us about his life anyway.  He was waiting for the same train as us because he needed to go to Monaco to have his finger amputated.  Now my French isn’t fabulous, but I am 100% sure that I have this scenario correct.  I was sitting at a train station with a little African man who got his hand caught in a factory machine and now needed to remove his finger.  I will repeat for the thousand-th time this semester: my life is a joke.

Our train did come and we had our first Italian train experience.  What I most remember from the trip is that Italian trains and French trains are polar opposites.  On French trains, you sit quietly, don’t make eye contact unless you find the person attractive, and keep to yourself.  The train only has an occasional murmur which makes long train rides very peaceful.  Italian trains, on the other hand, involve lots of yelling and eve more hand movements.  Plus, the Italians are not as kind as the French and they do not translate their announcements into English…or French…or any other language for that matter.  It’s Italian or bust.  Contrary to my initial thoughts, French did not help me understand Italian, but I was able to pick out the correct train stop so we got off in Florence and went straight to our B&B.  The Leonard DaVinci B&B was absolutely adorable (if you go to Florence, you cannot pass up this place!)  

 

It’s a little out of the central town which makes it quiet at night and far less sketchy.  It’s run by an elderly Italian woman named Carla who speaks very little English but nods and smiles a lot and uses lots of hand motions so you can understand.  We were under the impression we got one free breakfast, but every morning fresh pastries, bread, homemade jam, fresh squeezed grapefruit juice, yogurt, fruit, and pots of steaming coffee filled a large dining room table.  We also had our own bathroom complete with a claw-foot tub (but no shower curtain and the shower head only came up to my knees which made for a very interesting shower…), and a bidet.  I have been searching France to find a bidet—who knew it would be this hard?  But the B&B was one of the best parts of Florence and I would go back just to stay with Carla again.

But in true tourist fashion, we checked in and headed out.  Per Carla’s suggestion, we went to find an authentic Italian meal on a small piazza.  One hour later, we could have not been more full after we devoured bruschetta, ravioli, grilled vegetables, red wine, and cappuccino.  Our first Italian meal/the beginning of our weight gain was a success. 

Then we found one of the many churches Kirsten had her heart set on and went to walk in when we came to the astonishing conclusion that you HAVE TO PAY TO GET INTO CHURCHES.  I find this morally repulsive.  I don’t care who is buried in the church, if I want to go in and pray, I should be able to go wherever I want in the church to pray.   So I paid for one church, and then I refused.  There are usually prayer entrances that are free where you can briefly kneel and pray, but I got yelled at in one of those for praying where one of the tourists may want a photo.  Really Italy?  I am truly sorry that my prayer is interrupting your tourist scene. 

While I fumed over Italy’s morals, Kirsten paid to get into another church.  Nora and I wandered a nearby market where I made an impulse buy of an Italian leather jacket.  I did successfully manage to negotiate a 70 euro discount with a pony-tailed Italian man who was really angry by the end that I had gotten the price down that low.  Sorry I’m not sorry.

We continued on and found the Duomo—didn’t really need to be found it’s one of the largest buildings in Florence.  After a quick photo shoot, we decided to return in the morning to climb the 400+ stairs to the top.  Instead, we swung by a piazza, visited the Palazza di Medici (where we oddly found a visiting Anne Frank exhibit in addition to the traditional Medici house), and then made it to Pont del Vecchio (**This is a little late, but please excuse all my Italian typos**) which is a BEAUTIFUL bridge in Florence where all the expensive Italian jewelers vend their goods.  To my future husband: I expect gifts from this bridge.  Thank you in advance. 

 

After a beautiful breakfast compliments of Carla, we began our hike to and then up the Duomo.  400 stairs later we had the most gorgeous view of Florence you could ask for.  On the way down, you are close enough to touch the inside of the dome and the paintings there are STUNNING.  They are just absolutely extraordinary and need to be witnessed in person.

Right after the Duomo we found a church (it was free) that used to be a grain market and had a miraculous painting in it, but then it got burned.  What I found most strange was that there was no crucifix anywhere in this church.  I need a historian/theologian to help me figure that one out.

