Platetonic Love

Salmon For Days

2012-07-16T17:17:00.003-07:00

But really.
When I went crazy at the grocery store the other day (again, probably due to too much MasterChef watching) I bought 2 salmon fillets.
What she order? 2 big ass Fish Fillets.
Why? I honestly don't know what I was thinking at the time (other than singing Kanye)-
I live by myself and definitely do not eat more than 1/2 a fillet a meal.
Alas, it's just made me get super creative with my salmon cooking.

Tonight I was feeling something tangy with a lil bit o' heat to it.
I figured I'd make a Salmon Puttanesca (my favorite Italian sauce). But I wanted the salmon to actually be flavored with the sauce instead of just adding it overtop (just caught myself writing that but i'll leave it. Take it as a gesture to all my Virginian friends who think "overtop" or "on accident" make sense).

So I olive oil-ed the salmon, added some salt and lemon pepper, splash of garlic powder as usual and place it on a sheet of foil. Then I added chopped cherry tomatos, kalamata olives, capers, olives, splash it with some lemon, sprinkled red pepper flakes and rolled up the little treat. I put it in the oven at 400 degrees for 25 mins and the s--t was on point!

Then I figured I needed some type of carb to go with it (because everything needs a side of carboHYDRATE or else we'd all be dehydrated. duh) so I made some quinoa.

But I was bored with the pairing so as the salmon cooked I toasted some fennel seeds (i suddenly had a craving for fennel but i wasn't about to go back to the crazy lady at Stop & Shop).

I put those aside and sauteed some garlic in olive oil, then threw in some frisée (the literally FRIZZY greens you avoid in your everyday bag o' salad). I never eat the frisée in my salad mix so I thought I'd see what it tasted like sauteed in my favorite butter of garlic and oil.
Then I put it all together: first the quinoa (add tabasco if you're a real person who likes flavor), then the frisée, top with the toasted fennel seeds and red pepper flakes, pile the mound high with all the goodness wrapped in the foil and if you don't know, NOW YA KNOW PLAYA.
:)

"As you lift the fish, make love to it,
don’t fuck it."

-Gordon Ramsay

DC Bucketlist

2012-07-15T15:14:00.001-07:00

So since I'll be in the city for a whole 2 months it's only fitting to create a bucketlist to complete before I go. Thankfully I have plenty of friends in the area to add to the list and to check off things with. The list so far

✓1. Ride the metro (easy start)

2. Go to National Harbor

✓3. Go to Baltimore Harbor

✓4. Go to a Nats baseball game

✓5. Eat crabs with beer in MD (ate them in Rehoboth instead)

✓6. Buy a table/get bottle service at a club (and pretend you're famous)

✓7. Go to happy hour in DuPont

✓8. Go to a rooftop bar

✓9. Have oysters waterfront in Georgetown

✓10. Celebrate the nation’s birthday in the nation’s capital

✓11. Go to Wilson’s in Clarendon

✓12. Go to Old Towne Alexandria

✓13. Go to the Baltimore Aquarium (soon to come- the awkward group intern photo of us there)

✓14. Go shopping in Tyson’s Corner

15. Go out on the river

16. Try Ethiopian food

✓17. Go to a outdoor concert

My sorry attempt at a picture of the Barenaked Ladies at Wolftrap (time for an iphone!)

✓18. Go out in Capital Hill (and pretend to be a Congressional Intern hehe)

✓19. Get a jumbo slice in Adam’s Morgan

✓20. Go to Rehoboth Beach for a weekend

✓21. Sing karaoke at a bar (obviously I chose Sir Mix-a-lot's Baby Got Back)

✓22. Go out for brunch (and get a bloody mary)

23. Meet up with every possible friend in the DMV area (it WILL happen!)

24. Try all locally produced beers [Flying Dog- check!]

25. Get mom to come for a weekend

26. Go to Jiffy Lube for a concert (July 28th- 311 and Slightly Stoopid!!)

27. Run a 5k +

28. Eat from a foodtruck (especially Jose Andres’ or the lobster truck)

29. Speak Spanish whenever possible (harder than you'd think! I find myself, awkwardly of course, speaking to any and every Hispanic-looking person...)
30. Go to TRUCKEROO!!!
www.truckeroodc.com/www

Sunday Funday

2012-07-15T13:12:00.001-07:00

A mere 3 weeks after getting back from Spain, I was on the road again. Well actually I left sooner than that- taking a quick trip down to Blacksburg to see friends before they headed home for the summer (and to experience my first legal downtown experience!).

Then I was off to move into my temporary residence in Brookland, DC. This summer I’m interning at Grant Thornton, an accounting firm in Mclean, VA. Obviously, while I was in Spain the last thing on my mind was my summer internship, or even where I would live while I interned. Lucky for me a friend from home who goes to Catholic University said I could just live in her apartment since she would be in CT all summer. Luckier for me, most of my work engagements are on client sites which are easy metro stops away from the apartment.

This Sunday I was feeling a little fancy (probably from watching reruns of MasterChef all week) and with a lack of ingredients in the fridge, I went grocery shopping. Note: where I live is definitely not the best area (not the worst either) but I must say I’ve never before encountered so many characters at a single Stop & Shop, i.e. on Father’s Day I went for the first time and my cashier was telling me “ma good fo nothin daddy be callin me dis morning acksin when ima bust his a-- out da hospital. I tell him, you be glad it ain’t da prison or I wouldn’t be busin yo a-- outta no where”. Then she proceeded to comment on my Living magazine which had smores on the cover, “Ooo child look at dat cinnamon sprinkled over there. Looks gewd”. They didn’t have any cinnamon on them…

Anyway today I somehow found myself spending $70 on food (sometimes I get a little carried away). But it’s all worth it because I’d rather spend a little more for organic or fresh produce than boxed processed s—t. For lunch I DEFINITELY got carried away but this has probably been my best lunch in a long time.

I ended up making a pan-seared salmon over quinoa and a roasted veggie salad of garlic, onions, green beans and sweet potatoes. I squeezed some lemon on top and, as always, added some aguacate (avocado) too. It.was.GOOD.

For the salmon I sautéed some garlic in a pan and then seared the fish until crispy. For the salad I drizzled some olive oil over the veggies, sprinkled some salt and pepper and threw it in the oven. I cooked the quinoa as usual but added in garlic powder, lemon pepper and, of course, Tabasco. I topped it all off with the lemon and the avocado and went to town.

Dare I say Gordon Ramsay would even approve!??

No8Do

2012-06-26T15:58:00.000-07:00

So I still have yet to finish writing about the rest of my trip abroad but I got a little side tracked towards the end of it. We were super overwhelmed with trying to focus on our final exams while still enjoying our last few days in such a beautiful city. My one complaint about the program was the fact that our finals literally occurred on our last days. We didn’t have time to say goodbye to everyone, pack, spend time with our madre, bask in the great ambi of Sevilla and slowly try to accept the fact that we could no longer call it home. Instead we were crammed inside studying for exams that we had 0% interest in taking. And the worst part was that these finals were actually crucial in our passing the classes (which was wholly the reason we were in Spain to begin with).

Leaving Sevilla made it to my top 5 heartbreakers. (The list also includes the day I found out my mom was Santa, the moment I realized I could never be best friends with Bear (Bear in the Big Blue House) because he wasn’t real, your typical boy drama heartbreaks, the day the doctor told me I was 5’ 2” and probably done growing, etc etc). Anyway back to the seriousness.

Ray and I were devastated that we had to leave Sevilla, especially because that meant we were leaving Maribel back on her own. It always made me nervous that she lived alone at her age. She drove us both to our departing destinations- Ray to the airport and me to the train station. Both drop-offs left me in tears but more-so an hour after Maribel drove away, as I was sitting in the train station by myself. I think I was still in shock when I said my last goodbyes, but the fact that I heard Maribel say “Te quiero” through tears as she hugged me hit me hard after the fact. I can undoubtedly say Maribel was a huge part of what made my trip the absolute best it could’ve been. She was kind, caring, thoughtful, helpful, and admirable. A beautiful woman inside and out. I’ll miss her dearly and can only hope to soon return to Sevilla and catch up with my other madre.

Dancing the Sevillana flamenco dance at Feria with Maribel

Which leads me to say, I will be back to Sevilla in my lifetime. I couldn’t have chosen a better place to study the Spanish language. It is the most culturally dense city I have ever visited and I will forever be in love with it. The air, the people, the food, everything breathes Sevillan culture. The city’s symbol “No8Do” short for “No Me Ha Dejado” (It has not left me) is painted all over for a reason. Honestly I’m tearing up as I write this because it makes it seem so far away.

I miss the Rio and everything that surrounded it- my runs along it, crossing it on my walk to class everyday, the hot afternoons where we drank CruzCampos next to it amidst the Spaniards. I miss having a schedule that was developed more-so on where and when we were going to “tomar unos tintos de verano” (go out for a glass of tinto) than anything else. I miss tapas. I miss socializing over tapas. I miss speaking Spanish. I miss Tomas, my favorite bartender that just so happened to resemble Jude Law, my favorite actor and future husband. I miss living with Ray (who is now in Malawi teaching English!!). I miss being in a city that was so big but felt so easy to navigate. I miss the vibrancy and the feeling of liveliness while simply walking the streets. I could go on forever but it’s starting to hurt my heart.

Mi amor, Tomas

I know I am so blessed to have experienced such a beautiful place and I will be forever grateful to everyone who was a part of it- from my parents for allowing me to travel, to Maribel for taking the best care of me and Ray, to my professors (and all Sevillanos) for forcing me to understand Spanish spoken at 3000 words per second, to the program directors for being so encouraging and helpful all the time, to Ray for dealing with me and my many issues, to the great group of friends made along the way.

