La Vita di un Locale...

The Life of a Local…

I have been living here in Verona for a few months now. I no longer consider myself a tourist in this city. I know the bus routes. I know the street names. I know the places to avoid, the grocery stores to go to, the places with the best views, and the hidden restaurants with unbelievable Italian cuisine. I also have befriended many of the store and bar owners. I stop by each day I go into town to say hello and usually get a free cup of café or extra aperitivo plate of pomodoro secchi.

I didn’t realize how acclimated I have become with this quaint town until just recently. In the past few weeks I’ve had more interactions with people on the streets of Verona than I have in the past few months. Why, you ask? Simple—it is officially tourist season. And to these tourists, I apparently look like a local. I was approached four times this afternoon by tourists speaking to me in terribly broken Italian and asking me if I spoke their language (German and French were the two I encountered today), or if I, myself, was Veronese. Each time I had to simply shake my head no and ask them where they were trying to go so I could point them in the right direction. It is times like these that I wish I was fluent in multiple languages. After living in Europe, knowledge of various languages is not only intelligence, but also power.

My favorite tourist however, is the real tourist. The camera-clicking loud-mouth, wearing hot pink flip flops, shorts and holding a map. Don’t mistake this stereotyping as rude. It’s just truthful. Yes, the lovely person I am talking about—the American Tourist.

My heart really does go out to him. He is befuddled. He is bewildered with the foreign scenery and street signs. He doesn’t know how culturally inappropriate his behavior is in this town, yet for some reason, I can’t help but smile when I see the American Tourist holding up the check-out line, or making people angry when they’re asking to sample every batch of gelato, or ordering a PBR at the bar in Piazza Erbe, or asking what every item on the menu means, or walking in huge groups blocking the intersections. For a while I too was annoyed by the American Tourist, but now I’m simply entertained. I can’t let myself forget that I once went by that name.

So since we all speak the universal language of emotion, I put myself in the American Tourist’s shoes. I remembered my frustration, oblivion, and confusion when I first arrived in Verona. When I hear him speaking English behind me in line, absolutely lost, I listen for a second, and if he doesn’t approach me, I approach him. I let him know what the menu says, or the flavors of gelato or how to get to Guilette’s balcony. I order for him or count out how much money he owes to the store clerk.

Sounds like the sweet thing to do right? Well of course I’m not going to leave my fellow American behind in the lion’s den. However, I would be lying if I said I didn’t take a hot minute to absorb the entertainment the American Tourist provides. When it comes to European sources of comedy, Will Ferrell and Tina Fey are obscure. The real funnyman to the Europeans is the American Tourist himself. I know it sounds a little rude to wait just a second before answering their questions or letting them know I speak fluent English, but in a world of non-smiling Italianos, I have to find comic relief somewhere or other!

Regardless of my shameless source of amusement, I’m proud that I finally feel like a local. It’s refreshing, comforting too. I am even more flattered when others assume I am Italian. Who would have thought this Georgia girl could be so worldly (or at least fool others into thinking she is!)? I guess the Italian culture seeped into me without my being aware. But strangely enough, I’m glad that I’ve subconsciously embraced it. I’m thankful for the process of cultural osmosis. It has undoubtedly shaped my perspective on things. And interestingly enough, I look forward to seeing what other molding and additives God plans to use in my personal sculpture of vita.

...Ciao!

Buona Pascua!

Happy Easter!

Every Easter my family and I go to the lakeside sunrise service at my hometown church. We wake up extra early, check out Easter baskets (you’re never too old for Easter baskets), and get dressed to go hear the Easter story and watch the sun rise. It’s one of my favorite church services of the year. After that we go home, dress for “big church”, attend a second church service, and then go eat lunch with my grandparents. It’s a really good holiday for us. Easter comes at the perfect time. The weather is warming up and spring colors are blooming. I also like Easter a lot because it seems a lot less commercialized in comparison to the major holidays before it. By this point, everyone is sick of jack-o-lanterns, faux fur stockings, ginormous red hearts and all the other loot from which Hallmark gets rich. I feel like Easter is one of the few holidays that stays true to its origin. Maybe its just because my family and I have always stressed the biblical importance of the holiday, but I like to think that everyone remembers the real reason behind the bunny— la risurrezione della carne e la vita eterna.

