Portugal: a new found love for windowsills, doorways and olives

My trip to Portugal was actually quite spontaneous. My mother wanted us to have one last vacation together before I entered the real word with a full time job. Originally we were supposed to go to Maine and travel up the eastern seabored, but for about the same price we could travel to Portugal, a place that has paradoxically been on both mine

and my mother’s bucket list. So we set our sights for Lisbon for mid July with a recpit in Alagrave for a few days. 
After flying overnight and sleeping about an hour and half we arrived in Lisbon around 9a.m., giving us the entire day to fight jet laga and sleep deprevation. We covered almost every inch of the eastern city. We explored Baxia, got lost in the streets of Alfama and explored San Jorge Castle. Alfama is a must when visiting Lisbon. Tram 28 takes you through the old streets that are the only part of Lisbon preserved from the 1755 Earthquake. Once the sun went down, Lisbon came to life. The temperature dropped from a balmy 90 degrees to a crisp 65. Locals flooded the allies either going on an evening run or sipping some sparkling sangria along the Tagus river.

You know I couldn’t pass up close to southern Spain sangria with a view so we stopped and polished off a pitcher while watching the sunset backlight Lisbon’s version of the Golden Gate bridge. Then we wandered our way over to TimeOut eatery, which is a converted warehouse lined with restaurant stands and general seating. It reminded me a lot of Eataly in New York. There we grazed our way across about five restaurants and met with some nice locals along the way. 

After a night in Lisbon, my mother and I headed for Algarve, the Atlantic coast of Portugal. It’s about a three hour bus ride from Lisbon. We stayed in Albufeira, which is centrally located but unfortunately attracts euro-trash. On our first day we traveled to Lagos, the old capital of Algarve, and Cape Saint Vincent, the southwestern most point of Europe. Lagos was picturesque with caves that all tourists see if you Google Portugal. Cape Saint Vincent was the birthplace of Prince Henry’s School of Navigation. Prince Henry was the first navigator to discover a new content outside of Europe (Africa) and develop a school for discovery, his successors include Megelen and Vasco De Gama. Here is where you can also get “the last hotdog before America,” obviously my patriotic duty was to get the hotdog and take a selfie. 
Our second day in Algarve was spent exploring the caves. We cruised in a 40 foot catamaran along the Portugal coastline admiring the natural crevases the water created over time. I kid you not when I say the only reason we came to Algarve was to see the Benagil Sea Cave. Quick synopsis: the cave the cool, but not the highlight of the trip I dreamt it would be. One downside of Algarve, I will say is that since it’s tourist central (particularly for the Brits) the food is less than lackluster. One day I literally had a cup of coffee, a bowl of fruit, sangria and a handful of olives FOR THE WHOLE DAY. That’s how horrible the food was, it was like I was stuck in an amusement park and forced to order overpriced chicken fingers. 

My mother and I were anxious to return to the paradoxically sunny, crisply cool July mornings of Lisbon so we borded an early bus back into Lisbon. Our plan was to travel to the west side of the city to Belem, an area untouched by the earthquake that is noted for its gothic churches and restaurants making dishes that haven’t been altered in 200 years. However our plans never came to fruition at the hands of my poor navigation skills. Our last accommodation was an Air BnB in barrio alto, the restaurant/bar area of Lisbon that is clandestinely a hilly, cobble-stoned labrhynth. Stupidly we took the metro since we were told our appartment was just a “5 minute walk” from the metro station, easy enough. WRONG. First, I’m notorious for my poor sense of direction. Second, I have no way of contacting our host because my phone only works when in wifi. Third, I only know one word in Portugese and that word is thank you. An HOUR, three stops for directions, two outfits dripping in sweat and one peeved mother later, we found our destination. I actually didn’t mind getting lost amid the terracota roofs and colorful alley ways, however my mother with her bad siadica did mind. After we got settled we set out for an early dinner, which in Portugal is around 7:30p.m. As luck would have it, the restaurant we chose was closed so we popped into an artisen chocolate shop and asked for a new restaurant recommendation. The woman told us the restaurant where we wanted to eat has a second location that is open. My mother and I followed the directions given to us my the chocolatier and of course, we couldnt find it. What we did find was a restaurant packed with young locals and a line out the door. Obviously we joined the line indubiously expecting a great menu. The menu read only in Portuguese, which is normally a good sign that the restaurant is local, so we blindly ordered and took a seat. Once the food arrived, we understood why this restaurant was popular: it was cheap and fast. My mother and I ended up at the Portugeese equivalent of a crappy Panera Bread. The time was now 9:30p.m. And we still had yet to eat a real dinner so we wandered our way back to the barrio alto neighborhood and found that the quiet and quaint streets were now flooded with people drinking, eating and smoking in the street. Lesson learned: the best things are always closest to home. To put a cap on our inauspicious day, we ate at a tapas restaurant that was rather good but to our dismay ONLY ACCEPTED CASH. What did we have? About 10 euros in cash and a visa. You’re thinking, we’re screwed, right? The waiters had no issue what so ever, they accepted our apology and let us go without paying in full, no questions asked. I was amazed. That would NEVER fly in the Sates. 

The next morning we returned to the tapas restaurant and paid our bill in full, plus an exorbant tip. Did you really think we would have just let the kind gesture lie? After the hatchet was buried, my mother and I shopped for family and friends and then caught a bus that would take us to Sintra, a UNESCO World Heritedge site about 30 minutes outside of Lisbon.