Sevilla, No Me Ha Dejado <3 <3

Live for 32

2012-04-16T15:37:00.001-07:00

Before I forget to write this entry I just want to remember how good this day was. It was the best day yet in Sevilla. It started out as normal with some class and extraordinarily beautiful weather. However, it should be noted that today wasn't just any day. April 16, 2012 marks the 5 year remembrance of the tragic shooting at Virginia Tech.

I truly believe the day was enjoyed even more because of a quote I read on a friend's status :

"I ask each of you to take the time to be a HOKIE this week. Appreciate life a little more, take in every moment around you, count your blessings, tell the people around you that you love them, slow down, remember what's truly important in life, and live for those 32 that do not have that chance anymore." neVer forgeT 4.16.07

I re-posted the status and was determined to take the quote to heart and I think that's exactly what happened today.

I decided to opt out of my 5pm class to enjoy the weather and soak in some sun on a run along the rio. I think it was more than just a coincidence that on my run I passed a little hint of VT.

It's the little things in life that make me smile.

While I was exercising on the outdoor equipment, a Spaniard woman of about 30 years came over and started talking to me. Basically she started asking me if I was training for a marathon and when I said no she asked if I was on some sort of team. I told her no I was just exercising to try and stay semi-skinny while living in this fattening country. She proceeded to tell me how strong I looked (I know funny concept, me "looking" strong) and how she was a personal trainer. I had a feeling once I saw how ripped she was, especially at her age. You hardly ever see people who are actually toned here, and in all of Europe for that matter. In the end she gave me her number because she thought we should start exercising together, telling me how her friends can never keep up. She mentioned how she could even practice her English with me which I responded with CLARO QUE SI, I’m always up for a new intercambio! I just love how friendly and easy going Sevillanas are.

After my run, Ray and I went to the plaza de toros to get our bullfighting tickets for tomorrow (which is already exciting enough to make my day). But since there was a corrido already going on we couldn’t get to the office, so they told us to just come back in the morning.

So, of course, our next stop would be an outside, great ambi [ambiance] type of bar. We knew exactly where to go- a little plaza near Ray’s school that is always crowded with Spaniards standing around tall tables with their tintos and cruzcampo cervezas. We got the usual tinto de veranos and olives, soaking up the ambi of this wonderful place when next thing you know we see our friend Eduardo. We met Eduardo out the other night when our Swiss friends [friends from Tech studying in Switzerland this semester] were here. He’s an Italian studying his Spanish here (on scholarship for his “tesis”). We spoke in Spanish, threw in some English and even learned a little bit of Italian with him and his friend (name forgotten already). Three tintos later, the sun was going down and it was getting cold so we made plans to meet up again tomorrow.

This picture lacks the vibrant ambiance of the plaza but still- tintos and olives. They've got a big place in my heart.

On our way home we ran into our program coordinator from Lagos (best weekend/most beautiful place/best trip ever/still need to blog about it). Then my Spanish friend Juan called and said he was in the same plaza but I told him I had to head home to work on a presentation (which I should be doing now but I can’t focus- I’m just buzzing with excitement from this day).

Ray and I were a tad hungry on our way back (and we had already told Maribel we wouldn’t be eating dinner at home) so we stopped at a tapas bar that’s always smelling of delicious fried goodness. We had some Adobo (little fried fish), some Caballa (another small fish with a vinegar-y salsa on top and then we even went blindly into trying huevas (which ended up being weird balls of fish eggs- but not good like caviar- just weird). Nevertheless I’m glad we tried it- now we know we shouldn’t order it again. I washed my tapas down with a crisp, cold coke from the glass bottle (which Dad always says is the best type). I hardly drink soda so it was quite refreshing.

On my walk home after dinner (Ray biked home- I’ve given up on the belief that I’ll ever be able to ride a bike without killing myself. I’m just way too clumsy and there are too many distractions around here) I ran into Steven- always a great sight for sore eyes. We caught up on our weekend trips and made plans to hang out tomorrow (basically I’m hanging out with A LOT of friends tomorrow WOOOHOO). Then I ran into Lauren at Phoenix Pub eating some phenomenal looking nachos (Ray and I plan to eat them one of these days post-exercising so we don't feel as bad about it. Wash those babies down with some tantalizingly fresh Strongbows and you've got yourself a heaven).

So all in all it’s been the best day ever and I love my life and I’m so satisfied and I just want to throw everyone I love in a suitcase and bring them to Sevilla.

I'll leave you bloggers now with one of my favorite quotes:

Vive bien, ríe a menudo, ama mucho.

Live well, laugh often, love a lot.

And the all time favorite.

We are Hokies. We will prevail. We are Virginia Tech.

http://www.vtmagazine.vt.edu/memorial07/today.html

And lastly a shout out to my friend, and best Aesthetics Director of our Leadership Team, Dane Harrington for his brilliant article in the Collegiate Times

http://www.collegiatetimes.com/stories/19634/he-said-she-said-april-16

How do you say desert in Berber? "Sahara"

2012-04-12T07:42:00.000-07:00

This is what our Berber chauffeur told us on our 1 hour drive into the Sahara desert in "cuatro por cuatros" (aka 4x4s aka jeeps not quads). We also learned some Arabic on our way (the Berbers speak an average of 5 languages, simply from always being around tourists).

As Salaam Malikium: Peace be with you

Yela: Let's Go

Balak: Watch out/Be careful (basically it is what the Berbs yell at you in the narrow streets of the medina so you don't get hit by their donkeys)

Shukran: Thank You

But before we got to the 4x4s we had about a 10 hour drive by bus from Fes. And even though that seems like a lot, 1. i drive that every time i go to school and 2. we probably saw every type of terrain imaginable on our way there. We went through forests, canyons, rivers, mountains, oases, the whole nine yards. We had bathroom breaks literally in the middle of nowhere where we just had to pop a squat and move on, but i must say it was quite liberating. Who needs the necessities of bathrooms anyway? It was an adventure unlike any other.

On our way to the "oasis" where we stopped for lunch we passed thick forests, dry plains, and Utah canyon lookalikes. Our lunch consisted of a buffet of roasted chicken, carrots, potatoes, a pepper and tomato sautee, white rice and the moroccan pita type bread. There were oranges for dessert, so, of course, Ray, Simone, and I grabbed around 3 purses-worth (filled 3 bags with as many oranges as we could fit without our purses breaking). Listen, these oranges are incredible. And we were heading to the desert, we didn't know the next time we'd eat (obviously that was the only thing on my mind).

The oasis stop

As we got closer to where we would be entering the Sahara to find our tents, we noticed a huge cloud getting bigger in the distance. What Simone initially said looked like a sandstorm did in fact end up being just like that. So by the time we got to our 4x4s, we had to wait at least an hour because they couldn't drive us during the storm. We ended up stopping at a fossil store and witnessed how they cut and find the fossils in the rocks. Because the Sahara used to be an ocean, there were fish and crustacean fossils from 500 MILLION years ago! I snagged some rocks/fossils off the ground because I didn't feel like paying any money for the big ones (they were just going keep stepping on them anyway).

Once the sandstorm was over (and we unfortunately missed the sunset) we took the 4x4s for a little over an hour. We were told by a friend who did this trip last spring to tell the Berbers to drive fast, but we soon realized that this wasn't as fun as it sounded. The dunes were extra bumpy from the storm and people were quickly getting nauseous. Our driver's name was Rashid, a nomad Berber who could (of course) speak 5 different languages). If anyone is thinking of traveling to Morocco, I have his new business card- he started his own traveling business for Sahara excursions and even created his own webpage- Yela! As he told us all this I kept falling between being creeped out (per usual) and thinking he was genuinely nice. My feelings sided with paranoid when he wanted to pick us up in the morning and bring us to his village. Granted, he wanted us to have some tea or something harmless but in my paranoid mind, foreign men are always out to get us American girls. However, I will admit the Berbers were probably the most friendly people we've met so far, they just constantly hassle you as well.
By the time we got to our tents we were starving and tired. We ate dinner buffet in our main lounge tent (couscous, etc again) and headed to our "rooms", individual tents that had 5 mattresses. We added on the layers because after the sun had set it got reeeaallly cold.

At one point in the middle of the night, I woke up to a "HOLY S__T IT'S SO SCARY!" which was Anna trying to leave the tent to take a tinkle. As soon as I heard her I opened my eyes and started to panic. My eyes were open but there was no difference between being open and being closed- it was absolutely pitch black. Never in my life have I experienced such a darkness as that night. We had no lights (they turned them off from a main generator at a certain point) and even though i'm sure the moon was out somewhere, our tents were made of a thick (probably camel hair) material that didn't let any light in. At one point i checked to see if i had gone blind overnight, waving my hand in front of my face and seeing absolutely nothing different. I started panicking and thinking about scorpions and weird bugs being in my mattress with me and crawling into my easily-nestable hair. I snuggled with Rachel and tried to remember how Rashid said there were no dangerous animals in the Sahara ("Well, there are dangerous animals but they usually stay away from the tents"- oh.).
In the morning we were supposed to be woken up by the Berbers so that we could see the sunrise but we ended up just hearing other people talking. I ran outside to see if we had missed it but it was just still rising. This was our first time truly seeing how we were staying in the middle of the Sahara desert. The scenery was breathtaking.

Home sweet home

The 4x4s

After breakfast (hard boiled eggs, crepe like pancakes with orange marmalade and really tasty, chocolatey coffee) Ray and I headed into the dunes (attempting) to do some yoga. We even tried to meditate but what i really think we did was just relax and take in such an amazing silence.