This Easter was different than any I’ve experienced in the past. There was no sunrise service, no Easter basket, and no luncheon with the grandparents. Most unfortunately, my family wasn’t here to celebrate the holiday together. However, I still wanted to give Easter a fair celebration, so I decided I would observe the religious holiday on my accord. This included watching “The Passion of the Christ”, attending an Italian Easter mass and eating a Easter luncheon with my new study abroad family.

“The Passion of the Christ” was disturbing and emotional (per usual). It is just crazy to watch the vivid imagery of what Jesus actually had to endure in order to selflessly forgive us of our abundant sins. I love the actor who plays Jesus in the film too. He’s the kind of guy that is plain lovable. No one can hate him. He seems so genuine and good-natured. He did an incredible job of portraying Christ. I like to think of Jesus as a friend, a pal, one of the boys. In the film, he comes across as just that. A simple man with the breath of God in him. Watching “The Passion of the Christ” was a good opener to my makeshift Italian Easter weekend. It put my head and my heart in the right place.

Next on the Easter agenda: go to an Italian Easter service. So I researched churches near our residence and sent out an invite to all the kids in the program to join me in the lobby Sunday morning at 10am. I was surprised when more than expected showed up in the lobby dressed and ready to go. There were six of us. We walked about 20 minutes until we arrived at the San Zeno Cathedral of Verona. It was a beautiful church. It was also undoubtedly Catholic. The choir was unbelievable. Their angelic sound echoed through the dim, damp, cool cathedral. It was almost eerie, but a beautiful sort of eerie.

Our view during the service. This is the only picture I could manage to take. I felt weird taking pictures inside of the church, even if it was before the service started.

We sat in a pew toward the middle. A young woman came and sat by me. She started speaking to me in Italian. I surprisingly understood her first few sentences, but as she continued to talk, I had to come clean. The gig was up. I confessed I didn’t speak much Italian. I offered to speak to her in Espanol, but she said she only spoke Italian and Polish. We laughed in confusion at one another as we tried to communicate before the service. She was very helpful however. She pointed me to the pages I needed to know in the pamphlet and nudged me when I was supposed to stand and kneel and sit and stand and kneel and stand and kneel and sit and stand and sit… The Catholics are a kinetic bunch.

During the times I was seated and listening to the service in Italian, I assumed I would be lost in translation. The opposite was true however. I decided to navigate the service using my pamphlet and coincidentally enough, I found I was able to translate most of the service by reading the words on paper. It was a breakthrough, even if it took me 25 minutes into the service to figure out this new means of understanding. Trust me, 25 minutes was no time at all. These Italian Catholics take their sweet time and a Sunday mass service was no exception to the rule.

I did make a friend during communion. Her name was Claudia and since I’m not Catholic and couldn’t partake in communion, I decided I would get chatty with the girl in the pew ahead of me. She kept staring at me and so I decided to ask her name. Of course we conversed in Italian. I was proud of myself…even if Claudia was only six years old. Perhaps that is why she understood my elementary Italian phrases so well. We were probably on close to the same level as far as language goes. We talked a little bit and it was nice to be able to have a semi-decent conversation in Italian. When her teenage brother got back from taking communion and sat down next to her, he would whisper English phrases for her to ask me. It was kind of cute to see the little girl put forth an effort to communicate with me. I saw the sweeter, less boisterous side of Italians today. It was nice.

After the service Jackson, Steph and I decided it was worth the expense to have a solid Easter lunch. We walked to a nearby restaurant and had Italy’s finest—pizza. Pizza for Easter lunch? I know, sounds strange, but when you’re in the country of Italy, it is hard to find anything besides pizza and pasta. So in light of our “Italian Easter Adventure” we decided it was only fitting. We ate and told stories of our families. We decided in unison that we all were missing our families. This is the first Easter that I’ve spent away from them. Its strange, but holidays make you miss the ones you love. I suppose living in a foreign country for months has the same effect. It’s refreshing to get away from the world you know, but it will be comforting to see all six of those weirdos again soon.