Sintra is known for the Pena Palace that is a mode-podge of various architectural influences including Moorish, Roman and Medevial creating a palace that looks like it brought Disneyland to Europe. What enhances this fantasy-like ambience is the weather in Sintra. Contrasting to the endless blue skies of Lisbon, Sintra is constantly a solid 10 degrees cooler amid lush vegetation and misting clouds that continuously roll into the town. This cultivation of elements makes you feel like you’ve entered a fairytale and a town that’s truly magical. 

My mother and I learned our lesson the previous night and decided to dine in the barrio for our last night. In true Portugeese fashion we ate around 9:30p.m. and finished our meal with what else than a glass of 10-year-old Port. I only realized that Port is from PORTugal on our last night.

My favorite aspect of Lisbon was getting lost and miraculously falling into these truly majestic sites or cozy restaurants that I read about in passing but gave up on attempting to locate them. I might not care for sardines or octopus, both delecases of Portugal, but I fell in love with the relaxed but reluctant to change culture. Portugal is lively with tradition, whether it be a 200-year-old pastry recipe or the Fado music that plays in the clubs and restaurants at night, and undersold to the American public as a valued travel destination. 

I heart LA

There are two seasons in the south: football season and beach season. What better a time to explore the beautiful coastal beaches of Florida than my favorite season, summer! I love feeling the powder white sand slip between my toes as I shuffle into the clear, aqua blue water that one would only see in a chlorinated pool. This summer I’ve been bouncing all over Florida like a ping-pong ball, speedily moving from the southern tip of Florida all the way up to the panhandle. Unfortunately for me, I only recently discovered the beautiful Emerald Coast that my father, born and raised in Birmingham, refers to as “LA” meaning lower Alabama. 

LA feels like home. Maybe it’s because some of my closest friends in college are from the 850 or maybe it’s because I’m a southern bell at heart. Either way, the combination of green water, sweet tea and hospitality leave you feeling relaxed and perplexed as to why you’re not extending your stay. My first trip of the summer was to the small but reputable beach town, located on 30A, Seaside. My roommate and I visited one of our best friends who is fortunate enough to live in such a paradise. Our beach vacation was just what we needed after a month long marathon of bar hopping, all-night study sessions and pre-graduation panic attacks. Our typical day began with an early morning cup of coffee and chat on the front porch, followed by a bike ride through Seaside and Watercolor, then to the beach and home for dinner accompanied by a glass of red wine. It was nice to stay with someone from the area and experience the laid-back lifestyle of the beach community.

Three weeks had passed when I decided I had to go back to LA. It was like when the sea calls the sailor’s  name and suddenly he’s charting a boat in the harbor. My father has his fraternity reunion every year in Orange Beach and Pensacola. Not only has my father been friends with these guys since college, but half of them went to elementary school together so essentially it’s more of a family reunion than a fraternity reunion. Anyways, my dad offered for me to tag along and I jumped at the chance.

Our journey 10 hours northwest was no small feat however. After a flat tire, a barbecue lunch, a pit stop at target and one large peanut butter brownie blizzard later, we arrived. My father and I are both HUGE foodies so we always try to eat locally and experience the traditional cuisine of the place we’re visiting. Obviously we were on the gulf coast so our diet consisted of crab, grouper, red fish and shrimp (FYI if you don’t like seafood, don’t come to the panhandle.) Our first night we ate at Cosmo’s, I never heard of it but you know it’s a good sign when there is an hour and half wait on Tuesday night. The crab cakes were pretty much all crab, which is great because more often than not you get jiped and end up with a fried piece of bread with little to no crab. My dad’s pecan crusted red fish was some of the best fish I’ve ever had and their white chocolate bread pudding was decedent enough to loosen your belt buckle a notch.

We spent our days at the beach, I even tried running on the beach…that was humorous. Note to self: don’t run on a beach that is famous for its SOFT sand. Our last day we were fortunate enough to go sailing on my dad’s brother’s boat. It was the perfect day. Not a cloud in the sky, great music and great company. I had one of those “woah, I’m so blessed” moments, which if you traveled abroad with me, you know I had those moments A LOT. 

The icing on the cake was being treated to a truly southern lunch by my dear friend, Shelby. We dined at Jackson’s in downtown Pensacola and filled our stomachs with iced tea martinis, cheese plates, lump crab and key lime pie. Did I mention the way to my heart is through my stomach? A week of relaxation and good company made the 9 hour (I sped this time) a little easier and I’m happy to be home for now, but we all know I don’t stay in one place for too long.

I didn’t mind the gap

Today marks the 7 day countdown until I return to good ole America. It’s bittersweet. I love London, but I also miss my friends and family and not being so pale that I look like a walking corpse.

Luckily, my homesickness has been masked with friends visiting, daytime adventures and my internship.

It’s been a while since I’ve written because my last weeks in London have been a whirlwind. A lot has happened so here is the condensed version–including probably the funniest tale of my London adventures.

Several weekends ago, my friend Mackenzie visited for the weekend. We saw Once the musical (yes that’s the second time I’ve seen it over here) and grabbed dim sum in Chinatown after the show. We were up and moving by 9 the next morning and prepared ourselves for a day of eating. First was Borough Market, which is a food market, Kenzie and I decided to split everything that day and combined we had: a carton of strawberries, a chocolate milkshake, a spinach and feta pastry, cheese samples, a Panini and two glasses of sangria.

