Cassis :D

I told Carmen I wanted to go to St Tropez, and she had the fabulous idea of visiting the Calanques in Cassis, a beach about 2 hours away on the train. Worked out perfectly for me, because Nimes was on the way so I got to visit Audrey, and her and I went together and met Carmen and the other American girl on the way at the train layover. So our plan was, arrive in Cassis, walk about a mile to calanques, hike up the cliff, nap on calanques and read the rest of the day, get tan/burnt, walk back to the train station, go home.

Hiccup numero uno: 

I had my overnight bag with me. Which is like NBD but it’s ROLLY and HEAVY. And I have Nigel. Who is fat. Not only does this make walking the 2 miles up and down curbs and through gravel pathways SUPER annoying and time consuming (and also that’s really bad for my poor wheels!), there is no way I can hike with this thing. So we know hiking is out the window, but we also noticed it would be because this cliff is the HIGHEST IN EUROPE. It’s vertical. Like a million feet. No climbing period.

Hiccup numero dos: 

We have to walk two miles to get to the beach. We thought it’d be a simple like 1 mile walk.. nope- up and down, on or off sidewalk, with rolly polly in the back and it took us 30 minutes. At this point we decide a taxi cab back would be the best bet.

Hiccup numero tres: We.cannot.find.the.beach. Or the calanques. We stop somewhere to eat, all starving and ask the server- how do we get to the calanques? She says you can either take a boat tour or WALK TWO AND A HALF HOURS. No.thank.you. So we’re kinda bumming, but ask her about the beach anyway, she says it’s down to the port, take a right, walk 15 minutes.

Fabulous thing numero uno: We get to the port to look for the beach, and decide we really do want to see the calanques and we should figure it out. So we look around and right away, there’s this little red shack that sells tickets for a boat ride to see the calanques. You can’t hop off and chill at the calanques, but you do get a boat ride to go see three of them for 14 euro. Not bad, not bad at all.

Fabulous thing numero dos: The boat left like 10 minutes after we bought our tickets. How perfectly imperfect would that have been if we arrived right after it left.

Fabulous thing numero tres: The boat ride. We got to sit up front in the open air, and Carmen got to experience her first boat ride. The calanques were beautiful, and definitely set deep into the cliffs and we would’ve taken at least two and a half hours to get there. Good thing we didn’t try.

Fabulous thing numero cuatro: We found the beach. RIGHT by the port. Would’ve been hiccup numero cuatro if we had tried to walk all the way to the beach the server mentioned and found out about this beach on the way back. All the women, topless. Young, old, flirting with boys and drinking wine, talking to neighbors, sleeping, eating, playing with children, it doesn’t matter. Women are topless.

No I didn't get a picture of that.

So I've been in the Mediterranean now a good amount of times.

Dangit I wish I would've written that on my Bucket List before I did it so I could scratch it off.

Crap, what happens when I'm done with my Bucket List?

Other pictures of the Calanques :)

Mini Recap

My first day taking the tram all the way to work, although Fred dropped me off at the tram station so I don’t really have the full effect of leaving from the house, taking the tram for an hour, and bussing to work. But surely it’s not a bad thing if I get to skip that entire process once or twice. So I shall be timing this ride.

In the mean while, let’s recap.

I moved to France.

I moved into a dorm with Rachelle, the girl who randomly spotted me on the train from Paris to Montpellier.

I met Carmen from Chicago, who I hung out with every day.

I went to Nimes to visit Audrey.

Audrey, Carmen, another American girl, and I went to Cassis to visit the Calanques.

I struggled for housing.

I found housing.

I now live in a home with a 13 year old girl, a 10 year old buy and a single dad, who is engaged and likes to spend a lot of time with his fiancée, hence why I am moving in.

So there’s the plot highlights. Now let’s do details.

The past week has been such a blur of transportation and waiting in line and running errands and eating at new places and seeing things right around the corner that you would travel hundreds of miles for. I don’t know how not to be so cliché when I say that Montpellier is like a treasure chest... or a box of chocolates. You never know what you’re going to get. Like the chocolate pudding pie from my favorite sandwich shop for only one euro- totally gross. But the crepe place in the mall that offers hot chocolate and a crepe for 3 euro? Fabulous. I would be gaining 40 lbs a week if I didn’t make a super delicious salad every other night and if I didn’t walk 400 miles a day.