Despite being away from my blood family, I enjoyed spending the Easter holiday with my newfound family I’ve built over here. I care about each one of them so much, they may as well be my siblings (except Jared, he’s the Dad of course).

I will leave you with one last taste of our Italian Easter Adventure. As we sat through the service, I recognized one part in particular that was especially familiar to both my church upbringing and to the Easter season as well. I thought it was a nice slice of home. Read and believe:

Professione Di Fede

Io credo in Dio Padre onnipotente,

Creatore del cielo e della terra;

E in Gesu Cristo, suo unico Figlio, nostro Signore,

Il quale fu concepito di Spirito Santo,

Nacque da Maria Vergine,

Pati sotto Ponzio Pilato,

Fu crocifisso, mori e fu sepolto;

Discese agli inferi,

Il terzo giorno risuscito da morte;

Sali al cielo,

Siede alla destra di Dio Padre onnipotente;

Di la verra a guidicare vivi e I morti.

Credo nello Spirito Santo,

La santa Chiesa cattolica,

La comunione dei santi,

La remissione dei peccati,

La risurrezione della carne,

La vita eterna. Amen.

…Ciao!

Vita Aggiornamento

Life updates:

-International affairs are beyond intriguing. However, international teachers leave me bewildered. I couldn’t understand a word my teacher from Slovenia said last block. This block, I have to try my hardest to not to pull a Rip Van Winkle throughout the class period. She sits in the same chair for three straight hours and talks. No notes. No slides. No maps. No vocal inflections. The same straight face the entire time. I’ve no other choice but to doodle. Must. Stay. Awake. As you can see from the drawings below, my mind wanders…

There’s no telling…

-We had a movie night last night. The girls met and watched an episode of Glee and then Natalie and I went to the crew’s room to watch a scary movie. It was a nice way for everyone to unwind after our trip to Munich and Salzburg.

-Marco left for a trip to Amsterdam so I haven’t been learning many new Italian phrases as of late, but don’t worry, I plan to pick up the slack.

-I skyped with the family the other day. Apparently there is a real catastrophe at home. Katie—its time to introduce Nathan to his soon-to-be third roommate: Gracie.

-My friend Sam is coming to visit next week. It’ll be great to see him and introduce him to my study abroad family. I’m pumped!

-I just cut Kristin, Patrick, Chris, Ryan and Jared’s hair. Either they’re overly trusting of me, or I may have a knack for hair cutting. I undoubtedly learned everything I know from Dwight and Roger. Sending a smooch your way!

-I had my first (and probably only) sip of beer while in Munich. I’m not much of a complainer, but I’d rather wine.

-There is a surplus of pretzels in Germany. At least that was my twisted observation.

-For some reason I’m feeling especially punny today.

-We hiked to the top of Verona yesterday and sat on the ledge of the fortress to watch the sunset. The entire group went. We all brought sandwiches and wine and enjoyed the view. I love it when the whole group goes on adventures like this one. We always end up having the best times.

We hiked all the way up to the top!

- I apologize for the picture vomit on my last two posts. I just wanted you to see everything I was fortunate enough to see. Austria and Germany were awesome!

-I have fallen in love with my friends over here. We’re already planning excursions together for when we get back to the states. First on the list—taking our Korean friend, Lisa, skeet shooting. This should be entertaining.

-Kat hasn’t burned anything in the kitchen yet this week. I wouldn’t go quite as far as to call her the next Paula Dean or anything, but she’s certainly improving!

-We’re going to Cinque Terre this coming weekend. This is my last big adventure. I’m so ready to see this place! Every picture I’ve seen looks unbelievable. Even though there is a chance of rain and the area endured mudslides recently, we’re praying for the best experience. Regardless of external conditions, just being surrounded with our group guarantees a good time. Ryan hooked us up with a free vineyard tour and tasting along with free bus tickets while we’re there. Can’t wait!

