Dating in Paris 101

     So I have decided to fully acclimate to the Parisian culture and am playing my hand in the dating game again. I've compiled a few steps to fully ensure that anyone else coming here can do just as I have:
1. Get enough courage to go up to them because only the creepy ones come up to you
2. Try to overcome the language gap by using the little French that you know and many hand gestures
3. Get their e-mail address (yeah its what they do here)
4. Follow up three to four days later and make a date
Apparently that's all you need and they are all yours? No, this probably wont work everytime, but recently it worked for me and now I'm six dates deep with a legitmate Parisian. Many great experiences have come out this relationship in fact. For one, I got to go on a a motorcycle ride around and outside of Paris to see the suburbs. I've also had the opportunity to try a few restaurants and bars that I wouldn't have gone to with just friends. And finally, I was able to have an authentic French meal cooked for me.
      But, unfortunately, relationships aren't based off of what people can do for you. From what I've learned in my last 20 years is that they are based off of attraction, respect, and fluid and interesting communication. And it isn't that that isn't occuring here, it's just that a new element has been added--lack of a future. While many might be upset by that knowledge, I'm not. I didn't come to Europe to find love, there is plenty of that back in Madison. I came for an adventure and eye opening experience, and THAT is exactly what I'm getting, at least for now.

Lions and Tigers and Pickpockets Oh My!

       Yesterday I went to get minutes for my phone (because I'm classy and use a pay as you go) at the Orange store around the corner. On my way I stopped at an ATM outside to get some money for the transaction that was about to go down. I put the money in my pocket and proceeded on my mission. After asking for minutes and finally agreeing on a price with the woman I reached into my pocket and BAM! NOTHING WAS THERE. So I made the line wait while I searched every corner of my purse and coat pockets. Still nothing. Moral of the story: don't use outdoor ATMs in Europe where people can see you put the money away.

Prost or You Will Regret It...

*** Disclaimer: Karneval is a celebration in Germany centered on drinking. If you do not want to read the tales of a LEGAL drinker in Europe, then please stop now, or continue reading and don't judge because even kids as young as 15 were participating.

  Last weekend one of my roommates and I were lucky enough to attend Karneval in Koln, Germany. We stayed with the family of a boy who exchanged at her high school a few years ago so that we wouldn't have to pay for hostels (they sky rocketed to about 100 euros a night during the festival). Well anyways, right when we got to the train station in Koblenz we met her friend at the terminal and then took off on the next train to Koln. We shared some rum and coke on the train, which was apparently kosher because everyone else was doing it and no one was getting in trouble. Anyways, when we arrived in Koln it was an absolute mess. There were these little shot glasses, hot dog wrappers, and paper everywhere--apparently we were no longer in Kansas, or Koblenz for that matter. We walked around for a few hours taking part in random beer stands along the sidewalks and streets. We had more fun watching everyone else and making fun of the their costumes than anything else. We thought we had been out all day, but in fact got back on the train at only midnight.
     The next few days we participated in the celebration in Koblenz rather than Koln because we didn't want to pay for train tickets everyday. We had a great time exploring the countryside and local castles. I wasn't incredibly interested in visiting Germany, but I think that it may have been one of the coolest countries that we have been to yet. Maybe it's because it is so similiar to the most poppin region in the US--the Midwest of course!

Barca, Round 2

     Being that I have been to Barcelona before, I was excited to return to a city in Europe that I actually knew the landscape of. The details of this stop are not incredibly exciting, but here are some of the highlights:
1. The only disgusting hostel we have stayed at since arriving in Europe. Shared room with a dirty old man who didn't zip up his pants topped it off.
2. Opium bar on night two-- met (were dragged into) a group of 6 old Brazilian men who got us into the VIP section and me specifically into the DJ booth. Almost famous.
3. Throwing up in Starbucks from who knows what (still think it was the gelato I had been looking forward to all day)
4. Seeing the spot that my dad and I almost got pickpocketed at on the red bus line
5. Eating McDonalds for the first time in Europe and discovering that it's actually better here than in the US, specifically the Chicken Mango Curry wrap.
6. Returning to Gaudi's best pieces and the market on Las Ramblas

Valencia

      When we got off our plane from Sevilla we were greeted with more 70 degree weather. We found our hostel after a few blocks of walking and quickly deposited our belongings because we were STARVING (it had been like 2 hours since eating, obviously too long...). Because Valencia is where paella was invented, we began our quest for the best in the city. We couldn't find the place that everyone suggested because none of us know how to read a map apparently, and when we finally did it was closed for the siesta, so we settled on a small cafe in a nearby square. It was delicious and fun to introduce my comrades to this new dish.  After a 3 hour nap we went out again with this Canadian from our hostel for tapas and cocktails. We walked around the city until we were exhausted and headed back to the hostel for more sleep because all we do is sleep and eat?.
       The next morning we rented bicycles with the same kid from last night and rode all around the city. It ended up being the best way to see it all, especially because the weather was so nice. We tanned on the beach and played in the water and then continued our ride around the city, it was a nice departure from Paris's recent cold and rainy weather. We bought our bus tickets and left for Barcelona at around 5, with our new Canadian friend tagging along.

