This time in 24 hours I will be on a plane home to California.
I mean, I guess there’s worse places to go home to.
But packing up all my crap and knowing I have to leave feels worse than the ugliest breakup.
Let’s rewind…
You might remember my blog post “three weeks down, three months to go.” Well, about three weeks ago it was “three months down, three weeks to go.” And we were sitting at a table at U Sudu on Czech Independence day, sort of sad but also simultaneously really happy because it was such a good day filled with food and beer and friends, talking about how some of the best parts of abroad may not have even happened yet because we still had so much time left.
Those three weeks were the fastest of my entire life I think. But I digress.
So we’re in U Sudu talking and laughing over a Pilsner when, out of all the songs to possibly come on, “What a Wonderful World” starts to play. So OBVIOUSLY we start to sob, and then laugh about the irony of the situation- three girls crying in a bar to Louis Armstrong.
That was a Monday. I remember because school was cancelled for the holiday, and I don’t have class on Tuesdays.
So that Tuesday, Mandy and I decide to go to the gym, but instead ended up dicking around town and trying to find Prague’s best trdelnik. Typical. We stumble upon this hole in the wall Czech restaurant near Old Town Square where we both order beers and goulash in a bread bowl. They were setting up the Christmas markets so it was pretty crowded and busy, but there’s a band playing—can you guess what song?
Yup. A random Czech band started playing What a Wonderful World right as Mandy and I were walking through the square back to our apartment. I swear, I hadn’t heard that song in maybe six years and all of a sudden I hear it in Prague, twice in the span of 24 hours? It was the universe telling me to take it all in.
We were right to assume that the best parts of abroad hadn’t happened yet. The last three weeks have been some of my favorite, mostly because they’re hard to articulate to anyone who hasn’t spent the last four months here. I could tell you about them, I guess, but trying to explain them just wouldn’t do it justice.
It’s really, really bittersweet.
Arguably the weirdest part about leaving is saying goodbye to my professors and classmates that I’ve met here. It’s like “Thanks, I really enjoyed your class and have a Merry Christmas” directly translates to “have a nice life,” because realistically when am I ever going to see them again? I don’t even know if I would ever want to come back to Prague because any subsequent trip wouldn’t be the same without the friends and people I’ve met here with me.
But on the other hand, it’s kind of nice that we’re leaving on such a high note.
It was the trip of a lifetime. I can’t even begin to explain the memories I’ve made, but that’s okay. I love you, Prague.
If we are being completely transparent, I don’t remember anything from high school.
I mean, yeah, I learned things. But ask me if I’ve ever used trig since graduating… the answer is no. I remember reading about the RER (a train that takes you from central Paris to Charles de Gaulle Airport) in my AP French class, and being like, why the hell am I reading about a train that I’m never going to take?
Fast forward to me in Paris three years later, taking the god forsaken RER from the 3rd arrondissement to CDG Airport to make my flight to Dublin. Never mind that I didn’t pass my AP French exam–what do you know, I actually learned something useful in high school, it just took four years for me to apply it.
Five years of academic French paid off during a blissful two days spent in Paris the last week of October.
It was almost surreal- I’d never associated feelings of romance towards Paris before, but I guess that’s what I would say if I were to describe how I felt getting off the plane. Romance, mixed with fatigue, anxiousness, and remnants of a slight hangover. But that is neither here nor there…
Katie and I arrived at our hostel at 2AM, not after a night at the clubs, but after a sub par meal at McDonald’s after finding ourselves unbelievably lost and unable to figure out public transportation.
Yes. My first meal in Paris, the culinary capital of the world, was chicken nuggets and fries (which can you believe costed 10 Euros?! Robbery). Not a street crepe, not a baguette, not brie… McDonald’s. But whatever, I was feeling pretty rusty with my French so ordering went something along the lines of “bonjour, je voudrais prendre…uh, chicken nuggets and fries?”
But that wasn’t what I’d intended for our first night in Paris. After having such a great time in Croatia meeting new people, I’d booked us two beds at a party hostel (St Christopher’s Gare du Nord, for anyone looking to travel to Paris in the future), imagining us arriving sometime around 11, meeting other travelers after drinks at the hostel’s bar, then out for who knows how long. Not the case. Full, fatigued, and generally exhausted, Katie and I collapsed into one hostel bed in our room of sleeping strangers. Oh well.
Anyways, our first day in Paris and the first day of Fall break was off to a great start after getting my phone pick pocketed first thing in the morning, leaving me with no phone (and, more importantly, no way to snapchat) for the next 10 days. I called our Uber driver that morning to ask him if he’d seen my phone, but there was no such luck.
So far, Europe had stolen a pair of raybans, my macbook charger, and a brand new iphone, but I was determined not to let all of that ruin my trip. I figured that as long as I had my computer and my passport, worse things could have happened. And I still had my GoPro to take pictures.
So I cut my losses and Katie and I went off to explore before meeting up with Mandy, Laura, and Tayla. We went to the Louvre, to the love lock bridge, a bakery with Kinder Bueno cupcakes, and to a chocolate butt plug museum!