Surprisingly, the only time my knees hurt are when I’m wearing running shoes? But then my feet feel just fine... on the other hand, when I wear flats, my feet are super sore but my knees are fine. I’ll take the sore feet fo shizzo.

A few random stories:

1.     

1. Met up randomly with another assistant (another “Are you Asia?!”) and we were sitting eating some crepes a La Place De La Comedie (which is like the downtown of Montpellier)… so naturally we’re people watching and commenting as loud as we want because people in France don’t speak English (that’s wrong, they do... and we are going to get caught one day)...and there’s a huge ruckus in the corner with some lady shrieking “Papa! Papa!” and squeezing water over his forehead- he’s DRENCHED in sweat- and trying to shove some sort of fruit down his throat. Anyway, I’m looking past a guy who is looking at the same thing and I asked him what was going on and he started SHOUTING AT ME IN FRENCH! From what I could understand, he told me this is for eating not for looking and something something something and PUT HIS HAND IN MY FACE! I couldn’t believe it! You were looking too! Don’t lie! I just ignored him and kept watching. I would’ve had a retort or seventeen if I could speak that fast. I wasn’t as angry as I was like flabbergasted. Woah, dude, relax. This is France.

2.    

 2. Standing on the tram with a dress on. Violated by a homeless dog. Enough said.

3.    

3.  Sitting on the tramway, a man sits across from me… and now you’re going to have to sit next to somebody on the tram, for sure. That’s fine. But I knew from how he was leaning, elbows on knees, that he was going to try to talk to me. Oh and try he did. My French comprehension isn’t perfect. My French druggie comprehension is about null. My get-out-of-jail-free card is “I don’t speak French, sorry” (which doesn’t work when they hear you speaking French earlier)... sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. For sure doesn’t work when they hear you speaking French earlier, or if they speak English, or if they’re drunk or on drugs. So the latter was the case with this man who knew about four words in English. “I love you babeh”. Leaned over and tried to kiss me. A lot. Kissy faces. Carmen bolted and I followed her. Guh-ross. 

More to come, like always.

Last day in French dorm.. new chapter beginning!

Nîmes

Although this post has skipped a few important days, I'm in Nîmes with Audrey now, and figure I could post better about this since it's happening now!


So after our failed train attempt to meet, I decided to spend the whopping 4 euro to take the train 30 minutes to come see Audrey. Got here Saturday morning at 9 am :)

Nîmes is apparently famous for this huge arena where they had bull fights and gladiators. I will eventually take a picture with that.. so I won't write about it til I get a picture with it.

We had pastries for breakfast, of course.. and then had a lovely brunch with some of the other assistants from Nimes.. bought an air mattress for me to sleep on at Audrey's (thanks!) and decided that for lunch we would have to do something fresh with actual vegetables.. 
which was my whole plan for France anyway because I didn't think I'd like the food, because I don't like any food.
Wrong.
Wrong.
WRONNGG
I love French food.

And even Lebanese food, as it turns out.


I would've never had anything like that in the states.
But when in Rome.. That's not right.
When in France, do as the Lebanese do?
Idk, anyway it was good. A great dinner with a whole bunch of assistants, 25 Americans just hanging out in France. Lovee it.








I feel like cool things only happen when Nigel isn't around. After dinner, we walked to a bar but were greeted half way with a huge concert in an opening in some alley way. There were Jamaican performers and dancers who did a heads, shoulders, knees and toes kind of thing, but in French. "Tete, epaules.." and lots of shake, shake, shake. It was so fun! One of the assistants let me ride on his shoulders to get a better view until I got to jump in in the middle of dancing myself. Lots of Conga line cha cha cha dancing. 
No photos but great memory.


And today, we are off to the calanques in Cassis. 
This you can be jealous of.

http://www.france-travel-photos.com/tourism-photo-243-da-provence-alpes-côtes-d-azur-bouches-du-rhône-cassis-calanque-beach-of-en-vau.html

Almost there.. (Post blog)

Let’s pick up from Nashville airport. Not bad here. Nashville to New York, nothing to report. New York airport.. last time with my cell phone and I was panicked. Who should I call? I called my Grandma, but she didn’t answer. I talked to my mom about four times. I called CJ and Megan and Genoa and texted Lauren and everyone I could think of that wasn’t already tired of my goodbyes. It felt VERY real that I was leaving the country.

On the plane, I sat next to a beautiful French-Jewish woman who is a singer/actress in New York. She spent the first few minutes on the phone speaking French, and I was absolutely devastated to realize that I didn’t understand A WORD she was saying. Later I told her so and she told me she was actually speaking Hebrew. Phew. She gave me her card and I got to listen to some of her songs.. check her out!