We soon headed back to get dressed and ready to RIDE SOME CAMELS! Hello check off the bucketlist!!!! (By the way out of the 600 pictures i took on this trip, at least 150 were either of camels or donkeys). I was more giddy to see camels in person than my sister is when Dad announces stuffed artichokes for dinner (it's incredibly giddy).
Next thing you know we were up and on them, holding on as they awkwardly got up from sitting down on all 4 legs (pretty sure they are double-jointed, tripled-kneed and weirdly-legged attributed). Thinking in my usual Broadway-staged mind, this would be the perfect scene to sing "A Whole New World" from Aladdin- all we had to do was change the words a little: Shining, shimmering, splendid. Over, sideways and under on a magic CAMEL RIDEEEEEE. (Insert camel in place of carpet). We rode the camels for a while until we ended up at a huge, mountainous dune where we got off camels and started climbing. It was a fantastic view from the top. Ray and I could've stayed up there all day but the Berbers insisted we had to finish our camel ride into the nearby village. There we stopped at a hotel (where our spoiled little directors stayed) and got to dip our feet in the surprisingly cold pool. It was a perfect combination- cold feet, sunbaked face and a blindingly white torso that needed some sun exposure.

Lil Baby Berbs

Sandstorm

Once we finally got back to our tents, the day was at it's peak heat- even the sand was too hot for our bare feet. We wandered off to be left alone from the Berber salesmen that seemed to hang around our main station and laid on towels, soaking it all in. However, if we weren't dodging Berbs, we were avoiding giant black beetles (harmless but too big and always too close for comfort).

Mom + Dad (my #1 blog fans) I have more to write but I do still go to class here so gimme a day or two before you email me saying I haven't updated the blog :)

A Whole New World

2012-04-10T15:56:00.000-07:00

So after waking up at 3am, taking a 3 hour bus, 2 hour ferry and 7 hour bus again, we finally made it to MOROCCO. Our first stop in Africa was in Fes, Morocco where the first time on this trip, and maybe even my life, I had severe culture shock. It's just plain uncomfortable to be a woman in that city. The men don't just ogle you like they do in Spain, they stare at you with eyes that drive right through you. Almost all the women wear headscarves and the men have identical outfits of black leather jackets and jeans.

After we got to the hotel we wanted to explore as usual so we took a walk around, looking for some type of cafe where we could sit and have some Moroccan tea. We soon realized every cafe was completely filled with these creepy, wide-eyed staring men. So we quickly U-turned around and went back to the hotel where we sat in the comfy couches of the lobby and enjoyed some tasty mint tea with fresh whole mint leaves!

Then we had a dinner buffet at the hotel (which was so nice because we were honestly too creeped out to wander into the wilderness again). The food reminded me of when my Dad and I go out for Indian buffet but this food was comparably subpar. I filled my plate with a little taste of everything- fish, lentils, some yellowish veg soup, stringed beets, cucumber salad, grilled eggplant, carrot salad and actual WHEAT rolls.

Day 2: The Medina

Today we went to the Medina and I really felt like I was finally in Morocco. It was a labyrinth of small, narrow streets with donkeys being the main mode of transportation/shipping. The Medina in Fes is the largest urban area without cars in the world, made up of over 9600 streets. We were led by our Berber guides (which we were told time and time again to ALWAYS stay with or else we would get lost and probably never leave the medina/morocco again because it is such a huge maze) to the typical stores.

[One of the guides was known as Uncle Joe and he spoke Arabic, Berber, Spanish, English and French fluently. He had recently visited the US and just so happened to stay in Ray's hometown of Alexandria, VA. He enjoys Bluegrass and long walks on the Sahara].

Dates for days

Our first stop was the leather dying section but it was too expensive for me (meaning the Berbs wouldn't haggle to my satisfaction). Next was the spice store where I loaded up on some garam masala, some picante spices and the infamous Moroccan oil for your hair. We also stopped at a carpet store where the smallest carpets still cost around 800 euros. Granted, they were handmade and absolutely gorgeous but as a college student with a constant increasing debt, a constant decreasing income and a rented apartment, I think an 800 euro rug is semi-unnecessary. It just seemed like a strange place for the Berbers to take us but in retrospect I'm glad we saw it. Now I'll know exactly where to tell the hubby we can go for rug shopping- 12 Berber St, Medina, Fes, Morocco. In truth I will never be able to find wherever we were again.

We had lunch at a typical Moroccan restaurant within the medina. We started off with a huge assortment of tapas (served with the usual bread of the country- it's almost like a fluffier pita). The second course was a huge plate of couscous, chicken, carrots, zucchini and the same weird potato-like yellow vegetable we had had earlier in a soup. For dessert there was oranges, bananas and strawberries (which became a game to eat because we didn't want any of the fruits touching the strawbs - we're not supposed to eat the fruits without peels if we want to keep our stomachs ...regular). There were also some delicious coconut cookies and mint tea with dessert.

Day 3: Off to the Sahara

Salamanca

2012-03-26T15:32:00.002-07:00

I was never really planning on visiting Salamanca until I found out a friend from my hometown in CT was studying there for the semester. Then it became a must. Salamanca is a small city basically built around the university (which I believe is the oldest in Spain) so it has a feeling of a young college town.

To get there we opted for the cheap transportation and took a 6 hour overnight bus to Madrid and then a 2 hour train from Madrid to Saly. Once we got there we met up with my friend Andrew and found the hostel (which was more like a hotel with our private room AND bathroom- such luxury!).

Me and Andy on the top of the Cathedral

That night for dinner Ray and I went to a super guay (cool), super crowded tapas bar across the street from the hostel. We stood at the bar and ordered whatever looked good (my new favorite thing to do). It makes it super easy to talk to people too because you initiate conversation based on what they're eating. Like hey whats up what are you eating what is that called oh it has pig brain thats cool lemme try it wow thats actually really good thanks where are you from oh nice were going there next weekend what sights should we definitely see there its been so great talking to you oh a discoteca tonight that sounds fun yeah we'll go thanks for the recommendation. And now you're night just went from possibly eating a random assortment of animal parts you would have never ordered had you known ahead of time, to not only having a really good authentic Spanish meal, to making friends AND finding something extra fun and Spanish to do at night. VALE.

This specific time we split dos tortillas rellenas de verduras y patatas medias con una copa de tinto para solo 6 euros en total. Patatas medias were the consistency of mashed potatoes but slightly spicy with chunks of crispy chorizo- had i had a bottle of tabasco on me they would've been absolutely perfect. We stuck to the routine and became friends with the Spaniards next to us because i couldn't stop questioning their tapas plates. They even let me try their mysterious looking fried tapa dish- which in the end was fried pork skin. Right after they explained what it was they joked how the one bite i had was equal to "una hora al gimnasio". Loved hearing that AFTER i consumed it.

That night we went out with Andrew and his hermano from his homestay. Basically we went on a chupito (shots) bar crawl but it was so much fun because it was all the hideaway local spots that we would've never found had we not been with a Spaniard. For example, at one point we found ourselves in a rock bar playing everything from Kiss to Dropkick Murphys, chupito-ing amongst a grungy, long hair, black attire, moshpit lovin motley crew of Spaniards. We were having trouble keeping pace with Mario, the clear leader of this crawl, when next thing we know it was 5am and Ray and I were more than ready for our beds. Much to Mario's disappointment too- to his standards this was completely unacceptable- we were being "boring zombies".

The next day I woke up with one thing on my mind. I wanted, no needed, Mexican food. Nachos and cheese and grease. And Andrew had just the fix- Chido's. Entonces teníamos nachos deliciosos y quesadillas con guacamole fresco. Then we sat in Plaza Mayor for a bit and soaked up the sun as we people watched.

Saturday night we went out with Andrew and his friends from Colby. Long story short we ended up getting Doner Kebabs late in the night paired with some delish patatas fritas con tzaziki. After all the kebabs i had in Dijon I never thought i'd say that sentence again.

Overall it was a great weekend trip done like true Spaniards :)

We ate well, drank better, hablamos mucho and all in the company of good friends

Valencia

2012-03-22T07:23:00.000-07:00

Paellaaaaa for days

Buñuelos (fresh donuts)

One of my favorite breakfasts in Spain- Tostado con tomate

The río (or what used to be) is now a huge park in Valencia

Ciudad de Las Artes y Ciencias (section of town made up of modern architecture, museums and the famous Aquarium)

Never been to Sea World but it doesn't matter because this blew it out of the water (see what i did there)

Chocolate con churros (White, Cold (?), Milk and Dark chocolates) at a famous chain called Valor

RyanAir- You rush me frantically and stress me out with your tedious, weird rules but you never delay and you always get me where i need to be exactly on time. It's a love/hate relationship.

Quimet & Quimet

2012-03-22T07:04:00.000-07:00

If you've never been to Barcelona, or all of Spain for that matter, I have one suggestion-no, REQUIREMENT- for you. Go to Quimet & Quimet, the best tapas bar I have ever been to. When I came to Barcelona 3 years ago during my senior year of high school with my culinary professor (and second mother) Lori, and her son, Sam, we stumbled upon this glorious place.

If I remember correctly, this was a tostada with sardines, tomato, and olives. INCREDIBLE.

This was the golden boy of all the tapas we tried that night- Smoked salmon, creme fraiche, and honey. I could eat this for breakfast everyday and normally I don't even like smoked salmon.

This was another sardine tostada except this one came with a Spanish goat cheese

Keon tried one with clams and caviar and said it was the perfect combo.