...Ciao!

Le Colline sono Vive con il Suono della Musica

The Hills are Alive with the Sound of Music

Crazy how once upon a time salt was a source of wealth. Greek slave traders often bartered salt for slaves, giving rise to the expression that someone was "not worth his salt." Salzburg, Austria is a town known for many things, but mostly for its salt resources and for being the setting of the movie, The Sound of Music. We only stayed in Salzburg for three days, but let me assure you, it was worth every last bit of our salt!

View of town of Salzburg

We started our trip to Salzburg with a tour of a salt mine. It was awesome! We all dressed in white pants and hooded shirts and began our descent into the mine. This descent was one of my favorite parts. It involved a train ride and a number of long wooden slides. I honestly felt like I was in a real-life game of chutes and ladders. We needed the excitement of flying down a long slide and screaming on a fast train into the dark abyss. We had just gotten off of a 4-hour bus ride after all! We got to wander through the mine, go on a boat ride beneath ground, and watch an informational, cheesy video the whole way through. The videos taught us a lot about the history of Salzburg and the importance of the salt mines to the surrounding areas. European history is pretty fascinating, especially since each separate European country’s history correlates or depends on one another. It’s a concept that’s different from American history where it’s generally “united we stand”. Overall, the salt mine tour was a HUGE success amongst the college kids. We took multiple turns going down the slides. No shame.

I'm sure pretending to be hoodlums was a good idea at the time...

The slides!

Martin took us to the home of Mozart and we toured the building. Afterward he bought us hot chocolate made with Mozart’s chocolate (a Salzburg original chocolate) at the Mozart Café. It was hands down the best hot chocolate I’ve ever tasted. We ate dinner as a group that night at an outside restaurant. We ordered Austrian cuisine and enjoyed music from a nearby accordion street performer.

After dinner we went to the Irish pub across the street from our hotel. It was literally a 30 second walk. This was worlds different from our usual 40-minute walk from the residence to the downtown scene in Verona. It was great! We met some locals and listened to loud Irish drinking songs the entire night. Just like my Uncle Steve, these Irishmen fell perfectly into their stereotype: loud and obnoxious. However, I liked them and enjoyed the tunes. We even sang along to a couple of songs we knew. It was a clash of cultures, but we all enjoyed our alcoholiday.

We continued our singing habits the next day—We went on The Sound of Music tour. As cheesy as it sounds, we all got on the bus and started singing, “Do, Re, Mi!” and “I am 16 going on 17”… It sounds like my father’s nightmare and my mother’s utopia. I enjoyed it though. We watched the movie a few nights before and were excited to see all the sights where it was filmed. I had already been on the tour with my family when I was younger, but it was still exciting to see everything again. The Sound of Music is a great film, whether you’re a music lover or not. Julie Andrews will forever captivate me.

Any of these sights look familiar?

The crew at the Mirabella gardens

I couldn’t help but think about the time I was in the summer community production of Sound of Music at home. I loved that summer. The cast was so small, I felt like I bonded with my “siblings.” I was cast as Louisa and fulfilled every bit of the awkward coming of age role. I myself was going through it at the time. The main thing I remember about the summer production involved a certain scene. It was the scene where the Von Trapps have just performed in the festival before they flee from the Nazi regime and Austria. It was the only time I have ever really cried in a play before. I remember staring into the eyes of the man that played Captain Von Trapp, my father in the show. As he sang Edelweiss and looked at me, I remember seeing so much emotion behind his eyes. My own eyes swelled with tears. I thought about how scary the scene would be if it were real, and even more so, how important family was to me. The cast that summer felt like family. I come from a household of seven so I’m used to being surrounded by siblings. I think the world of my father and during the play, Mr. Neidenbach filled that role on stage and during a few moments behind the scenes. I still cannot forget the image of his blue eyes looking back at me, both of us nostalgic, torn and filled with tears. I can’t help but think he must’ve been thinking about his family too as he sang. He was a great actor, and from my experience with him that summer, a good man too. It’s funny how certain memories stick with you and how even the smallest interactions are impactful.

