Day 365: Chivay

Chivay was supposed to be the stopover, not the main attraction. Yet, I was delighted it proved to be anything but a stopover. Momma actually stayed behind at the bus pick-up until we realized she would probably enjoy the market and streets surrounding that were full of character. As much as I enjoyed the quietness of Cababanaconde, it was a little too quiet for me and lacked the character that Chivay more than made up for. We were only there for about two hours, but had a really great time walking through the market, eating sautéed alpaca (and what we found out was jello with cool whip on top), and photographing women with llamas while we waited for our bus to Puno in the afternoon.

On our way out of Cabanaconde it was hard to say goodbye to Colca Canyon and it’s surrounding fields despite being for the most part dried up during the winter months.

Once we got into Chivay, we were surprised to see these statues lining one of the main streets (just outside of the covered market). Some of them seemed very friendly and welcoming, but seriously, what is up with the dude in a mask who looks ready to come to life and decapitate me? It reminded me of some Mexican wrestling, but who knows if I’m anywhere near what he really represents!

I couldn’t resist these adorable ones eating ice-cream while I waited for Andrew to run back to gather Mom and our things. I tried to ask for permission and I think I was granted it, but the little one in the middle seemed perplexed. I only wished my Polaroid wasn’t buried in another bag so I could give it to him to give to his mother afterwards.

We wandered through the market, stopping to eat alpaca meat and buy only a few blankets, tablecloths, and scarves. The alpaca is slightly gamey, but good and with a squirt of lime, I highly recommend it. If nothing else, you won’t find a cheaper lunch otherwise! While Andrew and I sampled the street food, we lost my Mom as she ducked in and out of stores faster than we could take turns sharing our snack! We eventually found her again, helped pick out some gifts for some family members and continued walking through the market more for fun than for buying- at least, that’s what Andrew and I thought anyway! When we emerged, we found the most adorable baby lamb laying down in the middle of the sidewalk. Of course, we fawned over it (me and momma) while Andrew went in search for more street food to taste.

I asked how much he (she?) cost and tried to convey how much I wanted the little bundle of adorable (I mean, seriously, who wouldn’t?) but then explained that I didn’t have enough room in my bag. I think (key word: think) everyone understood and was amused by my willingness to take the little thing with me… if only I could (and Andrew… and my mom would have let me!)

On our way out of the market area, I also couldn’t resist taking a photo of this woman and her llama. Usually I try not to participate in photos for profit- something that we’ve encountered often during this trip, but I couldn’t help it after I saw a few tourists take a photo with the llama and then not give the woman a little tip. It’s a no brainer that if someone is dressed up or standing with an animal that they are there to make some money. It felt a little disrespectful watching others take photos but then walk away pretending they didn’t know any better. I took a few photos, disappointed the woman wouldn’t at least look at me during the process, but then put a couple soles in her hand as I shook it, thanking her for her time.

There were a couple of options getting from Chivay to Puno. We decided to take the slightly more expensive (and more comfortable) option after our unfortunate longer than anticipated adventure from Arequipa to Colca Canyon a couple of days before. A “3M” bus boasted a more touristic ride from Chivay to Puno with a few stops at the highest point in the Andes, a lake full of flamingoes, and at the highest lake in Peru. It was worth it- not for the stops, but for the comfort and the coca tea we were promised at the rest stop. I don’t normally get car-sick, but as I quickly found out, I do get altitude-car-sick. It’s not fun. Fortunately, coca tea helps.

When we stopped at the highest point in the Andes en route to Puno (and Lake Titicaca) my head hurt and I was feeling a bit squeamish, but got out to take a look around thinking the fresh air would help. We were greeted with a cold fresh air and surrounded by little stacks of rocks that we were told were prayers built by the Peruvian people. All of them were built as high as they could go because the closer to the sky they were, the more likely the prayers were to be granted.

We stopped off briefly at the highest lake in the Andes (so we were told) with just enough time to take a picture and then climb back on the bus. Everyone talks about adjusting to the altitude in Cusco, for the climb to Machu Picchu, but they seem to skip over the fact that Puno is higher than Cusco, and that Cusco is higher than Machu Picchu. They also seem to skip over the fact that driving from one of these places to the other is the worst part. My advice? Drink a LOT of coca tea. Take an asprin. And be prepared to feel like you’re slightly hungover.

Day 364: Colca Canyon

Colca Canyon is where the condors roam. Unfortunately for us, I think we timed it all wrong. In the middle of winter in Peru, farmers are burning off excess brush to make more room for future farming. I don’t think the condors were keen on the smoke anymore than we were. Despite waking up early and being one of the first at the viewing platforms, the condors didn’t get close and it was a little bit hard to see what all of the fuss was about. We heard that condors flew over other viewers and were awestruck by how large these birds are… We simply didn’t have the same experience.

I entertained myself with the beautiful local women selling snacks, jewelry, blankets, and other crafts instead. That is, until one of my lenses stopped working. Now, keep in mind that I’ve already sent two lenses home that have stopped working for one reason or another. Momma actually sent one away for repair and was able to bring it with her to Peru. I should have been optimistic about the timing that she had brought an additional lens for me just in time for another one to go kaput. But I wasn’t. All I could think about was how expensive it was going to be to repair or replace this professional lens… and how badly I wanted to have it for Machu Picchu. I was crushed, to say the least. The irony of this third lens breaking on this trip was that I’m pretty sure it happened when the camera bag I had my mom bring – was dropped – with the lens in it. I tried to make do with the wider lens, or trying to manually adjust the zoom despite the sticking. Tears escaped my eyes throughout.

The worst part about being so crushed about something when you’re traveling is that there’s this very strong struggle inside of you willing you to let it go and enjoy where ever you may be at the time. When you have a bad day at home, you can kinda scrap the day, right?

I like the show, Suits, and got a kick out of Lewis saying “I need a day.” and leaving the office. You can’t do that when you’re traveling. You can take a nap, and then you have to brush yourself off and see what you want to see before you leave the next day.

Which is exactly what I did- or at least tried to do, and we all walked through town and towards another viewing area of Colca Canyon from just outside of Cabanaconde. On our way to the viewing, we saw some farmers using a telephone pole to help them put a yoke on some cattle. It looked a little dangerous and I thought it was wise of them to use the telephone pole and some ropes to keep them safe.

The view was vast. That little line snaking around the mountain on the opposite side, that’s a road. Would you want to travel on it? The city of Cabanaconde looked a lot bigger from this vantage point than it did when walking the small streets within. We walked past an arena on our way back and wondered if bullfights still go on today or if it’s a thing of the past.

When we got back in town, Momma went to a mass that was being held in the town’s church. She said there were only two other women at the service. Afterwards she had a nice conversation with the pastor of the church who held the mass.

“Oh did he speak English?” Andrew asked. Mom laughed.

“No.”

And then we might have laughed, imagining how the conversation sounded. To give you an idea, Mom’s favorite words in Spanish are “No necesito” and “hija” and “paRdon” pronounced en français. Granted, she probably knows more Spanish than I do (before we enroll in classes after she leaves) but it makes for some really entertaining conversations with the locals.

I had my Polaroid on me and was able to snap a picture of this little girl with her baby. She was the sweetest thing, and was quite unsure of what I was up to, until I handed her the picture. Once she got a good look at it, she was pretty excited and later asked me if I could take another. Unfortunately she might have been at school the next morning when we walked past again… and I didn’t see her to take another.

