Back to the nonexistent state of American peasanthood

15 museums, 29 European cities, 13 countries, 100 hours in various trains, buses, and planes, and 6 weeks later, I'm back in America.


A normal American peasant. Except that America never had real peasants so I probably can't even claim that lowly title. I'll try to forget that fact by recounting my last few days, which actually weren't super exciting except for the fact that I was still in Europe.

I took a really long bus ride through Poland to Berlin on Sunday and decided it was okay that my bus days were over. I had a nostalgic 23 minutes at the Berlin Südkreuz station and then took a train to Wittenberg.

You may wonder why I chose to go to Wittenberg. Unless you are educated in both the life of Martin Luther and my own historical fancies. One of my history professors is working on a book on Martin Luther for the 500th anniversary of the Reformation and I get to help him do some of the research (meaning he sent me home with 15 hefty German books in German to read and find useful information), so I decided it would be a good idea to visit the city where he taught, preached, and lived.

I found a hotel online and knew nothing about it except that it was really cheap, which usually does not bode well for quality but I was very pleasantly surprised because it turned out to be a cute little old lady's house where she rented out three of the upstairs bedrooms to people. Which meant it was like staying with your German grandma. The only weird thing was that the shower was in the middle of the hall. No doors or anything--just the shower. But it had a curtain so I shouldn't complain. Aforementioned grandmother figure even made an adorable breakfast well decorated and tasty to boot.

Now that I've bored you with hotel descriptions, I will also mention that the rest of the visit was also great. I went on a tour of the city and learned a lot about Luther, spending a fair amount of time in the museum made from his house (which only survived the Soviets because Peter the Great had visited the house and signed his name on one of the doors--sweet, yeah?!). Wittenberg is one of those little cities that is really great to visit because it's not too big and very picturesque. I was quite satisfied.

After my day there, I took a train to Leipzig, where I was nostalgic for only 4 minutes before taking another train to Frankfurt and then to Altenstadt, where I was reunited with my beloved Sister Meisenfelder (who just goes by Janine these days). I got to go to the temple with her and her kind father took me to a Celtic museum in a neighboring dorf and showed me the beauty of the German countryside while Janine was at work.
Oh and I bought a boat load of chocolate.
Okay, not a literal boat. Not even a suitcase full actually.
But more chocolate than I could safely consume in a week period.

So I don't know if that makes me an American peasant with a dowry. Except that I don't think the chocolate will last until I get married (though if I'm still single in decade, I shall have to return with a bigger, more sustainable chocolate dowry) and I think we already established that I can't be an American peasant since they don't exist.

So yeah. America.
Hm.
Anyone want to go to Germany for Christmas?

The middle.

Endings are always strange things. But things actually keep going. Those little endings are really just parts of a great middle. So the end of my study abroad is not really an end, just a bright spot in the middle of things, a bright spot that hopefully will continue to lighten more middle in my life.

We went through four counties in two days at the end of this middle. Which means we spent a lot of hours in our lovely bus. We drove from Vienna into Slovakia and spent a couple of hours wandering around Bratislava, which was not only a needed break from driving, but also an interesting glance at central/Eastern Europe. I was back to being clueless about the language again, but I suppose I had my glory days already. 

A couple more hours in the bus brought us to some caves in the Czech Republic. We got a cool tour of them, wandering into a mountain and getting to take a cool but mildly creepy boat ride through the caves as well. Sadly, that was our only taste of Czech because our bus moved quickly (though actually kind of slowly) into Poland after our expedition.

We arrived in Kraków pretty late at night and then spent the last full day of our program at Auschwitz. I know, we just waited until the end to do all the fun stuff. I'd been to two other concentration camps before, so I knew what kind of feelings and images to expect, but they were still difficult. The holocaust is one of those heavy things that is hard to think about but important as well. Weighty thoughts and feelings are kind of painful and uncomfortable, but so valuable. I tried to stomach those emotions and try to feel it all, but I don't think it's possible to take it all in. The suffering is too big, the story too great, my understanding of the world too small. No matter how many camps I visit, how many history books I read, how many primary sources I review, I will never be able to comprehend the magnitude of this tragedy and the intensity of individual suffering. All I can do is remember and honor those who perished and those who survived and commit myself to opposing evil in any size. 

