Day 425: Monserrate

Monserrate is a mountain on the edge of Bogota that holds a church and beautiful panorama views of the city below. We unknowingly went on a Sunday (our sense of what day it is has been long gone) and despite the little bit of rain we still had to navigate our way around the many pilgrims that had made the climb, or rode the tramway or funicular (like we did) to the top. By the time we made it into the church, a mass was well underway. We checked out the chapel in the back, made our way back down the mountain and headed towards the Botero Museum before calling it a day.

Apparently – according to Wikipedia, The people of Bogota believe, if a dating couple visits Monserrate, the relationship will be cursed and will not last. Andrew assures me that this does not apply to us. “We are so beyond dating.”

“What are we then?” I asked, curious and all about putting him on the spot and blogging all. about. it.

“We are in love.” He responded. And I rolled my eyes.

Back down in the heart of Bogota, we decided to duck into the Botero Museum on our way back to our guesthouse. I’m pretty sure this was the first time we were able to walk into an art museum on this trip and not have to pay an outrageous fee. We didn’t have to pay at all! A free art museum! Point for Bogota – and Botero!

From the courtyard of Museo Botero, we could see Monserrate and the church atop. Usually pilgrims make it a point to go up for dusk, but I thought the view of the mountain at dusk was pretty from below! As we made our way back to our guesthouse before it became too dark (and perhaps a little too dangerous to walk around with my camera) we stopped to watch a street performance that was suuuper popular with everyone else. It was a bit hard to follow, but they seemed to be a big hit with the locals. For part of their performance they were singing in Spanish, judging by the amount of laughs, it must have been pretty hilarious. Practicing my newly acquired Spanish in Colombia is not the easiest thing. The dialect or accent is getting harder and harder to understand the more north we travel.

Day 421: Popayán

Popayán is known as the white town of the southern region of Colombia. It’s beautiful and quiet, even amidst protestors circling around the main square on our way to get some breakfast. Now that we’re officially in our last country of our trip, we’re starting to feel the effects of our trip coming to an end. It’s exciting and scary and nerve wracking and relieving and overwhelming all at the same time. I’m excited to see loved ones again, but I’m terrified at the thought of returning stateside. At the beginning of this trip, we would tell people we were traveling for 15 months but I’m not sure we actually believed it ourselves. Then living out of a backpack became normal. Visiting Angkor Wat or the Taj Mahal or Petra seems like an ordinary Monday. Meeting friends in foreign cities felt special. Jumping on a bus for 12 (or more) hours seemed like the obvious choice to get from A to B. I’m used to not speaking the local language. I can’t help but eves-drop when I hear a conversation in English because it’s that much harder to equate as background noise. I can’t seem to buy anything without first converting the currency. At this point, I think that my (our) “normal” is probably pretty opposite what is considered “normal” in America. And now I’m supposed to go back? It’s strange. It’s weird. It’s not “normal.” At least to us. And today was one of the first days that it was hitting us.

We walked around the city, bought some strawberries off the street, tried to check out some churches (but they were all closed) and then once it started to rain again, we ducked back indoors for the rest of the afternoon.

Day 419: Crossing into Colombia + Las Lajas Sanctuary

We were slightly nervous about the border crossing between Ecuador and Colombia. It’s not exactly recommended to travel up through the southern region of Colombia, but it’s significantly safer if you only travel by day, which was our plan! As it turns out, crossing the border was ridiculously easy – lightyears easier than getting into England. Making our way to Las Lajas Sanctuary and then Pasto afterwards to spend the night turned out to be equally easy. Las Lajas Sanctuary is a basilica church built into a canyon in Ipiales just five minutes away from the border. Andrew purposely kept pictures of the church from me so I would be surprised when we arrived. We had all of our bags in tow, and climbed down the canyon (and then back up again) to check out the church before continuing to make our way up through Colombia, well, as much as we could before nightfall.

We forgot it was Sunday, and arrived right in the middle of a mass. While we walked around the outskirts of the church, a local (from Ipiales) stopped to chat. He ran an English school and told us he always liked to practice his own English with visitors passing through. He was so sweet, and little did we know that he would be the first of many lovely Colombians that we would meet throughout the rest of this beautiful country.

With all of the doors to the church open, I snuck a quick picture in from the very back just so you could see what the interior looked like. Beautiful, isn’t it? We walked around to the other side of the canyon, still with all of our bags on our shoulders (and Andrew’s back) to get some pictures. Andrew decided to climb up to the top of the canyon to get even better pictures. I stayed below with all of our bags.

On our way out, I handed my camera off to get a picture of us in front of the church. I had the picture lined up and everything so the entire church would fit into the frame… but that didn't seem to matter. In other words, I should have just whipped out my travel tri-pod. I had it with us after all… I cropped and straightened the other image down because I think this was the first time we were in front of a famous landmark or site with ALL of our possessions.