Day 363: Arequipa to Cabanaconde

Our plan was to leave Arequipa around 10:30 or 11:30 in the morning. We were told there was a bus then. That is until we got to the station, where we found out there wasn’t a bus at that time (no reason was given why not) and we had to wait four hours for the next bus. Momma assured us before she came that she wanted to travel just like we do. Well, this was a perfect introduction to what travel for us can be (and has been) like. A few hours behind schedule, we arrived in Chivay to a mob of tired and cold backpackers who had their own annoying bus story. Momma had wanted to get off the bus to take a picture, but when she saw the mob outside, she stayed put. It was a good thing she did because many ended up standing or sitting on laps as we made our way to Cabanaconde. We arrived after dark, dropped our stuff, and grabbed dinner: an alpaca pizza. Because, isn’t that what everyone does when they arrive in a teensy town on the edge of Colca Canyon?

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 361: The Nazca Lines

The Nazca Lines are ancient pictures (basically) that have been etched into a plateau that is about fifty miles long just outside of the little town of the same name, Nazca. It’s believed that the Nazca people created these lines between 400 and 650 AD, which is pretty incredible that they are still intact until you take into consideration the remarkably dry stable climate that has preserved the Nazca Lines almost perfectly. For roughly $80.00, you can take a short (about 40 minutes) flight above the lines. It was incredible. I’m not sure what was more exciting, being in a tiny airplane for the first time, or looking out over the Nazca Lines in absolutely perfect weather (we were told conditions may not be the greatest), or being able to share the experience with not only Andrew, but my momma as well!

To view the Nazca Lines, you have to be at the airport early to book a flight, pay the airport tax, and then wait for the weather to be good enough to view the lines below. We read that some people waited for several hours and even had to leave the airport and return the next day for better conditions. Given our track record, I thought we were going to be those people… But we didn’t end up waiting long and in the middle of a National Geographic like video we were going through security and climbing into our six-seater.

After about ten minutes of flying, our co-pilot started telling us which side to look and began pointing out geoglyphs (fancy word for design) in the shape of a human figure, monkey, hummingbird, fish, a tree, and more.

It might not look as incredible in the pictures, but it was really amazing circling over them in the small plane simultaneous to the co-pilot telling us to get ready for the next design on the other side of the plane.

It’s debated what these pictures meant. Obviously it had to have been a lot of work, so they must have been important. In the video we watched, we saw a huge need for water and when looking up the Nazca Lines after our visit it’s believed the lines might be connected to the search for water. Other possibilities include irrigation and even astronomy.

We made one pass over some ancient aqueducts, over the city, and then before we knew it, we were back at the airport. Unfortunately, aside from the video that we were shown while we waited for the weather to cooperate, there really wasn’t much more information on the lines, nor the Nazca people in Nazca. There wasn’t much to do, either. We walked around the city after lunch in search of ice-cream and had a hard time finding that!

Day 360: Miraflores; This is it?

Miraflores is a district in Lima. It’s the weathiest, and according to Wikipedia, “Miraflores is known for its shopping areas, gardens, flower-filled parks and beaches.” We walked through two lovely parks, and through some tourist markets, and then through a LOT of gated apartment buildings with heavy security to the Pacific. It looked as if there were beaches down below the cliffs we were perched upon, but it did not look like the kind of beach I would want to hang out on (read: cold and windy) and I had to assume that I was missing something- that we were missing something.

What is there to do in Miraflores? What were we missing? Is there more? There has to be! What do all of these people in ritzy (I’m assuming) and expensive apartments do here? Bottom line: I didn’t see much. Admittedly, because it took so long to navigate through the traffic to get from one side of town to the other, we didn’t have longer than half of an afternoon to explore, but I certainly didn’t leave with that wistful “Oh man, I wish we had more time here!” feeling at all!

I couldn’t pass up this freshly painted garage in the market. Momma was busy buying something for someone (little did we know then that this would be her favorite thing to do) so I made Andrew stand in front of the door so I could photograph him. I keep teasing him that he’s going to have a pretty solid modeling portfolio by the end of this trip. Except, that he’s wearing the exact same three outfits throughout all of the pictures.

The park on the cliff overlooking the Pacific that we walked to is called the Park of Love. In the middle of the park is a passionate sculpture titled “El Beso”, by Victor Delfin. It seemed to be popular with young couples. Momma made Andrew and I pose for a picture in front of the sculpture. Obviously we posed just like the sculpture. Just kidding.

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 358: More Lessons Learned from Traveling Around the World

At what was essentially the start of this little jaunt, I wrote an article for Groove Magazine (of Seoul, South Korea): Lessons Learned from my first 50 days of traveling around the world. This trip has been a constant learning experience, and after a quick Google search, it appears that I am not the only one who thinks long-term travel is exceptionally educational. Nomadic Matt has learned a thing or two, as has Benny, the Irish polyglot, and even Gary Arndt (as read on the blog of Tim Ferriss – the four hour workweek dude). Bottom line: there are a lot of lists out there. A lot of them (like the ones above) are fairly broad. Mine… not so much.

Instead of regaling you with yet again, another day in a minute in between airports around the world and boring pictures of us on an airplane (this time from London to Lima)… I thought I’d pick up right where I left off from my last list about some of the more specific lessons I’ve learned since our first fifty days… Especially since we’ve been through Nepal and India:

parts of the Middle East:

Africa:

and even Europe:

Lesson #9: Traveling with cards? Be prepared to call your credit card company and bank every three months to verify which countries you’ll be traveling through. Otherwise the Fraud Department(s) will put a hold on your card the onetime you need to use it in that fourth month. In addition, I should have investigated my ATM withdraw and credit card international transaction fees more thoroughly. In 12 months of travel, trying my hardest to stick to a $50.00 (or under) a day budget, I discovered Citibank has charged me a whopping $341.02 – and that’s from only ONE of my two Citibank cards! That’s nearly one full week of my budget! Wiser travelers, Josh and Leanne haven’t been charged any fees using Capital One.   

Lesson #10: Pay attention to that strange feeling in the bottom of your stomach when your bus or hotel room has a certain chemical smell to it. Open a window. Step outside. Change hotels. Whatever that smell is, probably isn’t good for you and the annoyance of moving yourself and your stuff far outweighs the possibility of permanent health damages (or waking up without any of your stuff!)

Lesson #11: When dealing with a ridiculously horrible hotel manager, like at Chiang Mai Thai House, don’t be afraid to stick up for yourself in front of other guests. This horrible (awful, terrible) manager truly embarrassed me in front of other guests, even though he was the one who made the booking mistake! You could say, the lesson learned here was to not stay at this hotel in the first place… (If heading to Chiang Mai, don’t make the same mistake!)

Lesson #12: Nothing in Nepal is free. Renting a car for an impossibly cheap fare for the day comes with the price of sitting in a tourist agency listening to an agent try to pitch trekking trips to you for an hour and a half, despite the fact that you told him you were probably the only tourists in Nepal NOT trekking.

Lesson #13: When you find yourself getting angry with your travel partner over something ridiculous, it’s probably time for a nap, a meal, a day of drinking, or a day of doing nothing at all. Traveling around the world is hard. Don’t let anyone who hasn’t done it tell you otherwise.

Lesson #14: Bathing with elephants in Chitwan, Nepal is not what you think it will be. You’re not going to soap up an elephant in the middle of the river, getting some intimate one-on-one time with an elephant. You’re going to pay a mahout to let you climb onto the back of an elephant whose spirit has been broken. The elephant is going to spray you with water when the mahout prods him/her with a giant spear to do so. And then after ten minutes (give or take) your experience “bathing” the elephant will be finished. You’re better off buying some bananas and feeding an elephant in between other tourists (who don’t know of the damage the mahouts have done to the poor beasts) bathing experiences.