Sevilla-City of Oranges

     After checking into our little b&b in Sevilla, we rushed over to the restaurant that we were supposed to meet my two good friends from Madison-Alison and Lauren. We were almost late, but ended up running into them on the street luckily. We grabbed a doner kepab, our new favorite food, and caught up on two long months of being apart. Looking around, it was easy to see hundreds of orange trees. We almost wanted to pluck some and eat them for lunch, but apparently they are really sour right now and aren't great for eating plain, but better in marmalades? We listened to the advice, unlike Eve.
      After lunch we started our Tour de Sevilla with the two best tour guides in the whole city.  Most of our time was spent at the Seville Cathedral, the third largest basilica in the world, and where Christopher Columbus is buried at. Well, let me revise that, only his bottom half is buried there. Then just a block away we were able to tour the Alcazar of Seville. It's this great palace with beautiful gardens, rooms, and peacocks (?). After a few hours of walking we sat down for some Tinto, which is red wine mixed with some lemon flavored Fanta, and possibly the best summer drink for those of you who are of age. We departed from our tour guides and agreed to meet up later for some night time activities.
      A quick shower and some makeup application was all we needed and we were back to the grind. We met up with Alison and Lauren on the river and then proceeded to find this square that 20-somethings hang out at to chat and drink casually. When we were tired of standing not meeting any locals we left to find some tapas at around 21:30 (normal dinner time in Spain). At around 23:30 we walked to the club and had a great night showing off our moves (aka swaying back and forth while snapping). At around 3 we bid adieu and embraced knowing that we wouldn't be seeing each other in quite some time. We woke up at around 9 and managed to get out of bed and onto our plane to Valencia.
       

Feeling Blue in Chefchaouen

     The third city that we visited in Morocco was Chefchaouen, the blue city. The reason for its name is not because everyone is depressed, but because many of the buildings are painted with a blue dye (who would have guessed?). Now its been awhile since we were there so the details on what we really did are a little fuzzy, so bear with me. I do know that for the first few hours we walked around looking for the ruins of a Spanish church that was modeled after a mosque. We asked countless natives, in three different languages even, and still couldn't find it. We eventually gave up and went to look for some dinner. On our way to dinner we were asked almost 10 times if we wanted to buy some weed. We found out later that Chef is known for its plethora of weed fields just beyond the city limits and that although it is still illegal, no one really gets in trouble.
     After dinner we went up to the terrace of our hostel to take in a view of the city at night. In the far distance we could hear bottles breaking, screaming, and police sirens. Eventually the noise moved in our direction, until we could hear it directly below our terrace in the alleyways. We could see men running and shouting. They would also occasionally pick up rocks and throw them at the walls, which made us a little nervous because it bordered on violence that we in no way wanted to be a witness or victim of.
     The next day we asked the man at the front desk of our hostel where the ruins of the Spanish church was and he knew exactly what we were talking about. We realized it was the building perched in the middle of one of the mountains that we had been looking at since we arrived. After the blood drained from our flushed cheeks we began our thirty minute hike. We ate a hearty breakfast (bread and jam) on the steps of the church with the best view of our little blue city.
      At noon a taxi driver came to pick us up for the next leg of our journey that was the most unplanned section of all. We knew we had to get to Tanger, take a ferry to Tarifa, and then get to Sevilla by night fall. Our taxi ride took two hours and we were going about 150 kpm the entire time. I really believe that listening to Moroccan music and swerving to not hit other cars on a small mountainous road really gave me a feel for the culture.
      We got to Tanger and were immediately ushered into a small booth to buy tickets for the boat. We filled out our forms and then went through security (more like put our bags on the x-ray machine while no one was even observing). We made it onto the boat with two minutes left to spare. Everything was going our way until we got to Tarifa. We had planned on making a bus to Sevilla, but we got lost on the way to the stop and missed the last one by 20 minutes. Thankfully everyone was flexible and not too upset that we would have to just find a hostel for the night and camp out in Tarifa. We found one quickly and then went and ate sandwiches on the beach as the sun set on the Mediterranean. Best sunset of my 20 years on this planet, so can't be too upset about our traveling misfortune. We sat at a bar for an hour and then went to bed early so that we would have plenty of energy for Sevilla in the morning.

      

Feud in Fez

   Our second stop in our little Moroccan adventure was the city of Fez. We left for Fez in incredibly early and were prepared for our four hour ride with snacks, ipods, french books, and our journals. After hour three I saw a sign that said that we were 190 km from Marrakesh and 360 km from Fez. At that moment I realized that what the man meant by '4' hours was more like 10 and the mood changed fairly quickly among us four friends. Rationing of the snacks became necessary and ipod battery life became a scarcity. Can't complain about getting a feel for the countryside of Morocco though.
     When we finally got to Fez we were hungry and crabby, both wonderful attributes to have when traveling with others. After 35 minutes of aimlessly searching for our hostel, we finally came across our little 'oasis.' We were greeted with open arms at the door and swiftly put our belongings in upstairs. We found a restaurant in one of our travel books located fairly near our resting joint and enjoyed a great dinner consisting of camel burgers, hummus, and other unidentified flying objects. There was also a Moroccan band that played for us and got everyone dancing in the restaurant.
      We went back to our hostel after finishing dinner and then prepared for our next adventure into the city to find dessert friends. When we stepped outside the man guarding the door begged us not to leave. After a few minutes of awkward language translations we realized that on Feb. 20th Moroccans are allowed to voice their opinions about the government without consequence. In the past few years it had never been a problem, but because of what was going on in Libya and Egypt, it might not be safe for us Americans. He described to us what could happen-- including being slapped to even getting mugged or stabbed. Because my addiction to chocolate couldn't be quenched we ran our quickly to find some and then returned within only ten minutes. It was only 8 pm by then so we had to think of something to do. My first natural idea was to cut my hair, obvious right? So Natalie borrowed some scissors and got to cutting. Five inches shorter, I'm a new woman. We left early the next morning to get to Chefchauoen and that concludes our experience in Fez, Morocco.