Then I moved onto what I thought would be the simple task of mailing postcards.  Wrong.  Italy, you kill me once again.  Number one there is no rhyme or reason to how the lines work.  Number two, I thought France was bad but whoa there Italy, you just won the award for most inefficient country.  Three, stamps cost 1.8 euro each!! (everyone at ND who got an Italy postcard bc I had no choice bc they had to get their before finals, you’re welcome).   So 45 minutes later Nora and I emerged, rather stunned at the process of things and went to yet another church.  But Santa Croce was rather large and kind of a big deal but I still refused to pay so I just went in and prayed and then left.  We did discover that the MTV TRL awards would be hosted outside it though so it was a good find.  Tensions were running a little high so we ate pizza and caprese salad and then went in search of gelato…because in Italy you eat whatever feelings you have (sad, happy, bored, calm).  After a ridiculously good cone of dark chocolate and Florentine cream gelato, Kirsten and I decided to hike up to the Piazza de Michelangelo for another stunning view of Florence. 

After wandering around and taking in the beautiful city that lay in front of us, we headed back to town to see the Uffizi Gallery.  Kirsten was the best possible person to go there with as she is a double major in art history and theology and explained all the really cool and really famous paintings to me, as well as some lesser known artists who I now really like!  Even aside from the paintings, the gallery itself is stunning and well worth the visit. 

We then had a lovely Italian dinner with an American soldier who Katie met on the train (we really do make friends everywhere we go).  Then we meandered back to the TRL awards because we thought Lady Gaga would be there—fail--but we saw a bunch of Italian and British bands.  As we turned to leave, we saw the ND kids from Toledo!!  Such a strange run in but so nice to see some familiar faces J before heading to bed.

Day three in Florence may well have been one of my favorite days of all of break.  Nora and I had registered to go on a Tuscan bike ride/castle tour/wine tasting/oil tasting.  It was as spectacular as I had imagined.   They took us 40 min outside of Florence where we began with a tour of Castello di Poppiano where they currently produce wine and olive oil.  After we finished the tour we got to taste some of the products before we got our bikes and began our trek through the countryside.  The grassy mountains and endless vineyards could not have made a more beautiful landscape and I literally had a smile on my face for hours as we biked around.  Halfway through we had a massive Italian lunch…then they told us to bike up a mountain.  Three people out of 40 successfully completed this task.  I got a decent way up but my ego took a hit when I could physically not push my bike any higher.  Out of pride, I refused to ride in the van and walked the beastly incline instead.  It still sucked but I felt very accomplished at the end. 

 

After the beast we had a little ways more and a small hill to go which we finished with ease.  Unfortunately, one of our obese American counterparts did not and she passed out into a bush on the final stretch.  Sad? Yes.  Comical? Also yes.

Then the trip was over and we were very sad to leave our new Irish, American, and Scottish friends.  Though it was our last night in Florence, Nora and I could not stomach any more carbs and ate yogurt and fruit instead.  Then we did laundry Tuscan-style and watched Glee to finish off our Florentine excursion. 

 

What a stunning city with so many amazing memories.  Ill try to supply you with as many photos as possible, but nothing can do it real justice.  I am so happy I got to visit this part of Italy and cannot wait to share the rest of my Italian adventure with you in the next post as I narrate my adventures in Roma (ro ma ma-thanks Lady Gaga).  Ciao!!

Day 2-3: Nice and Monaco

The past two days I have woken up in paradise--literally because my hotel is called the Hotel Paradis--but also because my door is 100 yards form the beach.  The sun is warm, there is a slight breeze, a mountainous coastline and shops and cafes galore.


John met me as I stepped off the train and we then walked to meet the others at the hotel.  We had a celebratory glass of champagne to begin our spring break and then went in search of a deluxe Nice meal.  We settled on a beautiful seafood restaurant with an outdoor terrace (we were enticed when the hostess offered us free champagne) and  quickly ordered an array of appetizers (oysters, red peppers, and scallops) and seafood dishes (bouillabase, pasta with callimari, and grouper).  The meal was delicious and it was so nice to have a beautiful meal with laughter and great people.  We concluded with tiramisu, apple tartes, profiteroles, and of course, coffee.  We then meandered towards a local bar, Wayne's, where we had heard talk of a live band.  It was one of the most fun places we have had the pleasure of visiting.  The band played everything from Oasis to Kings of Leon to U2 to Coldplay.  Other than great music, we also met people from all over the world--from New York to Australia. 