Lesson #15: When your bus breaks down in the middle of the mountains in Nepal, don’t hesitate to hop on the next bus that passes. If you wait around (like we did) you’ll simply find out your bus won’t be up and running again in time to cross the border into India and catch your next bus. Better to jump on a passing bus with one or two others instead of twenty who are now equally in need of a ride to the border.

Lesson #16: Don’t drink sugarcane juice out of a glass from a vendor on the streets of Varanasi. Always drink out of a plastic (unused) cup. This will ensure that you won’t be spending several hours in the bathroom in the middle of the night and next morning. Furthermore: Charcoal tablets (and Apple Cider Vinegar) will cure all stomach issues. Now, I never travel without them. They have saved my life. My stomach, and some of my other parts… more than once on this trip since that unfortunate glass of sugarcane juice.

Lesson #17: Learn the scams of India. Which scam is popular in each city. Be prepared. But also be prepared to fall victim to a new scam that hasn’t hit the Internet yet… This is one of the many prices you have to pay for traveling around the world. It might make you crazy the moment you realize you’ve been scammed, but chances are you’ll merely shrug about it later.

Lesson #18: When asking if your room for the night comes equipped with hot water and wi-fi… Be. More. Specific. Ask; “Does the room have hot water and wi-fi today?” Furthermore, when you arrive exceedingly early thanks to your bus/train/plane into the city, and your hotel says you cannot check in early; use up any and all available sofa space in the common area or lobby to sleep until they magically find a room for you. As soon as you act like the lobby is your own private living room they are more likely to want you in your own private room.

Lesson #19: Women should not initiate conversation with Emirati men – especially by themselves. If you’re married, keep in mind your status doesn’t matter to an Emirati who wants to inappropriately grab you while you’re standing next to your non-Emirati husband (or in my case “husband”). Furthermore, at a party in the U.A.E. – never, not once, go anywhere on your own. Emirati men can and will do whatever they want, and because they are Emirati, in the U.A.E. they will get away with it.

Lesson #20: Jordanians are the nicest people on earth. Seriously, the nicest. However, nothing can prepare you for the day a Syrian child refugee punches you in the back.

Lesson #21: When going through Israeli immigration, it’s probably best to know your geography ahead of time so you don’t bat an eye when asked if you will be visiting the West Bank or any of the occupied territories.

Lesson #22: Floating in the Dead Sea is painful. Don’t shave any part of your body for a week a year before you visit. Wear a wetsuit! Stay in no longer than five minutes! No, three minutes! And bring a bottle of water to pour over your burning skin as you make your way to the fresh water showers two flights of stairs away!

Lesson #23: Israel is expensive and “Birthrighters” –especially of the young, American variety are annoying. Sorry Birthrighters, but this non-Birthrighter spending a fortune to see what you got to do for free overheard one too many conversations about how “wasted we’re going to get tonight/tomorrow/when we get back to the hotel” and “Ohmigod, You’re a Cohen, too?”

Lesson #24: Your politics will change, or at least become more defined the day your morning is spent at the Holocaust Museum in Jerusalem and your afternoon in a Palestinian refugee camp outside of Bethlehem.

Lesson #25: You can never plan too much for your trip around the world. Had we planned more, we would have not even tried Europe in the winter, we wouldn’t have flown from Israel to Belgium to Morocco to Uganda, and we definitely would have looked into the overland tours (like this one) through Africa.

Lesson #26: You can plan too much during your trip around the world. There comes a point where you need to step away from the computer with the TripAdvisor forum on its screen.

Lesson #27: Marrakech is as awful as everyone (who has been) says it is. But chances are you’re going to have to go and see for yourself. When the man with the snakes/monkeys/magic tricks insist you pay him for the picture you just took – even though you were just walking by carrying your camera… just remember… “I told you so!”

Lesson #28: When a Moroccan man asks how much you cost, don’t say “I’m not for sale!” at least find out how much he thinks you’re worth! I promise, it will make for a better story, err, status update on Facebook.

Lesson #29: Postagram is cheaper than buying postcards and stamps around the world. Trust me. (Obviously I’m a bit biased because they foot my elementary school pen-pal project, but you fork over the equivalent of $30.00 for postage in the middle of Laos just to send postcards to your family and you might fall in love with the app yourself!)

Lesson #30: Malaria prophylaxis will drive you crazy. If you’re anything like me (sensitive to medication), you’ll feel like your skin is burning anytime you’re in the sun, you’ll cry for no reason, and you might even attempt to break up with your boyfriend over something you won’t even remember (nor understand) the next morning. My advice after nearly one month straight of taking them, (and crying all. the. time.) avoid the pills and take your chances with bug spray instead.

Lesson #31: When camping during your African safari, warthogs wandering through will eat your snacks by day and giant hippos will eat the grass outside your tent at night. When you wake up to the ridiculously noisy chomping in the middle of the night, do yourself a favor and stay inside your tent. While warthogs aren’t so dangerous, hippos are.

Lesson #32: When your thirty-year old bus blows a tire and flies off the road, landing in a pool of water in the middle of Tanzania, get your stuff and get. out. There are no emergency services coming to file a report, or take people to the hospital, or even to make sure everyone is accounted for. Flag down a bus passing by, climb in, and stand in the aisle until the next stop.

Lesson #33: Document your (car/bus/motorcycle) accident as best as you can. Ask your hotel/hostel to help find documentation of the accident to give your Travel Insurance Company when trying to file a claim for damaged possessions. Otherwise, self-insure. Because, if you’re anything like me, someone who invested in travel insurance for AFRICA – for situations just like this one… You will be out of luck when you realize you don’t have a bus ticket, a police report, or even your name on the guest registry at the hostel you’re staying at when you try unsuccessfully to file a claim for some damaged camera lenses. (Thanks for nothing, WorldNomads.)

Lesson #34: Feet swell during pregnancy (so I’ve heard). They also swell during overnight and/or 10 hour + bus rides. That being said; Mozambique is the most difficult country to travel through on your own. Domestic flights are crazy expensive, and every bus ride is at least 10 hours long. At least. And chances are they will be crammed with so many people you will spend the majority of your 12-14 hour journey holding someone else’s sack of rice, live chicken, or if you’re lucky, their adorably silent wide-eyed child. If you can survive one (or in our case, four) bus in Mozambique, you can survive anything. Keeping that in mind, Mozambique Island is beautiful. A bitch to get to, but beautiful.

Lesson #35: Reverse culture shock is standing in an aisle full of gummie candy in a gas station mini-mart after spending two months traveling around Uganda, Tanzania, and Mozambique. “Do you want tropical fruit or sour colas?” I asked my partner. I may as well have been speaking in Swahili. Although, chances are he would have been more likely to understand me, given the recent location(s) of our adventures.

Lesson #36: South Africa is a beautiful country. But it’s a strange one. Regardless if you come from a country with a history of slavery or apartheid, it will certainly make you evaluate equality in not only the country that you’re visiting but the country you’re from as well.

Lesson #37: Couch-surfing is a wonderful way to meet amazing people around the world. And when it’s not the perfect experience, it sure does make for a great story for future couch-surfing connections, friends in foreign countries, and family back home!

Lesson #38: Become a tissue/toilet paper HOARDER. Don’t underestimate the powers of an individually wrapped wet-wipe. (I hoard these, too!) And never leave your scarf in your hotel room. (Chances are you’ll get cold, or you’ll find yourself outside of a mosque you’d really like to visit, or you need something to wrap around your legs as a skirt when curious eyes haven’t seen a pair of bright white female legs before… It’s always worth tying around your purse strap or stuffing into the bottom of your day-pack.)