To clarify: We did not know that it was a butt plug museum upon going inside. Katie and I saw signs for “Paul McCarthy’s Chocolate Factory Exhibit: Free Admission” so we went in with no idea what we were getting ourselves into, maybe thinking there were chocolate Beatles figurines on display. We then discovered that Paul McCarthy, not Paul McCartney, is a very controversial contemporary artist who literally made an exhibit of chocolate butt plugs, and Santas. I would go more into detail here, but a picture is worth 1000 words:
We left somewhat abruptly. I tripped out the steps on the way out of the museum, to which the security either shouted “Attendez!” or “Arretez!” which either means hold on or stop, so I stopped and he sort of smirked and asked me if I liked the exhibit. Interesting….
That evening, we met up with the boys for a picnic under the Eiffel tower for Mandy’s birthday, complete with nine bottles of wine for nine people. I bet it wouldn’t surprise you, dear reader, that with a little vino my French was slightly perfect, as I was able to haggle the vendors into selling us bottles of champagne for 5 euros instead of 15. My French was also slightly aggressive, as I adamantly denied that one of my friends thew up in the back of a taxi, but I digress.
In the morning, I walked to a bakery down the street from our hotel and consumed the best croissant of my entire life. It was everything I ever wanted from life: crispy edges and a warm, buttery center that left my hands decently greasy, and in that moment I swear I was infinite I was in heaven. Followed by a long overdue rendezvous with Chipotle, a street crêpe avec du nutella, four cheese pasta for dinner, of course, Ladurée and an overall A+ day for food.
In the morning, I was off to visit Annalee after a ride on the RER, getting stuck between the metro doors, a delayed flight, a sub part chocolate croissant (I knew going into it that it wouldn’t compare to the previous day’s croissant, but still) that resulted in angrily eating a sub par Kinder Bueno bar and before I knew it, I was on my way to Cork Ireland.
Two days wasn’t long enough. Until we meet again, Paris.
May I extend my most sincere apologies for not posting regularly in the month of November. Would you be surprised to know that I literally have not traveled anywhere this month, and also have not posted anything about traveling to Paris, Ireland, and Barcelona for my fall break?
It seems like years ago… when in reality it’s been less than a month.
If you’ve been following me on twitter then you know that I’m already heartbroken about having to leave this land of euphoria (as we’ve been referring to it lately) and I leave in seventeen days. Writing about it will never do this experience justice, and I almost dread posting on this blog because when I look back to remember what happened and what made me smile, it means that I’m that much closer to coming home.
Don’t get me wrong- I can’t wait to see my family and friends that I’ve missed so dearly. But as I’ve said, no words will ever do my feelings justice as the dopest semester of my life comes to a close, as each day brings me closer to my flight on December 16th.
If you throw me a follow, you’ll be kept up to date as I work on posts for the next few days about
getting tonsillitis in Europe and living to tell the tale
my experience at Czech Indepence Day
actually learning something in high school (paris recap)
kygo in Prague/other fun things post tonsillitis recovery
crying myself to sleep everynight thinking about how I have to leave (kidding, but not really)
I had no idea what I was in for coming here, and I mean that in the best way possible. I’ll leave it at that for now.
In the meantime, I’ve been posting on the CEA blog where you can see my really cool (?) author bio, a picture of me where I look like I’m thirty years old, and my most recent posts (a lot of it overlaps with posts I’ve written about on here, but it is what it is.)
Thursday is Thanksgiving. I’m not really upset that I’m missing that holiday since I hate traditional Thanksgiving food and would much prefer a margarita and some tacos, but I will miss the company. I’ll be in class until 9pm, then I’ll probably order a pizza for takeout, in case anyone was wondering. Think of me, Mom and Dad (and Nana, as you stuff a god forsaken turkey that I won’t be present to complain about this year).
In other news, tomorrow I’m going to get drinks with a German boy from my night class where I’m the only American. Don’t worry- I didn’t meet him on Tinder.
{We went to Divoká Šárka nature reserve, and it was Pretty Damn Cool}
So I finally spent about ten straight days in Prague (this is after my one month long bender, traveling through Croatia, Germany, and Poland in between the school week) before departing to France, Ireland, and Spain for our fall break.
Between losing my sanity cause of midterms and living out of a backpack on the weekends, I think I need to sleep for three days straight. But in the true spirit of trying to Carpe Diem everyday, I dragged myself out of bed and into the tundra that Prague has become as we enter the beginning of November.
It’s been getting pretty cold and windy here, with the highs during the day at about 45 degrees Farenheit, and even worse at night. And coming from south Orange County and my own personal distaste for wearing anything other than denim shorts and Rainbow sandals, it’s been a rough transition. But last Tuesday the weather was somewhat decent (about 55 degrees) so Katie, Laura and I decided to make a trip out to hike around the nature reserve of Divoká Šárka.
Don’t judge the fact that the trailhead is essentially a McDonald’s parking lot; Divoká Šárka is only about 30 minutes outside the city center of Prague if you take the 22 tram towards Malostranska Namesti and ride it to the end.