And then sheer madness broke out. For some reason, we were bombarded by families wanting us to pose for pictures with them. Despite Andrew carrying 3 of our 5 bags, one mother practically forced her young son into his arms. When I managed to sneak away to retrieve my own camera back, Andrew was kept with a different family and I was snagged and ordered to embrace one woman’s husband.

We stopped to catch our breath on the way back up the canyon and this little girl caught my eye. She was sitting with her mother and we exchanged a few smiles while Andrew was busy getting proselytized to by the woman sitting on the other side of him. Not wanting to get sucked into the conversation I continued making eyes with her as she curiously watched both of us. When they left, her and her mother stopped and said hello. A few minutes later, she returned to sing me a song. I really wanted to film it, but she seemed a little nervous as it was. The song went something like this: “Hello Hello I speak English. How are you? Good. Thank you!” It melted my heart.

Day 414: Quito hop on hop off bus tour

We left Spanish class an hour early this afternoon in order to ‘hop on’ the hop on hop off bus for tourists in Quito. We weren’t necessarily planning on hopping on and off throughout the day, but wanted to ride it around to get a different perspective of the city. I was pleasantly surprised when it circled up to the top of El Panecillo and stopped for thirty minutes for passengers to walk around the Virgin Mary Statue overlooking Quito. We did end up hopping out to see the interior of the Basílica del Voto Nacional and before we were ready to leave the skies broke open unleashing a torrential downpour on us. Who knew that Quito would be so cold (thanks to the altitude) with such temperamental weather (in October)? We didn’t. And I was cold a lot of the time. We had plans to walk around Quito, but the cold rain canceled those plans and instead we spent an hour trying to flag down a taxi back to our guesthouse instead.

We hopped on the bus at the Mariscal stop and rode past the El Ejido, Centro de Arte Contemporáneo, and past La Basílica, which you can see below. For some reason Quito’s hop on hop off bus experience seemed a little different than those in other cities that we have been on one of those buses. Maybe because it seemed like there was less to really see and take in from the bus? It was still interesting, but just a little different. I most enjoyed the sprawl of the city because the buildings were so colorful and seemed to stand out against each other beautifully.

We drove around and up to El Panecillo, a volcanic hill where a statue rests at the top overlooking the city. It’s a beautiful view, and if you are feeling risky, you could walk up to the peak, although it’s not recommended as it has a reputation of being the most dangerous area of the city. The top is calm and other tourists milled about. My favorite part? The empanadas that were made to order. I have to say after nearly two months in South America, this was the first time I’ve had a fresh empanada and it was pretty life changing. Lightyears different than an empanada that has been sitting in a bakery for a few hours. Oh my yum. Go try one. Figure out how to make one. You must try one.

After El Panecillo, we rode back down through Quito, through the Plaza Grande and then we hopped off at García Moreno Park to check out the inside of the Basílica del Voto Nacional. It’s a huge, yet rather dark church. There’s a smaller alter, or if it’s possible another basilica within the church itself? I’m not sure of the technicalities of it all- but contrary to the rest of the church, it was beautiful and much more ornate. Unfortunately there were a few “no photo” signs throughout, and I abided by them.

We tried to wait out the rain. We even ran down the street in the middle of it to get a hot chocolate to try to wait it out even more. It was relentless. We gave up. Everyone else in the historical center must have given up as well, because it proved impossible to catch a cab. By the time we made it back to our equally cold guesthouse, we discovered a leak in the ceiling, one that was dripping water directly on our bed. One not so quick room change later, we were tucking into a bowl of mac and cheese and watching The Walking Dead. Yes my friends, we found mac and cheese in Ecuador, and it was glorious. Ok to be fair, I think the water messed up the noodles a bit, but I didn’t care. And next to it, cheddar cheese and crackers. Because obviously we were going for a well rounded meal. Oh right, and we miss cheese.

Day 377: A self-guided walking tour of Cusco

Traveling around the world is oftentimes being in a constant state of flexibility. Again, we were going to finish the Cusco Free Walking Tour today, until we woke up and remembered there isn’t a tour on Sundays. So, Andrew found a self-guided walking tour that we could do on our own instead. It wasn’t the greatest, nor the most informative, and it covered pretty much everything we already saw on our own and/or heard about on the portion of the free walking tour we already participated in… but… it gave us something to do, and we were thoroughly entertained by our attempted pronunciation of the many Incan names.

The self-guided tour began in the San Blas neighborhood, more specifically, the Church of San Blas. We read up about it outside, and then Andrew confirmed that my Mom rubbed off on us and we didn’t want to pay to enter a church. I’m sure we missed out on seeing a beautiful interior, and the pulpit that is carved from a single tree trunk… but I just don’t understand why the churches of Cusco all have entry fees! We wove our way down through some different streets that we hadn’t been through before and found ourselves in front of the Incan wall that we’ve walked past at least a couple dozen times since we first arrived in Cusco.