Lesson #39: Always pack your camera battery charger in your carry-on. Especially when flying Etihad Air. And when said airline’s third party baggage company cannot locate your lost luggage after an entire week stranded in Istanbul, get on the horn with other airlines and airports to find your own bag. If said airline promises you that they will provide a daily allowance to make up for the HUGE inconvenience, don’t count on being reimbursed for anything. It’s now been six months. It’s safe to say they didn’t (and don’t) care about inconveniencing past, present, or future customers’ travel schedules at all!

Lesson #40: There is such a thing as the 10-Month Travel Slump. This travel obstacle, too, shall pass.

Lesson #41: Buying lunch (or dinner) at the local grocery store and having a picnic can be far more memorable and atmospheric than eating in an overpriced tourist café. Forget the cold croque monsieur and loud Americans at the next table, head to the Seine with a baguette, some cheese and a bottle of wine! Guaranteed to be prettier and easier on your budget!

Lesson #42: Don’t stay with friends in foreign countries unless you really, really enjoy their company. A free place to stay could come with a price that could cost you time navigating into the center of the city, a vegan dinner when all you really wanted was a big fat cheeseburger, or even your friendship.

Lesson #43: Mailing boxes of replacement clothes, shoes, and toiletries to myself in different countries was quite possibly the smartest thing I’ve done in regards to preparing for this trip. As it turns out, wearing flip-flops for eight months straight wasn’t the smartest move for my feet. Reuniting with my barely used neon orange Nikes in the middle of England was glorious. As was indulging in my favorite SkinFood beauty products, refilling my empty cranberry pill bottle, and slipping into a pair of jeans for the first time in a year! Jeans! Who knew something so basic could bring so much happiness? Mail boxes to yourself. If you don’t have friends, find a couchsurfer.

Lesson #44: Don’t get lost en route to, or show up late for your shared ride via BlaBlacar. Otherwise you might find yourself stranded outside of Barcelona when you thought you’d be in a car en route to Paris for the day.

Lesson #45: Traveling without a point and shoot was a bad idea. I wish I had one in addition to my DSLR. Regardless if you’re traveling with multiple cameras, be prepared to buy a replacement camera and/or lens. Travel is hard on cameras and related gear, and accidents tend to happen.

Lesson #46: “Free” Walking tours are an awesome way to see a new city! That is, if your “free” guide is giving tours because he loves his city, country, and quite simply enjoys giving tours. The minute your guide suggests how much you should donate (I’m looking at you, Discover Walks Paris!) as a “tip” give half and research different Free Tours. In our experience, the best guides never suggest a specific amount and we always enjoy them, and tip them the most.

Lesson #47: Trying to couchsurf in Western Europe in the middle of the summer is an exercise in futility. Trying to stay at a budget hostel/hotel/guesthouse is even worse. Lesson learned? Pay more for a better located and higher priced hotel. Otherwise you might find yourself staying in the middle of a bus station in Prague in a room with leaky windows and staff that doesn’t care when you report a drenched backpack after you know you closed the windows before you left.

Lesson #48: I may have friends around the world, but when you’re on the road for as long as we have been, it can often feel like you don’t know a soul on earth. No one emails on the weekend. With the exception of my girl, Mindy, friends don’t comment on your travel blog. Celebrating Thanksgiving (or any American holiday for that matter) lasts as long as your Skype connection, and then you feast on Indian food in the middle of Varanasi. This brings me back to Lesson #2 (Choose your travel partner wisely) or else you better be good at making friends in hostels, or in my case in the middle of the street in a foreign country.

Lesson #49: “How can you afford this trip?” has become my least favorite question to be asked about my year of traveling around the world. I’ve been out of the country for quite a few years, so maybe things have changed… Is it currently acceptable to ask how friends, family, and random strangers can afford their house, their new car, or quitting their job to go back to school? Not that anyone needs to know, but I don’t have a house, a car, or any kids. I worked hard. I saved up. That’s how I can afford this trip.

Lesson #50: You’re going to miss it. You’re going to miss that feeling of awe when you’re standing in front of the Taj Mahal. You’re going to miss the feeling of sheer exhaustion during and after a 24-hour (or more) journey from one city (or country) to the next. You’re going to miss everything amazing and absolutely heartbreaking about your trip – no matter how long, be it one year, fifteen months, or however long your trip is planned to be… It will be over before you know it. And you will miss it. More than you can ever prepare yourself for.

Obviously the list of lessons learned exceeds this little list of fifty… like how I will never take for granted the super sonic internet speeds in South Korea again. How friends or perfect strangers who have bought us a beer (or lunch, or dinner) are acts of kindness that I will never, ever forget. How incredibly humbling it is to be so impatient, cranky, and at times mean and have your travel partner forgive you for being so… human. How incredibly scary the world and its people are not. I’ve learned more than any list can ever spell out, and perhaps the most amazing part of this journey is that I’ve possibly learned more than I might ever even realize.

Day 357: Notting Hill Carnival

Every year, since 1966, The Notting Hill Carnival has overtaken the streets of London in Notting Hill, Kensington, and Chelsea for three days in August. James’ sister, Caroline told us to wear shoes and be prepared for lots and lots of people and partying. Andrew and I weren’t sure what we were in for… so when we arrived, we hesitated – slightly shellshocked by the scene, and then we quickly joined in. We had a fabulous time dancing in the streets, photographing strangers, listening to drum-lines and live Caribbean music, attempting unsuccessfully to avoid mosh pits, as well as unsuccessfully losing James in the commotion! It was great fun! Largely led by the West Indian community, it was quite the juxtaposition of a huge carefree crowd against the meticulously kept houses and storefronts of the area. I think London (and perhaps England as a whole?) has a bit of a proper sterotype for us Americans. The Notting Hill Carnival proves to all there is a completely different side to London that is well worth a look, or in this case, a three-day street party!

Before we made our way to Notting Hill Carnival, we headed to Camden Lock Market. It wasn’t exactly what I was expecting… I think living and traveling in and around Asia for so long has somewhat warped my definition of a market though… It felt more like a sprawling outdoor (and some indoor) mall instead. Very clean and if grungy, it was grungy on purpose, with lots of girls dressed in goth milling about. Regardless, it was still fun to walk around and it felt more London (in a strange way) than biking along the river and through downtown.

Andrew is a fan of the Simon Pegg and Edgar Wright combo, so I snapped a picture of The World’s End as we walked past, wondering (and just in case) if it is The World’s End. A few metro stop detours later we were walking through Notting Hill towards the Carnival. The streets felt empty and you had a sense that there was more going on in other parts of the neighborhood. Which there was. Most definitely. It was almost as if we rounded one corner we went from one extreme to the other almost immediately. It was great fun. Perhaps not the most family friendly carnival, but for us it felt good to let our hair down for once on this trip!

Day 356: Stonehenge!

It would have been smart to look up opening times before we woke up at 5:30 in the morning, to arrive at 6:00 to watch the sun rise over Stonehenge. But, we’re not always the smartest… and we rolled up to Stonehenge just after 6 to discover that we couldn’t get in. As it turns out, you have to book a special sunrise “inner circle” tour (like this one) if you want to do what we were planning on doing for the regular admission fee on our own. James tried to coerce a car full of German tourists to partake in distracting the guards and running for Stonehenge, but they weren’t buying it. Instead, we crawled back in the car, the boys dropped me off to go back to sleep and went in search for breakfast for all. We returned about four hours later and had a more successful visit, even if it wasn’t as successful as we had planned.

Have these stones been modified? Is that a concrete patch above? It seems like a few of the stones had patches on them… If so, I’m not sure how I feel about that! Either way, I couldn’t resist taking one last photo from the expressway as we drove away from Stonehenge and back towards London!