The next morning we got up and went to search for a Palm Sunday Mass...but this is France so we didn't have to walk very far before finding a church.  As always, we were the only ones under 60 (this is not an exaggeration).  The mass was long because of the French translation of the gospel, but the homily was really well done and I really appreciated the mass.  Palm Sunday is one of my favorite liturgical celebrations so I was happy to be able to go to mass.

After a quick stop at the bakery, we headed to the beach to catch some sun.  And catch some sun we did--we are all slightly toasted now but we had a lovely day relaxing and picnicing on the beach.  Later on, we went for dinner at a small diner that served Nice specialties.  We samples socca, zucchini and eggplant beignets, pasta, mussels, pizza, and sausage.  Sadly after our meal John had to return to his home across the pond.  We, on the other hand, found an Irish pub where we could watch Spanish soccer, sing karaoke, and play games.  There, we met a group of American soldiers stationed in Milan (bummer for them....).  It was so nice to speak to people in English and it reaffirmed our belief that we can make friends anywhere.

Early this morning we awoke to discover we still didn't have hot water, but nothing could damper my mood because we were going to MONACO!!  After a quick 2euro train ride, we landed in the world of the rich and famous.  Monaco is all it is cracked up to be: Prada, Gucci, and Hermes shops line the main roads while Aston Martins, Rolls Royces, and Ferraris zoom up and down the streets (we stumbled upon a car photoshoot--look for me in your favorite luxury car magazine).  We had set goals for the day, so after 239087523587 photos in front of the Casino Montecarlo, we set off to:
Tara: try a cigar
Stephanie: get a picture of a man in a suit
Nora: win $$ at a casino
Kirsten: drink a mimosa.
Success on the first two (...okay Stephanie smoked most of my cigar).  Nora lost money, but I won some.  And Kirsten did not drink a mimosa...failure.  But we did have a great morning there and after lunch with a friendly Roman man, we headed back to Nice to catch the last rays of sun.  And here I sit, taking in the glorious sunset while inscribing blissful memories into my journal.

Tomorrow, I leave France, the country that has gradually become home, and move onto a new chapter in Italy.  Coming soon: Tara takes over Florence/gains 150 lbs from eating pasta.  Get excited everyone.  Bises.

Day 1: Train to Nice

I am beginning my spring break adventure where all adventures begin--aboard an SNCF train.  I was hoping to sleep for the first portion of my 8 hour journey, but am instead sitting here pondering "who is louder, the toddler yelling in front of me or the African (legit African--like spoke to me in some strange tongue) women chattering behind me?  Oh the difficult questions that plague my life these days!


We're speeding through the beautiful French countryside speckled with yellow fields of flowers, small farms, grassy pastures, vineyards, petit towns that seem to have been plopped down in the middle of paradise, and of course, breathtaking coastlines.  I have never seen anything as beautiful as the scenery outside my window.  France is my paradise.  I feel myself falling more and more in love with the country, culture, and language everyday.  So if anyone is looking for a roommate in France--I'm your girl.

I'm headed to Nice, located along the ritzy Cote d'Azur.  I've never been quite that far south and am looking forward to the rocky beaches, dazzling night life, and bourgeois attitude.

And so will begin my 15 day adventure through Europe.  Now that my backpack is packed (weighin precisely 20 lbs) and my passport is in my pocket, much of the stress has dissipated and I am ready and excited to begin this journey.