That flight, although only about 7 hours, felt like the longest flight of my life. Australia with 16 hours had nothing on this. I couldn’t sleep, I was uncomfortable, my Kindle had died from all the Sarah’s Key reading.. it SUCKED.

We landed. Finally. First thing I got to see was sunrise in Paris.

Not a bad start.

I wish Nigel wasn’t stashed away or I would’ve snapped a photo. Sometimes I wish Nigel could be in my eyeballs.

The next thing I noticed was that English was the italicizd, smaller font under all the directions at the airport. Oh right. I’m in France.

I got lost trying to get to the shuttle, dumped over all my suitcases, found some French very helpful and others flat out a-holes.

Kind of like Americans.

Got to my shuttle, where I met a nice trilingual lady with whom I got to practice all my languages. Once at the train station, I dragged all four of my bags up some stairs, to the train where I was supposed to meet Audrey.

THE TIME HAD COME! Audrey and I would emet after months and months of Skyping and planning and building a friendship.

Mais, non.

When I boarded, I thought for sure she’d be on there somewhere so I travelled up and down EVERY.SINGLE.CART looking for her. On my second trip, a random girl said “Asia?” and I expected to see Audrey but Rachelle manifested in my eyes- she recognized my face from our Facebook Montpellier group and was on her way to the dorm I would be staying in as well! And her French was PERFECT. She has a boyfriend here, had lived here for a while.. needless to say I was intimated as hell. Very good to have around for survival, very bad to have around for ego. But she is s kind- eager to share (food.. wash cloths.. I didn’t  bring a towel so she offered her wash cloth for my drying off!) and helpful with French. She even runs in the morning, so we went on a run (okay we walked the whole time because we were kind of lost..) and I praised God that I brought my running shoes last minute even though it put my suitcase over weight.

So anyway, we get to our dorm. 5 euro a night until we find a place, a month tops. Not bad. Our room isn’t super tiny.. thought I had a picture, but I will have to take another one.. coming soon.

Everything is fine but some minor disadvantages:

1.     You have to bring your toilet paper that the front desk provides you (ONE roll) to the bathroom and back with you. Because it will get stolen. Thankfully my room is right next to the bathroom..

2.      BUT down the HUGEEE hallway from the shower. Where you have to HOLD THE BUTTON DOWN for water to come out. Shaving was a chore and a half. It was warm though.

3.     There is a microwave and a fridge that is divided into four compartments, three of which are locked and all smell.

4.     The only place for Wifi is the “kitchen” where everyone gathers (the kitchen is about 15 feet long by four feet wide) to use the same wifi, the same password, that probably doesn’t even belong to anyone still living in this dorm. Needless to say, it’s slow as molasses and frustrating. We’ve been going to McDonalds to use their Wifi.

5.     I live on the third floor.

6.     Okay that’s it.

It’s much like the dorm I lived in freshman year of college (GROSS I say it like it was so long ago). Communal bathroom, showers.. only a fridge and a microwave.. etc. Oh right. Hold on.

7.     Everyone speaks French

My.French.sucks.

Let the record show that at this point, this is only up to September 28th. Sorry! Working on the posts..

Last days in the US (Post blog)

I may have been putting off this blog because I keep thinking I Have to write it in French.

Voila! I do not!

So I must post a little more about Georgia and Nashville.

One more thing about Georgia..

Megan took me to a huge forest that was a botanical garden right around the corner from her house.  This very same garden captured Megan for several hours in her first couple weeks in Georgia.. that’s how large it is, one can seriously get lost. It was bloody hot so I didn’t get great pictures, but I did get a nice one of myself in the bathroom mirror with my super cute lima bean dress on that CJ said I would never wear. Point, Asia. 

Also, I’m pretty sure I picked up some Southern twang when I was down there. I am almost positive if I were there for more than a week or so I would definitely have a drawl.

Now Nashvile..

Well, starts off more about Georgia. I’ve only taken the Greyhound in Australia where it’s actually quite nice. So when I was warned about the Greyhound here I didn’t think anything of it.. oh but NOW I KNOW. All stations stink like urine, smoke and BO. The lady behind me in line asked me where I was going, nice friendly chit chat.. only gawked at the huge scar across her face for like four seconds.. I asked her where sh was going.. to Indiana, for a funeral. Her cousin, who was 17. I asked, only in hopes and wishes, if he was sick. But he was gunned down. I told her I didn’t know Indiana was so violent. She said it’s like that everywhere these days. Am I naïve to think that that’s actually not the case? It took me a while to recover from realizing that her world and my world are so very different.