Day 355: An Englishman’s first Chinese fire drill

Contrary to the photo below of our flat tire, this little road-trip turned out to be part of one of my most favorite days in England with James. If you’re perplexed, and haven’t watched the video above… just watch and you’ll see why. How baffling it was to both me and Andrew that James had never heard of a Chinese fire drill before! Baffling and absolutely adorable. “Do we go clockwise or anti-clockwise?” I mean, who even says anti-clockwise? James will be moving to America soon, so it simply felt like the right thing to do… Especially since we were stuck in traffic en route to Stonehenge. We certainly gave all of the cars surrounding us something to laugh at while they waited for their turn to see a bunch of ancient rocks in the middle of nowhere!

In the end, we decided to save Stonehenge for the following morning (to avoid the traffic) and instead headed straight for James’ sister, Caroline’s house in the countryside. Caroline and her wonderfully welcoming husband, Neil have a home that makes me second guess moving to New York City. It was so calm and quiet that I think I can safely say Andrew and I finally felt completely relaxed for the first time in a long, long time on this trip. So relaxed, that Andrew fell asleep while the rest of us had an apéritif and caught up since we last saw each other (at least since Caroline and I saw each other last, as it was the first time I met Neil)! We took the dog for a walk… we took in a beautiful view overlooking Lord Bath’s estate below… and Andrew practiced his British accent with some gentle coaching by James. Usually it’s the other way around, us coaching James, inserting as many “yos” and slang words into his formal accent as we can. Back at “home” (our home for the night) I could barely make it through desert, and snuck up to bed early, if nothing else to revel in the calm before our visit to Stonehenge, reunion with other friends in London, the Notting Hill Festival, and oh right… our transatlantic flight to Peru!

Day 354: Portsmouth

First stop in Portsmouth: Fort Nelson. It was here where it was reiterated that I’m simply not into military museums (and preserved forts) but if you are, then I highly recommend going for the free shooting display. Second stop in Portsmouth: the waterfront. The cockles were ok (a bit sandy for my liking) so it’s safe to say that I was much more excited to be introduced to my very first “2 penny pusher.” How gloriously addicting these machines were! Furthermore, I can’t even begin to describe how good of a thing it was that James whisked us away to a local pub when he did, otherwise, I might still be standing there, waiting for that one mountain of pennies (pence?) to fall!

Thankfully, it was a gorgeous day to walk around the fort and we cruised through the underground tunnels and the museum full of old artillery, guns, and vehicles, taking everything in simultaneous to continuing to catch up on things since we last saw each other over a year ago. James and Andrew tried to get me to compete against a handful of little ones in an obstacle course (that was for children only) but I refused, assuring them I would win. Once the guns were blasted, we made our way to the waterfront where James made us try cockles and then we camped out at some 2 penny pusher machines until he recognized he had introduced us to a game that could possibly destroy our daily budget (even though it only cost 2 pennies to play). We quickly headed to a pub and then home to have some fish, chips, and mushy peas!

Mushy peas? I know, I was skeptical as well, but they’re really quite good! Almost like eating mashed potatoes in a way… I quite liked them and was a little surprised that I had never heard of them before. Does this dish even exist in America? It seems like something that would be in the south… but I definitely haven’t had it in Kentucky!

Day 353: The day we waited for laundry to dry

Seriously. That’s what we did. The day in a minute doesn’t get any more entertaining than watching a cat sit on our bags. Because when we weren’t checking the laundry, we were watching Allan, waiting for him to do something weird. (He is a bit of an eccentric cat.) 

It was gorgeous, beautiful weather our first two days in London. Until this morning, when we decided to do laundry and let it air dry before we headed south to Portsmouth. Of course, it rained. We (Allan included) stared at each other, and the laundry, until it was dry enough for us to pack it up and go.

Day 352: “What’s a Cornetto 99?”

Day 2 in London was more of the same, except we got to sleep past five in the morning. (What a relief!) Another wonderful homemade breakfast and we were out the door, again on bikes down to the River Thames. This time we jumped off of them and spent a couple hours exploring the Tate Modern before James introduced us to a Cornetto 99!

“What’s a Cornetto 99?” I asked James. He simply smiled with a twinkle in his eye and told me I would find out!

While it’s no longer 99 pence, it’s still delicious and worth every penny (at least once). In Kentucky, my friends would call this a ‘creamy whip.’ In other words, it’s a perfect (almost a cross between whip cream) ice-cream cone with a little cookie sticking out, and some chocolate drizzled on top if you prefer! It’s delicious. Try one the next time you’re in England!

The Tate Modern is – get this – free! Aside from special exhibitions. This is a LOT and more than enough to keep you entertained. Andrew and James headed up to concentrate on one exhibition, while I sprinted through several just to see what was there. My favorites included the Joseph Bueys photograph on canvas, the room full of Communist propaganda posters (of course), the dimly lit room full of HUGE Rothkos (too dark to photograph) and the Glenn Ligon (America) painted neon light piece below.

It was a great visit, but I have to admit, I was a little bit art-museum-ed out after spending so many hours inside them in Paris. We biked around some more, I got that sweet picture of James biking in between buses and taxis (above), and we stopped off at a few pubs in between. We weren’t exactly the perfect tourists, and I’m sure we could have done sooo much more with our day, but we were still reveling in James’ company, and letting go of the reins for a bit.

Day 351: London immigration at 3 in the morning; not my favorite!

London Immigration: How long will you be in England?
me: A few days, five I think.
Immigration: And then you are flying back to the United States? To teach?
me: No…
Immigration: Where are you going next?
me: (thinking) Peru. Yes. Peru.
Immigration: Don’t you need to get back to school? (I filled in “teacher” under occupation.)
me: No… I’m not teaching right now. I was teaching. In South Korea. But now, we’re traveling. (as anyone with eyes and a brain can tell by looking at the visas and stamps in my passport, which was in her hands)
Immigration: How are you finding your trip? (I thought she asked.)
me: Well, I’m really tired… (as it was in the middle of the night)
Immigration: (blankly staring at me) I don’t care.
me: I’m sorry, perhaps I misunderstood your question?
Immigration: How are you funding your trip?
me: Ohhh. funding. Well, with money. (Clearly confused.)
Immigration: How much money do you have on you?
me: In cash? Well… nothing… (thinking we spent all of our euros before getting on the bus heading to a country that doesn’t accept euros…)
Immigration: What about credit cards?
me: Well, there’s no money on them… I paid them off.
Immigration: You have no money?
me: You mean, what money is in my checking account? Of course I have money in there…

At this point Andrew’s immigration officer came over to my immigration officer’s desk.

new Immigration officer: Where are you staying in England.
me: With a friend.
new Immigration officer: Who is he?
me: His name?
new Immigration officer: Yes.
me: James.
new Immigration officer: How do you know him?
me: We met in Korea. We were teachers together.

By this time, I’m starting to wonder if the rest of my evening is going to be spent in the passport control building. I’m even imagining them inspecting my luggage: full of Haribo gummie candy, a bottle of Absenth, and some pretty well worn clothes that needed a good washing. But suddenly, Andrew’s officer turned to mine and told her that I answered all of the questions with the same answers Andrew gave.

I practically had to pinch myself before rolling my eyes and telling them both we answered the same (and truthfully) because we weren’t terrorists! We just wanted to spend the year traveling around the world! I realized later, when chatting with James and others that they probably suspected we were going to try to find jobs in England. Again, I rolled my eyes. Leave Asia to work in the (technically) E.U.? Sorry friends, but no thanks! I’m taking plenty of chances leaving Asia to work in America as it is!