And last, but certainly not least, the tostada con pimientos, aceitunas (olives), roquefort (type of blue cheese) and balsamic. I must admit it was one hell of a pungent roquefort but overall a very tasty tapa.

Quimet & Quimet you have yet to disappoint me.

Barça

2012-03-08T07:39:00.000-08:00

3 years later and Barcelona is still one of my favorite cities in the world. BUT at the same time, i'm still more than happy that i study in Sevilla. As fun as BCN is, I would never practice my spanish there (almost everyone speaks english), nor would i be able to keep up with their discotecas todas las noches. Still, I could definitely see my self having a small "flat" there in the near future. I know i've said the same about Berlin, but I still think they're both true (so maybe i'll just shoot for the moon and see if i land a flat in both places when i'm older).

Once we got to Barca (after our hectic run onto the RyanAir plane, as usual) we took the metro to our hostel and checked in. This is when i realized our dorm was a scene out of a Broadway show- huge ladders to top bunks that were as high as the 2nd floor of my house, and we were in a 14 bed room. Suddenly, my imaginative little brain was processing ideas about a musical. It would be about girls who studied abroad and gained lots of weight (where i got the inspiration, i haven't a clue) and it would be called "A Broad Way" or "Abroad Way", etc etc.

This picture does no justice for the Broadway-esque feeling of the room. Or I just have a really BIG imagination.

Post-museum took us tapas-hopping in El Borne, where we had wine and an empanada in one bar and focaccia pizzas in another. On our way home we wandered over to Las Ramblas and i Knew we HAD to stop at the famous mercado (my favorite aspect about Spain is definitely their markets). There we tried some strange fruit that tasted like soggy socks (but still glad we tried it) and had dates so fresh they melted in your mouth.

THE MERCADO

The soggy socks fruit

These were still alive (Spanish love their freshness)

Later we met up with Rachel's friend, Liz, who's studying in BCN for the semester. She took us to what will now be called one of my favorite bars EVER- The Down Jones Bar. It was an American bar where the drinks are treated like stocks and are constantly fluctuating in price. AND the best part is that the market crashes every so often and then ALL the drinks drop in price. It was a business nerd's dream come true.

The next day we went to La Sagrada Familia (which seemed to be at the exact same point of construction as the day I saw it 3 years ago). For lunch we wandered over to an outdoor cafe and had a tortilla de verduras (vegetable omelette) and un serranito (sandwich with pork loin, cured ham, pimientos). The tortilla was aaiiight but the serranito was ON POINT. Yum I could eat that again right now. The girls had gambas ajillo (shrimp in garlic and olive oil) and after I had a bite I'd say it was the best one we've had thus far. It had a little bit of heat, which we haven't had yet, and the olive oil in Spain is just incomparable to back home.

To walk off our big meal we headed to Parque Guell (another famous Gaudi construction- looks like gingerbread houses) and relaxed for a bit. If I haven't mentioned it before, I ran into my middle school friend Gracia one day in Sevilla and we just happened to bump into each other again in BCN in the park! It really is a small world.

On our way back to the hostel, we wanted to see the inside of one of Gaudi's famous apartments so we paid our 15 euro admission into Casa Mila. As much as it was, it was totally worth it. We toured an actual apartment flat inside (high ceilings, intricately detailed architecture) and then attempted to watch the sunset on the roof (but were denied when a worker told us we had to leave at 6:30, 20 mins before sunset).

After a short siesta back at the hostel we were up and at it again, getting ready for Barca's crazy nightlife. We were recommended a Mexican restaurant nearby by Liz and came upon a very hip, crowded bar when we entered. There the bouncer told us that for 6 people we would probably have to wait 2 hours, but since we weren't dying of hunger we still went inside for a drink. While their mojitos weren't too impressive, their margaritas were spot on. At one point, as I sat at the bar, a guy behind me yelled something inaudible and then something magical happened...

The bartender started filling a glass with hot sauce, cayenne pepper and some other spices. He then proceeded to pour in a beer into the same glass and viola! Hot sauce + beer = what could be better? I immediately found myself asking the stranger what it was and found out it's called a Michelada, and it's a mexican specialty. However, at the time I couldn't get that name down so I interpreted (and ordered) it as the "MachuPichu drink". I tried one (of course) but I think in theory it might be a bit tastier- I don't know how many I could actually drink without suffering from severe heartburn for a week.

I also completely forgot to mention how we stopped at my all time favorite tapas bar- but that needs its own post.

Delicious french toast-y pastry

Best coffee in town. (It was)

The end is where we start from.

Wonderful-To-Be-Alive Kind of Place

2012-03-05T15:51:00.000-08:00

"Sevilla has a soul. It's a wonderful-to-be-alive kind of place".

The one and only Rick Steves

Today was one of those days that make you so grateful to be alive and well :)

As I write this I’m sitting in my cocina class eating my new favorite snacks- Bolleneros de Coco (Coconut wafers) and waiting for my professor to arrive. I’m obsessed with this class- se llama Cocina y Alimentacion del Mediteranneo Antiguo (Cuisine and Diet of the Ancient Mediterranean). We learn about everything from the process of food preservation that the Egyptians used to the current dilemmas between Spain’s organic and genetically modified produce.

Anyway, it’s finally getting warm here and if the temperature difference wasn’t obvious enough already, you can tell by the massive amounts of people now in the streets and plazas. So not only was the sun out and shining today, but I woke up feeling completely refreshed and ready for the day (cue Steph Crawford’s OH HEEYYYY DAY). After class I met Rachel for lunch at the study abroad office/Rachel’s school (one in the same) where we went up to the roof terrace and took on some sun as we ate our bocadillos. This time Maribel prepared us some sandwiches (bocadillos) de salami, lettuce and pimiento peppers (which seem to have tripled in appearances since the question of “Les gustan los pimientos?” was answered with a simple “si” from me and Rachel- Maribel takes her questions pretty seriously), yogurt, a pear and a little chocolate bar. It makes me feel super young again when Maribel packs us lunches because ever since middle school I’ve packed my own (i.e. middle school A.I.M screenname, IndependentBrat) and I was super weird and healthy and definitely never allowed myself any chocolate bars (i.e. I was a double zero jean. Oh, the good ‘ol days). Anywho back to the bocadillo- I think it was extra good because of the ambiance included. We pay big money for ambiance but I’ll get to that later when I finally write about our Valencia weekend.

Overall, I am more than satisfied with my choice in Sevilla for the semester. For awhile I could not for the life of me make a decision between which Spanish city to study in (so weird, I’m never indecisive. If you don’t know me this is sarcasm) but I definitely found the right place for me. Reasoning:

- - It’s a beautiful city

- There’s an awesome river (and lots of activities surrounding it- from hanging on the riverside, to running along the river to canoeing IN the river)

- - It’s a big city but not overwhelmingly large and each part has it’s distinct personality

- - There are plenty of international students but you still speak a lot of Spanish

- - I’m still trying to figure out if it’s just an Andalusian thing or all Spaniards, but the people here are so happy just to be alive (and it’s very contagious!)

- - There’s such a distinct culture here (your typical Spain stereotypes come alive in Sevilla but in a good way of course- Bullfighting, Flamenco dancing, tapas eating, etc)

- - It’s no Dijon, France (see previous posts)

- - The food here is out of this world good

- - Have I mentioned this is really a food blog, meaning I’m slightly obsessed with food?

- - Have I mentioned the social norm is to take naps during the day?

- - Have I mentioned I love to take naps?

No need to worry padres, I’m doing just fine. :)

It was the perfect day to photograph my daily walk to school

The crosswalk i stop at everyday and mentally note how much better Europeans can dress

The park i cut through to avoid the creepy construction workers (a girl can only handle so many "tss tss tsst'" a day. the poor cats that have to deal with that all their lives..)

the exact spot i check my watch everyday. just kidding. kind of

Mi escuela! Era un fabrico de tobacco back in the day so it's purty cool inside

Old school España for ya

La Giralda

The tomb of Christopher Colombus (sometimes i feel like i'm related to him- I'm constantly studying his life, i've been to his house in the Dominican and now i've seen his tomb. Brotha from anotha motha)

Sevilla's phrase: No8Do meaning No Me Ha Dejado meaning Sevilla It Has Not Abandoned Me meaning everyone who comes here is obsessed so i'm not the only one.

The view from La Giralda

<3 Home <3

Orange trees line the streets here but you can't eat them because they're super bitter so instead they make marmalade with them i know this is a really long run on sentence

i like to pretend the statue to the left is VT for Virginia Tech :)

And that's the conclusion of one of my nerdiest posts yet.

YOLO

2012-02-17T12:44:00.000-08:00

Rachel and I have invented a rationalization process where basically everything and anything is eaten/bought/done based on YOLO: You Only Live Once. Should I really buy that? Hell yeah- YOLO! Should we stop and get a pastry on the way home? We’re only in Sevilla as high metabolism-bodied youngins once! YOLO. Should we try another tapa? YOLOOOOOO! All in all, YOLO may become the death of us. That or it’ll be the reason I come back unrecognizably obese.