The man behind me talked on his phone the entire time (although the  bus driver explicitly said after every stop, don’t talk on your cell phone so the whole bus can hear and NO CURSING. Like they said it a zillion times as if this were a serious concern on Greyhound buses.). Maybe the phone conversation wouldn’t have been so attention grabbing had it not been like this.

“No, Carly think that she gon’ keep me from my child just cause my baby girl in prison?! But she be getting out in Six months! We gon’ be a family.. I know, shoot I just got out in December, and I been doin a real good job with my life, ain’t no way she gon’ keep me from my child just cause I got my baby girl Stephanie around..”

Don’t get me wrong, this is not the funniest prisoner encounter I’ve ever had (Per request, I shall post some stories about a sublessor I had last summer who was not only engaged to a convict in prison, but was impregnated by two and dating another on the side... more to come)

Anyway, I survived the Greyhound. I read the entire book called Sarah’s Key, about a Jewish-French girl during the Holocaust.. there was a huge round up of Jews that they call Vel D’Hiv, which took place at a velodrome where races were held. The author makes sure to ntoe that although the plot is fictional, the events surrounding were not. Many people haven’t heven heard of this round up in Paris- I hadn’t but that doesn’t say much about the rest of the educated world- and it appalled me. 4000 Jews were taken from Paris, from French police- not Nazis, and never returned. Although sad, it was a great book.

.

Thank God for the Kindle.

In Nashville, I was blessed enough to stay with a family-friend of Dave’s. Husband, wife and ten-year-old son. Not only did they pick me up at the bus station, house me, AND take me to the air port, but they fed me in between! They took me to Cracker Barrel, a very southern restaurant that was carb filled and superb. And the lady of the house made biscuits and gravy for breakfast! I got to laugh and tell jokes and was very at home with them. Very thankful that was my last night in the US!

Dirrtty South

Actually, I just liked that as a title, but it's not that dirty.

I have arrived in Atlanta/Athens Georgia!! Here's a quick run down!

Packing for a year proved to be challenging.. but thankfully I am small and can pack lots of things ON my body..

And the airport lady let me have seven extra pounds :D

I had to say goodbye to my mom, which sucked, but thank the Lord for iPhones so we can Skype all we want :)

A few delays/packing issues later (by delays, I mean weather delays as well as Asia having to unpack her entire carry on on the plane so that it will fit in the overhead container while the rest of the plane is seated and staring..), I arrived! Let me tell you that arriving in the 82 degree, pouring rain weather of Atlanta, Georgia was not so fun with sweats, Uggs, a sun hat, sweat shirt, and a Snuggie. Interessttingg.



Megan and I went to Cheesecake Factory, succumed to the temptation of Hersheys chocolate cheesecake..
And were VERY tempted to try some walk-in weaves.
That.is.funny.

Mostly I was here to hang out with Megan, but we did get to do some down south things..  Like the Waffle House!
And of course, the waiter gave us free tickets to a band called Stryper (Megan likes to tell people we got stripper tickets..) because we were "cute".
He definitely had to ask us how old we were before giving us the tickets.
One day I will look my age.
That day is not today.

Needless to say, we didn't go. But it was very sweet of the waiter to give us free tickets. Maybe we would have gone if we didn't have other plans..

 Like making chocolate bowls from balloons!!

Found this on a blog during my Stumbling, I knew Megan would try it with me. I may or may not make a mini blog post about how we did that!

Got to play volleyball with a bunch of the neighbors, have ice cream in chocolate bowls and play
Catch phrase.

 It was like my perfect night!!

The night before, we went out in Athens.. and I don't know if anybody knew this, but there are black people here.
IT WAS AWESOMMMEE!
SLO has about .. seven.
Athens has about seven million.

I definitely miss that diversity.
Athens is also the #2 party school in the nation.. and their downtown is amazing, like SLO but bigger.. more people, more bars.. More danccinngg.
Love it!

I also love that the world is so small! I got a Facebook message from a girlfriend from high school I call Grandma, and she all of the sudden was on the drive to see me in Athens! I heard my name at the door "Hi, is Asia here?" and was soo confused- I like having visitors in different states :)

It was great to catch up with her,hear about how life has changed in all sorts of ways in the last 5 years.
But I love that some things have stayed the same :)

On my way to the Greyhound, post soon!