So we depart.
The thing about coming from USD to a place that actually has seasons is that I find myself resisting the urge to take a picture of every brown leaf or landscape that I look at. Seriously, it was so beyond beautiful and off the beaten path of typical things to do in Prague. We walked through the gorge and past the river, the water reserve, and the dam, sort of around a trailhead, over a bridge, and finally up to the top of the bluff.
Legend has it (according to a Wikipedia search I just did) that the reserve was named after the ancient warrior Šárka who threw herself off the cliffs up there to her death. I don’t necessarily recommend following in Šárka’s footsteps, but I do recommend making your way to the top of the bluff and chilling out in the grass for a little bit. We even found a tree swing that looks out over the gorge and the surrounding fields.
just laying out hanging out
So that was my little off the beaten path excursion. It’s a must see if you’re in Prague for more than a few days and are looking to get some fresh air. We’re even looking into taking a bus to find some waterfalls (and some cows, hopefully) the weekend we get back.
I’m pretty sick of airport security thinking that my GoPro stick is a weapon, anyways.
I’m so behind on recapping weekend trips/life itself, but for now here’s what I did in..
{Krakow, Poland}
So two weekends ago as a part of my program through CEA, I traveled with a considerably large group to Krakow, Poland. Not coincidentally, I’m really, really Polish–as in, I probably am a twelfth generation Pole–so I really enjoyed this pilgrimage to the motherland.
I was a big fan of the way that CEA planned every aspect of the trip down to a T, basically because trying to coordinate buses and whatnot is exhausting. But anyways, Krakow was probably my second favorite place I’ve been to (other than Prague, and Croatia of course) because it is so freakin cute.
I guess it had something to do that everyone was so happy: our waitresses were friendly, and helpful and just generally cheerful, a bride and a groom would walk through the town square about every thirty minutes, and there would be old Polish men playing the accordion in the park, reminding me of when we’d go to Nana’s house and Father Justin would play the Flying Dutchman in the backyard for all of us.
{Also, fun fact: Pope JPII went to college in Krakow (pronounced KRAH-kov). I didn’t know him personally or anything, but I’ve been told that it was one of his favorite destinations and he’d venture back to Krakow at least once a year.}
So after a PAINFUL nine hour bus ride with a “break stop” at least once every half hour (kind of), we finally arrived in Krakow at 8PM or something like that. We are ravenous despite binging on Milka bars and KFC for the majority of the day, so we went to the Kazimierz district in hopes to find food.
Well, we managed to find the most American diner in all of Krakow and naturally got the fattest burgers imaginable, chased with a few drinks at a bar called Alchemia in the Kazimierz district. It would be a cool place to go with a small group of friends.
The reason I say that Krakow is underrated is because it’s a huge college town. It’s a pretty small town as it is, but there’s something like 80,000 twenty year olds studying there, which makes for a lively nightlife demographic. Which is funny to say because to be quite honest, I didn’t really “go out” in Krakow. But a lot of my friends were raving about this club (Prozak) that had great music regardless of whether you’re into deep house or well known songs, and a great lounge area. So I guess check that out if anyone reading this is looking for nightlife in Krakow.
Lenka and Cesky wining and dining in the town square
This above picture was taken after a heaping sundae and two glasses of Chardonnay, followed by a trip to the salt mines on the outskirts of town. Laura and I showed up pretty giddy, (there were SALT deposits in the salt mines, who would have guessed?) so we took it upon ourselves to test how salty they exactly were. Picture two American girls walking through the salt tunnels 400 ft below ground, licking the walls….
I digress.
I think my favorite part of Krakow was the town square. This place is the definition of quaint—picture restaurants lining the square with patio seating and flowers everywhere. And another thing: apparently Poland is huge on flowers, because they have tents in the middle of the square with flower vendors selling roses and such in different shapes.
I also surprised myself with how adventurous of an eater I was in Krakow: I tried DUCK for the first time, in traditional Polish dumplings, a traditional Polish soup of some sort, Polish fried cheese, Polish taffy… the list goes on and is pretty indicative of how we’ve been gorging ourselves without shame for the last two months.
The other notable thing that we did included a visit to Auschwitz-Birkenau, the famous Nazi death camp about an hour south of Krakow.
I did a lot of research on the Holocaust in high school, going to the LA Museum of Tolerance and the Holocaust museum in both LA and Washington DC. It’s one thing when you’re in the states and looking at the displays of old suitcases and shoes left on the train platforms by victims who didn’t make it, but it’s an entirely different thing to walk through the actual camp and see rooms bigger than the downstairs of my house filled with them and see it for yourself.
I’d seen so many pictures that the place looked eerily familiar. And it was bizarre going with friends because no one really knew what to say to each other in between the tours. CEA even took a picture of my roommates and I outside the entrance to the museum and it is the most uncomfortable thing to look at because here we are—six American girls SMILING at Auschwitz.
It was horrifying and something I will never forget. But you owe it to the people who died there to make the journey for the sake of honoring them. Even just touring through the Jewish Quarter of Krakow you can tell what an impact the Holocaust had on the entire community. 94% of Polish Jews were deported to various camps and never made it back to Krakow.