Austria is beautiful. It has the most breathtaking mountains I’ve ever seen. Jared and I are two of the more outdoorsy types in the group and we couldn’t help but drool over the mountains. We wanted to hike and explore so badly....so we did! Jared, Natalie, Jackson, Lisa and I took off after the tour and started navigating the nearest mountain. It was a great hike. Hot, but great! We explored the abandoned ruins on the mountain and when we reached the top we found a cool restaurant with the best view of Salzburg. We climbed the walls of the ruins and went off the path and discovered a little campground of sorts with a teepee. It was really cool. In case you don’t know me that well, I love adrenaline rushes and adventure. I’ve been skydiving, white water rafting, rock climbing, caving, etc. So I like to find little things that can give that adrenaline rush. Jared and I found it—we decided to climb up a water or electrical tower or something at the top of the mountain. It was most certainly the highest point in the town of Salzburg. It was phenomenal to make it to the top and catch sight of the view (even if an Austrian spied us and we had to scurry down the tower ladder and book it out of sight). Ah, it was a GREAT day.

The view from the top. My goodness do we have so much for which to be thankful!

Our final day in Salzburg was spent seeing the fortress and relaxing by the river. Apparently the riverbanks are the cool place to hang during the day. If that’s the case, I just might be able to live in Salzburg permanently. We caught some sun and laughed and enjoyed each other’s company for a few hours. It’s always refreshing to be outside. Jared and I taught Lisa how to skip rocks. Hah! It was entertaining to say the least, but she got it!

The Salzburg Fortress

Natalie and I by the river

Jared perfecting the art of skipping rocks

Our last night in the hotel, the power went out. So we all piled in to Chris and Pat’s room to hang out in candlelight. I couldn’t have asked for better company. These people are like family now. The night was full of laughs. It was the perfect way to end our stay.

We walked to the bus in the morning to head back to Verona. Everyone slept on the bus but Jared and I. We talked about how we were raised and our families. Its crazy how similar strangers can be. Anyway, the memories made me miss my family and be reminded of just how cool (and weird) they are. Jared talked about his 1982 pick up truck with crank windows and I chimed in with stories of my big red truck without power locks and with crank windows. We also talked about chores and allowance and how my mom used to put quarters in baby food jars as a means of teaching us discipline. Weird, I told you. However, I like to think it worked. It is always neat to hear about other’s upbringings and to recollect some memories of your own.

When we got back to Verona, we were overwhelmed with that familiar feeling: Home Sweet Verona! It’s a good place to be.

…Ciao! (or should I say, auf wiedersehen!)

Di Vivere Deliberatamente

To Live Deliberately

Why is it that when we break away from the familiar we realize just how blessed we are? I am riding on the bus from Munich to Salzburg right now and as I stare out the windows at the green landscape, cobblestone town and beautiful snow capped mountains I can’t avoid this feeling of awe and gratitude. I am discovering just how incredible the world is and just how fortunate we all are to live here.

Each little trip I take rivals the one before it. Munich is no exception. The German city was rich with history, culture and most prominently, bier. I was entertained at the Hofbrau house, intrigued at the Deutche Museum, speechless at the former headquarters of the Third Reich, aching at Dachau, and charmed at Ludwig II’s summer palace. In short, Munich was/is incredible.

Upon our arrival, we managed to find an authentic German restaurant. We drank our liters of weisbier and nommed on our Bavarian sausages. We chose to sit outside and listen to the German music and enjoy the pleasant weather. Our servers were dressed in traditional Bavarian attire. Good start to a good trip.