Sunday- super tired, slept in. Steven called and we met up to go to the Mercado de arte en la plaza del museo

So many street vendor artists! I found myself standing in front of one artist’s paintings for a solid 10 minutes debating which painting of his I wanted and if I had enough money to buy multiple. I told myself I’d keep looking and come back if I still wanted one but it was hard for me to walk away…I didn’t want anyone taking my potential purchases. I was eyeing an awesome painting of the typical Spanish toros in the bullfights when I forced myself to keep looking. Of course I ended up coming back 5 minutes later because I knew I had to have it. I spoke with the artist for a bit (and if you read my past posts from last summer (Florence), I love befriending local artists) and told him I would come back to see him next Sunday with lots of money. I also ended up telling another artist I wanted him to reserve a painting for me because I didn’t have all my money with me. I am so delusional that I think I have more money back at our casa…

Saturday- woke up at 11am and went to explore. At one point we wanted to sit out in the sun and have a snack. It’s still pretty cold here (unusual for the Sevillians as this is considered the hottest city in Spain) but in 50 degree weather the sun still feels great. Rachel and I sat outside at a little café across from my school sipping our café con leche, people watching and eating “tostada delicioso”: toast with goat cheese and caramelized onions. Mom and Dad you’ll be happy to know most of the conversation that took place was on how lucky we are and what great, great lives we live. I’d say it was this start to our day that made the rest of it go by so damn productively.

After this we did the expected here in Spain at 3:00pm, we went home to eat lunch with Maribel (our madre). Lunch is the bigger meal here so you can digest and take a siesta before heading back to work or school. We almost always have a soup to start and this time we had pea soup, then fish with capers and a salad with the whole kitchen sink in it! Rachel and I looove Maribel’s salads because she doesn’t hold back- this time it even had pineapple in it.

Arroz con Leche!

Platos tipicos de Maribel

After lunch we headed back out to finally do some shopping! It’s rebajas (sale) season right now and every store has huuuge discounts. I ended up coming home with 3 pairs of shoes, none of which I paid more than 17 euros for! BAM, finance major rationalizing her shopaholic problems.

We found one of the flea markets and explored- mostly jewelry, scarves and handmade leather bags. Gotta get me one of those ASAP. I need a purse that will remind me of this amazing city every time I look at it. Once again, I’m rationalizing my spending. WhiteGirlProblems. #ProblemasDeLasGringas

<script type="text/javascript">

var _gaq = _gaq || [];
_gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-29575610-1']);
_gaq.push(['_trackPageview']);

(function() {
var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true;
ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js';
var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s);
})();

</script>

Toledo

2012-02-12T15:05:00.000-08:00

After spending 2 days in Madrid, we headed over to Toledo. Basically if you have ever read or heard of Don Quijote, picture the town he was in and you've got Toledo. A small, quaint little place made almost entirely out of stone and very old.

So far we’ve only eaten at tapas bars and I think I’ve had a glass of Rioja or Tempranillo with every meal. It’s not that I feel the need to constantly drink (since I can finally) but my family has always taught me wine makes everything taste better. And to further rationalize I could add, “When in Spain, drink as the Spaniards do” (this being every 3 hours). Not only is the wine 1.50 euros by the glass, but I’ve always had a love for riojas and when they are made here, they just taste that much better.

If you ever find yourself in Toledo, I highly recommend El Trébol. The tapas there were so good (and inexpensive) that we went back for dinner after eating lunch there. Apparently venison is the thing to eat in Toledo so of course we had to try it for ourselves. Para almuerzo, Rachel and I shared a plate of venison meatballs served with a pasta salad and a potato/egg/veggie frittata-ish side. Simone got some different montaditos (sandwiches), from venison steak with mushrooms to buey (ox) with caramelized onions (served pretty rare but melt in your mouth delicioso).

For dinner we shared a cornucopia of tapas- croquette de gambas, ensalada de tomates, buffalo chicken nugget type things, a stew of ox and potatoes that hit the spot and for the finale, la bomba. La bomba is the signature tapa of El Trebol and was basically exactly what you want to eat after 2 or 3 glasses of wine. It was basically a big fried ball filled with meat and cheese and topped with 2 different sauces- one creamy and one tomato-y (yes i know, my english vocabulary is deminishing as my spanish vocab is expanding). The picture below is courtesy of their website www.cerveceriatrebol.com (to which they dedicate an entire page to La Bomba).

After dinner we headed back to the hotel, which to my surprise was actually pretty nice. The study abroad program we are on, ISA, includes 5 excursions (Madrid, Toledo, Ronda, Lisbon, y Granada). While I had pictured them setting us up in some dumpy hotels, we've definitely been taken care of (but let's hope i haven't spoken too soon).

the view from our hotel

BIENVENIDOS A ESPAÑA

2012-02-06T16:22:00.000-08:00

Chicos y chicas, tengo el placer de decirles que estoy en Europa otra vez. I'll be abroad this time for a little over 3 months and I don't think I could be any more excited to be back :) There will be a heavy amount of pictures of everything I eat (per usual). However, I must say, I've been here 7 days now and we eat so many little tapas plates that I forget the names of half of what I've inhaled.
First things first: if you have never been to España, go. right now. drop everything and leave. it's 2012 people, we don't know how much longer we have.
Haven't you always dreamed of a place where people never stop eating, the portions are the perfect size for getting just a bite (aka the perfect size for what I like to do- steal a bite from someone else's plate right as you are asking if you can have a bite), no one is ever rushing, it is CUSTOMARY to TAKE A NAP DURING THE DAY (@$*&!!) and the culture is literally structured around food and socializing? As someone who frequently dreams about what she wants to eat for breakfast, I can say I have dreamed of this place on occasion. And now it is a reality, in Sevilla. Although I have visited Spain before (in Barcelona for an inadequate 7 days in high school (it wasn't nearly enough!)) but now i am living here. I live in Spain. Mi casa es su casa.

We arrived here just a week ago in Madrid. 120 absurdly overpacked, touristy looking college kids from all over the US straggling into Madrid-Barajas International Airport. Our luggage took up the entire terminal one. You probably think i'm kidding, too.
Once the clock struck 11am (which after arriving at 7am didn't come very quickly) the program directors led us to the bus where we once again dragged our massive sized maletas- suitcases (cue the "whatdya pack in here!? BRICKS? DEAD BODIES!? SHEESH" #ShitMyDadSays one liners)

The buses took us to our hotel conveniently located right in the center of the city, and surprisingly (because it is included in the program and thus could never be actually fancy) it was really nice! AND THE BREAKFAST! OH MAN! Maybe it's because i'm used to staying at the cheapest, grimiest hostels that serve you a slice of bread and then charge you for the butter, but this breakfast BUFFET was crazy good. All types of fresh fruit, cheese, deli meats (like the famous cured ham of spain- jamon), eggs, yogurt, cereal, different types of bread, lox, special fresh squeezed juices like mango-pear!, delicious café con leche, lo tiene todo.

After breakfast the first full day in Madrid, we went on a tour of El Museo del Prado (en espanol, claro) and I got to see in person the works of the 3 artists i studied for months last semester- Velazquez, El Greco y Goya. They had a separate room with the works of Goya after he started going crazy and painting the walls of his house with his fingers. (si puedes ver, Goya en Burdeos es una pelicula muy interesante de su vida). It took a lot of me to not sneak any pictures- especially de Las Meninas por Velazquez. That was too cool to finally see outside of a textbook. But enough with the nerdy talk, on to the next.

After el museo, we went to visit the Royal Palace. We got to go into about 20 of the 1000 rooms, and as if that wasn't saying much already, these rooms made gaudy look underdone. The tea room, made for the queen to take the women to after large gatherings, had walls made of extravagantly detailed, hand-embroidered silk. The tour guide told us the room took 26 years to finish, while the actual palace (of 1000 rooms!) took just 21 years. Unfortunately, I wasn't allowed to take pictures inside here either. Alas, it is just another excuse for you to get yourself to este país magnifico :)

Later we went out for tapas, and the girls and I soon realized we didn't know what half the menu items were in English. So i went for croquettes de pimientos y bacalo (fried bechamel filled with pimiento peppers and cod) and un gazpacho (cold vegetable soup). Rachel ordered calamari and we had a couple of other small plates like a mondatio (sandwich) with pork and caramelized onions. The waiter came back to tell me they ran out of gazpacho but he recommended a similar soup and seeing as i had no idea what anything else was on the menu, i went with it. But a rare occasion occurred where i actually didn't like a plate of food- he brought out what is called Salmorejo- a thick version of gazpacho topped with jamon. But this just didnt taste like a. it should be cold and b. it should be eaten like a soup. No me gusta. Nevertheless we all split a bottle of our first non-imported house Rioja. Eso me gusta. Mucho.

And thus started the new trend of what we call living as true Spaniards- vino con todo y tapas sin limites.

Tapas from a little inside market! The skewer 3rd from the left was my favorite- some kind of sausage with sweet plantains!

We decided to relax in a park right by the hotel after our long day of sightseeing

Piece a Pisa

2011-07-12T15:50:00.001-07:00

Prague Part 2: The Actual Trip

2011-07-12T15:48:00.000-07:00

After class Thursday we got on the first of 3 trains, starting our 10 hour trip to the Czech Republic. So glad we have German rail passes because we only had to pay for the train from the border of Germany to CR and it was 20 euros. Normally the entire trip costs around 300 euros.

Once we got to the train station in Prague it was around 10pm and the place was completely empty. We had a map but we had no idea how to find our hostel. We asked the taxi driver how much it would cost to get there and he had the nerve of telling us 700 korunas for 4 people. The map said it was 1km away. 28 euros. 1 kilometer. I felt like saying, “Bitch paaaleeaseee”. We debated over which exit out of the station we should take to start our journey when the driver came back and told us 400 korunas for 4 people (4 euros a person). Then I felt like saying, “You learn quick young grasshoppa”.