Our farewell dinner after Auschwitz was appropriately a little more somber than most of the other group meals we've had together, but it was still nice. I am surprised by the many good friendships and associations I have made and feel very blessed to have been surrounded by honest, intelligent, and adventurous traveling companions for the past five weeks. 

A few people flew out Saturday morning but most of us went to visit the Jewish ghetto in Kraków--the weight of the previous day still upon us but more understandable. We saw Schindler's factory and looked at a synagogue and then awkwardly went our separate ways in the city, not knowing exactly if people would look or act differently in America when we run into each other again. A few of my friends and I needed something light-hearted so we watched Frozen, contemplated the sunset from our porch and tried to make sense of the adventures we've had. It was one of those perfect moments. 

Those perfect moments that I realize keep coming. In the middle of it all. I think I've expressed this before, but even though I can't hold onto each perfect moment, I find comfort in knowing those moments will continue to come. At every beginning. At every end. And most of all in the middle. 

Call it Culture

In my head, Vienna is one of the cultural capitals of the world. Appropriately so, I feel more cultured than yogurt alter a few days there.

Before we get to Vienna though, I should probably say some words about my third trip to Salzburg. Because the first two times weren't great enough apparently. But on this visit, I found out what was missing from my previous trips to Salzburg--going to a marionette show! And not just any marionette show, but the Magic Flute! Admittedly, I had my doubts about going to a puppet show and could initially only think of Mr. Ratburn from Arthur when I thought about puppets. BUT I was very pleasantly surprised and impressed and I enjoyed the performance greatly. The marionettes looked just like real people on the stage and I forgot how much I love the music from the Magic Flute so it was a happy evening.

We went to church in Salzburg and it was so fun to be back in a German-speaking ward. I got to talk to an investigator who is getting baptized next week and I was du-zing other young adults up the wazoo now that's it's legal and making small talk with everyone (which is not my forte in English but...I just wanted to speak German!).

We visited the sound of music garden and also went up the castle that I've gone up every other time I've been there but hey, it's tradition!
Then we had a very Austrian meal at a restaurant and ate delicious goloush with knodel. We started with a sauerkraut soup, which was also yummy. Except that soup is usually better when eaten and not worn. One of the waitresses accidentally dumped a bowl of hot soup down my back. Which was unfortunate for many reasons. A.) soup is to be eaten, not worn. B.) clothes should smell like fruit or soup, not like sauerkraut. C.) skin should stay away from hot liquids. Oh, and did I mention the smelling like sauerkraut part? Yeah, that was lovely.

And you probably think that things don't get lovelier than that, but then you probably forgot that we went to Vienna the next morning and yes, it was even more lovely than soup on my back. On the way there, we stopped by The Eagle's Nest back in Germany. You know, the gift of a mountain house that Hitler got and was used as a Nazi meeting point. It was really foggy though so the view that Hitler and his party friends would have enjoyed was denied to us, but that's okay.

I had a hearty meal of 1000 grams of quark with strawberries for lunch and then we visited a salt mine. Which might sound kind of lame. EXCEPT IT WAS SO FUN!!!!
They gave us professional looking mining jumpsuits and we got to take a little train-type thing that was probably used as the model for Gringots in Harry Potter. We went down some really tall slides into the depths of the earth after the train-cart and then we sailed across the lake of the undead, probably used as the model for the lake Harry and Dumbledore crossed in the sixth Harry Potter. Basically what I'm saying is that Harry Potter was actually a romanticized story of a salt mine. Gah it was so great.

We had to leave Harry Potter world so we could go be cultured in Vienna though, where we visited the Belvedere and Kunsthistorisches museums, walked around the Schönenbrunn palace, and attended the opera Don Giovanni. I liked the opera, but I got kind of figdety at the end and just wanted people to stop singing about how sad they were and just resolve their grief through Giovanni's death, which came a little late.