On our way to the second market of the day, Portobello, we took the tube a little outside of the city by mistake. Little did I know what was about to happen. London’s transportation system is infamous for the term “mind the gap” because there is a small space between the platform and the train. No one ever falls into the trenches of the tube, but each time stepping onto the tube, the words are printed on the platform and said aloud over an intercom. So after waiting for tube with Kenzie, I stepped onto the tube and suddenly felt my leg drop between the gap. I fell forward while both legs torpedoed into the tube gap. Suddenly I was waist-deep with my legs dangling freely in the tube trench. My hips were sandwiched between the tube and the platform, but my legs easily slipped through the gap. I remember being shocked about what had just happened and thinking “oh no, I just flashed the whole platform,” because as luck would have it, I was wearing a dress that also got stuck between the tube and platform. I’m not entirely sure how I got out of the trench, but I remember some man kneeling next to me. All within a matter of 30 seconds I was safely on the tube and on my way to Portobello with a bleeding leg, some ten layers of skin missing on my shin and a bruised hip. I’m pretty sure I’ll have that battle wound on my leg for the rest of my life.

The following weeks were quite calm with minimal tourist adventures. I started eating out frequently, trying to experience as much of London as I can. Here are a few restaurants I’ve found along the way…
Bluebird Cafe: This Sloane Square hotspot is frequented by the Made in Chelsea cast, but has the best squash and goat’s cheese salad on the planet! Go on a sunny day and sit outside with a Pimm’s cup to feel like an A-lister.
Thai Square: I’ve frequented many Thai restaurants in search for the best Thai food in London. So far, Thai Square reigns supreme. It’s a little pricey, but worth it. Get their specialty Lychee cocktail with some Laarb and Pad Thai.
Mayor of Scardy Cat Town: This speakeasy is located inside of The Breakfast Club by Liverpool station. Enter through the refrigerator and go downstairs to a cozy cellar with exposed brick. These people know how to make a sophisticated cocktail.
Old School Yard: By Borough station, this place has a killer happy hour with drink specials from 5:30-8pm. Sip on a strong mojito for only £4:50 while playing super smash bros and listening to Ice Ice Baby over the sound system.
Bubbledogs: Get there early or else you’ll have to que for hours for this bar that only offers two things on it’s menu: hotdogs and champagne. The unlikely pair is actually amazing with locally grown champagne and some super creative combinations of dogs.
Monmouth and Prufrock: Some of the best coffee shops in London, they only seat about 12 people so I recommend grabbing coffee to-go from here. My personal favorite is the flat white.

Dum Dum Doughnuts: located in Boxpark in Shoreditch this is the only place in London I could find that sells cronuts. But not just any cronut, a raspberry preserve-filled cronut or a zebra cronut ( every other layer is chocolate ganache.)

Dishoom: If you’re looking for something a little different with an Indian flare, go here. The ambiance is pretty hipster and is similar to a renovated canteen you’d find in Casablanca.
Winston Churchill: One of the oldest pubs in London, you can’t miss this pub on the street. Covered in fresh flowers on the outside, the pub offers a unique Belgian White called the Honeydew. If you’re new to beers and you like something sweet–I recommend it.

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I did manage to squeeze in a few more tourist days before I left London, here’s their brief summary…
1. Windsor Castle
I wanted to have a ‘Carol Day’ a few weeks back and explore someplace alone. I’m traveling for a week alone after my program and wanted to test the waters by traveling to Windsor by myself. The day was just what I needed. I mastered the art of taking selfies and tagged along on someone’s tour group through the castle, which reminded me of The Biltmore in Asheville. The highlight of the day however was seeing the changing of the guard. The guards had been in grey coats for the winter, but the guards at Windsor had finally shed their winter coats and paraded around in red. So what did I do? Of course I told an obligatory joke and took a selfie with the guard in true American girl style.

2. KEW Gardens
The following weekend I went to KEW Royal gardens. The property is massive and absolutely beautiful. I had a YOLO moment half way through the day and decided to get my face painted. I know what you’re thinking…the answer is yes, I was the only adult to have my face painted that day. Might I just say that it was the most legit face paint job I’ve ever had. I was a snow leopard. This consisted of more than just brown spots on my face, it involved a myriad of colors covering my face, ear to ear. I proceeded to walk around for the rest of the day in KEW Gardens with a fully painted face. I even rode the tube and ate Shake Shack with my face paint. Let me add that I was stopped at least 4 times to have my photograph taken.

3. Oxford/Cambridge boat race
The following day I went down to Putney and watched the legendary crew boat race of Oxford v. Cambridge. It was like walking through campus on a Gator gameday. Throngs of fans old and young lined the river bank, drinking beer and heavily cheering for about the six seconds the boat passed your standing section. This and the Fulham football game I attended a month earlier were the two instances where I experienced authentic British culture.

I’ve traveled the past two weekends and unfortunately my time over here is coming to an end. I’ll be posting about my trips to Paris and Budapest in the next few days as my European adventure comes to a close.

A Moveable Feast

I began reading Hemingway’s A Moveable Feast last week in preparation for my trip to Paris. It’s his memoir about his time in Paris during the 1920s. Between reading Hemingway and watching Midnight in Paris for the 10th time, I was ready to meet up with the Fitzgerald’s for some grappa and get lost in James Joyce’s Ulysses.

I arrived in Paris early Friday morning after flying British Air–which was such a treat compared to Ryan Air. I attempted to take public transportation into the city, but I was utterly confused and decided to just take a taxi. Our hostel was about a 10-minute metro ride into city center and provided us with free breakfast. We had a private dorm with our own bathroom and comfiest beds I’ve slept in over here.