At least we finally figured out why everyone was stopping at this exact spot to get their picture taken. This rock is the perfect example of how incredible Inca stonemasons and architecture was (and obviously still is today). This stone has a record 12 different points on it, and at any given time there is a line of people in front of it in a tour group, or posing for pictures, or even touching it for good luck. Our guide on the Cusco Free Walking Tour told us each stone took 13 months to carve. I’m curious if that length of time applies to this 12 point stone as well.

Check out this intricately carved balcony. It’s beautiful, don’t get me wrong- but there wasn’t much information given to us about who built it or perhaps who lived in the building, or why it’s worth a stop on a tour…

Next stop: Cusco Cathedral, or more formally; The Cathedral of Santo Domingo. We probably should have sprung for an entry ticket here, but we decided we would finish the walking tour first and then see if we had enough time to go into the church after.

We made a small loop around another smaller church and convent, through some Incan ruins, then past Quirikancha before heading back to finish the tour at Plaza de Armas. By the time we returned, some kind of shoot (either for a movie or simply a modeling shoot of some sort) was getting a lot of attention outside of Cusco Cathedral. It seemed as though every early evening or night something was going on in the Plaza. One night there was a car show of some sort, another night a giant stage was constructed, but by the time we passed through the square the next day, it had already been removed. I’m curious what the calendar looks like for the square, is it always so busy?

Day 366: Our ONE YEAR trip-aversary at Sillustani

For the record, I’m simultaneously amazed and not at all surprised that we’ve made it one whole year traveling around the world. I recently asked Andrew if he could imagine doing this trip with someone else. We agreed that maybe we could do part of this trip with someone else… like for a month… maybe. But not the entire year. It wasn’t as exciting as our six-month trip-aversary, but spending the day at a pre-Incan burial ground (ok, it sounds a little morbid when I put it like that, right?) with my Momma and coercing Andrew to take a few celebratory jumping pictures was great fun. As you can see by the pictures below (Thanks Momma!) he wasn’t as enthusiastic about the idea.

In retrospect, I wish we would have made our Lake Titicaca plans immediately when we arrived in Puno- so we could spend two full days on the lake and it’s different islands… but we were all pretty worn out traveling to Puno and sleeping in the next morning was necessary. To anyone visiting Puno, I would budget three days- two for the lake (more if you want to sneak into Bolivia on the other side of Lake Titicaca) and one for Sillustani- that is if you’re into ancient burial grounds. It was interesting, but in all honesty, not the most interesting thing we’ve done in Peru so far…

Sillustani seems like it’s on the shores of Lake Titicaca, but it’s actually on a different lake (Umayo) about twenty minutes outside of Puno. There’s not a lot of information on the grounds itself and we probably should have organized a guide ahead of time, but it was nice to wander around on our own and take our time enjoying the weather and the surprisingly not very creepy atmosphere, given that we were walking through an ancient burial ground.

The tombs are giant stone cylinders called chullpas, built by (I think) the Colla people, who were later conquered by the Inca. Their stonework is more complex than the Inca, and Sillustani is the most preserved example of their work.

Momma was a little bit curious how big the entrance was in one of the chullpas. Andrew always tries to get me to climb into scary or awkward holes in burial grounds, temples, to which I of course say no to. Mom wasn’t scared and she snuck in before we could convince her otherwise. I’m pretty sure Andrew and I were in shock because I couldn’t stop documenting it and neither of them could stop laughing at her courage? stupidity? both? Perhaps you can see where I get my own courage? stupidity? both? from…

Back in Puno, we ducked into the cathedral. It was HUGE. The Cathedral Basílica San Carlos Borromeo (also known as Puno Cathedral) seemed have the same layout as many of the other churches that we’ve been in. Long. Dark. Made of stone. And this one was super cold. So cold, I had to duck outside to warm up in the sun until everyone else was ready.

Directly across the square, facing the cathedral is the number one rated restaurant in Puno. Mojsa Restaurant has a laid back atmosphere (at least during the late afternoon when we went for an early, light dinner) and some really great tea. Ok, the ‘mojsa tea’ was great the first time- so great, I wanted to go back for more…

I’ve found that the coca tea has really helped me deal with the altitude. Remember, Puno is higher than Cusco (and Machu Picchu). I’d get out of breath climbing up to our fourth floor hotel room. I’d wake up feeling like I had one too many drinks the night before, even though I hadn’t had any alcohol… I just didn’t always feel like myself and it would creep up on me when I least expected it. So when I saw ‘mojsa tea’ on the menu- a blend of coca powder and lemon (my favorite!), I was excited. After one cup, it left me feeling like I had about four cups of coffee in a row instead, and not a trace of any altitude issues. If you find yourself in Puno, stop by for a spot of mojsa tea- but make sure it’s super strong (lots of coca powder on top) and super hot. Otherwise, it won’t give you the extra spring in your step that you’re looking for.