When we got to our hostel I was surprised to see how clean and modern it was. I’ve become accustomed to third-world-country-hospital-like hostels. Traveling on a budget. They placed us 6 females in a 12 person dorm (again, traveling on a budget) where people were already asleep. We all had our computers so we immediately thought this was a bad idea so we transferred into a 4 bed room and had 2 of us share each night. Good thing we are all tiny. It ended up saving us a good amount of money and we didn’t have to worry about anything being stolen (paranoid Sophie over here). The next day we woke up and paid 120 korunas (5 euros) for BREAKFAST BUFFET! HELLOOOOOO PERFECT START TO MY DAY! They had everything from toast and jelly to real, fresh fruit (insert excited profanity) to homemade granola (@$*&!) to cheesy, scrambled eggs (0_0 ßcrackhead seeing a mountain of crack). On this entire trip eggs have become such a rarity that my soul grows a little every time I have the opportunity to consume such a heavenly source of food. I ate half my body weight and then made a sandwich to-go for lunch (I know, I’m such a good financial planner- you’re welcome, Dad).

We started on our free walking tour when we graced by the presence of our raspy voiced tour guide. Yayyy I love having tour guides who’ve lost their voice give 30 person tours around heavily crowded, loud areas. After 2 hours of not hearing much, except for really important facts like his grandfather was an Olympic runner for Czechoslovakia, we ditched and went to do our own exploring.

Funny story- we were trying to find the famous Prague Palace, aimlessly wandering, when Charlotte asked a passerby where it was. He laughed in her face and responded, “You passed it”. We walked back the direction we came and Charlotte asked another. He laughed and answered, “You’re standing in it”. We are some damn touristy tourists! Apparently the whole gated area with all the buildings inside it is considered the Palace. Who’da thought.

That night we went to the 5 floor club!!!!!! Or as I like to call it, a dream come true. The first floor was radio hits, then came hip hop (or as the stairs labeled it, “black music”), then oldies (inhabited by, you guessed it, old people) and, finally, the chill room. My main headquarters was hip hop where we avoided creepers by standing on a ledge over the dance floor. This might be why people tried to take pictures with us after…I think they thought we worked there. Don’t worry I made some really unattractive faces for those pictures. Tag me!

Forgot to mention how before we got to the club we had THE BEST MEXICAN FOOD I’VE EVER TASTED and I’ve been to Mexico. Charlotte and I split a taco salad with really tasty, shredded chicken and spicy salsa inside a fried tortilla shell. Claire and Maria split nachos that were DAAANNKKKK and, like the vulture that I am, I swooped in and finished their leftovers. I missed you spicy food. I had to hold back from sneaking the hot sauce into my purse.

Prague was fun and definitely a good sight to see but it was also sketchy and a slight let-down. I think because it was a holiday weekend a lot of people left the city to go travel elsewhere. It seemed eerily empty, especially around the non-tourist attractions.

prague palace

dad?

Lennon Wall

weirdest thing i've ever seen- GIANT crawling babies on a tower

trideln'ks: cinnamon pastries that are crispy on the inside and doughy on the outside. HEAVEN.

Happy Birthday America!

2011-07-06T10:46:00.000-07:00

So even though I'm supposed to be studying for my BIT final tomorrow, I figured I'd update my blog. As you all know, unless for some reason Germans are starting to read my blog, this past Monday was the 4th of July. Some of the German students here organized a little barbeque for us by the lake here in Munster and it was...very American. Our group wore ridiculous outfits to show their pride, drank a lot of beer, and instead of the usual hot dog eating, we had bratworst on a bun with ketchup and mustard. We were rowdy and annoying, and spoke loudly to each other unnecessarily. There was beer pong (obviously) on tree stumps, chugging from mini kegs, an excessive amount of food (duh) and festive paper plates. I felt home again. And, needless to say, by the end there were drunk people stumbling, excessive food amounts being thrown out, garbage everywhere and more beer pong. It was easy to notice everyone around us staring because they wanted so badly to be carefree and American. At one point, some guy stole a beer from the boys' case right in front of us, but we knew he was dying inside with jealousy, and we were in such high spirits, we just let him have it. Land of the free, home of the brave...does it the best.

american hotdogs german style

bunny invasions all over

Prague Part 1: The Explanation

2011-07-03T07:33:00.000-07:00

So this weekend I was really supposed to stay in Munster and try to save some money butttt I was too scared to stay by myself because of The Creeper. I don’t know if I ever wrote about The Creeper but here is the story (again maybe). When Jill and I went to London we inconveniently got ourselves a flight from Dusseldorf “Weeze”. You may already know that Dusseldorf is an airport in Germany. However, Dusseldorf “Weeze” is an airport NOT in Germany, but in Holland. Weeeee I love when airports name themselves the same thing in completely different countries! HURRAAYYY, so much fun! Basically you can imagine what happened here: we arrived in Dusseldorf, Germany 2 hours before our flight only to receive the best news from the information desk- we were in the wrong place. We could take a taxi and get there in an hour and a half for a mere 160 euros. Pocket change. When I handed the driver my 80 euros, I kissed my weekend to Prague goodbye. Or so I thought.

On our way home from London we had the awesome opportunity of riding every type of public transport there is (other than a police car I suppose). We took a train to the airport, a flight to the other airport, a shuttle to the train station, a train to a train, and we were getting ready to get on our last train when we realized our current train was running 15 minutes behind. Sooooo lucky little devils that we are we miss our last train to Munster (by the way this is around 12am). As were slowing down to where we were supposed to make our connection, I watch a crazy man running up and down the aisles saying something in German but I catch one word: Munster. We are getting our bags down and walking towards the doors when we ask the conductor how we are now supposed to get to Munster. The crazy man comes back yelling out the same conductor in German. The conductor tells us we missed the train but the crazy man is going to Munster too so he will write us a voucher for a free taxi. I immediately have a bad feeling. CrazyMan has 3 camera tripods, and giant duffle bag and spastic, unnatural mannerisms. He starts talking to us in English and I immediately turn my British accent on. The usual conversation starts with him asking where we were from, what were our names, etc. I have goosebumps writing about this. “My names Sophie, that’s Michelle. We’re from London, England”. Looking back this whole scene is probably God sending me a message that it’s time to start my acting career. But back to the story- CrazyMan starts telling us about how he was in Budapest taking pictures because he is a photographer which in Sophie’s paranoid mind (my alter ego) is heard as, “I was in Budapest stalking females around your age, taking pictures without them knowing and later murdering them and taking pictures of their dead bodies”. Fun fact- in my spare time I enjoy marathons of relaxing TV shows such as CSI, Law and Order and Criminal Minds. But you would never guess, right?

Anyway, we get into the cab and my next wave of panic floods in. The taxi driver doesn’t speak English, but CrazyMan does. He asks us where in Munster we are going. Jill tells him our address, our real address, and I almost peed myself. I wanted to lie and say something like the train station, where we could take another taxi back to our dorms. He instantly replies, “Oh, I know where that is! You live right next to me! That’s the student dorms, yes, I know exactly where that is.” So just a brief review of the situation: we are now in a cab, with a driver that doesn’t speak our language, in a country where we can’t speak their language, with a creepy guy who is probably some type of sexual predator, and who just so happens to live right next to us. Yayyy uncomfortable, life-threatening situations are THE best! If I wasn’t already in panic, clenched-teeth mode, I’m now on the verge of tears. He tries to make conversation in the cab and I honestly don’t remember what I was even saying because my words weren’t matching what I was thinking. I was thinking about the potential weapons I could use at any moment.

Stab in the neck with my key? Might not puncture quick enough. Should’ve bought that mase. Jill knows how to put a guy in the sleeper hold, though, that’s good. Maybe the cab driver has a gun. But he might be in on it. He’ll probably want our money so he’ll just let The Creeper kill us. Is the door unlocked? I’d have enough time to roll out of the car and run away before he could reach across to the back seat. Note to self- buy hand knife, mase or a taser when we get back. If we get back.

The funny thing is I can remember every thought running through my head at the time, but I can’t remember where I left my cell phone every other 5 minutes. CrazyMan asks about where we had been and starts going off about London. Where abouts did we live there? Why were we studying abroad in Germany if we didn’t speak German? Why was our study abroad so short? Were we undergraduate students or graduate? Converted into Sophie’s brain as: I know you’re not from London so now I want to know where you are really from. It’s funny how easy it’s going to be to kill you because you’re in unfamiliar territory. I need to act quickly because you’re going back to wherever you’re from soon. If you are undergrads, you must be young.

Funny how you’re mind can play such tricks on you.

To sum up the story, CrazyPsychoScaringTheCrapOutOfMeMan keeps talking even after I pretend to sleep, going off about how he used to work in a circus in Paris- WTF!???? Fortunately, he gets dropped off first and then proceeds to come over to my window, KNOCK ON IT TO GET MY ATTENTION, and wave goodbye. We drive 5 seconds and get dropped off at our dorm where I had an entire plan to walk to a different building, wait, and later go into our dorm and not turn any lights on (because clearly he was going to linger and see which halls I went down so that he can find me later). But, once we got out of the cab all I wanted to do was curl up into a ball in my bed so Jill and I went straight to our rooms. There I proceeded to barricade my door with my desk chair, look for possible weapons around my room and place them next to my bed. I had a plastic knife, my computer, and mug that I could smash him over the head with. I knew I was doomed. I stayed up talking to my dad on Skype- thank God he was on because I was having more than a panic attack at this point. I tried to go to sleep with classical music on but every time I closed my eyes I pictured him standing over my bed with a knife (I know I’m crazy but I’ve never been so scared in my life). I had to turn the music off at one point because I felt like it was droning out important background noises such as his footsteps coming towards my door, or the car engine he would shut off before he got there. World’s most paranoid female right here.

Basically the point of this story is that I am still scared he is going to find me. So much so that I’ve saved a document on my computer titled “Creeper” with descriptions of what he looked like. In case I ever go missing the police will find it and easily identify him. I know I’ve watched way too many murder mysteries but I can just picture him waiting in his car every time we come home at night, following me to my room and since we are all in completely different rooms/floors/buildings WITHOUT PHONES it makes it that much easier to panic/get abducted.