I met up with my best friend Paige, who’s studying in Nancy, France (pronounced non-see…how posh is that?!) and we decided to stroll the Champs-Élysées. The weather was absolutely beautiful so we walked across town and up the steep hill to Montmartre. Montmartre is my favorite area of Paris, where Picasso and Van Gogh would sit in the square and paint. We had a cafe au lait on the cobble stone lane while the artists sketched and street musicians serenaded the public. We continued the hike to the beautiful church of Sacre Coeur, where Paige and I lied on the lawn on the hill and had a heart to heart. I think that’s when you know when someone is your best friend. You can not talk for months and when you’re together again, you can talk for hours on end about everything and it’s like no time has passed.

That night we went to this fondu place a friend recommended; it was the best time. You are squeezed into this room where you have to climb over the table to sit in a booth. Then you’re greeted with complimentary antipasti and a cocktail. Since you’re squished like a can of sardines next to your neighbor, being antisocial is not an option. As I ate through the endless bread basket that accompanied the cheese fondu, we made friends with our neighbors. After a few baby bottles of wine (yes, they serve wine in baby bottles–teat and all) we went out for more drinks with our new British friends. It just a little bar just up the hill with cheap wine carafe and a Spanish guitar quartet. Needless to say, it was the perfect Parisian night.

Little did I know that the next day would be the longest day of my life. I woke up at 7 with a wine headache and got ready to go to Versailles. After waiting in an hour line, we made it inside…FOR FREE! Fun fact: all EU citizens can tour for free…and that includes Visas! I have never seen so much guild in my life. Ceilings that had ornate murals of cherubs were trimmed in elaborate gold molding. It really made me realize the class division in France during the 18th century and reasoning for the French Revolution.

After visiting the gardens and grabbing lunch in Versailles, we decided to explore the left bank. I suggested we walk from the Eiffel Tower to Notre Dame and stop at some sites along the way…the “stroll” took up the next three hours and my friends wanted to kill me…whoops. However, along that long walk we got to see most of Paris, the Louvre, Place de la Concorde, and Laduree.

Once we FINALLY reached Notre Dame, I had a shopping spree in Shakespeare and Company bookstore, where authors like James Joyce, Ernest Hemingway, and Scott F. Fitzgerald hung out in the early 1900s. That night we grabbed drinks and tapas in the Latin Quarter before heading back to our hostel. I remember my first trip to Paris, I wasn’t fond of the Latin Quarter, but this time I loved it. Visiting Paris a second time opened my eyes to how much I’ve grown in four years.

On our last day, we went to an antique market in true Midnight in Paris fashion. I picked up a vinyl and listened to the whimsical sounds of an out of tune piano and strolled through the market. Since it was a beautiful day, after the market I picked up a carton of strawberries and a baguette and we relaxed in the park for an hour and let the sun warm our face. 

We continued our lazy day beneath the Eiffel Tower where we lied in the grass some more. I grabbed the last train out of Paris that night (I missed my first train so luckily there was one more) and arrived safely in central London that night. It really is so easy to travel to Paris from London in a day. Now I understand why there are so many Londoners in Paris and vice versa.

I’m so glad I chose to return to Paris after my first lackluster experience with the city of light. The architecture of the buildings was beautifully juxtaposed with greenery of the trees lining the streets. Like Italy, I got a feel for the Parisian culture. I loved seeing elderly men play bocce ball on the stone alleys near the Eiffel Tower and listening to the cheesy accordion music on the metro from street performers.

Suddenly Smitten

These past few weeks haven’t been the best. I’ve been homesick after seeing my friends over spring break and have felt trapped in a monotonous London routine.

It was a hard adjustment from the first half of the semester when I didn’t have an internship and could gallivant around London anytime. Now I work eight-hour days (with a 40 minute commute) three days a week and my time abroad is quickly coming to an end.

The work environment is very different over here, but after a few weeks of getting in the swing of things, I’m really enjoying myself. The Brits aren’t the most talkative bunch, so I take it upon myself to start-up the conversation. No one ever really takes a lunch break either, they just eat at their desks for about 15 minutes, never stepping foot outside–even on a beautiful day. Maybe it’s me being American, but this girl’s gotta eat. I take a 30-minute lunch break every day and always leave the office. Stepping away from the computer screen and getting some fresh air is my favorite part of my day.

Anyways, I’ve been feeling like London has lost it’s luster in the past weeks, so I decided to get out of the city. A group of us took a day trip to Brighton, a beach town about an hour away. It was only £5 round trip. Even though the weather has been awful the past few weeks, the sun came out for our day on the coast. Never in my life have I worn a jumper and boots to the beach! The thing I love most about my friends is that we don’t need an agenda to have fun. I had a blast just lying on the beach and goofing around. Later on we walked the boardwalk and found this burger joint that honestly had the best burgers on the planet (yes, they were better than American burgers…even a Shake Shack burger.) Brighton is like London’s Jersey Shore, pier and carnival rides and all. Being the 4-year-olds we are, we had to grab soft serve ice cream in a cone, they call them 99’s over here, which is ironic considering the ice cream is £2.50…not 99p. Anyways, as we’re walking on the pier with our ice cream, a seagull about the size of a pelican swooped down, clenched onto my friend’s head and speared her ice cream cone with its beak. The cone that was once perfectly smooth and shaped into a dome was cut in two, like the Titanic when it sank. Our day trip to Brighton was one of my favorite days abroad, I was pleasantly enchanted and refreshed by the taste of salt water in the wind. It was just what I needed.