Day 362: Arequipa & The Santa Catalina Monastery

We arrived in Arequipa in the wee hours of the morning, climbed into a taxi, and then climbed into bed until we were a little more rested to explore the city. A lot of people get in and out of Arequipa, which is what we did since Momma was with us and we had packed her two weeks full of places to be. We later found out that Arequipa is where it’s at if you want to study Spanish on the cheap. Much cheaper than Cusco- and we thought we were getting a good deal there! So, if you’re interested in studying some Español, head here! Staying not far from the square, we wandered through it before spending the majority of our day at The Santa Clara Monastery. I found the town incredibly photogenic, and despite being a huge tourist hub, aside from being inside the Monastery, for the most part we were the only ones (or part of the few) travelers and tourists milling through town.

The main square was absolutely buzzing with people. It was a gorgeous day, so it was hard to see why you wouldn’t be out on the square catching up with friends, feeding the birds, or getting your picture taken in front of the fountain. People were everywhere, but not in an obnoxious way. Everyone mostly kept to themselves and despite so many people, the square was so huge that it accommodated everyone rather well.

The thing to do in Arequipa, is visit the Santa Catalina Monastery, originally built in 1579 for the Dominican Sisters. In a word, it’s huge. And beautiful. We read that back in the day, it was really prestigious to enter the monastery. Only women from upper class Spanish families could enter, granted their family paid a handsome dowry for their admission. According to Wikipedia,  The dowry expected of a woman who wished to enter as a choir nun–indicated by wearing a black veil—and who thereby accepted the duty of the daily recitation of the Divine Office, was 2,400 silver coins, equivalent to about $150,000 (U.S.) today. 

Can you even imagine that happening today?

Walking through the beautifully painted corridors and perfectly manicured courtyards, it was obvious that there had to have been a LOT of money circulating through to maintain the property. We stepped into a lot of cells and my mom wondered how many nuns lived in each cell, but I think it’s more likely that they each had their own individual cell- and often times, their own kitchen area as well!

Again, according to Wikipedia, In 1871 Sister Josefa Cadena, O.P., a strict Dominican nun, was sent by Pope Pius IX to reform the monastery. She sent the rich dowries back to Europe, and freed all the servants and slaves, giving them the choice of either remaining as nuns or leaving. 

At its height,the monastery housed approximately 450 people (about a third of them nuns and the rest servants) in a cloistered community. In the 1960s, it was struck twice by earthquakes, severely damaging the structures, and forcing the nuns to build new accommodation next door. 

Today, about 20 sisters live in a section of the monastery that is not available to the public.

As always, Andrew thinks that I won’t post pictures of him photo-bombing… I don’t know why he hasn’t learned yet. Maybe it’s because he not-so-secretly loves the attention? Momma is a much prettier model (below). I made her work it in the middle of the monastery, which made her giggle (a lot).

Some of the kitchens appeared to still be in use. I can’t imagine that they are, but lots of grass (or brush?) sat next to the fire pit and made you wonder why… It wasn’t made obvious (at least not to me) where the sisters who are living there currently were residing. Do they wander through the monastery when it’s not opened to the public? Do they use these older kitchens for fun? Do they sun themselves in these courtyards when no one else is around? I know I would!

My favorite part of the monastery was this bright orange section (for lack of another explanation). It was so bright and cheerful it almost felt like no other place we’ve been. The blue walls often remind me of the blue cities we’ve visited in India and Morocco, but orange is new and I love it!

At the far end of the monastery there was this pretty fountain lined with huge clay jars of some sort. I almost broke my camera and my foot stepping down to get a picture from the far side of the fountain. Andrew panicked. Luckily nothing (camera nor body part) was hurt!

Momma walked back the way we came. Can you see her sitting in front of the doorway above? Andrew and I walked around the fountain and saw another outdoor corridor to walk down. She was a little surprised when we hollered for her from behind the chain that separated us. Andrew collected her and the monastery sprawled on. At this point it almost felt like it was never-ending, but maybe we were just slow (not surprising) because we noticed one of the guides we denied upon entry was talking to her second group of tourists by this time.

In addition to many of the smaller individual kitchens, there was a huge communal kitchen with multiple fireplaces and one well. Below is what the same window/wall looked like from the outside. I wonder why most of the interiors weren’t painted? 

You could see one of the volcanoes from the view from one of the roofs. And finally, after a few long rooms full of religious art, we were back where we started.

Walking around town, I became slightly enamored with the piñaterias lining the streets. An entire store devoted to piñatas! How awesome is that? Once we arrived in the main market, I could tell momma was a little bit squeamish at the smell of raw meat sitting on open tables. This was not a tourist market. This was a market for those who live in Arequipa. This was my kind of market. I tried to explain it to my mom. She was skeptical and antsy to get out of the meat aisle. The fruit aisle was more of her cup of tea (and absolutely beautiful). When she found a purse for a ridiculously cheap price, I think she came around.