So it was indeed a solemn conclusion to the weekend but an important part of European history that I felt was necessary as an American studying in Europe.
It’s been awhile since I’ve done a weekend recap, but here’s a brief guide to Munich, Germany and how to do Oktoberfest the right way. Eventualy I’ll post the video compilation, eventually…
1. Book your travel/accomodations EARLY. Oktoberfest brings in 1.1 BILLION EUROS to the local economy of Munich, and hotels know that they can charge a pretty steep premium during the three weeks of the festival. I booked my hotel in mid-july, and the pickings were slim but we managed to score a room in Hotel Meier (within walking distance of the tents and the main train and bus station) for about 210 US dollars between four girls.
2. Suck it up and buy a dirndl. Sure, they’re pricey, but I think they’re worth it. We got to Munich on a national holiday so all of the shops were closed, but there was one stand that I got a costume-y one at for about 40 euros. Other, more traditional dirndls, can be anywhere from 120-180 euros. Point is, even the cheapest dororthy-takes-Oktoberfest costume is better than wearing jeans and a flannel in the tents.
3. Get to the tents EARLY. Considering the fact that all of USD stormed the Hofbrauhaus (HB) tent during weekend three, it wasn’t crucial to stand in line at 5:30AM. We got to the Hakker-Pschorr tent at 7:45 on Saturday and we were golden-even snagged three tables. They do shut the tents relatively early in the morning though, so it’s better safe than sorry.
4. Don’t rely on Munich’s shitty wifi. If you’re meeting up with people, good luck. Not many restaurants have free wifi and the hotels that do, well. It’s spotty at best.
5. Whatever you do, don’t camp. Most of my friends who booked their trips two weeks before camped with Stoke Travel. Which is probably a really cool experience, if it wasn’t for Munich’s freezing temperatures during October. I don’t know about you, but I wanted a hot shower and a warm bed over a small cramped tent any day. But if worst comes to worst, you can always look for an airbnb near the city center.
So those are my five rules of thumb for planning/navigating Oktoberfest. Oh, andddddd……
There is a huge hill outside the tents on the fairgrounds. We were warned our freshman year “Beware of the hill, whatever you do, DON’T go on the hill.” And I’ll admit that I had no idea what that meant at the time….
“The Hill,” oh the infamous hill, is basically where every belligerent man in Munich decides to pee, and also where my best friend Ashley tried to run up the hill through the mud to find a sparsely covered bush and do the same. This happened in front of an audience of about 200 people, including a parade of German police, who applauded her once she was done. So if you want to be around a bunch of belliegerent, drunk German people passed out by 11AM, by all means. It’s great people watching. But I promise you, as a female, there is definitely a better bathroom alternative than the infamous hill.
aftermath of falling down “the hill”
In other aspects, being inside the tents at Oktoberfest was one of the happiest (second to Poland, third to Croatia) weekends of my life. Maybe it’s just something about paying ten euros a stein for beer that makes you so happy that you don’t even care that its the equivalent of three drinks at the Pennant. I don’t know. Maybe it’s because the alcohol percentage is higher than normal beers (and the highest in the HB tent, might I add) that you just want to sing your heart out after your second stein. I don’t know.
Never mind that you don’t understand a word of the German beer songs, or you don’t know any of the people who are standing on top of tables and chugging their steins in about two and a half seconds–you are going to applaud and cheer for them like they have been your best friend since you were in diapers.
Definitely make some time to walk around Munich and see the clock, but let’s be honest. If you’re a college student like me, you didn’t come to Munich for the historical sights. You came for the beer.
They played this Flic Flac remix of Riptide every night at the club in Hvar and it will always remind me of the amazing time and amazing people I met in Croatia.
Recapping this weekend will ever do its events justice, but here goes:
DUBROVNIK
~day one~
Friday morning I flew into Dubrovnik with a stupid grin that didn’t leave the entire weekend. Dubrovnik was absolutely breathtaking and unreal, to say the least. It’s the setting of King’s Landing, the capital city in Game of Thrones, and I actually stumbled upon them filming scenes for season five while I was there. So I got off the plane to sunny and 75 degree weather- contrast to the brisk evenings in Prague lately- and you could say that I was on cloud nine.
I hadn’t seen mark in about four months, so I was so happy when he surprised me in the airport and we immediately began informing me on the history of Croatia as we took a bus into the Old Town walls of Dubrovnik.
He would offer me really useful advice about things like “Whatever you do, don’t bring up the Hague” or “Don’t talk about the war criminals” which to be honest had never crossed my mind to mention but it was very entertaining. On our way in you could see bullet holes all over the buildings which was pretty surreal. The war was only twenty years ago.
We decided to stay two nights in Dubrovnik, especially after Mark said “Well our first hostel in Dubrovnik is kind of sketchy…” meaning, it was about 15 km away the city center and quite literally in Guam. Once we arrived, we discovered the hostel actually doubled as a boat mechanic shop (but don’t judge a book by its cover, am I right?) and our hostel roommate was a little eccentric to say the least. Apparently he was an English teacher in Bratislava, and he told me that I was too chipper and reminded him of his ex girlfriend. I told him that he probably made a great English teacher in Bratislava.