I'm so lucky to have this opportunity and being here still feels like a fairytale, even three months in.  So to everyone who helped me get here: my parents and family for their undying love, support and advice (and financially support once my debit card hits Italy--thanks in advance!), my siblings for being continuously amazed by my stories and for adding normalcy and inspiration to my life, my roommates at ND for allowing French literature to be strewn about our room and for listening to me practice French irregular verbs, my friends for your jokes (yes...I know you hate France), emails, skype sessions, gchats, and for keeping me involved in your lives even from so far away, and for everyone who has helped me learn French over the past few years--this trip may have been impossible otherwise (no Chris, you do not count...your French is rusty).  I can't thank you all enough for helping me get here and I'm so excited to share more stories/photos with you when I return.

Until next time, a bientot!!

Seeking Notre Dame: My trip to Lourdes

 B
onsoir mes chers amis.  I apologize for the delay, but it has been a crazy week trying to get everything prepared for my 16 day European adventure!  A preview for anyone who is interested: a few days on the beach in Nice, a day trip to Monaco, exploring Florence complete with a 8 hour bike trip/wine tasting/oil tasting, Easter in Rome, laying on a beach/snorkeling in Malta, and finishing off break with some wonderful ND kids in London!  I cannot describe how excited I am, but I first must pack and print 28353 boarding passes. Lovely.

But this weekend was not too shabby either as I fulfilled my ND dream of seeing the real Grotto in Lourdes.  Before I get too deep into my emotional and spiritual quest, the trip there is worth describing. [Side note: this post is going to be a doozy—really long so prepare yourself].  Kaitlin and I boarded our first train with our baguette and yogurt in hand, ready for a 6.5 hour trek to Lourdes.  Train one went splendidly and we got off in St. Pierre feeling confident about the rest of our adventure.  We noticed the second train was running five minutes late but it seemed to come quickly enough.  An hour into our trip they made an announcement that we had somehow gone from being five minutes late to 20+ minutes late, posing a huge problem since we would be cutting it very close to our connecting train to Lourdes.  As the train pulled into the next station, we sent a few prayers up to God, Mary, Bernadette, whoever would help us get to Lourdes, but to no avail.  Standing on the platform in Angouleme (..yeah I’ve never heard of it either), we didn’t really know what the best option was.  I asked a small, old conductor (because those are the least creepy) when the next train to Lourdes was, to which he yelled “GET ON THIS TRAIN NOW!” and pointed to a new train.  As I sputtered, “But I don’t have tickets! Where is this going?  This doesn’t go to Lourdes,” he pushed me onto the train and kept repeating “you need to get on this now.”  He must have seen my indecisiveness and concern, and instead interpreted it as me not understanding French well enough.  Wrong.  Anyway, we then proceeded to have a 40 second conversation in a mix of French and English about how I could take this train to Bordeaux and then possibly catch the original.  With no other real ideas and with the prospect of brooding over a good bottle of wine, Kaitlin and I sat down on a random train, in the middle of France, with no tickets. 

Once in Bordeaux, we asked yet another SNCF employee how to get to Lourdes.  We soon found out we could not, in fact, get to Lourdes from Bordeaux.  We needed to go another stop to Dax (I really wished I had taken French geography at this point).  We somehow ended up in first class and rode merrily along to Dax while the conductor made announcements to “the passengers trying to get to Lourdes” telling us our train was waiting for us—VIP treatment I know.  Alas, our prayers were answered in this little town in the Pays Basque and we boarded our original train to Lourdes!  What an adventure. 

The next morning we woke up and opened our shutters (I love shutters) to discover that our patio looked out over the Pyrennes—something we had clearly missed in our late shuffle in the night before.  We headed towards centre-ville and grabbed a cup of coffee—a FULL cup of coffee in a LARGE cup!  Imagine my joy as I sipped from this giant cup on a terrace overlooking the Pyrennes in 70 degree weather.  Utter bliss.

But alas, we had things to do!  We stopped at a small religious shop for empty bottles to collect holy water and a long lecture on Catholicism and psychology from a small, crazy French woman, and then headed towards the grounds of the Grotto.