Thank God for my go-go-gadget-arms to get this shot! We were on the second floor, but there was a high fence surrounding the walkway. I handed my camera over to Andrew to get this shot from above of my favorite aisle in the market. Frutas!

Day 359: Look who I found in Lima!

Once upon a time, when I lived in Prague, my Momma and I planned to meet in Paris for a weekend. My flight was scheduled to arrive into Charles de Gaulle before hers. I told her I would meet her at her gate. And then my flight was late, or her gate was changed, and my Czech cell phone didn’t work in Paris… Something ruined the plan and we spent three hours in the airport searching for each other. Needless to say, I think Momma was a little nervous something similar would happen again when I told her we’d meet her at the airport in Lima. Fortunately, she was waiting in the arrivals lounge right next to our driver holding a sign with Andrew’s name on it. Three hours later, we were leaving our guesthouse after a much needed nap and I was encouraging her to climb up on the first llama we saw for a photo (and video) opportunity!

Friends told me to get in and get out of Lima. I’m not positive if I agree. While it really doesn’t seem like there is a lot to do (and there is an awful lot of traffic) I wonder if this city has more to offer under the surface. We also later heard that there are some really quality museums that we missed out on. If you’ve been- what do you think? Does it deserve more time than one night and two days? I did really enjoy the Historic Center, but didn’t quite understand why so many churches charged an entrance fee. We managed to duck into a few free ones though!

Momma made a friend en route to The San Francisco Church. It was here where we were faced with a huge line of people wrapped around the outside of the church. We think it was the feast of St. Augustine, but I’m not quite sure what was inside this church to attract this big of a crowd. It was rather impressive watching so many pilgrims pay their respect. Somewhat reminiscent of the Hindu temples we visited in India- obviously not the religion, but the excitement displayed.

On our way back to our guesthouse, we walked past a group of women arranging flowers to sell to those visiting the church. Momma walked extra fast past the street performer who was still on the same street we walked through earlier, and after getting directions, we were sitting down for our first plate of ceviche. (YUM!)

Day 350: Montmartre et Marché aux Puces de St-Ouen

When I was on my high-school exchange trip through France, Montmartre was one of the highlights. And not only for the rats running across the metro tracks either! (Those were/are hard to forget.) Once we climbed the stairs from the metro stop to the top of the hill, this little niche of the city felt even more magical than the rest of the city (which is almost hard to believe possible). Paris on a whole, has always kept a special hold on my heart because of this trip. It was my first one abroad. It was with some wonderful classmates who turned into equally wonderful friends. I’ve since shared the same wonderful city with friends from college, my momma, and now, even Andrew. It felt right that we would spend our last day in Paris exploring Montmartre, taking our chances yet again, with another free walking tour company.

First stop: The Moulin Rouge. Just the outside of it… But I have to admit, I’ve been inside to see a show and was aghast when our guide mentioned how expensive tickets were! He mentioned tickets being around 200 euros! I nudged Andrew, insisting it was a good thing I went when I did. Upon closer inspection, however, it’s possible to get tickets for just 50 euros (without dinner of course.) Our guide explained the past of Moulin Rouge, once owned and operated by prostitutes who later figured out they could raise their skirts without putting out and make just as much (and these days more)? All of the current dancers are formally trained in dance and it’s highly competitive to work at the Moulin Rouge. Speaking from experience, their training shows, and seeing a performance while you’re in town is well worth it.

We began our ascent up the hill. Remember Amelie? This is the cafe where she worked! We took a few pictures, and kept going on our way. It seemed like everyone inside was a tourist and no one seemed to mind the photographs being taken over and over again of the façade… At least, I don’t think…

We kept going up, past the house where Van Gogh lived and his view of Paris (which you can see below). Our guide assured us the view has not changed since he resided here. He then took the liberty to talk about how dismayed all of the residents of Montmartre are with the amount of tourists and tours that roll through every day. He continued on (and on and on) about how his friend could no longer afford to live in the area and was moving to Spain. Andrew and I agreed after, as we were on a tour OF Montmartre, it probably wasn’t the best timing to complain to tourists about the amount of tourists in same area…

The Moulin de la Galette is a windmill that was operated to make flour for a certain galette (brown bread) which became very popular. Le Moulin de Galette was established for those living (or coming to) Montmartre for wine, bread, music… in other words, a good night out. Renoir’s famous Bal du moulin de la Galette is a depiction of life at Le Moulin! Currently, it’s one of the two windmills still standing (but not operating) on Montmartre.