The first full day in Munich involved a city bus tour. My favorite part of the tour was when we went to the former headquarters of the Third Reich. It was here that Hitler spoke from the balcony to his followers, held major operations for the Nazi party and began to transform Germany into a structured state of torture. I could not believe I was walking the same halls that Hitler walked less than a century ago. The more I learn about Hitler’s rule, the more disgusted I feel. Human sympathy is an immense power. I’ve experienced strong feelings of pain and remorse for those who were in Europe during Hitler’s rise to power until the end of WWII. I just cannot imagine all the propaganda, fear and brutality that was experienced in the country during that time. Munich, being a central part of the Nazi operations, brought everything I’ve ever learned about the Nuremburg laws and WWII into a different light. The brutality of what happened between the time Hitler became chancellor to the time the concentration camps were liberated is unfathomable. My heart hurts just thinking about it. It’s animalistic, yet only the mind of a mad man could conjure the twisted concept of Nazi Germany and the Holocaust.

The balcony from which Hitler spoke in Munich

We stopped by the Hofbrau House to grab some beers and lunch. All the servers were in their traditional garb and loud, live Bavarian music was blaring. It was a good time. I noticed a guy sitting by himself and offered him a seat at our table so he wouldn’t be alone. Turns out the guy was from Georgia and just graduated from UGA last year. He even knew a few folks from my hometown. Small world right? He was southern to the bone, and to be honest, it was nice to talk to someone with a little Tara twang. I can now classify the southern gentlemen as its own breed. You won’t find manners like that anywhere but the South.

Ryan...

Our fellow UGA amico Jason Bourne, I mean Robert.

Back to the fixation on Nazi Germany… I suppose I should inform you that I just completed a course on the history of the Holocaust; therefore it was only appropriate to weave a visit to Dachau into our trip to Germany. We loaded the bus and toured Dachau. I’ve been to the Dachau concentration camp once before on a family Euro trip, but I was only 11 years old so I don’t think I understood the severity of the setting. This time, my trip to Dachau made me sick to my stomach. I couldn’t even watch the video the whole way through. It pained me to see so much human suffering and hurt. The emaciated figures and sunken-eyed prisoners in the video were haunting. I was so glad that I had taken the course on the Holocaust prior to this visit. This go-around I knew more history prior to the implementation of the concentration camps and WWII that helped me better understand my visit to Dachau. Despite the knowledge I’ve attained about the Third Reich, Hitler, Krystallnacht, etc., the one fact that I had trouble accepting was that Dachau was in use just 70 years ago. That’s unbelievable. My grandparents were alive during WWII. There were people walking the streets in Munich that probably listened to Hitler’s speeches in person or were Brownshirts or Stormtroopers themselves. That’s insane.

Gas chamber at Dachau

"Work Makes You Free"

How about some levity? Something else insane—The Deutche Museum. It reminded me of a bigger, better, and more history-based Fernbank Museum. Everyone went out the night before and didn’t get in until 6:30 a.m. Therefore only 4 of us met Martin in the lobby to go to the museum at 9:00a.m. Saturday morning. Man, it was worth it. We saw exhibits on glass blowing, textiles, aerospace, photos/film, aircrafts, boats, old agricultural machinery, etc. My dad would’ve loved it. We spent nearly four hours wandering the museum. We could have stayed even longer if our legs would’ve allowed us. However, we needed to grab some lunch and rejuvenate before we continued our day so Martin took us girls to lunch. We had traditional German food and wine. He then took us out for dessert. Martin paid for it all! He spoiled us. I guess that was our reward for not being hung over in Germany like the rest of the group. I told you it was worth it!

Southern roots

Part of the exhibit on toys from the past

Cecy flying a simulated airplane

This pottery exhibit made me think of my brother, Drew. He makes beautiful pottery like this. This photo is my way of nagging him to sell his pottery. He can make stuff just like this! Talented.