Anyways, Mark and I made a drink of gin and schweppe’s bitter lemon and set off to go explore for the night. The gin was absolutely awful, but after poking around, exploring, and several helpings of gelato we decided to call it a night since neither of us was about to make it out to a club that night.
~day two~
exploring around the old fort in dubrovnikcheesin underwatersome gopro funit took a lot to get this gelato
Our second hostel was located inside the city walls and proved to be really convenient. Mark and I decided to take my GoPro to the beach for some Adriatic Selfies, along with a bottle of white wine and some sparkling water. It wasn’t exactly a day party in Mission Beach, but it escalated pretty quickly into about 200 underwater pictures on my GoPro, of which maybe seven turned out decently.
Our photoshoot was pretty exhausting as you can imagine, and we found ourselves in need of a nap. So we took to a pebbled beach near where they filmed the battle of Blackwater Bay in GOT and slept for a half hour or so while I got eaten alive by mosquitos.
At that time, we went back to the hostel and regrouped. Our hostel owners were really impressed with Mark’s conversational Croatian, and I was actually pretty good at knowing when to laugh and look like I understood what the hell they were talking about. I’d perfected the “look friendly and smile” approach back in Prague when I couldn’t understand people and somehow, I was able to convince our toothless hostel owner that I could understand and possibly speak Croatian as well. She was actually lovely company and was so hospitable, though, I could have gone without the rude Austrailian girls who stole my sunglasses later that evening. Better that than my passport though, I suppose.
I decided to have some Chelsea Time and so I walked the city walls by myself around 5:30 as the sun was setting. This was opportune for some really excellent GoPro selfies looking down over the city as well. I paid about 30 kuna, or seven dollars, for the experience.
It was so beautiful. And I sort of kept asking myself if anything was actually real and if I was actually in Croatia watching them film Game of Thrones in the most beautiful city I’d ever been to.
Our second night in Dubrovnik consisted of a lot of beer, gelato, and pizza. Apparently I (rather aggressively) convinced the man at the gelato shop to give me two helpings for the price of one, and he made a nice little gelato man for me. Mark and I ran around the city walls, singing old choir songs, just like the old times.
HVAR
~day three~
The next day, Sunday, included an eight hour ferry ride from Dubrovnik to Hvar and a massive hangover. We arrived in Hvar at 5 PM, and essentially used the whole day to travel up the Croatian coastline.
Upon getting off the dock at Hvar, there were several charter buses that we walked past in an attempt to find wifi and coffee. I’m pretty sure I’d said “Hey Mark, something tells me we should get on one of those buses” but that would have made too much sense, so instead we decided to walk 3 km towards Stari Grad in hopes of finding a bus station.
At that point I was really questioning why everyone loved Hvar so much. There really wasn’t anything at the ferry dock, Stari Grad was so underwhelming that we decided to turn around and walk back to the ferry dock before we even got there, and we’d missed the sunset. Needless to say I was really confused, and a little cranky (as Mark kept offering me the rest of the barely drinkable cheap Gin we’d saved). And I mean it was pretty, but it wasn’t pretty.
So Mark and I wait out until seven for the next ferry to arrive, hop on a bus that takes us to the other side of the island to the town of Hvar. And it’s picturesque. And the harbor and the over the top yachts are… over the top.
We find our hostel in no time and check in- the hostel owner tells us that every night around 8:30 or 9:00 everyone heads up to the roof for drinks to get to know each other and then they head out to a bar nearby together. Mark and I look at eachother and simultaneously agree that some friends would be nice, so we head to our room and get cleaned up for the evening.
emma, lauren and i and our massive long island iced tea
On the roof, we met two English girls (Emma and Lauren) who I became pretty close with over the course of the next two days and were real sweethearts. Also in the group was Zaid, an American Firefighter living in Germany, Antonia, from Chile, and four English cousins from around Manchester who were some of the funniest and most entertaining people I’ve ever met. Pretty much everyone was older than me, but our hostel owner led this motley crue to the local bar in Hvar.
It was post season and we missed the ending parties in Hvar by two weeks, meaning clubs like Carpe Diem was closed since there weren’t enough people frequenting the island to make it feasible to stay open. But that didn’t matter. When we arrived at the bar, we were greeted with welcome shots and Emma, Lauren and I decided to buy two liters of a Long Island iced tea. It was their first long island, and as you can imagine things picked up quite a bit from then.
More people started getting to the bar the later it got, and they played all of my favorite songs of the moment- the riptide remix, one day, remixes to mumford and sons, and boy did I lose my ish when the remix to Marvin Gaye’s Sexual Healing came on. I’d met this lady from new Zealand who was probably old enough to be my mother, but we both sprinted to the middle of the bar and danced and sang along to Sexual Healing like we’d been best friends forever.