This is where I need to interject and tell you the story of Lourdes.  In 1858, 14 year old Bernadette Soubirous was collecting firewood in the forest when a beautiful woman dressed in white robes with a blue rope appeared to her.  This woman later revealed herself as the “Immaculate Conception.”  Though authorities prohibited Bernadette from returning to the scene, she did, and was told by the apparition to dig a hole in the ground, in which she found a spring.  This spring is now known for its healing powers and is said to create miraculous cures (our director in Angers insists that he was cured from brain cancer only after bathing in the holy water at Lourdes).  Today, thousands of people traverse the world in search of this water and the holy powers of this spiritual place.  And thus, I arrived, plastic bottles in hand, not searching for a miracle per se, but hoping to find a community and faith at work.  Ask and you shall receive, I suppose.

When you enter the grounds of the Grotto, you come upon a giant building slightly resembling the Disney World castle, only to discover it is in fact three churches stacked upon each other.  The bottom is a beautiful and cheerful church decorated with massive, shimmering mosaics depicting the mysteries of the rosary.  The second floor is a completely different atmosphere.  You enter through a small, dark passage, and stumble upon a small shrine for St. Bernadette, complete with relics from her body.  There, I discovered a beautiful prayer to Bernadette, asking for the generosity, confidence, and patience she possessed to surrender herself to God.  The quest for complete surrender and God’s call became the main things I meditated upon for the rest of the day along with the question, how do we quiet our hearts and prepare them for God’s mission in our everyday chaos?  I can’t say I have an answer, but it is certainly something I am searching for and something that I believe some spirit tried to guide me towards that day.  As I sat in the dark chapel, goosebumps covered my arms and my heart was beating as fast as if I had just run several miles.  I believe some spirit was running through my body, trying to push me in the right direct.  Why these precious moments occurred in the most modest location in this town, I do not know.  Drying our eyes, Kaitlin and I stumbled back into daylight and then quickly ascended to the third cathedral.  After a few minutes, we left and found a café with a terrace where we could eat lunch.  We then wandered through the town with ice cream cones in hand, and eventually ended up back at the grounds where we filled our water bottles (you never know when you will need a miracle) and then visited the actual Grotto. 

Like I said, I was not looking for a miracle that day—I have so many blessings and cannot, in good conscience, ask God for more than what he has already generously given me.  So I kissed the rocks and prayed and had a moment there, but what was most beautiful to me was seeing the people who really did need a miracle, and they were the ones I prayed for.  People came in wheel chairs and walkers and stumbling through the line, grasping the rocks with all the strength and faith left in their bodies.  It was heart wrenchingly beautiful to see that much faith.

There was one middle aged man who clearly had both a mental and muscular shortcoming, and who was accompanied by his middle aged mother.  As he staggered through the lines, his petite mother held him up with unbelievable strength.  As they neared the end of the rock formation, drops of water trickled down the rocks.  She caught them in her hands and started rubbing his face and arms, praying for a miraculous end to his suffering.  And so went person after person, praying for something different, but praying nonetheless.  If you ever need to see a community of believers, Lourdes is the place to go.

We finally left and went to find the Stations of the Cross.  We found them on a large hill, and you ascended as you did each station.  The view of the town and mountains and the natural beauty of this area of the world made the experience that much more special—definitely worth doing, though I would recommend not wearing flats to do it. 

Later that evening we returned to the grounds for a candlelit rosary procession which was given in five alternating languages.  I understood 2/5, meaning a large portion of the evening was kind of a blur to me, but it was nice to share that experience with people of all different nationalities and walks of life.  It was really windy, so sadly our candles did not stay lit for very long, but it was a really nice metaphorical action to share our light with one another by lighting each other’s candles over and over again.

After a final prayer and leaving lit candles at the Grotto for our loved ones, we scurried home and got in bed with a glass of wine and a good movie.  The weekend in Lourdes was definitely one of my favorites thus far.  It was one of the most beautiful places I have ever been and you can’t help but feel God and the Virgin Mother in everything around you.  After a weekend there, my life is in perspective and my blessings are so obvious.  I am so lucky and so grateful for my friends, family, and all the opportunities I am given.  So to all of you: Je vous aime. Vous me manquez. Et je prie pour vous tous les jours. (I love you. I miss you.  And I am praying for you every day.)  xoxo

[Someone remind me to put up photos when I return from break!]