Monday brought spontaneous serendipity with the rush of the new week. My gal pal, the same one who was attacked by the seagull-vulture hybrid, wanted to see a concert at Royal Albert Hall. RAH is a famous music venue for operas and classical concerts. It’s a beautiful coliseum venue that has fantastic acoustics and is conveniently located only a block away from my flat. My friend, Clodagh, and I decided to dress up and saunter over to tout (scalp) tickets to Ed Sheeran who was performing that night with Passenger. Even though we were up in the nose-bleeds, it was one of the best concerts of my life. He uses the audience like a gospel choir, which makes his live performances 1000 percent more engaging than his album tracks.

London had bewitched me again by Tuesday night when everyone caught a movie at this super lavish theatre in Notting Hill. We saw Wes Anderson’s newest film, “the Grand Budapest Hotel” and it was brilliant! But what blew us away was the theatre. We sat in leather lounge chairs, with footstools, night stands and cashmere blankets. Did I mention there was a full service bar with food and drinks?

Finally, spring has officially arrived in London. I’ve never cared for spring in the past because let’s face it, spring in Florida is summer weather, but you’re still in school. But now I understand why everyone loves spring, the parks are like something out of a fairytale and I can’t get enough of them. Whenever there is decent weather, you can find me outside in a park. Seeing the natural beauty makes me euphoric and in love with the city.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Everyone goes through lulls and luckily, I don’t stay in mine for long. But how can you be in a funk when you live in such an enticing city?

 

XXX,

Caroline

 

 

 

 

Weekend in Wales

The weekend began with me covered in mud and ended with me soaking wet. After returning from Italy late Wednesday night, I had one day in London and then left for Wales Friday morning. I originally wasn’t going go to the Wales weekend because we had to pay for the trip in cash up front, but alas I succumbed to peer pressure and coughed up the pounds. I didn’t have high expectations for the weekend since I didn’t know that much about it. The weekend ended up blowing my expectations out of the water and was a highlight of my study abroad journey.

Friday was off to a rocky start. We already had a five-hour train ride to Pembrokeshire and I had been traveling via train all spring break so I wasn’t looking forward to it. Our train was late which caused us to miss our conjoining train. The result was an extra hour and half of travel time (now six and a half hours), another train and a bus. Finally, we arrived and had dinner waiting for us. Later that night, some kids wanted to walk to the nearest pub (about 30 minutes away) so I decided ‘when in wales’ and followed along. After the 30-minute walk ALL UP HILL in complete darkness, we found the pub. I think that’s probably the most authentic pub i’ll ever go to considering it’s in BFE, only locals go to it.

The next day I was up early, grabbed breakfast and set off for my hike. It was a seven mile hike along the Pembrokeshire coast. It was such a beautiful day that I didn’t care when I slipped and fell butt-first in the mud. The seven mile hike later turned into a nine mile hike because we got lost. We ended up crawling through a field of cotton and forged a stream…where I fell for the second time.

Relieved that there wasn’t going to be a Donner Party Part II, we arrived safely and had an hour lunch break before preparing for journey number two: coasteering. I put on a full wetsuit for this: gloves, booties and some cap that covered my entire neck and made me look like I just got my wisdom teeth out.

We started by polar plunging into the 50 degree water. We swam over to a rock and started our rock climb, which was harder than expected. You’re climbing wet rocks so it’s slippery and your can’t move that well because you’re in a suit that’s added about 25 meaty layers to your skin. After climbing up the rocks we came to our first jump, about 15 feet. Scary none the less. I edged my way to the tip of the rock, closed my eyes and thought “pencil” (the correct jumping form.) I think the most exhilarating part of being adventurous is forcing yourself out of your comfort zone. You feel accomplished and surprised, like “wow, I didn’t know I was capable of doing that.”

The next stop was out highest jump, about 25-30 feet. We had a higher jump because it was low tide and only about half of our group jumped. Surprise, surprise I jumped…twice. The hardest part about this whole experience truly was the climbing. I always trailed behind and had to get a few pushes in the bum along the way. We ended our adventure with a little cave exploring. This was my favorite part of the entire trip. It was majestic walking through a narrow dark cave when suddenly beams of light flood the outcove and you’ve made it to the other side and have the most beautiful view of the Welsh coast at sunset.

Sunday was out last day with our last activity, surfing. Mind you, I live in Florida and have never surfed before, but I decided that Wales would be the place to give it a try…a sound decision? Unbeknownst to me, the surf instructor for the previous surfing groups assisted the people struggling to catch a wave. Our instructor did not help us, AT ALL. Alas, when I caught my first wave and stood ALL THE WAY UP BY MYSELF I felt like Oliver Cromwell when he defeated the King of England. I’m not proud of it, but I was a typical American and proceeded to jump up and down clapping and screaming. The poor locals on the beach must have thought I was in hysteria considering my scream was at an decibel only dogs could hear.

The waves were pretty rough and the tide was strong, but the weather was beautiful. It was an exhaustively adventurous weekend filled with laughs, wipeouts and several Bailey’s hot chocolates.

Pist-a-KEE-o

Firstly, I apologize for the length of this post, but no amount of words could describe the beauty and the amazing time I had on spring break. My SB was broken up into two parts: Italy and Wales–two completely different countries, I know. So my blog posts will broken up as well, one for Italy and one for Wales.

To prepare for my Italian adventure I did what any 90’s girl would do and watched the Lizzie McGuire movie. You better believe that when I made a wish in the Trevi fountain I was hoping to be greeted by a round woman with a giant wheel of cheese. I didn’t have that much time to prepare or think about my trip, so I came in with minimal expectations. What little expectations I did have were blown out of the water. Italy might be my favorite place I have ever traveled. My travel group was a modge-podge of people: Blake, my friend in my study abroad program, Natalie, Blake’s girlfriend, Keith, my good friend from home and Blake’s roommate, and Meghan, my grand big in my sorority. The random assortment of characters blended together harmoniously, like carmel and chocolate in vanilla ice cream…sorry I’m still going through gelato withdrawals.