C'est La Vie!

So I have been trying to blog about my last few weeks in the US, but they were so amazing, it may take some more time..
I am so awful at this blogging thing.


If there is one word that could describe my life it would be CHANGE.
All the time.
So, surprise surprise, day before I leave to France, big changes!
.. Change and BLESSED.


I have been debating on whether or not to live in the smaller city I'm working in (Beziers) or in the big city (Montpellier) which is 30 minutes away.. THEN the director emailed with an opportunity to switch and I JUMPED on it.

So "A" is where I was, "B" is where I am, and "C" is the big city! 5 km away!

SO NOowwww, I will be working/living IN Montpellier- WITH accomodation! 


And the new place comes with a lot more: information about when I'll be working (Tuesdays and Fridays), information about what schools I'll be working in (une école de Castries et deux écoles du Crès) and a ride to work! 


Whether or not the accommodation is free, I'm not sure quite yet.. I will be staying in une chambre chez l'habitant.. so living with a family, free rent maybe in exchange for services? We'll see!! Free or cheap, good with me!


My only stipulation: I must be able to have visitors. 



So that lifts my mood quite a bit.. a little freaked out recently about dragging my 200 lb luggage all around Paris trying to find the train station, but it will be juustt fine. 
Sitting in Starbucks in Athens, waiting for the Greyhound bus, then to Nashville for the night, then Paris.

Highway to... :)

Definitely not hell! 

More like highway to Californian bliss.. 

Fun fact: The Highway To Hell is in Australia! Who knew AC/DC is Australian? Besides Australians? Not me!

More fun facts: The Pacific Coast Highway aka Highway 1 (or "The One" as us, ahem, locals call it) continuously pops up in "Things to do before you die" lists everywhere. In fact, BIKE the Pacific Coast Highway is a specific Must Do on bucket lists. And voila, this I have now done! I need to start slowing down on shrinking my bucket list.. I'm only 22 for Pete's sake, I can't be doing this many cool things already.. 

My uncle Dave and I met up at 10 in Paso Robles and hopped on his super fancy Honda Goldwing motorcycle.. 

He had it equipped with mics for us to chit chat the whole way and a cup holder for my beverage! It's like motorcycle first class.

Amazing drive all the way up the coast of California..ah what a DRAG. My life TOTALLY SUCKS. I am sure that I could have thought of WAY BETTER ways to spend my last week in California..

As much as I travel, I forget that we have such cool things right in front of our doorstep.. Speaking of that, Alston & I saw that in Sydney somewhere.. Lesson learned. I don't have to travel to Sydney to see cool things.. but I will anyway!

The best part of the road trip is I could stop WHEREVER I WANTED to take pictures!

                                                

I always wonder where I would go if I were a tourist here on the central coast, and I would definitely want to go see these elephant seals that are always on the shore somewhere up by Hearst Castle. I'm pretty sure they are here all year round.

They're HUMUNGOUS, and sometimes I panic that I am going to hurl myself over the ledge and try to play with them but get eaten by one of them. And then I remember I'm not dumb or impulsive or athletic enough to hurl myself over a ledge anyway.

Sometimes I feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

  I love California. And I can't believe I am going to be doing this exact thing (kind of?) IN EUROPE. Like this trip is in California, a place I've lived since I was 8, and I'm still amazed by its beauty. Europe will be possibly even more beautiful AND novel. Sometimes I feel like life just doesn't ever stop getting better.

The day was pretty overcast, but I noted several times that is much better than sweating on the road. The clouds hung heavy the higher we climbed, but didn't make the scene any less majestic. How blue is that water?!

We had lunch in a ritzy town named Carmel, just north of Big Sur and just south of Monterey. Clint Eastwood used to be their mayor! Should've stayed there and stalked him. Because he's going to die pretty soon so better get that celeb sighting in while I can.. Ate at the Rio Grill, which was delicioso.. and also had a PB&J on the menu for TWELVE dollars. Half of me wants to live there if everyone who lives there can afford that, and half of me wants to never go back if everyone who lives there can afford that.