I could not stay there by myself for the entire weekend.

Thus, I went to Prague.

Italia: The Motherland

2011-06-27T06:13:00.000-07:00

As we walked down the RyanAir stairs and onto the runway, we were hit by a gust of hot, sticky, humid air…and I’ve never felt better. It suddenly occurred to me that it was summer and I was so used to being in muggy, rainy weather in France, England or Germany that I forgot what real, sunny summers are like. I was more than thankful to be in my homeland, Italia. We got on the train and headed towards what I knew would be one of the most gorgeous sights yet, Cinque Terre.

We arrived in the first of the five cities, Riomaggiore, where we had booked our hostel. Little did we know our room would be on top of 240 steep stairs up a 90-degree angled cliff. We carried (lazily dragged) our suitcases up and discussed the plan for the rest of the day. We had wanted to do the Cinque Terre hike the next day, but we found out we had to check out at 10am and we’d have no where to store our luggage. We changed into “athletic gear” which accidently turned out to be matching twin outfits for the 4 of us girls and got on our way. I haven’t mentioned the fiasco that happened the night before but basically we had to take a train at 11pm in order to get to our 9am flight…but we arrived a tad early at 1am and found we had to take a taxi to the airport at 6am only to find that it was not even open. All in all we were exhausted by the time we got to our real hostel, but we knew the hike would be worth it.

We made our way through the narrow paths along the cliffs from Riomaggiore, to BLANK, to Corniglia where we had to take the train because a landslide caused the path to be blocked off the hikers. From Vernazza we went through the toughest and longest hike to Monterosso. A total of 4 hours got us to our destination, where I was so sweaty all I wanted to do was skinny dip into the water…but there were people eating at beachside restaurants and I knew that wouldn’t fly. The people eating in front of us also reminded us how we were close to starving, so we made our way off the beach and into town to look for a cheap restaurant. We found an outdoor Italian patio that had a tourist discount of 2 plates, salad, water, a glass of wine and coffee for 18 euro. When most of the pasta dishes were already 16 euros we decided to go for it. I ordered gnocchi with pesto (because I read earlier that pesto originated in Cinque Terre) and what I thought was scallops with lemon juice (lemons are also grown in the hills of CT) scallopini. Little did we Americans know, scallopini in Italy (also translated onto the English menu as SCALLOPS) was NOT in fact scallops like the ones from the sea. Instead, I was served a big road-kill looking meat slab covered in a pasty yellow sauce. Mmmm, all dreams of fresh seafood killed in a 3 second glance at my plate. All complaints aside, however, my gnocchi was DA BOMB- freshly made little pasta dumplings in a deliciously light, green pesto.

The next day we decided we’d spend our time at our little rocky beach at Riomaggiore. We got a pizza at the corner pizzeria with fresh tomatoes, mozzarella and arugula, and I’m pretty sure they drizzled fresh olive oil on top. NEVER BEEN BETTER. I think I had a total of 3 slices in 3 minutes. Then, as the beached whale that I now looked like, I hobbled my way over to my homeland on the beach. There Italians turned and pointed “Looka Mama, itsa biga beluga!” Just kidding. But if it were true I’d simply respond that the pizza was still completely worth looking this way. One thing my parents will never have to worry about- anorexia J.

After our short time at the beach we had to take the train back to Pisa and then over to Florence, where we were vacationing another 2 nights. Unfortunately for me, as soon as we got there we discovered that the cast of Jersey Shore had left just 6 days earlier. My dreams of fame were shattered on the spot. I picked up my bags and headed to the train station; I was going back to home to Germany. SIKE- I’m not that obsessed. But the thought of telling my dad that did cross my mind, just to see his Italian, jersey-shore-despising, easily-over reactive response. Now THAT would’ve been a blog post in itself.

Anyway, we found our hostel and lucky for us fit 6 people in a 5 bed hostel room, lowering our extremely expensive costs from 35 euros for 2 nights down to a whopping 30 euros including towels! Bongiorno, bargains. The place was actually really clean too and in a perfect location near the Duomo. Once we put our luggage down (including the 70 pound suitcase and 30 pound backpack Will brought) we went off to explore Firenze! We immediately found a big market that had everything from hand-painted pottery to hand-sewn leather. Next we made our way over to the Duomo. On our way home we found a cute little restaurant with decent prices listed on the door so we decided to mangia! The boys got bruschetta with a really tasty homemade spicy sausage and mozzarella on top, while Char and I split a smoked duck salad with our favorite, a glass of Montepulciano! This one was a bit more tannic than the last we had in France, but it satisfied our craving fine.

The next day we slept in a bit (long night) and when we finally did wake up, we walked around the corner from our hostel and to our surprise found an American diner! Now usually I’m the one saying we need to eat the original food from the country we are in, but I haven’t had eggs in months and the first thing I saw was Bacon, Egg and Cheese on a Bagel of your choice for 2 euros. The heavens opened up and shined a light onto the everything bagel in the deli case, and I seized with excitement. Finally, I would have a real breakfast. I didn’t take a picture or anything because it really wasn’t that special but at this point you could’ve given me roadkill, egg and cheese on a bagel and I would’ve inhaled it. It’s the little things in life.

We made our way over to the Ponte Vecchio where the spending began. One little painting of the city turned into 2, to 3, to “oh I need this one, it has flowers on it” to “shoot I should’ve bought this one instead of the other one” to “I need to have that painting and I won’t leave until I get it”. The last one took about 20 minutes but I haggled the guy from 50 euros to a “student discount” of 25. TAKE THAT. It’s probably my favorite painting I’ve ever bought…but then again I don’t think I’ve bought many real paintings. Anyway, we ended up talking to this artist for so long that we got to know him. Alfredo studied art in Prague and Milan, dated a girl from Virginia (that’s how he knew where we were from), and told us a restaurant where we could be treated VIP style like the locals. He said to go in, tell them Alfredo sent us, and that we wanted to be seated in the “2^nd sala”. When we got there, we did just that. I felt like I was in the part of Goodfellas where Henry takes his girlfriend through the back of the kitchen to get to the restaurant (looove that movie). Once we got seated, we were literally treated like VIP. Instead of normally waiting 10 minutes just to be asked what we want to drink (because we look and act like stupid Americans) we were immediately greeted by an Italian woman: “OK so what do you want!?” We looked at her blankly and asked, “What can we have?” Looking back on it, it was actually really awkward and funny. She listed the pasta plates we could have and I ordered the vegetable sauce with spaghetti. When it came out, I asked for red pepper flakes, was given some type of pepperoncini sauce, and blindly dumped it onto the pasta. I made it so hot I was blowing my nose at dinner. The vegetable sauce ended up being a mixture of cooked cauliflower, tomato sauce, garlic and peppers and although I’m used to eating cauliflower and garlic just in olive oil, the tomato sauce was heavenly. The best part was that the meal had just begun. The waitress came back to take our plates and replaced them with plates of soppresata, parmigiano and bruschetta that was so good I had to ignore the fact that I was too full to breathe already. Walking around the Duomo the next day we ran into Alfredo and we praised him for sending us there. The entire dinner came to 10 euros each and was one of my most memorable meals on this trip.

In the words of Alfredo, “Have a Good Life! Chao!”

The Motherland

2011-06-26T13:53:00.001-07:00

From Dijon Mustard to Munster Cheese

2011-06-20T01:30:00.000-07:00

the palace where we take classes. nbd.

cheesy breads are everywhere!

cutest little town

my favorite bread

i've realized that if it resembles birdseed, I'M GONNA LOVE IT

Fish, Chips and Shandys!

2011-06-20T01:05:00.000-07:00

view of Holland

our humble abode for 2 nights

...we wouldn't be American tourists without this photo

biscuits!

Nikoli's "Big Fat Pizza"

Newton's Apple tree

punting

the actual cam bridge

such an ugly school- they have it rough

the bar where Watson and Crick relaxed in btw research

oh heeyyy london

fish and chips finally!

Buckingham Palace

Strongbow - YUM

Zees ees not Hamburg, zees ees Harrrrburg

2011-06-16T05:36:00.000-07:00

Paris Square

Where Michael Jackson casually dangled baby Blanket out the window

Holocaust Memorial

Berlin Wall (ugly side)

Checkpoint Charlie

Best frozen yogurt this side of the Mississippi/Berlin Wall

berlin hot dog=weiner in bread. yum.

segway nudists

spotted: lady gaga in Berlin

Sachsenhausen Concentration Camp

creepiest place i've ever been to

if only America had train station food like this....

4 hour train from Munster to Berlin

Thursday was our last day in France- HALLELUJAH PRAISE DA LAWD- and we definitely went out with a bang. We finally found the dance club we’ve been planning to go to and it was crayzaayyyy. We haven’t made it there before because one of the French kids in our dorm kept telling us it was really expensive to get in/far away/etc…well we come to find it’s around the corner from the Australian bar we’ve been going to every time we go out, and it’s 3 euros -_- really Thomas (pronounced Toe-ma). We ended up at the “goblin doors” after as usual, which- if I haven’t already mentioned- is literally a set of doors to what looks like a basement on the street, but Will found to be a bakery that serves freshly baked goodies from 2am till they open in the morning. That was a really bad run-on sentence but this is my blog and I’ll run on if I want to.