Our first stop was Venice, my favorite of the trip. We were expecting rain for both days we were there, but we had clear skies our first day. When first arriving, we took a water taxi to our hotel (CAN YOU GET MORE VENICE THAN THAT?!) after walking through the maze of alleys and canals, we finally found our hotel. I had been up for 36 hours at this point (we had a 6a.m. flight and left London at 3:30a.m.) so I was ready for some food. We grabbed lunch outside and the feeling hit me like a ton of bricks, I’m actually in Italy. Like Julia Roberts eating spaghetti marinara outside Italy (yes, I did order that same dish at lunch.) After lunch, half of us wandered around Venice for the rest of the afternoon. I was in awe. It wasn’t the tourist attractions in Italy I fell in love with, but it’s charm. There were quartets on the street playing accordions, buildings faded in Tuscan colors lining the streets, and couples walking hand-in-hand. After taking a wrong turn, we basically found the Balls bookstore of Venice. It was this 8 1/2 X 11 room filled with old Italian men shouting their order at the bar tender. We ordered “tres prosseco porfavore” for only 90 cents each. We took the glasses and drank on the steps of a canal.

 

That night we explored some more after dinner because it was carnavale. Its like the Marti Gras of Europe. The Venetians dress in 18th century garb with porcelain masks and walk around all day and night. That night each square had a DJ or a live music with crowds of people dancing in the streets.

We arrived in Rome the next night after a rainy lunch in Venice (I had pumpkin gnocchi, YUM!) and a three-hour train ride. We stayed in this villa off of Piazza Venezia, in the heart of Rome–the perfect location! It was quintessential Italy, located next door to a wine shop on a cobble stone road. It had an open floor plan with full kitchen and a master bedroom upstairs.

We explored some of Rome the next day, but it was overcast. We took the train to a town called Frascati, about 20 minutes south of Rome, known for its wine. We wandered around and ended up in a field overlooking the sunset.

Our villa host gave us a recommendation of a square with multiple restaurants so we wandered until we found a restaurant we liked. I had ossobuco for pretty cheap, the sign that we didn’t eat at a tourist trap.

Monday was excellent weather across Italy so we decided to do Pompeii. It was one of the most beautiful days I’ve seen. We ate lunch at this delicious restaurant where I thought I ordered scallops in wine sauce (vino scallopini), I guess scallopini in Italian is veal. None the less, it was delicious.

We took the train into Naples and then took Napoli’s metro into Pompeii. I’m sure you’ve heard sketchy things about Naples, Mafia, dirty, dangerous, etc. well after riding the metro I can confirm that they’re all true. I felt like I was riding a New York subway in the 80’s during the AIDS outbreak. None the less, we made it there safely. Disease free.

Like the goofs we are, as we entered the Pompeii ruins we decided to play the song by Bastille conveniently named after the city, but really has no relevance to the ruins. We went without a tour guide, but Blake had been previously so he was our wealth of knowledge.

The ruins were incredible, tapestries in bath and dining rooms were preserved. Columns still stood and bodies were preserved. Seeing the preserved people was somewhat graphic. You could tell that they died suffering. They were curled up with their hands over their face, trying to not breath in the ash from Vesuvius.

We had some extra time in Pompeii that day so we took full advantage of the gorgeous weather and laid around in the grass and did hand stands amongst the ruins in the forum.

Since we stayed in a villa, we stayed in and cooked that night. It was one the most fun nights of the trip. We sat around the dinner table drinking wine, talking and playing games for over three hours. I remember sitting at the table and thinking “God I feel grown up.” I’m in Italy with my good friends, cooking, drinking and being merry.

Unlike the weather the previous day in Pompeii, there was a 90 percent chance of rain across all of Italy on Tuesday. We bought a Eurorail for four days and we were determined to get our money’s worth. So we decided to wing it and go to Florence and prepare for constant rain, but hope for the best. When we got off the train in Florence I was shocked. It was sunny. We were so excited that it wasn’t raining that good moods were instantaneous.

Our first stop was the Dumo, where I lit a candle for both sets of grandparents–per tradition. Then we climbed Piazza de Michelangelo, which has the best view of Florence. Everywhere I went I couldn’t help think how blessed I was to have such beautiful weather in the most beautiful place in the world. On our way back from the hike, we stopped at the best/most authentic gelato shop. The flavors we’re delicious, I had fig/ricotta and pistachio and the ambience was like a country-French chic coffee shop with James Morrison and Florence playing in the background. In other words, it was heaven. A must-do in Florence for me was buying an Italian leather bag at the leather market. I bartered the purse from 60 euro to 40, and it’s 100% Italian leather. We ended our day with a late lunch where I finally got my fettuccine and clams.

Tuesday was our last night in Roma so we strolled over to Piazza Navona (my favorite place in Rome) and grabbed a late bite at a restaurant our host, Fabrizio (it’s sounds like it’s spelled) recommended. We ordered tapas, which included a duck ravioli that was one of the best things I’ve ever tasted and four bottles of wine–two red and two white. It was such a fun and LATE night, we ended up stumbling in around 2:30a.m.

Wednesday was Ash Wednesday and our flight didn’t leave until the afternoon so we slowly mustered up the energy to get out of bed and walk to the Vatican. I got there just in time to hear Pope Francis give high mass (in Latin) and I immediately started crying. I was overwhelmed that I was privileged enough to not only hear him, but see him–in person!!! It was the perfect way to end one of the best trips I’ve ever had.