Next stop: Lapin Agile. We were told this cabaret wasn’t always known by this name. It wasn’t until an artist asked the manager if he could exchange a painting for dinner (maybe a few drinks?) one night. Yet again, according to Wikipedia: Andre Gill painted the sign that was to suggest its permanent name. It was a picture of a rabbit jumping out of a saucepan, and residents began calling their neighborhood night-club “Le Lapin à Gill”, meaning “Gill’s rabbit”. Right across the street, a small fenced-in vineyard took advantage of the hillside perfect for growing grapes worthy of a good French wine. And before we knew it, we were rounding the corner and walking up a short street to Sacré-Cœur!

Sacré-Cœur is, in my opinion a beautiful church and as you might have noticed, I think it makes for a beautiful picture even if in the distance from other locations around France. The tiles are self-cleaning, which might explain how it stays so white! Our guide informed us that Parisians were not fond of the architecture and design of the church, as it’s a bit of a melange of so many different styles – both inside and out. We ducked in for a few minutes, but photos were prohibited, so you’ll just have to visit the beautiful church to see what the inside looks like! (It’s definitely not nearly as bright as the outside, that’s for sure!)

We began to descend the hill walking through what we hoped were the lesser traveled streets. Past the crêperie and past the many, many poster and trinket gift shops, stopping only for a photo or two. It was beautiful, yet we were exhausted. There are some days on this trip that no matter how magnificent they are, they can be equally exhausting. We had moved our things across town yet again the night before, didn’t get a great night of sleep, and then were up early to catch this tour. We had already checked out or our hotel because we had booked an overnight bus from France to England that night. The tour ended around noon, which left us with precisely 12 hours to kill before our bus, which normally would have been fantastic, but we were exhausted. I began to cry, Andrew abruptly turned around in the middle of a beautiful Parisian street with a marvelous view, and began to hug me.

I always feel incredibly silly when I get sad, or simply tired and let my emotions get the best of me on this trip… But it happens. Thankfully, Andrew understands the grind (as he’s right there with me) and never holds my tears against me. He reminded me we were going to see our good friend James the next morning and how he was going to take care of us in England for a few days. He also, as always, reminded me I was just tired and would feel better after food and sleep.

Later on, we met up with the girl who let us crash in her apartment while she was out of town. She had traveled through Asia on her own and while we were trading stories, she laughed about how some days she would be so tired she would be more interested in a bench in the park (to sleep on) than a famous site in front of her that she was supposed to see. I nodded in agreement, understanding all too well.

On our way down, we walked down Rue Seveste. It was dedicated to all things fabric! Instead of channeling Project Runway, I took a picture and vowed that next time I would pick up a yard or two. Also, lots and lots of thrift stores. Not the kind you go to when you’re as tired and hungry as we were though. You clearly had to dig for a good find here! Again, maybe next time!

We jumped on the metro and headed across town towards the Vietnamese/Chinese neck of Paris. It was a bit grungy, but again, a new side of Paris and I was anxious to see it and take care of a noodle craving. Per Andrew’s research of which was the best, we ended up at Cyclo. It was… ok. I try to keep in mind that not everyone has sat on the side of the street in the likes of Hanoi or Hoi-An or even Saigon on a little plastic chair eating noodles out of a bowl that may or may not have been washed after the person before you. Not everyone knows that you should be given an additional bowl full of fresh mint, another of freshly cut limes, and a squeeze bottle so full of hot (like really hot) sauce to season your noodles and beef broth to taste. Perhaps the editors of TimeOut Paris simply don’t know what they are missing. But when two bowls of noodles were delivered to our table sans mint, lime, and hot sauce… I was sad not because of how tired I was, but because my noodles were going to lack the flavor they deserved. Maybe this is why everyone else eats French food in Paris… and not lackluster Vietnamese… like we did.

Luck was simply not in our favor for the rest of the afternoon. We attempted to go to one of the many markets in and around Paris that I have not had the luxury of being able to stroll through. I had done my homework (i.e. several Google searches) the night before. I found a pretty detailed Time Out list (although maybe after the Vietnamese fiasco, we should have thought otherwise). We headed to Marché aux Puces de St-Ouen, only we were way too late. Everything was closed. I assured myself it was for the best. The last thing I needed was an antique I simply couldn’t live without that was larger than a bag I could carry-on an airplane (my favorite kind of souvenirs). We walked around before giving up, retrieving our bags, and heading across town yet again, only this time to meet our couchsurfing host for a drink before boarding our midnight bus to London.

Day 343: La Sagrada Familia

La Sagrada Familia inside is a whole other world. The outside is somewhat dark (in a way) and a bit chaotic. It’s unfinished. It’s busy. It looks like wax was dripped over it from afar. But inside… inside is bright and organized. It’s finished. It’s clean. It looks like every detail was designed with a specific purpose. It’s not as much of a collage as the exterior. And it’s huge. It makes you nod your head when someone says “Gaudi is a genius.” Because one step inside of La Sagrada Familia will make you agree.