After feeling more enlightened and educated (and by that I mean every time we visit somewhere new I realize how ignorant I really am), we did something just regularly fun.
Meaning going to an amusement park! Europe's oldest that is. Prater amusement park. We went for a spin on the really old Ferris wheel and we thought about Orson wells speech in The Third Man. Then everyone ran all over the park trying to figure out what to do.

Except this poor sheltered girl had only been to two amusement parks and thus was at a loss for  how the system works. I told myself I'd go on at least two rides, so I was coaxed into going up a really tall swing, which I immediately regretted because oh yeah, I don't actually like heights unless I get to climb them myself. But I survived that one in order to go on a crazy psychedelic spinning machine that made want to die and laugh hysterically at the same time. You know, that weird feeling adrenaline gives you.

I'm feeling a little sad that this wonderful adventure is almost over--it had been everything and more than I dreamed it would be. Hot soup and all. Call it culture.

German Love

Be still my heart.

I've been excited this whole trip to go to German speaking lands. However, I did not realize how much my heart would patter the first time I heard German once we reached Switzerland. Oh, it is pure love.

We drove from Paris to Lausanne, stopping by the Fontenay Abbey to break up the long day in the bus, which added a needed amount of peace away from the bustle of the city. I once again contemplated becoming a nun so I could forever live in such a serene place but the whole being a Mormon thing kind of throws that plan out. Lausanne was lovely, though I liked the German speaking parts of Switzerland better (remember that I'm biased). We popped in out pretty quickly, though I was able to get in a beasty hill run with my runner partner Jess--those Swiss know how to do their hills. 

We drove through Switzerland, stopping at an old-fashioned traditional cheese factory where we got to gush over cute goats and cows with their precious bells as we ate delicious cheese they had undoubtedly helped produce. 

Though the cheese was nice, it fell second to the wonders that the Cailler chocolate factory held in store for us. Picture Willy Wonka. Then picture Switzerland. Then picture me in a Willy Wonka chocolate factory in Switzerland. If we count this visit as a museum trip, it goes right up there with the Uffizi for me. They had this really cool automated tour with all sorts of dramatic voices and moving parts of the rooms to tell the history of chocolate and explain how it is made. 
And let's not forget the many free samples.
And the many bars of chocolate purchased by infatuated Americans. 

With the taste of chocolate still in our mouths and the weight of it in our stomachs, we stopped by the LDS temple in Bern and talked a little bit about Mormon history in Europe. It looked bigger than how I remember the Freiberg temple, but it had a similar peaceful feel to it. I enjoyed walking around it, admiring the flowers, and being grateful for temples. 
Plus, Bern was out first German-speaking stop :)

I found a couple of other girls who love vegetables as much as I do and we made a super classy salad in Bern for dinner. 
And by a classy salad, I mean we bought lettuce, tomatoes, and dressing, put these ingredients in a plastic bag, shook them, and then used our fingers to eat it. 
#peasantsalad

Our salad gave us the needed energy for the next day though--we left Bern at 6:30am to drive up the alps where we spent the day. We took a series of trains to get up to the top of the Jungfrau, which was way cool. We got caught in the middle of a cloud at the top so everything was all white, which was strange and semi-disappointing but also cool. We hiked down some of the mountain and had some other beautiful trail adventures where I took approximately 767 photos and agonized over picking which ones should go on Facebook. It's been one of my favorite days so far. We stayed in Zug for the night, but we were all too tired to go out when we got there.

We had another long bus day following our mountain adventures, stopping by Neuschwanstein on our way to Munich. I thought that I was happy in German-speaking Switzerland, but once we got to Munich, I couldn't stop dancing around the streets and singing to myself and to the world because it just doesn't get a lot better than being back in Germany. 

Basically I spent my time in Germany drooling over all things German and bashing America (I know, I'm a terrible patriot) as well as trying to think of schemes which would help me live in Germany. We visited the BMW museum and I sat in powerful-feeling cars and we also had a super traditional German dinner at a Biergarten, which was so fun. I just had all those perfect moments that I wanted to hold onto forever. 