The thing I loved most about Italy was its spirit and passion. The people are friendly, but blunt. They’re not afraid to tell you off or correct your Italian (it’s pronounced pist-a-KEE-o) they’re proud of their culture–and they should be, it’s passionate one.

Below are some photos of where we stayed in Rome! 🙂

 

Sugar detox needed

It’s midterm week here, which normally entails me locking myself in my room for a week, not to see daylight until the day of my exam. Since the classes here are easier and I’m in London after all, why study inside when you can study outside?

We’ve had beautiful weather here so I decided to explore Notting Hill and the Portobello market. Half of the study abroad students booked a trip to Stonehenge, so the remainder of us bonded that weekend. Portobello was my favorite market so far! I had a Spanish Chorizo sausage sandwich on a ciabatta roll with caramelized onions and for dessert I indulged in a strawberry-Nutella crepe. My favorite thing about street food is the atmosphere that comes with it. It’s casual and sloppy. Presentation doesn’t matter and you post up on the side of a road attempting to salvage the food that hasn’t splattered on your shoes.

Because of all the sugar I’ve been consuming lately I try to run at least 3 miles every-other day. I’ve done pretty well so far, yesterday I ran to Buckingham Palace, which was 4 miles. I really enjoy it because it’s a chance to get outside and I love seeing the dogs in Hyde Park. Dogs over here run free. They don’t have leashes and they are the most well-behaved dogs I’ve ever seen. No barking, no running up to strangers and I know this sounds crazy, but the dogs genuinely look happier.

On Monday I discovered this crepe place that offers crepes the size of a pizza for £5. Again, I indulged in something sweet. It really is becoming a problem. I have zero self-control and ate the entire crepe, stomach ache and all. !

I was a little healthier on Tuesday when we went out for Chinese food before seeing Les Miserables. This was the sixth time I saw Les Miserables live, IT’S MY FAVORITE MUSICAL OKAY?! It was beautiful as always, but I realized that seeing a musical that many times has made me somewhat of a theatre snob and critic. I felt like Ben Brantley of the New York Times, crushing the spirits of audience members around me.

The rest of my week will be pretty low-key though because I leave for Italy on Thursday.

Arrivederchi!

Two great weekends

My weekdays have been filled with countless hours of British Olympic coverage and studying for my marketing exam. So here’s a recap of my WEEKEND highlights.

Phoenix Concert
My friends and I wanted to go to a concert when in London. Sure artists like Taylor Swift and Zac Brown Band were in town, but we wanted something European. What better a band than the French rock group Phoenix? The concert was in Brixton at this venue that looked a coliseum amphitheater, but it was indoors. We got to the venue just as the show started, which unfortunately meant we were in the back row. However, by the end of the concert we had snaked our way into the second row, just in time to see the lead singer crowd surf. It was epic.

Spamalot
I saw Spamalot the musical in the States when I was younger, so I decided to go see it on the West End. What’s a better play to see in London than Monty Python? Unfortunately one of the hassles of living in London is relying on public transportation…and it’s strikes. Yes, I got to experience the London tube strike that hasn’t occurred within a decade. Since the tube was down, I had to take the bus. DO NOT TAKE THE BUS WHEN THERE IS A TUBE STRIKE! In 20 minutes I was supposed to go 2 1/2 miles to my destination. In 20 minutes I moved 1/4 mile. So in the rain, without an umbrella, I decided to walk (jog) to the play. I had 30 minutes to get there and it was a 45 minute walk. Yes, I jogged there–in the rain and in a skirt and boots. I sprinted through a park because it was dark and I didn’t want to get assaulted and ended up at what I think was the back of Buckingham Palace, where a guard had to stop me for trespassing and redirect me to my destination. I arrived at the play at 8:02p.m. and it started at 8:05p.m. It was a victory and the play was hilarious. Filled with British jokes, 75 percent of which I got!

The Weekend
My best friend who is studying abroad in France visited with her two friends. We went to Brick Lane and went vintage shopping, I bought nothing which is a big accomplishment for me. We had a delicious lunch at a curry house. It’s protocol here to barter with the curry houses to try to get the best deal. My inner New York Jew came out and I really enjoyed bartering with the restaurants. Our final deal was a complimentary round of drinks, three courses and bread for around seven pounds.

That night I met up with Paige, my friend, and her two friends in Chinatown. Thank god for Google Maps because restaurants in Chinatown are very confusing to find. I tried some kind of Chinese duck that was good, but a little fatty.

The next morning I joined the girls on a double-decker bus tour and ferry ride. In true London fashion, as soon as we arrived in Westminster, the typical tourist spot, it began to rain cats and dogs. The rain didn’t stop us though. We took pictures with Big Ben and the London Eye, soaked and without umbrellas. You would think I would learn after living here for two months, right? That was honestly my favorite part of the day. It was a true taste of London and it was fun walking in the rain. I felt like Gene Kelly in Singing in the Rain.

 Edited photo, but you can totally still see the rain.

I wish I could have spent more time with Paige, but I had to study for my Marketing exam. Luckily we’re meeting up again, this time in Paris!

I’ll fast forward to this past weekend because all I did was study last week.

I’ll preface that this weekend was probably my favorite weekend in London so far.