Honestly, from the outside when we visited the other day, I was like “Yea, this is big… It’s unfinished… I guess Gaudi was an amazing architect…” But as soon as you step inside La Sagrada Familia, you feel small. Small is probably an understatement. You feel TINY and for once, you’re not as bothered by the vast amount of tourists surrounding you because it seems impossible to fill the space that Gaudi designed to be held up by tree-like columns. You’re practically in a forest. It’s pretty magical, and even more striking than the infamous exterior. At least, that’s what I think. I had a greater appreciation for the outside once I saw the inside… and I had even more of a greater appreciation for Gaudi once I stood in his forest of a church.

The Glory Facade was still under construction during our visit, but we were able to duck outside in a little enclosed area to view the doors from the outside. So. impressive. (I might not be able to say that enough about La Sagrada Familia!) Andrew and I always hunt for the Korean when different languages are represented. I think Korean tourists are always amused when they hear us read or speak Korean to each other. I’m pretty sure the LOUD Korean couple sitting behind us inside the church were downright shocked when I turned around and told them to be quiet – in Korean.

We sat for awhile, as we usually do when ducking into a church or mosque (if I’m allowed) or temple. It always makes for interesting people-watching. In this case, it was mostly watching one of the staff members try to remain calm with all of the tourists talking – or stopping to take pictures – or sitting where/when they shouldn’t have been. Behind the main altar were several smaller side altars, views of another altar below, and these giant organ pipes. Wandering back out to the center nave and I was immediately struck by the light coming through the stained glass and bouncing off of the columns. Kinda within the church, an exhibition of how Gaudi was inspired by nature was beautifully presented. As if I wasn’t already blown away by his mansions, Park Guell, and La Sagrada Familia itself- to see the comparisons between the different kinds of plants, flowers, trees, even honeycomb… and how he integrated nature into his work was ah-mazing.

We walked out to see the Nativity Façade and looking up, you tried to imagine how one would have thought of integrating so much into one façade, let alone completing the construction of it all! We walked through the exhibition of how La Sagrada Familia was realized and sometimes found ourselves just standing in front of something completely dumbfounded at how Gaudi hung bags of sand to see how he could construct La Sagrada Familia by reversing what was hanging. I’m not sure if that makes sense, and maybe you can see it behind Andrew in the video- but it was genius. That’s all there is to it. After La Sagrada Familia, we went back towards the Gothic and Born areas for an early dinner at what was to become (possibly) our favorite restaurant in Barcelona; Bo de B. If you find yourself in Barcelona, go here. Get the salmon salad. You won’t be disappointed. Well, maybe you will when you have to leave, but just walk around and look at the gorgeous street art and that should make you feel better…

We headed over to La Boqueria, the main market in Barcelona. Unfortunately, we were stuffed from our salmon salad and burger that we couldn’t even think about trying any of the food in the market! That was silly of us… But it was still fun to walk through, despite so many of the shops being closed for the summer holiday!

I’m not sure if you know this about me and Andrew (possibly even more true of Andrew) but we love gummy candy. And this stall was heaven. So much heaven that we stood in front of it for a full five minutes looking at how BIG the gummies were before we remembered we were still stuffed from Bo de B and didn’t need anymore food in our bellies.

And then, we made our way to the beach. Once we got there, I was a little amazed at how many people were crowded onto one small area. We lucked out hitting Greece before the tourist season picked up. Zanzibar was rather low-key and even Goa during Christmas was downright quiet compared to Barcelona Beach in the middle of August. And we went well after peak hours!

Day 289: Veliko Tarnovo

Our bus ride from Sofia to Veliko Tarnovo was rather uneventful, until Todd picked us up. Todd works at the Hostel Mostel in Veliko Tarnovo and he picked us up like we were old friends, yet visiting his city for the first time. I love good people. (Todd, if you’re reading this, hope that last test went well before graduation!) We dropped our bags off, Andrew had a bit of a nap, and then we were off in search of food and Tsarevets Fortress.

The town is exactly what I thought Bulgaria would be like, what any small European town should be like. Quiet, with people sitting in front of their shops or peeking out of their windows to watch life on the street below. There were only a handful of restaurants on the main street running through town. When we wandered off the main street, we found ourselves on a more touristy street- without the annoyance of a typical ‘touristy street.’ Shopkeepers could have cared less if we ducked in for a keychain or handbag, as most were busy smoking or gossiping with a friend on the phone. Not many other tourists were around. The only surprise of the city was how unbelievably hot it was. We later found out the town is the hottest of all of Bulgaria. We have yet to figure out why.