On Saturday I got to meet up with my exchange family from when I went to Germany as an egocentric sixteen-year-old. Fortunately, they still liked me and we've been able to stay in contact throughout the years. I had another friend come visit Munich at the same time so I felt very surrounded by German-love (aka Germans who are wonderful and people who love Germany like I do). 

So I have been stricken by a bad case of German-love. Which makes me not want to go home but rather learn how to play the accordion and make a living by playing music on the magical cobblestone walking streets. #ivegotadream

Stop pretending to speak French

My French is better than my Italian, Croatian, and Dutch. I can ask a few questions and order food. Except that beyond my repertoire of memorized phrases, I know nothing, so as soon as someone answers my question or asks me something about my order, I panic and usually say something in German-English with a French accent that gives my ignorance away. So I should probably stop pretending to speak French since there is no way I understand it.
#thanksalotduallingo

I'm not sure if it's my awkward language attempts or mid-travel slumps, but I've been a little less enthusiastic a out France than I thought I'd be. I went to Paris four years ago with my parents and it was like a wonderful dream. We drove from Belgium into France and stayed just outside of Paris our first night, which was probably the best part because it was so quiet. We stopped by the Somme battlefields from WWI on the way the way there and that was also good.

Forced to leave the peaceful countryside where we stayed on Thursday, we bussed to Monet's garden, which was so so beautiful. I loved seeing all of the flowers and smelling all of the good smells (and listening to all the German tourists--Germans are such good vacationers!). Then we went to Versailles, which has been only my bucket list since high school but it was more overwhelming than enjoyable. Granted, I've been to dozens of famous European attractions in the past few weeks so maybe it's lost it's novelty, but Versailles was just so big and gaudy and the intensely decorated rooms were too much for my meager senses and I just wanted to get out to the gardens. Except it suddenly got really hot and the gardens went on for miles so that was also exhausting. We did get a little row boat and spent a half hour in the Grand Canal resting our feet and pretending to know how to steer a boat and that was enjoyable. From there we went to the Musee d'Orsay except as you might have guessed, we were kind of drained from the day and it was already 6pm and remember those twenty museums we'd already visited? So I kind of felt like a zombie wandering around the museum trying to appreciate Impressionism, but ultimately failing.

We did not appreciate any museums on Friday and spent the day instead sweating all of our liquids out while walking around outside in the humid 90 degree weather. We saw the Sacre Coeur basilica and spent some time wandering around the art community by it, and that was possibly my favorite part of Paris--I love the idea that artists can just be real artists and make a living by selling their paintings. Probably because I secretly wish I was an artist (or not so secretly since I just posted it on a public domain).

More highlights from Friday? Seeing Victor Hugo's house, devouring half of a watermelon for dinner to compensate for aforementioned sweating, and discovering a two level grocery store (we probably spent 45 minutes looking at the food there, haha). Oh and I accidentally on purpose bought three bags of lettuce and a bottle of salad dressing for the rest of the trip. #win #ateitall

Contrary to my belief that I would never rise again after going to bed on Friday, Saturday came just the same and my shoes got 16 more miles in of running/walking. We had a street art tour around the city in the morning (who knew that was an organized thing and people gave tours about it?) and wandered around the city during our lunch break (desperately searching for a bathroom for a half of it since Europe doesn't believe in public restrooms). Because of these earlier activities, I arrived at the Louvre a wee bit weary and the museum-feet-syndrome set in but I was still able to enjoy the experience. I still swooned in front of every Napoleon painting and I perused the ancient Egyptian section with pleasure as well. Because once you've seen 652 important paintings, you start to lose interest in the other 987 important paintings you could see.

We got dinner at a French cafe/pub near the opera house and then went to the ballet! Where we were allowed to sit. In tiny little chairs at the back. But it was still wonderful and beautiful. Despite our attempts to look up the plot beforehand so we would understand the ballet better, we were still pretty lost with the dancing mimes, jesters, thieves, and women who changed costume too often to keep track of them. Still great though.