Friday: Galentine’s Day
Since the girls I’m studying with are either single or in a long-distance relationship, we decided to do a secret valentine to take a break from our lonely hearts club. St. Valentine must have felt our loneliness because it was a miserable day, weather wise. I spent the day wandering Covent Garden for my Galentine present. I ended up getting macaroons from the famous Laudree. I had a wild berry and jasmine macaroon that was to-die-for. That night we got dolled up and went for cocktails in Chelsea. After making friends with the manager, we received some complimentary lemon cello and red roses. Later that night we exchanged gifts and I got this truly adorable pinstripe PJ set. It was the best Valentine’s Day ever. Who needs one boy when you can have eight girlfriends?!

Saturday

After waking up late that morning, I quickly got dressed and headed to London Fashion Week. Obviously I couldn’t get into a show, but I did get to see the frenzy. Never in my life have I felt so out-of-place. When packing to come over here, I packed plane-jane pieces and left my funky stuff at home. BIG MISTAKE. Seeing everyone dripping in chicness and couture inspired me to enhance my wardrobe and step outside of the ordinary J.Crew box.

Since we only had breakfast we grabbed a burger a Shake Shack. Yes, they have a Shake Shack over here. I ordered a single, but they accidentally gave me a double. Best surprise ever.

That night all the girls went Celtic dancing. It’s called Caleigh dancing, which is traditional Scottish dancing. We entered a gymnasium filled with over 100 couples and a live Celtic band. We learned about six or more traditional group dances and really worked up a sweat. It was so much fun! There were people in actual kilts…which I thought was pretty cool. There were more girls than guys, so I partnered up with once of flatmates. We were one of the best couples if I do say so myself. I really liked learning about an element of someone else’s culture. I think I especially enjoyed it myself because: 1. I’m a dancer 2. I’m Scottish.

Sunday
The perfect way to end such a fabulously girly weekend was with my first high tea. We went to this restaurant/bar in Sloane Square that had a more low-key tea. We wanted to start off easy in our first tea endeavor. Like true Londoners, we took our time and had a leisurely 2-2 1/2 hour tea that included cucumber sandwiches, deviled eggs and warm scones with strawberry jam and clotted cream.

My mission this upcoming week: find and meet Harry Styles. He’s been spotted around Oxford Circus.

Wish me luck!!!

Amsterdam

There are a lot of assumptions that came with my choice to celebrate my 21st birthday in Amsterdam. Let me say that I fell in love with the city at day. The brick buildings with arched roofs lining the canals on every street. The house boats that grew gardens on its decks. And the wooden shoes in every store window. Amsterdam in daylight attracts bikers, artists and photographers alike. Amsterdam after dusk attracts another type of crowd, one associated with sex, drugs and gambling.

Out of 17 kids studying abroad with me, 12 decided to trek it to Amsterdam, hey we’re college students–Amsterdam is the European dream. The boys planned the travel to and from Amsterdam. Mental note: NEVER let boys plan your travel. We took a bus there and back for only 30 pounds total. However, the bus ride was 10 hours long and did not stop for food or bathroom. Needless to say, my hips are still stiff.

Our first full day in Amsterdam was tightly scheduled. We woke up early and got lost trying to find the Anne Frank Huis. If you ever want to get lost in a city, I highly recommend Amsterdam. We toured the Secret Annex for about two hours and I enjoyed it a lot more than I was expecting. I never read The Diary of Anne Frank, but I still related to her as a teenage girl. It was eerie standing next to her height marks etched on the wall and seeing how tall she was for her age and how tall she would have been. 

After Anne Frank, we stopped at a coffee shop and ate a “sandwich” ( shout out HIMYM fans.) Then hungry, we grabbed lunch at a place close to the Van Gogh museum. I had a prosciutto sandwich and spit what I thought was a spanish croquette, it was not. I laughed through the entire lunch. After lunch, we wandered to Van Gogh and spent about two hours in that museum. He easily because my favorite artist. His brush strokes were muti-colored and jumped off the canvas. I couldn’t believe he resided in Arles, France when he was painting. I had visited Arles two years prior, it was a cool ancient city, but I had bad memories associated to it.

That night I wore this oriental-inspired dress that I bought for my birthday. We all had dinner at this restaurant that reminded me of something you would find in SoHo in New York. The meal was phenomenal and I split a bottle of moscotto with my girlfriends that was so sweet and delicious, we almost ordered another. After dinner, my pear tartlet came out of the kitchen, with a sparkler and my table (waiter included) indulged me in a verse of ‘happy birthday.’ It was the perfect birthday dinner.

The next day was my actual birthday, which brought mixed feelings. I was excited to spend my 21st in Amsterdam, but at the same time I was nostalgic for my family. Birthdays are a big thing in my family. Mine is the first of February, my dad’s is the third and my mom’s the fifth. This was the first year we did not celebrated together.

My birthday day was casual. We strolled through Amsterdam’s famous flower market. Even in winter, I still got to witness the vibrancy of Holland’s tulips. Later that day we went to the Heineken Brewery and enlisted ourselves in the Heineken Experience. Boy was it an experience. A brief synopsis of the three and half hours goes like this: tour of brewery, Heineken simulation ride, Heineken music video and it ended with eight free beers and the entire bar singing me happy birthday. Definitely a 21st I will not forget.

Also, it’s tradition at the University of Florida to have a “sign night” on your 21st. The idea is that your closest friends make a sign of something that represents your personality and on the back of the sign it lists 21 tasks you must complete by the end of the night. Since I wasn’t in Gainesville for my 21st, my girlfriends made me a makeshift sign out of wooden clogs. It was the sweetest thing anyone could do for me on my birthday. Accompanying the clogs, I was given a flower crown, a cheese wheel and multiple chocolate bars. A random assortment of gifts, I know, but they were all things I love. Spending my 21st with great friends in a beautiful place, it was simply surreal.

Cheers!