Dave is a wealth of knowledge about all things history, so I learned some fun facts today about California. For example, tuna wasn't known as an edible fish until the late 1800s. A cannery in San Pedro Bay (down by LA) decided to start randomly canning tuna instead of the dwindling sardines, basically out of necessity for filling the empty cans. Why I was so interested tuna history I couldn't tell you, but cool to know that it originated in California. Maybe because tuna is the only fish I actually like.. canned, with mayonnaise, shredded pickles, and cheese. Nummyyy.

Another fun fact: John Steinbeck is from Monterey. I'm not going to lie, the only reason I know who he is is because his face pops up on my Kindle when my Kindle is "sleeping", and he Totally Looks Like Paul Walker.. and Paul Walker is beautiful. So, sorry Mr. Steinbeck, I'm sure your novels were great, but you will have to just face it, you probably made it because of your looks :p

We headed back right around sunset and had a delicious dinner at Margie's Cafe in Paso- I love eating there because my Grandma Dusty's name was Marjory.. Marjory, Margie, close enough.

The sunset was beautiful and made me appreciate being a photographer and an American and a God lover. 

What a great freaking day.

Remember when I'm moving to France?

Too busy reading France books to make a post about anything France-related.

Coming soon.

On This Day In 2010.. Why I Will Actually Start Blogging

Disclaimer: My Grandma doesn't have Facebook (hence the title), so all definitions of Facebook terms may have to be defined and/or explained.


Confession: I don't really know what a disclaimer is.

Facebook is currently doing this amazing flashback aspect where it shows you the status (or statuses for the real FB fans) you had On This Day in 2010. Every time it shows up, it makes me laugh out loud. Because one- I'm funny. And because two- I love remembering those times! I am so thankful that I am addicted to FB so that I don't feel as bad about keeping a diary. But now I feel bad about not keeping a diary for all the things that I didn't/couldn't post on FB.


   Confession: StumbleUpon! has changed my life.


So I have been Stumbling for the past few days, and a recent Stumble was the Top 10 Studies of 2010. #4 is a study that showed that a great way to be happier is to start savoring. Savoring the moments. And not just IN the moment, but AFTER the moment. And for many moments later. (I will note that I'm guessing probably just the good ones). Sitting around and reminiscing IS fun. I used to think that taking pictures was the only way to do that.  And now I realize that blogging can be in ADDITION to pictures. But okayyy, I have these pictures and this blog..

I used to battle with
                              What
                                       Does
                                                It All MEAANNNN???????


Like if I go travel the world, come home in a year and sit down and have dinner with someone who has never been out of California, aren't we at the same place at the same time doing the same thing? So why does it matter what I did last year?

Confession: It matters to me.


Because the things I am going to do this year are going to teach me lessons, open my eyes, and make me happy for the rest.of.my.life.
Or at least as long as I can remember them.

So from now on I will start remembering!

Confession: I suck at routine.


Please help! What if I forget that I want to remember things? And savor them? And be happy all over again for no reason other than I did something cool last year? I feel like I've done so many cool things I can't remember. And I am MOVING TO FRANCE FOR PETE'S SAKE. I am going to do sooo many cool things!! What if I feel like I don't have time to blog every day? (Okay I WON'T have time to blog every day, maybe a few times a week?) I need to think of future Asia, who will hopefully thank the past Asia for making her remember the moments.

Sigh. Blog of the day.

Confession: 22 is more than one year older than 21.


Lauren (I asked PERMISSION this time to put someone's name in here!) and I tried to go downtown tonight. Walked into one of the three bars we go to, 10:32. Nobody there. Like literally. Said hello to bouncers and bartenders. Left out of embarrassment. Walked to used-to-be-favorite-bar-now-Mexican-restaurant-pretending-to-be-nightclub-but-not-really-at-all. Nobody there either. Got a water. Went back to car, went to favorite coffee shop, got a hot cocoa. PLAY YAHTZEE. One hour later, return to the first bar we tried. See five people inside. Walk to car.

Laugh about days when we used to go out at 10 o'clock like 3 nights a week, having been ready for an hour, when downtown was popping right away, and we were sweating by 10:30. Now we get hot freaking cocoa until 11:30. Reminisce about being 21 and how being 22 for some reason feels a lot different. Decide to make blog so we can remember this random night in the future. Lay in bed at random hotel and do just that.

Blossom Where You Are Planted

And I am doing just that. Sort of. No blossoming in Australia. Not enough sun for this flower. Now I am back in California and lovving the sunshine. (Read: Loving the inside of my office, loving my big bed, loving Kreuzberg cafe, loving watching the Kardashians just KNOWING that there is sunshine outside)
I have been so worried about getting back to California and taking advantage of California that I haven't really put my head into France.. yes, yes I will blossom there, but I need to get the plot and soil and seed ready!