We made our way to Tsarevets Fortress, what Veliko Tarnovo is known the most for. That, and being the historical capital of the Second Bulgarian Empire. I guess that’s worth mentioning as well. Andrew made me pose for the picture above after he realized I had caught him on video being silly. I obliged. The hike up was rough, in the heat, after a huge meal. We thought we were being smart by going around five, after it was supposed to be “cooler” but we were dying and I had to linger in the shade often. We were also told we needed at least two hours to explore the entire fortress, but we found that less time was enough for us. Maybe had it been cooler, we could have stayed longer… But it wasn’t. And we were hot. The views were wonderful though!

Tsarevets Fortress was the Second Bulgarian Empire’s primary fortress from 1185 to 1393. During this time there were houses, chuches, everything that used to be in most fortresses. Unfortunately, not much stands today, except for the reconstructed church; The Patriarchal Cathedral of the Holy Ascension of God at the very top of the fortress. It’s no longer functioning as a church, but visitors can go in and check out the frescoes that I’m fairly certain my mother would simply call ‘ugly.’ They weren’t my favorite, but it was fun to see something so different. Some looked so out of place, like they were collaged together, not painted. Like I said, interesting…

I liked the "DANGER!" signs as well. I would have liked them even more if someone had scrawled out “NO YOGA POSES ON THE WALL!”

Day 116: Old Goa

Old Goa: Church of St. Francis of Assisi, The Basilica of Born Jesus, which holds the remains of St. Francis Xavier, and St. Augustine’s tower. These are just a few of what Old Goa has to offer, and what we saw when we took a break from the beach to do some sightseeing in the old Portugese town. Again, I was expecting something different, more of an old town atmosphere than an area that was seemingly limited to the different churches of the past, only some of them still being used today. As much as I enjoy walking through different temples and trying to pick up details of different religions, it felt very comfortable being able to walk through a couple of Catholic churches, and then climb the ruins of another. I also appreciated the collision of religions, displayed by the ropes of marigolds (Hindu practice) draped over an altar outside of the Basilica of Born Jesus.

Built in 1861 by the Portugese (who had colonized Goa in the 15th century until a plague hit, and the city was abandoned in the 18th century), the Church of St. Francis of Assisi is a Roman Catholic Church featuring frescos of his life and a main alter dedicated to him, Jesus, and Saints Peter and Paul. Pews have been removed (when I’m not sure) and burial markers lie in their place. I’m not sure if I’ve ever been in a gutted out church like this before. It felt… empty, which is a shame, because the walls and side altars and the vastness of the church was all quite stunning.

The Basilica of Born Jesus is a short sprint down the road from the Church of St. Francis Assisi. It was completed in 1605, and is not only the first minor basilica in India, but it is also the best example of Baroque architecture in India. Although the facade is quite ornate, the interior wasn’t equally so, at least not the side walls of the church. However, it is a fully functioning church and held quite a few more people, pilgrims even, who had traveled to see the church, but more importantly to pay respects to the remains of St. Francis Xavier who is kept inside the Basilica.

Interesting, and slightly morbid, is that his body was originally buried on a beach in China, before being moved to Malacca for two years before again being exhumed and moved to Goa. It is said that his body was as “fresh” as it was the day he was buried in Malacca. A few pieces of his body have been removed to be put on display around the world- Rome, mostly. But the best story- again- story (I’m not entirely sure it’s true) is that a woman snuck into the church when his body was on display and bit off his toe. It is said that officials were able to track down who stole the toe from the trail of blood (from the toe) that led to her house. Crazy, right?!

His body is displayed every 10 years- the last display was in December of 2004, so only one more year and his body is scheduled to be displayed for your pilgrimage pleasure. Until then, his body is housed in a glass case inside of this tomb, below. There were so many tourists and pilgrims taking their picture in front of the tomb that I didn’t stay long and only snapped this photo as I walked out into a tiny museum like hall of religious paintings, his original casket (what a tiny person he must have been, because that box was not big at all!) and gift shop.

Our last stop in Old Goa was to see the ruins of the Church of St. Augustine. The ruins include a four story belfry tower, eight chapels, four altars, and an expansive convent. It was big. It was also quite fun to climb up and take in different views. Kate was my muse for the afternoon as we all went in different directions to explore, yet kept bumping back into each other at different turns.

And then, we played “scenario.” Scenario is a game that one of my favorite people in the world taught me. (Hi, Lindsay!) To play, you shout out an emotion or a place or activity and you act it out instead of just smiling or dropping a peace sign (like you do in Korea). 

When we got back to Calangute, I made Kate pose with the New Year ‘Old Man.’ We saw quite a few of these ‘old men’ around town and from my understanding- a man is made for good luck for the new year. Each man holds a bucket asking for donations- which, if you donate something, you get good luck as well? And then on New Year’s Eve, the man is burned, allowing you to have a fresh start for the new year, but will return next year to take away your misgivings or bad deeds or something like that. (We asked about this to different people three different times, and the answers were a little confusing. Basically. It’s a tradition. For the New Year. For luck. Is probably the simplest, most straightforward interpretation of it all.)