We went to church on Sunday morning and were quarantined from the normal French-speaking congregation in a smaller chapel where someone translated the meeting into mumbled English for us--except I think the real reason they separated us was because they knew we would slaughter their hymns by mispronouncing all the words and singing off key because we didn't know the songs and couldn't hear the accompaniment.

To add some religious diversity, we also visited Notre Dame, Sainte Chapelle and a large mosque, all of which were splendid.

THEN WE WENT UP THE EIFFEL TOWER AT NIGHT AND IT WAS AWESOME! (All caps used to emphasize the awesome-ness of the ascent up in the sky).
The perfect end to Paris (see included pictures for proof).

As long we forget the thirty minutes of desperation literally running around to try to find a bathroom because the only one I could find had a non-moving line of thirty people.
On the bright side, I got to pee on top of the Eiffel Tower (no picture provided).

Belgium and Amsterdam it

Belgium and Amsterdam it.

Amsterdam greeted us with the traditional early summer gift of cold rain. Fortunately I had my trusty umbrella purchased from an African street vendor, who I can't help but love because I taught so many people like them on my mission, and in them I see a Collivan, an Homer, and a Chaku. No one else on our trip really gets it, but I think I'm just forever endeared to immigrants (especially ones that work at hotels because I did that once too).

Anyways. Amsterdam was lovely--we had a very entertaining canal cruise thanks to the audio guide from Ron and Nel, a most-probably fictional couple that just said the darnedest things. Like "this square turned into a different kind of meat market after prostitution became more popular" and "rumor has it this bridge is called 'skinny bridge' because it's narrow" and "remember when your veil fell into the river on our wedding day?"
These things were funnier with an enunciated British accent, awkward pauses, and an audience of sleepy young adults. But a good start to the city :)

We hit up all the good museums of course, including the Van Gogh and Rijksmuseum, the latter of which I really enjoyed. I grew up playing a version of the game Memory with famous paintings and pretty much all of those paintings can be found in the Rijksmuseum, so I felt pretty accomplished seeing the originals (and knowing there was no match). We wandered around the city, looking at flowers and eating delicious Dutch pancakes. We had a tasty group dinner at a nice Indonesian restaurant and whenever we go out to eat at a sit-down restaurant, it is always quite the experience, usually taking 2-4 hours but always grand.

Going to church in Amsterdam actually might have been my favorite part of the city though--it was way too close to my German mission for me to suppress sentimental and nostalgic mission feelings. I just sat listening to the Dutch with a stupid grin on my face, feeling endeared to members and missionaries I didn't know.

We visited the Anne frank house as well and that was really cool to see after having read her diary twice. As we've been driving across Northern Europe, I've been trying to picture what it was like 50-100 years ago--war ravaged, fear ridden, and weakened by total war. Those are hard thoughts to have, but they are important to have. I know I'm not European, but I feel a strong connection with those who fought, those who were left behind, those who were cast out and murdered. My heart grieves for the silent suffering of so many during both world wars and as painful as it is, I don't want to forget their suffering.

These thoughts were also aided by a really touching World War I museum in Yrep, Belgium. We drove there last night and went to a memorial service. We stopped a night in Brussels as well and had a lecture about the EU from someone...important. Stopped in Ghent on our way to Yrep to see the famous altarpiece from the northern Renaissance and that was cool too. Oh yeah. And we took a tour of a brewery there, except as it turns out, none of us drink so that was kind of awkward. #mormonproblems

Basically we've just been galavanting across Northern Europe in our awesome BYU study abroad bus, stopping in small cities to see cool museums and monuments (including one literally in Canada--a part of France they gave to the Canadians in gratitude for their help in the war).

And I just remembered that as fun as church was, my favorite thing we did in the northern lands was actually a bike tour to the kinderdyke. We rode bikes around the countryside in holland for two gleeful hours, saw the windmills (including the noisy inside), had a picnic, and played a game of soccer with our Dutch guides. So much goodness. The bike ride reminded me a little bit of my mission birthday bike ride out in the peaceful German countryside (except I didn't have to climb through a dark field or take a miracle train back home because the Dutch guides were a better than missionary instinct).

Whew. The adventure doesn't stop and the thoughts just keep flying.