Everyone was just so happy and good vibes were everywhere. We’d met an Austrailian fellow (affectionately nicknamed “Jesus” in the days to come, judging by his long hair and bucket hat) who Lauren got off pretty well with. When we asked her how her night went the next day, she just laughed and told us that she’d found Jesus. It was pretty hilarious.
Dan (one of the English guys) and I went in search of the club ‘Pink Champagne’ but I was not about to pay 100 kunas to enter an empty club. Meanwhile Mark had taken a nap at the bar, and told me he wasn’t having fun because he had no one to talk to (despite him being the most sociable person I have ever met in my life and the bar being PACKED), and was so mad at me that he was going to leave me in Hvar.
Not surprisingly, the next day he did not leave me in Hvar and said that he had a lot of fun the night before despite not knowing why he was so upset with me in the first place.
~day four~
picturesque beach in hvarlauren and i just happy to be alivefriends on a boat
Our final day in Hvar, and arguably the best. It was absolutely perfect. We woke up around 11 and decided to go to the beach as a group; two more Americans, Adam and Alexis, joined us and they were a great addition. We got drinks at Hula Hula (which was still open, surprisingly) and swam in the sea for hours after attempting to comandeer a boat. Adam and Emma snorkeled while I messed around with the GoPro some more, much to the amusement to our group of English friends, Dan, Dan, Lee (who I’d been calling Lou) and Matt.
We parted ways when Mark and I had to go buy our ticket for the ferry from Hvar to Split, but not before Lex volunteered Adam’s cooking skills. Reluctantly, he agreed to cook dinner for us for about fifty kunas each. We took a trip to the grocery store and bought about ten liters of beer, vodka, chicken, rice, veggies, and before we knew it Adam had whipped up the best feast I’d eaten in weeks.
balsamic veggies, chicken and basmati rice = hell of a hostel meal
We took to the roof of the hostel and ate, chatted, laughed (about Jesus and an earlier poor combination of word choice on my behalf) and enjoyed the sunset among a group of strangers who had become good friends in less than twenty four hours. It was now our last night in Hvar, and we wanted to make it count.
Once again we ended up taking welcome shots at the bar, but this time I’d taken to the steps outside and was talking with our English friends. They’d taught me a few phrases including “bloody Nora” and “journey juice” and “posh,” phrases that I will no doubt take back with me to the States in a few months.
The people I’d met during the 24 hours spent in Hvar were so interesting, fun, and friendly that I’d extended an invitation for Emma and Lauren to meet up with me when they finish their holiday through Europe in about a week. It was such a happy, blissful four days spent in the most beautiful place in the world. I never wanted to leave.
new friends. adam wore a sheet out because he was cold, though it made for an entertaining picture
And I can’t believe that I had so much fun when the clubs were closed that Hvar must be unbelievable during the peak of summer season. There is not a doubt in my mind that I’ll go back.
Saying goodbye to Mark and leaving the following morning was depressing as I flew back to Prague alone, back to fifty degree weather and raincoats, and back to reality.
Well, almost.
I did have a twenty five page paper due the day after I returned to Prague, but once I turned it in I’ve packed my bags and am off to meet up with everyone in Munich tomorrow for Oktoberfest.
I’ll never forget the memories or the friends I made in Croatia, though it’s likely I will never see them again. Certain songs will always remind me of the happy bar in Hvar town. But my time there exceeded my expectations and my experiences changed me, made me wiser, and I think I can say I’ve officially caught the travel bug.
It’ll be hard to top my weekend in Croatia, but next stop; Oktoberfest!
you know that this weekend I will be in utter blissssss
(plus some stream of consciousness thoughts)
A few thoughts on my Croatia Itinerary:
Dubrovnik -> Hvar -> Split
My best friend from high school (Mark) booked a one way ticket to Croatia at the beginning of June this summer. I am SO SO SO SO excited to meet up with him in Dubrovnik (AKA where Game of Thrones (king’s landing) is filmed). At first I thought he was absolutely nuts, buuuut, I gathered two things from his decision:
One- He is just as unsure of his life path as I am, which is not unlikely as to why we have both found ourself in Europe this fall, and
Two- I really, genuinely, envy him.
Seriously though. It must be so freeing to just… just do you.
On a real note, I envy Mark for a couple reasons:
Because he wasn’t afraid to book a one way ticket to Europe without limitations. So let me say this now: I was terrified. I was so scared to put myself in a place where nobody spoke English and to just… I don’t know… to figure it out as I went? That just isn’t how I do life in the San Deezy, or in general. I like structure. I like familiar faces. I like going out and meeting up with people I know. Talking to new girls scares the shit out of me. I like knowing where the line in Starbucks forms, before I go inside. I like knowing that everyone who flys Southwest speaks English.
But tomorrow I’ve booked a Smartwings flight to Dubrovnik and at this point, there’s no looking back. Mark’s told me that once I get to Dubrovnik Airport, that I’ll have to find my way to the bus station some 30 km away. By myself.
And at this point? I’m looking forward to this. I’ve said before that being abroad has made me a problem solver, but maybe I haven’t reiterated this enough. I’ve been put into situations that Chelsea in America never would have found herself in. And… I LOVE IT. It’s challenging, but…
How is this any different from going to an interview and getting asked a question that completelt blindsides you?