After G decided not to go to France- which is heartbreaking but easy to understand- I decided to ask my Montpellier group if anyone wanted a travel buddy. And voila, insert Audrey, beautiful dame from Chicago, a few Skype dates later, and we're friends and planning fabulous trips around Europe. First trip..

Uh yeah. Can you see all those places we are going? Milano, Venezia, Budapest, Auschwitz, Prague, Munich, Zurich, Lucerne, Bern, Geneva, Lyon.. ahh. I really wanted to see Auschwitz, and look how perfectly that fits in. I am really excited to be diving into the places that aren't super typical Europe (i.e. Paris, London, etc) although I will definitely be doing that too. We only have about a week and a half to do it but it will happen. In the planning stages now, and Audrey is spearheading the whole thing which is AMAZING because usually that's my job. At this point I am totally okay with being delegated jobs like finding out traffic laws in different countries. My uncle was just telling me that in Italy if you pass a car, you have the right of way opposed to the cars in the oncoming lane. Whhaaaa? Can you imagine seeing a car coming toward you at like a zillion miles an hour and YOU have to pull over? So we really have to look into that. Hostels, parking, car rentals, etc. All gotta be handled. With plenty of time to pull over for some photog opportunities.

ANNDDD. The road trip isn't even the best part! (Okay well maybe it is) My mom and dad bought me and Audrey BRITNEY SPEARS TICKETS for her concert in Montpellier. Happpyyy biirrthdayy too mee! (Birthday is on Thursday. Twenty freaking two. Gross.) How lucky am I that Britney Spears would come to the town I am living in? She just knew, I know it.

Things I need to do before I go:
Find a place to live
Plan lessons
-purchase items for lessons
Brush up on my French
Figure out the transportation system
Pray that God will give me five thousand dollars so I can rent a car all year :D

Man, oh man those will be no small feats.

But for now I will blossom where I am planted, which is in CM's fabulous house, with some E! News and folding some KK letters. Life is gizzood.

How To Get Off The Plane Earlier Than Everyone Else (this may be trickier for males)

15 hour flight. 2 big bags- one 35 and one 50 lbs- in addition to one backpack and one rolly carry on.  Without a doubt more than my body weight. I land in Sydney at 6:35 and have to be on the Greyhound bus to Jindabyne at 7:35. That’s one hour to get off the plane, wait for the bags, go through customs twice and somehow transport me and the bags to the busstop, wherever that may be. After Gen’s disaster with her bags and having to pay for an emergency flight, I decided  I would take no risks and I would get off that plane as soon as possible. I ran through a few possibilities with my mom and Megan Irene.. we found the perfeccttt onnneee.