James’ sister was happy to hear London immigration gave us the run-around. I get it. A run-around is great. I’m all for spelling things out. We have done it before (Israel) but it seemed like a giant waste of time this (very early) morning to mumble non-specific questions and then get frustrated with me when I don’t understand! I’ve also had one too many passport control “officers” and flight attendants look at my old Burmese visa thinking that it is the most important page (with all of my information on it)… so it’s become a challenge for me to know if I should take them seriously or not…

Of course we arrived in London nearly an hour early, just after 5 in the morning. We were exhausted, but once James arrived (with bells on) and we had a coffee, we began to shake ourselves awake a bit. Then came breakfast. A giant English feast of a meal before we hopped on bikes to ride around the city. We stuck mostly along the Thames and I didn’t photograph much, and instead enjoyed the feeling of having a friend again (one we don’t really feel often on this trip) and a friend who made all of our decisions for us! What a lovely break!

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 349: Centre Pompidou et Le Marais

We weren’t supposed to go to the Centre Pompidou today, but it started raining, and we weren’t up to doing a walking tour without an umbrella… So we switched gears and headed to the Centre Pompidou for some contemporary art (a bit of a change from the Louvre yesterday) and then went to check out Le Marais! We went to bum around Le Marais on our own before joining up with another free walking tour (giving Discover Walks Paris a second chance). Let me just say that I’m glad we went on our own beforehand, because again, I was a bit disappointed with our guide, but in the end I was glad to have seen another part of the city that was new to me! I’m already a little bit anxious to explore it some more during our next visit!

Centre Pompidou is a bit of a stain on the Parisian cityscape. It’s a contemporary art museum that was built inside out. I like it. As much as I love how ‘stuck in time’ Paris is, I find this building a nice little reminder of today! I also like the whimsical Stravinsky Fountain and of course, the giant street art (portrait) overlooking the entire complex. Really, what’s not to love?!

We began our visit checking out the Simon Hantai exhibit. There was also a Roy Lichtenstein exhibition going on, but we saw a rather extensive retrospective in Chicago before this trip began- so we opted for a different artist today. I wasn’t as big of a fan of his earlier works- but I really liked his later “pliage” (folding) method. According to Wikipedia: This is when the canvas was folded and sometimes scrunched, covered with paint, and unfolded, leaving apparent blank sections of the canvas interrupted by vibrant splashes of colour. He stated: “The pliage developed out of nothing. It was necessary to simply put myself in the place of someone who had seen nothing… in the place of the canvas. I found it beautiful and in a way, a more methodical approach but in a somewhat similar style of Pollock- another favorite! I photographed some of the works when it was allowed. At the end of the exhibit, I cursed my already too-full backpack and the fact that we were over budget. If I could, I would get absolutely every big coffee-table style artist/exhibition book I could. Maybe I need to be more diligent about adding books to my Amazon list? One day I’ll have a house with lots of bookshelves and coffee tables, right? One day…

We headed downstairs to the permanent collection. We wandered in and out of rooms, sometimes together sometimes separate. I was standing in front of one piece trying to figure it out, when a very nice Sudanese man approached and asked me what I thought of the piece- in French. I was a little surprised, but quickly rebounded thinking how fun it would be to practice my buried language skills. I responded, in French that it wasn’t for me. It really wasn’t. It was a mixed media (wood mostly) piece that didn’t leave much to the imagination. Or maybe it left too much to the imagination and I didn’t have enough of it? Either way, his eyes grew wide and he though I was talking about the museum in its entirety. I quickly reassured him I was only talking about the one piece, and then the small talk began. I wandered into another room. He followed. He kept asking questions, I kept answering trying to ignore the little voice in my head that reminded me how stupid I sounded en Français. And then he asked me to sit down with him.

And it dawned on me that he wasn’t simply chatting to practice speaking French. Andrew was nowhere to be found. He never is, by the way, when I find myself in a position similar to this one.

“Oh… So sorry, I should probably find my boyfriend…” I responded. To which he responded asking why I had lost him in the first place. Then I got flustered and I think I might have said something along the lines of “Oh it’s ok to lose him” giving the wrong impression entirely. Andrew, of course was entirely amused by the story later, especially when I refused to be left alone in a room full of contemporary art.

Maybe the Centre Pompidou isn’t the prettiest building in Paris, but it still has one of the best views of the city from it’s roof and balconies.

Hungry, and nostalgic for our time in the middle east, we headed over to Le Marais to try some of the infamous falafel. I know, not exactly what you would expect to find in the middle of Paris, but maybe that’s only if you weren’t familiar (like myself) with the Jewish influence within the fashion district. En route, we passed this empty laundromat. For some reason (maybe it’s because my Grandmother owned a laundromat once upon a time?) I couldn’t resist taking a picture.

We ate on the street, interrupted only by Andrew freaking out over some pigeon poo running down his back. I couldn’t stop laughing. Had my hands not been full of falafel, I would have filmed it for sure. Instead, he yelled at me to stop laughing and help him clean it up- because obviously, as it was on his back, he couldn’t see it. Stuffed, we walked around, sat down on some church steps and waited for our walking tour to begin.

I was excited to learn more about the fashion industry, as the ‘free walking tour’ website advertised, but it seems as though our guide had other ‘fun facts’ in mind instead. We learned a good deal about the history of the neighborhood, we learned even more about her time going to a high-school in the same neighborhood, but not so much about the fashion industry or influence over Le Marais. I was disappointed. She was sweet, but it wasn’t a great tour, and I fully plan on returning next time to soak up more of this neighborhood and even maybe splurging on a not so ‘free’ walking tour?

Day 348: The Louvre, Tuileries, Champs Elysees, et L’arc de Triomphe

Did you know the Louvre is the most visited museum in the world? I overheard a young boy tell his mother in line that if you looked at every piece for one minute, it would take several days. It makes sense, there are around 35,000 different objects, art works, sculptures on display. Instead of seeing it ALL, we hit my favorites, stopped by the Mona Lisa, lingered for a few pieces in between and made our way out to take in the Tuileries, walk down the Champs Elysees and the Arc de Triomphe!

We took our chances and headed towards the Pyramids (entrance) and lucked out with only a twenty minute wait to get inside! While Andrew read the news, I occupied myself by taking pictures (of course) of the entrance as we moved closer and closer to getting inside.   The Louvre hasn’t changed one bit since my last visit. Except, possibly, again, it felt like there were ten times as many people visiting. It’s a bit overwhelming with different wings full of art, and different levels of modern additions mixing with the old palace layout, and sometimes long halls packed full of paintings from the floor to the ceiling.

While we were there, we couldn’t help but notice the works of Italian, contemporary artist, Michelangelo Pistoletto. I didn’t quite get his pieces, but some of them made for very fun photographs!

Not wanting to get worn out looking at pieces that weren’t my favorite, I dragged Andrew out of one wing and into another in search of “La Victoire de Samothrace” also known as Winged Victory of Samothrace. This may (or may not?) be a bit of a cliché, but it’s one of my most favorite sculptures ever. I think it has something to do with the placement inside the museum, there’s this long hall that leads up to a very grand staircase upon which the sculpture sits upon. It’s Greek, as it’s dedicated to the goddess, Nike, and was created around 200-190 BCE. I mean, think about it, how incredibly old this beautiful sculpture is! Click on the link if you want to read more about it. I sat next to the sculpture and read the information card while Andrew struggled to keep his eyes open. Maybe you won’t be as interested in its history as I am, so I won’t go on and on about what I read (or reminded myself about on Wikipedia) so I’ll let you take care of searching for more information on your own! Usually we aren’t so lucky with our timing, but I just visited the Louvre website and discovered the sculpture will be under conservation from September until the summer of 2014! Plan your visit accordingly! You won’t be disappointed!