It isn’t.
I’ve lived in fear for a couple summers that what I bring to the table isn’t adequate, or maybe my experience isn’t what my employer is looking for, but you know what I say to that?
Fuck it.
You miss 100% of the shots you don’t take. You miss every opportunity that you don’t throw yourself into. And if we are being honest?
I HATE those statistics. When I leave my sales class, or my PR class, or my Business Law class here in Prague, I feel as if I am that much more motivated to go out in the real world and kick some serious ass. Those statistics are LIMITING AS ALL HELL. And as someone who has set her sights much higher, as in I’ve set my goals upon my own business and upon entrepreneurship at some point, I’m not satisfied where society says I should place my inhibitions as a woman.
I have so many ideas. So many global ideas with the opportunity to network among people with the neccessary resources to make my business plans a tangible…. thing. If I had one thing to say to society in general, it would be…
Take me seriously, goddamn it!
Contrary to life at USD, I’m constantly surrounded by a global perspective; meaning, if I don’t put in my two cents, my classmates from Russia, or Luxembourg, or Germany will.
Which is fine… BUT,
Today in my PR class we spent the first part of class talking about how my classmate from Syria has been affected by the dissenting political views of the war in Syria has affected her personal life.
So I don’t care how informed you are, you will NEVER be as informed as I am in regards to hearing how things happening in the world affect my classmates, and, in return, affect me.
So I guess tying this post back into what I intended it to be….
People from Europe aren’t afraid to put themselves out there. Which, admittedly, is a trait I’d like to bring back to the states with me. And I will.
I said this a few posts back, but my self-proclaimed life anxiety has prevented me from truly putting myself out there. And that’s okay, but… it is something that I don’t think I would have been able to counter had I not come to Europe. When I get back to the States, and I’m interviewing with Google or Yahoo’s Marketing department, I’ll be able to tell them about how I’ve done group projects with business students from Eastern Europe and Asia. I’l bring not only my background, but multiple backgrounds to the table.
I’ve said that I’ve re-defined my comfort zone. I’ve said that I’ve acquired role models. But what have I said about myself?
I’ve become best friends with girls that I never dreamed of even talking to, back at USD.
I’m not afraid to fly alone from country to country.
I’m not afraid to befriend students who don’t speak the same language that I do.
I’ve overcome my biggest fear…. myself.
That’s the key point.
BUT.
I know that someplace, somewhere, SOMEONE is going to try to beat me in life. As far as maximizing profits go.
That’s okay.
Just be the best. And think ahead. You will slay your competition as long as you keep your original ideas and, most importantly, your heart in the game.
(FOUR WEEKENDS OF PLANES, TRAINS, AND AUTOBUSES, SOMETIMES, IF WE BOOK THE RIGHT TICKET)
(I’M ALSO RUNNING OUT OF CLOTHES SO I WORE LULUS TO CLASS TODAY [IN EUROPE] AKA SOCIAL SUICIDE)
(NEED TO DO LAUNDRY)
jumping for joy in BERLIN ❤
I should be packing for Croatia, but a glass of wine has me realizing that it’s been a few days and If I don’t recap Berlin now, it just isn’t going to happen. As of last weekend, I’ll be traveling for the next four weekends: Berlin -> Croatia -> Munich (Oktoberfest!) -> Krakow
BERLIN, AKA THE LAND OF FATE
At first I wasn’t really down to go to Germany twice in one month, but Laura really spearheaded the trip to Berlin and I’m so glad she all but hauled my ass over there. I probably wouldn’t have made it to Berlin otherwise, to be quite honest.
Once again I didn’t really know much about Berlin before going, save for doing a little research on Berghain, aka the world’s Berlin’s most exclusive club (duh). Apparently it is the party capital of Europe. And after a few nights there, I would have to agree. I’d even go back.
A FEW NOTES ON BERGHAIN
Google it. This abandoned power station turned club has a 3 hour queue, and once you get to the door, the bouncer (Sven) will deny you with a simple “NEIN” and you won’t be let in, for literally no reason whatsoever. Don’t smile, don’t look at your phone, don’t wear nice clothes, don’t be an American, and you mayyyyybe have a shot to get inside. But once you do, you’ll only see everything that you’d never want to see in person. According to our hotel concierge, that means drugs, gay sex, whatever, right out in the open for the world to see. So hip so euro.
Needless to say we were terrified of trying to go in.
At least until Sven walked in to the Starbucks under our hotel. And this dude is pretty scary looking, but Laura just casually walks up to him and is like “Hi. I like your photography. I think I might go to your club tonight.” And Sven just responds, “See you there.”
I was starstruck for her but that was just the beginning of weird coincidences of the weekend.
We didn’t actually end up going to Berghain that night, but we started walking around Mitte and West Berlin and decided to ride this weird octopus bike thing around one of the squares in Berlin. It was slightly less terrifying than the chair lift Katie and I tried at the Prague Zoo a week earlier.