Bright and early the next day, 7am, we were on the bus to Munster, Germany. SEE YA NEVER BYE DIJON. It was a 10 hour drive but I slept 90% of the time so it really didn’t feel too long (used to these drives anyway from CT to Tech). Once we got to the dorms, I knew this place was going to be a million times better than Dijon (which, at first, doesn’t say much). Our rooms here are big and spacey and not only do we have our own stoves but we have our own bathrooms wooohooooo. The only problem is that we are all scattered across the buildings here. I didn’t think I’d be as scared as I was going to sleep that night but every noise I heard was turned into the rattling of someone trying to open my door in my head. I barely slept that night.

The next day we were up early again to catch a train to Berlin where we were staying for the 3 day weekend. We asked the woman at the station the day before if we needed to reserve seats or anything like that and she insisted that we didn’t. Of course, we end up missing the 9am train and get on the 10am- an ICE train that needs reservations. We sit on the floor for 2 hours. Some German ticket lady with bleach blonde hair and scary piercings tries to tell us we have to get off at the Hann station and take a different train to Berlin because this one is too full. So we nodded and got off at Hann where we passed her on the platform and then proceeded to get back on the train at a different car. We end up sitting on the floor again and as I nod off with my head in my hands apparently she walks by and Jen makes eye contact just before shutting her eyes to pretend like she was sleeping too. This is a really pointless story. We’re just bad asses.

We end up getting off at Hamburg where we need to change trains. We’re a little confused when we see how small of a station it is, and we can’t find track 5. We walk up to the information desk and ask the man where the train to Berlin is. He looks at us blankly and then begins to laugh, “Zees ees not Hamburg, Zees ees Harrrrburg”. We are literally the worst world travelers. We don’t plan anything and we cannot for the life of us follow directions correctly. Mind you, 2 of the girls are not with us at the moment because they forgot their passports and need them for our German rail passes. Luckily we all make it to our hostel at the same time, which is conveniently located in the center of Berlin AND is only 40 euros for 2 nights AND includes breakfast AND is actually pretty clean.

After we get there we immediately start the search for the things we’ve written down out of the book on Steph’s kindle “Let’s Go Europe”. We found a cool wine bar that we read gave unlimited glasses of wine for the price of: whatever you felt like paying. As broke-and-getting-worse college students, this was our calling. It was a really cozy little café but we were a little early- apparently the wine deal didn’t start till after 8. I got a Montepulciano D’ Abruzzo that was hands-down the best glass of red I’ve ever had. When I went back to ask for the exact name (you went up to a counter to order, there weren’t waiters) the bottle was gone, meaning they had replaced it with a different red for the hour. I still have the label in my head and I WILL find it one day.

As we started to get hungry, we kindled again and found a whole-in-the-wall-type German restaurant, Berliner Marcus Brau. Char and I split something with saurkraut, sausage and potatoes and it was every element of tasty. Most delicious saurkraut of my life- sorry Nana! We finished it off with some of the restaurant’s home-brewed light beer. I'd show pictures but the food literally looks like poop/throw up on a plate (obviously the fault of the lighting not the photographer). That night we went out to one of the popular clubs the guys heard about. It ended up being 2 floors in an old warehouse, completed with strobe lights and house music all night. When we went to the basement, the combination of fog and strobe lights made me think I was having a seizure. When I looked around me, in between each flash of light, everyone else looked like they were seizing. The best part was when I found out the next day that even though I was the one probably foaming at the mouth, Claire had been asked by some random person if she was okay…meaning “you’re dancing like you’re having a seizure”. I couldn’t stop laughing.

On Sunday morning we went on a walking tour of Berlin, where I learned more in 3 hours than I had in 6 years of history classes. For lunch the tour guide brought us to an Israeli café chain known as Aroma. There I ordered a hot dog but instead received some type of sausage with pickles, mustard and ketchup on hearty whole grain bread. While the pictures definitely do not do it justice, it was delicious to say the least. While we were waiting for our tour to begin again, we stopped by a frozen yogurt store where the woman behind the counter was in such a good mood she gave us some for free. It was finally frozen yogurt that tasted just like real plain yogurt- I loved it.

That night I went on my first pub crawl. The crawl consisted of 4 bars and the last stop was free admission to a club. However, we were so tired from walking around all day that after the 4^th bar we just decided to take the metro back home. Apparently the club was also really confusing to get to and everyone had basically given up on finding it.

The next day was our last day in Berlin, but because it was a holiday in Germany, many of the stores and museums were closed. The tours were still running so the 6 of us decided to go on the Concentration Camp tour. We knew it would be depressing but it was an opportunity many of us would never be able to pursue again. Looking back on the pictures of the camp now, I am reminded of the eery atmosphere I felt while being there. There was a certain silence that, with the rushing wind that came every so often, gave you uncomfortable chills. After going into one of the barracks I couldn’t hold back my tears. I think actually seeing the beds, the bathrooms and the living conditions made it more real than ever before. Reading from textbooks about something so horrific makes you somewhat immune to what the horror really is.

Mon Cheri, Paris

2011-06-07T15:44:00.000-07:00

I’ve been super excited for this weekend for a while now- my dad completely surprised me when he said he was thinking of bringing my sister with him to Paris the weekend I was going. I honestly didn’t think the plan would actually follow through until I finally saw him this Friday. We got to Paris Thursday around 1pm, after waking up bright and early to leave at 8am. The girls and I made our way to our hostel which ended up being on the outskirts of town, but it was at least in a safe area. To be honest it reminded me a lot of Chinatown in New York, because every other restaurant was Asian, but it wasn’t dirty or sketch like Chinatown can be. Anyway after checking in (to the weirdest rooms ever- the end of my bed was literally right next to my toilet which was across from my 1x1ft shower) we decided to get ready for that night even though it was only 3 (so that we didn’t have to take the metro 20 minutes back to change later). Soon we were out the door and riding the Paris subway with ease (it’s so simple, I can’t even imagine how we made our NY subway so damn difficult). I had emailed my dad earlier to see if we could meet at the Arc De Triumph. I told the group to look for “a bald guy and skinny-legged, really loud girl” but after 30 minutes of circling the island, I gave up figuring Leah had gotten hungry (as she does every 28 minutes) and Dad had taken her somewhere to eat. As a group we all went down the Champs Elysees but decided to go back to one of the guys’ hotels and get dinner around there.

We found a pretty well priced menu at a little French café around the corner from the hotel. I ordered escargot because I needed to break some of the girls’ snail-eating virginity and I was excited to have some again. For dinner Steph, Claire, Char and I tried to order the vegetarian salad (lettuce, tomatoes, haricot vert [green beans for all you nonfoodies], carrots, corn, red cabbage and oddly enough sliced, fried potatoes) with grilled salmon on top. The waiter said it would be 3 euros, which we all agreed to, and later came out with 2 giant salads topped with a nice, fishy smelling smoked salmon being its slimy self. Sorry, I’m the last person in the world to be called picky but I’m just not a fan of smoked salmon- and I especially hate when I don’t get what I pictured when I ordered. I guess it’s one of my pet peeves…along with long finger or toenails, guys with ponytails, and people with B.O. Which is funny now that I think about it because I just described 80% of the French.

Anywho back to Paris- after dinner that night we spent happy hour at an Irish pub, bought some wine at a convenience store (quite convenient) and spent the night watching the Eiffel tower light up (quite romantic). And, even though we clearly already had a sufficient supply of wine, every 5 seconds we were interrupted by annoying merchants saying something along the lines of “wine, champagne 10 euro 10 euro” (which obviously gave me another flashback to Chinatown).

The next day I met up with my Dad at his hotel by the Arc Du Triumph. By the end of the weekend I made this trip so many times I can literally say I know the Paris metro system better than I know the roads in my hometown. Since they had already seen the Eiffel tower the day before, we decided to go see the Sacre Cour. After getting off at a really sketch metro stop and climbing really steep, non-tourist roads while clutching my purse for dear life (don’t wanna have those 10 euros stolen -_-) we made it to the church and the beautiful lookout of the city. Before I left for the study abroad I went through my old Paris/Barcelona goodies and found a business card from a restaurant I fell in love with at the bottom of the stairs from the Sacre Cour. I got so excited when I found it again that I told my Dad we had to eat there- he’d love it! I remembered Lori getting an insanely delicious Quiche Lorraine so my dad ordered that, I got my goat cheese salad that I had ordered 2 years ago and loved, and my sister got gazpacho (a cold, vegetable soup that my dad always makes in the summer).

Cheers!

Best quiche of my life

coconut, lemon and caramel macaroons (started eating them before i thought to take the pictures, oops)

grapefruit, orange and feta salad

proscuitto, tomato, mozzerella, arugula

lemon and raspberry sorbet, lavender gelato

That night I met up with the group back by the hostel and we went out to happy hour at the Irish Pub again. We were trying to figure out how to get one of the Seine boat cruises for at least an hour before we actually found one at 11pm. Luckily, we got lost on our way because we found an awesome Australian club that we stayed out till just before the metro closed at 1am.

Saturday I spent the day with the family again. We went to the Musee Rodin and witnessed “The Thinker” in person. We ate lunch there and it was actually really good. I had a citrus salad of grapefruit, orange and feta cheese with a light vinaigrette, and my sister split a prosciutto, mozzerella and tomato baguette sandwich with my dad. Then we went to the Pompidou, which I always enjoy and thankfully the fam enjoyed it too. For dinner that night we got sushi at a little place off the Champs Elysees. It didn’t look expensive until we got our portions- instead of the normal 8 piece rolls they were only 4 pieces. It was still a good last meal but I was a little upset I didn’t get to show my sister how to eat escargot. My dad had been wanting to try Coq au Vin and Beef Burgundy too but somehow we never ended up at little French cafes (even when they are every 5 feet around here).