Glass blowing exhibit

We got to watch glass figurines like these being blown

Girls day out with Martin

On one of our city tours we were able to see the Nymphenburg Palace. Belissima! Our tour guide was the most eccentric character I’ve ever met (and with my having been to Thespian Conference, that is saying a lot). He was wonderful! He livened up the 8a.m. tour for sure. He must’ve downed 7 cups of coffee before the trip—a man after my own heart. For some reason he picked me out of the group and called me his “sweet golden apfel strudel” during the entire trip. I was the group guinea pig and he used me for every example or story about the royalty in the Bavaria. Some people wouldn’t have enjoyed being picked on, but I liked it because it meant I got to see everything first! I always got the best view of the rooms and could hear every fact the tour guide, Michael, spit out. It was an interesting tour.

The Nymphenburg Palace

Jared being one of our tour guide, Michael's props during the tour. Cuteeee.

I forgot to mention our living arrangements during the Munich trip. We stayed in a Marriott with breakfast included. For poor, hungry college kids, this was a king’s dream! The Marriott might as well have been the Ritz. It was the nicest place we have stayed at to date. Fifty times nicer than our residence and it can’t even compare to the hostels we’ve booked… The breakfast was a huge selection of “real” food. I say “real” because this place had sausages, scrambled eggs, fruit, potatoes, and omelets. Everywhere else we’ve been, the locals only serve/eat pastries and croissants. It’s been carbolicious and its getting old. So it goes without saying that not a single person in the group missed breakfast while we were in the Marriott. In fact, everyone got there at least an hour early so they could utilize the buffet style accommodations. Can you blame us? In our minds, if food is free, we will eat enough for a small country. We even would lug our backpacks to breakfast and discreetly stow away rolls and fruit for our lunch and dinners! One day I hope I will have the luxury of not having to “steal” from breakfast buffets in order to have food. Hah, until then, I’ve got plenty of apples, bananas and hard rolls in my backpack if you’d like one.

Another awesome feature of the hotel was the indoor pool. We spent a portion of every night hanging out in the hot tub. It was great bonding time and a good way to unwind. We were most definitely the obnoxious Americans who took over the territory, but we were having so much fun, there was no chance we were going to move out and pipe down. The girls used the steam room and sauna a good bit while we were at the hotel. It was so relaxing! …. That is until we found out Bavarians love to walk around all naturale. I can only imagine how squeamish and uncomfortable we all looked as we ducked out of the sauna when the nudists came in. It didn’t even phase them. Everyone walked around naked like it was nothing out of the ordinary. For them, I suppose it wasn’t, but for the Americans, we have now been scarred for life.

Although every bit of the Munich trip was awesome, my favorite part of Munich is the English Gardens. It is huge park that has been dedicated to people for relaxation and enjoyment. It is miles long and Cecy, Lisa and I decided to walk the entire park all the way to Marian Plaza. It had to have been close to seven miles, but we hardly noticed because it was so cool. Bicyclists, musicians, picnics, couples, frisbees, children, friends, bier, horse carriages, etc. were spread out over the green gardens and everyone seemed to be having such a good time. We walked through right as the sun was beginning to set. I could’ve painted a picture it seemed so perfect.

One of the many improptu bands that set up in the English Gardens

Brandon and Jackson

I don’t know if it is because I’ve had a four-hour bus ride of introspection, or if it is just because I’m growing up, but I can’t quit thinking about how lucky we all are to be on this adventure. Every bit of my experience thus far has been a growing process. I’ve never felt more grateful. Why did I have to come to Europe with a group of strangers in order to grow so much? Why couldn’t it have happened at home? I can’t help but allude to Henry David Thoreau’s Walden—

“I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practise resignation, unless it was quite necessary. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life…”

Okay so maybe I really didn’t live on the bare essentials and camp out in the woods, but I did set out on this adventure seeking to “suck out all the marrow of life.” I wanted to learn about the world, life, myself, society, my ambitions, these friends around me, etc. And to be honest, this experience has taught me more than I signed up for. I may be getting sappy because I’m sad this trip is coming to an end. However, I know that even after I return home, I will still be learning from this experience. For me, I like to think of this trip as the Marriott breakfast buffet—the gift that keeps on giving and an experience for which I am forever thankful.

…Ciao!