We walked through  the Denon wing (I think it’s the best wing) in awe of the art, but also of the crazy (CRAZY!) amount of people. I didn’t even bother trying to get close to the Mona Lisa and instead took a few pictures to show you just how popular the piece is (which I’m sure you’re already aware) and while Andrew tried to get close to the Venus de Milo, I busied myself photographing the young woman visiting in a beautiful kimono.

On our way out, past the inverted pyramid, Andrew pointed out the new Apple store to me. “I told you!” he declared. He had mentioned there being one and I was in denial. But sure enough, it seems since my last visit a mall has been established inside featuring select stores and even some American fast food chains. It felt wrong. Back outside, we walked through the Tuileries, enjoying the green space and (for the most part) lack of traffic in the beautiful public park.

Forgetting just how far the Avenue des Champs-Élysées was, we simply kept walking… and walking… and walking… and maybe we ducked in a store (or two) before finally arriving at the Arc de Triomphe. We were only inside the Arc, well, at the base of it for a few minutes before policemen began blowing whistles at everyone moving us all to the other side of a metal fence set up around the perimeter of the arc. Then a line of heavily medaled military formed and it was apparent that something big was about to go down. 

“Do you think it has something to do with Morgan Freeman?” I asked Andrew, thinking back to when we had been directed to different entrances a few times as we tried to get into the Louvre. There was a film being shot in Paris, starring him and ScarJo.

“Maybe the French are going to honor Morgan Freeman here at the Arc de Triomphe tonight!” I got my hopes up slightly. We waited. And then some older French folk appeared. We started to leave and then saw some movement. No Morgan Freeman. Instead, it seemed like more of a memorial ceremony instead. We didn’t stay long, and instead made our way back towards our little French abode for one more night. Only seven flights up to the servants’ quarters where our gracious (and latest) couchsurfer host lent us her home while she was out of town for the long weekend.

Day 347: Museé D’Orsay, Rue Cler, et La Tour Eiffel

We were supposed to go to the Louvre. Until we discovered the Lion Entrance was closed for the day, and we became apprehensive of the long line through the Pyramid Entrance… so we headed to Museé D’Orsay instead. “What’s in the Museé D’Orsay?” Andrew asked. “Some Degas… a lot of impressionists, but the best part of the museum is the building itself. It’s in an old train station!” I explained, as we walked across the bridge. Afterwards, we strolled through the infamous (thanks to Rick Steves?) Rue Cler and then sat in front of the Eiffel Tower until the wind picked up and it began to rain, signaling it was time for us to head home!

Museé D’Orsay is an art museum that displays collections from 1848 to 1914. But it wasn’t always a museum. Before the 1900 World Fair, the French Government gave land to the Orleans Railroad Company. The Company in turn, decided to build a new railway station where a palace once stood, also named D’Orsay. (Quelle surprise!) Because the location was somewhat in between the Louvre and the Palais de la Légion d’honneur, all involved wanted a station that complimented its surroundings.

Architect Victor Laloux won a competition to design/build the Gare D’Orsay in 1898 and it was completed in time for the World Fair in 1900! The station was in operation for 39 years until the platforms had become too short for the newer, longer trains. A couple years later, a hotel complex threatened to destroy the old station until the Museums of France decided to instead, turn the station into a museum. In 1978, the building was declared a historical monument and it was commissioned to be a museum. In 1986, President Mitterrand inaugurated the museum and it was opened a week later on December 9th.

While I love the impressionist collection the most – and the Opera exhibition as well – I continue to find the history of the building itself (especially the old clocks) more fascinating and worthy of a visit. Andrew asked if this station was where Hugo was filmed, I assured him (wink wink) it was. Please don’t tell him otherwise.

On the top floor, you can enjoy lunch or dinner in a small restaurant in front of one of the huge intact clocks before stepping outside on a balcony overlooking the Seine, the Tuilleries, and even Sacre Cour in the distance.

After the Impressionist collection, you exit the wing facing another giant intact clock. In other words, my absolute favorite part of the museum. If you wait long enough other tourists with cameras will clear out and you’ll be able to get a picture without any of them in front of the clock. I couldn’t resist this ajjumma (older Korean woman- in a visor nonetheless) and her daughter in front of the scene though!

It’s huge, as you can see, and worthy of an entire afternoon. The beauty, however, of revisiting museums in Paris is not feeling the need to see absolutely every work of art inside. We saw what we wanted to see, and after a couple of hours, we made our way out satisfied with our visit and less stressed than most who try to speed through in order to see it all!

We made our way over to Rue Cler, passing Les Invalides, at which point I declared to Andrew that it was one museum I refused to walk through again. I went with my Mom a few years ago, and military museums, even if it includes Napoleon Bonaparte’s tomb, are not for me. If you’re into history. war. armies. Check it out. Otherwise, keep walking (like we did) and head to Rue Cler, or the Eiffel Tower instead!

Rue Cler, was a result of my recent Google search for what to do in Paris. Like I said before, I wanted to mix as many new things into our itinerary as possible, so when I found a Rick Steves’ article all about Rue Cler, I thought it would be fun to walk through! We weren’t the only ones, as I saw others with laminated Rick Steves’ Guidebooks stopping in front of the same stores we were stopping in front of, reading the description. It was fun and felt like we were on our own walking tour, one that we could easily pop in and out of shops for fresh veggies (i.e. more avocado) and fresh pastries and a baguette for dinner later! I’ll let the pictures do the talking, and if you’d like to read more information about each shop or the street itself, click on the link above and read what Rick Steves has to say about it!

And then, only a few blocks away, we found ourselves standing in front of La Tour Eiffel. In English, obviously, The Eiffel Tower. We stopped to take pictures, we sat to eat our apple tart, and when we were too chilled to linger longer, we started walking closer arriving underneath the tower just as it started sprinkling rain down over the lines and lines of people winding around the bottom of the tower waiting for their turn to see the view from the top. I was grateful Andrew didn’t care to go up the tower, and instead we entertained ourselves photographing the tower from below.

I know, it’s probably overload, but I couldn’t help taking advantage of my zoom and getting some closeup photos. With the overcast sky, I’m sure they’ll look better in black and white, but that additional editing will probably happen when I get myself more in order and put images up for sale!

While walking back “home” we passed the Liberty Flame practically in the middle of a large intersection on the other side of the Seine. According to the plaque at the base of the sculpture, “The Flame of Liberty. An exact replica of the Statue of Liberty’s flame offered to the people of France by donors throughout the world as a symbol of the Franco-American friendship. On the occasion of the centennial of the International Herald Tribune. Paris 1887-1987.”According to one reviewer on Trip Advisor, it stands at the entrance of the tunnel that Lady Diana died. I’m not entirely sure of that fact, but it does make for some interesting speculation regardless.

Day 346: Bonjour de Paris!

Bonjour Paris et Bonjour de Paris! After a quick relocation of our things, we were off! Lunch on the Seine, a tour of the Left Bank (or Latin Quarter, whichever name you prefer) and a leisurely stroll back through the city past the Louvre, the Opera, and a quick duck inside the Galeries Lafayette for some new clothes, some perfume, a Prada purse or two… Or… in our case, the magnificent view of Paris from the roof!

Full disclosure: This is not my first time in Paris. Andrew asked me exactly how many times I’ve been to Paris, and I was a bit befuddled that I wasn’t exactly sure. (Yes, I totally admit that this detail about myself is ridiculously annoying.) There was my high-school exchange trip and the whirlwind couple of days we spent in the city hitting all of the tourist spots in obnoxious tour group fashion. There was my college trip with two of my best friends after the month we spent studying at  L’université d’Aix-Marseille. Those few days I decided to return on my own after galavanting around Germany with a friend after our month in Aix… Then the time I met my Mom for a weekend in Paris before she spent a week visiting me in Prague…

And now, with Andrew. I warned him it had been awhile (six years?) since my last visit. He was prepared for Korean to come out amidst my French. I was prepared to revisit a lot of places. And we both tried to prepare ourselves for how expensive we heard the city had become. I looked up a vast amount of alternatives for us to do in addition to the usual (museums, Eiffel Tower, etc. etc.) so we would both be happy and off we went!