So I slept through most of the flight, Hallelujah, Kindled the rest, and chatted with my nice fatherly neighbor for some too. He was a lawyer for some mad scientist who has the most US patents ever and makes him travel all over the world. Also a photographer! Anyway, about 30 minutes left on the flight and it’s acctttioon time. I am sitting one seat in a four seat row, and friendly neighbor Joe* (didn’t actually get his name) was on the aisle. Ask him to get up, wait in line 10 minutes for the restroom. Ticking time bomb. Actually, probably shouldn’t mention bombs and airplanes at the same time.. So I use the restroom (they call it toilet here, like all signs say “Toilets” with an arrow, or whatever. I think that’s gross) and promptly find a stewardess. I contemplated for at least a few minutes on whether I should approach a woman or a man, but when it was crunch time, the female was just there and I was running out of guts.  Before I approached her, I flipped my class ring over on my left ring finger so it was just a silver band, then in my best distressed voice I said “Excuse me, hi, I’m sorry, I’m pregnant and going through a really bad morning sickness spell. Is there any way I could get off the plane early so I could use a bigger restroom?” (add about a bazillion “um”s and “or something”s to that). She immediately propped me against a wall, asked me if I was feeling dizzy, if I needed water, ginger ale, etc. I politely accepted, but told her I wasn’t feeling dizzy. She asked me how far along and I told her 9 weeks, hopefully scientifically that’s enough time to have morning sickness, and is definitely not enough time to show. And then I calculated it out that I’d be due in January-ish, in case anyone asked. So even though I told her that I wasn’t feeling dizzy, she noted that I was rather pale and asked “Are you shaking?” and I responded with a “Um I guess so!”.. Yeah I was shaking, I’m lying like a bum! But thankfully my lying physical responses match seamlessly with post-morning sickness symptoms. So she escorted me to my seat, asked Joe to scoot over, because “This young lady is feeling a bit sick, and we’re going to put her on some oxygen”. OMG. So I have to sit there, next to guy I’ve told my whole life story to, including future plans about moving to France and going to grad school and EXCLUDING any baby plans..  and he wedges the big ol’ fire extinguisher- like oxygen in between us, holds my water, etc while I have this mask over my face for no freaking reason. I guess I was shaking, but had I stopped lying then I wouldn’t have been shaking anymore! But anyway, oxygen was free so eh who can complain? (Although one 3-year-old walked by and nearly started crying at my stupid mask). I don’t actually think the oxygen did anything, the stewardesses kept remarking on how small I was and that the mask wouldn’t fit over my face. Goooddd, now I feel extra secure for a plane crash. So they keep me on the oxygen for about 10 minutes, and I try not to seem too cheery that they actually believed me, because afterall, I did just get sick. After about 10 minutes, the manager comes to me, a ncie burly man, and tells me that his wife had sickness from day one to birthing, and he just can’t sympathize more and how far am I along, etc, etc, and they will have a buggie (wheelchair) for me, so I can get off as early as possible, zoom through customs, and get to my bus (I don’t know when I mentioned the bus leaving in an hour, which I feel like was a bad move, possibly exposing my intentions on having fake morning sickness- but they didn’t know it was fake, duhh). Joe asked me how far along I was, thankfully didn’t ask me how the hell I was planning to travel the world and have a baby at the same time because I know it’s possible but I sure didn’t have an answer.. All the men here get super gushy talking about morning sickness.  Joe and his wife have three children, he remembered fondly of his wife’s vomiting days..?.. and when I was asked to move to the front, he carried both my bags to the front, because ya know I shouldn’t be lifting heavy things. So they move me up front in between an old man and old woman, the old woman who was also feeling very sick. Again I had to go through the whole story and she reminisiced about her and her husband 53 years ago being in a cinema and having to push people out of line because she was going to vomit, and she said “Ya know when you’re feeling that way, you just don’t CARE!” which meant that I had to start vomiting to secure my story, because the only thing that would keep me from doing so would be embarrassment, but apparently you just don’t care. She also told me that everyone can sympathize but no one really knows unless they’ve been through it and I said “Definitely not! And now I know!”. Psshh. Also, did I mention this whole time that I am actually feeling sick? I have to fake it and look it and now my body’s believing it. Downside, I guess. So after running to the bathroom and coughing and spitting in to the toilet (geez Louise) they announce over the freaking intercom that there is a young lady on board who is very sick and to please have patience while the crew tends to her first, and that the crew understands everyone has busy lives but to please be patient and respect the injured. Emmbarrasssiinngg. Thankfully, the crew manager didn’t actually get me a buggie, because that would’ve taken an eternity, but let me out “Even before first class!” and told me whre I could find a car to the baggage claim. So I half ran, half sickly walked (it’s aobut 6:45 and I have to be checked in at the bus at 7:05) to the end of the walk, to find Frank who could give me a  ride. Told him my spiel again, this time in half tears because I feel sick and am so worried I won’t be able to get to the bus. He gets me down, and walks me all the way to the front of the first customs line and says I can make my bus no problem. So I wait there, while watching the Austrlaian police passport-checkers try to hand signal “Ma’AM I NEED YOUR PASSPORT” to a lady who only spoke Croatian. Then I do the same half run half sick walk to the baggage claim, where it still takes an eternity to get my bags, which are so freaking massive that I said a huge thank you to my mom for thinking of bungee cords because I would not have been able to carry the carry on bags as well as the big ones, so I strapped them to the top. I found a not-so-nice airport worker, gave her my pity schpiel, and she finally gave me a stamp that let me skip the other huge customs line, so I ran right through, found the bus stop (not after losing complete feeling in the arm carrying the big bag, which took me about 20 minutes to recover feeling as well as fist capability), where there was NO FREAKING BUS. The bus was about half an hour late. And I laughed. I knew God was going to get me back for this somehow, for not having enough faith in Him and His timing to get me to Jindabyne that day if need be. So He just let me go through all that, then let the bus be late so I would’ve caught it had I not been pregnant anyway. Silly me. But I’d probably do it again because it was just a lot of fun.