In the middle of laughing like lunatics and talking about how glad we were that we would never see any of these people staring at the rowdy group of Americans doing tourist shit, who else do we see but two guys we met up with, not from USD, but befriended in Prague a week before? ! ? !
The timing of it all was just too perfect. Had we waited in Starbucks just a minute longer, had we not rode the weird octopus bike, whatever, we never would have ran into them. But they were great company as we went to a contemporary art museum and had pizza and wine on the river for dinner.
ABSTRACT BERLIN
girlies (+Eliott and Mattson) going out
People in Berlin don’t go out until around 1 or 2 AM, which is perfect and gave us enough time to nap between our dinner buzz and before it was time to rally to head out to Abstract, a club reccommended to us by a few friends of Mandy’s. We’d bought a few handles from Prague (which I highly reccommend if you’re taking a bus to anywhere that’s on the Euro. Beat the exchange rate, bring them in your backpack and save literally thirty euros on alcohol, before you even get to the club. Sorry mom, I promise I’m not an alcoholic, just a business student.) and drank with our friends in our hotel room before trying our luck with Berlin’s public transport.
Henessy was sponsoring Abstract that night, so they had a pretty good DJ that kept us dancing until the metro opened back up at 5am. I definitely reccommend Abstract to anyone planning on going to Berlin! They played all American music so you’ll feel right at home.
SO WHEN WE TRIED TO LEAVE BERLIN
We did everything right: we booked an evening bus home, we left our hotel two hours early to make
Picturesque ❤
sure we arrived with enough time to spare, Laura and Tayla started boarding the bus with 15 minutes to spare…
Oh, what’s that? Our names weren’t on the printed list? That’s okay, that’s probably just because we booked our ticket ten hours earlier. The bus driver writes down our names, we show them our passport, next thing we know, the bus driver is shouting “PROBLEM, PROBLEM!” at Katie and it is revealed that she booked tickets for Monday evening, instead of Sunday evening!!!
We are now STRANDED IN BERLIN, which was really great because we had no hotel and all had class at 8:15 and 11:30 in Prague the next morning. So what’s a group of five Americans to do in Berlin when the next train out is at 4:30 in the morning? Well, we
got lost on the metro for two hours
killed time in a burger restaurant
bought a kebab
killed time in mcdonalds
went to a bar
tried to go to a club (it was closed)
squatted in a hotel lobby for three hours
deliriously boarded a train at 4:30 AM
got woken up by GERMAN POLICE in our compartment, insisting we show them our passports. (I was REMming. I swear, I have never felt so terrified in my life)
got woken up by Serbian women, who didn’t speak English, insisting that we were in their compartment
and finally arrived in Prague at 9:30 AM the next day, with just enough time for me to finish my Sales homework and make it to my 11:30 AM class looking pretty homeless
So in conclusion, Berlin was a weekend that I’m still recovering from, but will never forget.
BERLIN: WHAT TO DO
the BEST PIZZA I HAVE EVER HAD (and those of you who know me know that I lurrrv pizza)
Go to the Berlin Institute of Contemporary Art– because Berlin is a cultural hub of dat ish. We saw a really cool GCI exhibit about how eventually we don’t even need models because computers will replace the need for humans at the rate technology advances. Cultural stuff man.
Stay near Mitte, or Fredrichstrasse- (our metro stop) because it’s really central to a lot of the historical sites and pretty much everything is in walking distance. We stayed at NH Hoteles for pretty cheap between the five of us, and it was definitely worth having hotel accomodations over a hostel.
Walk the East Side Gallery– (aka the Berlin Wall) because the different murals are thought provoking, raw, and beautiful.
Go to the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe Museum– because Berlin is where it all began. And
some gooood sausage
it’s surreal. And you owe it to the world and the innocent people who died to do a free tour during your time in Germany.
Eat a döner kebab: because they are amazing and cost two euros and they’re a staple of Berlin street cuisine, apparently.
Try currywurst– because it’s bomb and comes with fries, which I didn’t realize how much I missed before I INHALED them.
WHAT NOT TO DO IN BERLIN
Don’t go to a German bar, where they are all wearing lederhosen, and try to order a cider. The bartender will laugh at you. (For the record, this happened to Mandy. I ordered a German Beer.)
Don’t spill your gin and tonic all over aforementioned German bar. The bartender will notice, and he will call you out on it. (This also did not happen to me).
Don’t take a city tour hop-on-hop-off bus if it looks janky. Because you will sit in the back of the hot bus on an awkward vibrating bench where your headphone jack doesn’t work and you might as well take a nap because the damn thing puts you to sleep. (For the record, this did happen to me and I paid twenty euros for it. It was an expensive nap.)
delirium hits around 2AM and four glasses of wine later
That’s about all I can think of for now, but Berlin is a must see. Mitte is the perfect combination of urban and quaint, subtle art galleries and BEAUTIFUL GERMAN MEN. I think I just sat on a bench and watched them all bike past me; I was too intimidated to talk to them obviously but it was a hipster bliss.
NEXT STOP: CROATIAAAAA ❤ ❤ ❤
xx, LC
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