“Well, that’s certainly new to me!” I responded as we stood on one of the bridges overlooking a man-made beach. We later learned, Paris Beach, or Paris Plages is an artificial beach built every summer for locals and tourists alike! How fun! Instead of lounging, we went to the opposite bank and had lunch on the Seine. I have to admit, it doesn’t get any more French than sitting down on the bank of the Seine with a baguette tucked under your arm and cheese, fruit, and more stashed in your backpack. I’m sure the French would have tsk-tsked us for having coffee instead of wine, but hey, we tried!

Our plan was to meet outside of Notre Dame Cathedral to go on another free walking tour of the Left Bank with Discover Walks Paris. (My mom and I stayed in a hotel on this bohemian side of Paris, but I didn’t know a whole lot about it and thought it might be fun to start our visit here!) We had enough time to check out the church before the tour started, but after seeing the loooong line to get in, we enjoyed the view from the outside instead. I was a little taken aback at the crowd- I’ve been inside the church not only as a tourist, but for a mass!  Where did all of these people come from? From what we heard, clearly they were all from North America- and it was weird. We were surrounded by tourists in Istanbul to the same extent, but it was a much more international crowd. Not so in Paris. I’m pretty sure everyone spoke English.

The Left Bank Tour started with a friendly and handsome Parisian tour guide, and we were immediately led across the bridge to the Left Bank right smack in front of Shakespeare and Co. bookstore. It was here where many famous writers hung out, sometimes just to write, sometimes to sleep, sometimes both. But more on it later, because Andrew and I knew we were going to come back and hang out a little inside rather than just in front of the shop in a big group.

Fun fact: Paris parks are awesome. Not only can you do whatever you want in them (eat. drink. sleep. work.) there is free wi-fi. Pay attention other international cities. This is a remarkable thing to offer, and chance are you can afford to provide the same amenity to your visitors!

We walked through streets with leaning buildings that we were told was done on purpose. Otherwise, at a right angle, the buildings would collapse due to the soil below. It’s a bit interesting because when you’re standing in the middle of the street, it’s not nearly as noticeable until you’re looking at it from the end and then you can really tell the difference!

Quick tip for when you go to pick up some cheese to go with your baguette: pick a shop that has a “Meilleur Ouvrier de France” sign. This store clearly won a competition and was voted the best of France! Similar signs will be on other shops selling bread and meat!

We did a quick re-enactment of Cyrano, walked past the Sorbonne, took a group picture, and then our guide bid farewell- but not before he suggested we give 10 (or maybe it was 20?) euros each as a tip. My eyes grew wide. Whichever amount it was, it seemed a bit ridiculous and after doing countless tours around Europe on this trip, I somewhat apprehensively looked around to see how much other people were giving. For the record, Andrew and I usually give somewhere between the equivalent of $5.00-$10.00 for an hour and a half tour. This tour was barely 45 minutes, and 20 of those minutes were our fellow tour members re-enacting Cyrano on the sidewalk! I saw one American (he was from Chicago. Gold Coast.  – I asked.) whip out not only 20 euros but an additional $10.00 bill to give from his family of four and I was somewhat shocked. With over twenty people on our tour, this dude made a killing. Not with any help from us- as we gave our usual amount…  But if everyone gave what he suggested… who needs a 9-5 when he can take advantage of first-time “free-walking tour” attendees and work less than an hour a day in Paris!

The BEST “free” tours are the ones who do it for the fun of it. Not for how much money they will make at the end. Furthermore, the best guides are those who don’t even suggest a specific amount! If you find yourself on one of these free tours, a great introduction no doubt, but certainly not the best we’ve been on- don’t be pressured into giving anymore than you feel is a worthy amount. Consider how long the tour was. Consider how many people are on it. Consider how much you learned. But definitely don’t consider their suggested amount. It’s undoubtedly inflated, and if anything, it makes me want to give less!

Now, about Shakespeare and Co. Aside from hosting the likes of Hemingway and more, the shop continues to be a bit of a refuge for writers and readers alike. Our guide told us about work-exchange positions that the shop offers to travelers. In exchange for a few hours of work each day, and the commitment to read at least one book per day, the shop offers free room (and maybe board? I’m not sure) to the lucky participant. I asked the guy standing at the door supervising the line (yes, there was a line to get into the shop) how he was enjoying his position. He said it was great. I asked how I could find out more information about it and he vaguely told me to ask at the desk. On our way out, I did just that, and the girl behind the register vaguely told me that the woman in charge was busy (she was right behind her and I’m fairly certain she heard our entire conversation) and that I should stop back in later. I asked if there was any information I could put up on my blog about our trip around the world and the girl responded…

“Well, you just have to come in and talk to her, she has to get a feel for who you are in person…” and she smiled, signaling the end of the conversation.

“That was weird…” I said to Andrew on our way out, relaying the conversation to him.

“Unless, she recognized me from the security camera taking pictures in the forbidden to take pictures area upstairs…” I wondered.

Sorry, Shakespeare and Co., but I couldn’t help it. For the record: another girl was taking pictures and I asked if we were allowed, she shrugged, and continued to take her own pictures. Why shouldn’t I?! Also, I don’t exactly understand your rule. I didn’t use flash. I wasn’t disturbing anyone reading (not even that dude below, who I super sneakily photographed in passing, I promise) and the old guy who looked so lovely in front of the window smiled and said something along the lines of “Feel Free!” Don’t you want others to see how beautiful your shop is and how full of wonderful character it is? Maybe I’m just another annoying visitor with a camera, but chances are someone is going to see these photos and know more about Shakespeare and Co. because of them! (Unless you email me demanding I take them down, which I will, albeit a bit sadly.)

Somewhat overstimulated, we began walking back towards our little apartment we were couchsurfing in for the next three nights. I took advantage of my zoom lens to photograph the bouquanists on the other side of the street. These river-side vendors sell old books, prints (new and old) and some artwork. They are lovely.

Walking through the Louvre, we eyed the line outside and debated when we were going to visit. Certainly not this afternoon, not so late. It’s advised to enter through a different entrance, one that is flanked by lions, not through the giant glass pyramid.

We continued down the street, and I couldn’t help but overhear a father point out the Hotel de Louvre sign to his children.

“See that sign? And the window above it? That’s where Mommy and Daddy stayed and we have a picture right at that very window!”

I thought it was the sweetest thing. I whispered what I had overheard to Andrew and turned around to point the adorable family out. The father was taking a picture of his family. I cursed myself for not sticking around to offer to take a picture of all of them together.

Galeries Lafayette. We walked in at first and I was sure we were in the wrong location. And then… we found the atrium and I knew we were in the right place. How unbelievably photogenic is this store? I know, I know, you’re probably channeling my mother singing “Material Girl” to me, but I couldn’t stop taking pictures! Even the top of the dome, outside was interesting to me. The lines. The behind the scenes of what everyone else was concentrating on drew me in. Andrew was beyond patient (as always) while I went from window to window getting as many unique angles as I could.

And then we found ourselves on the roof. Another new view to me. I had never been here before! I always thought the best view of Paris was from the Georges Pompidou Museum… But now I think we have a fierce contender. We were there right around dusk and it was pretty smoggy, so we made plans to try to come back to capture a more picturesque sky.