ABCs of Eastern Europe PART ONE

A: Auschwitz was possibly the most humbling and sobering place I have ever visited. Millions murdered with such emptiness--in the physical sense and in the genocide's "reasoning"--leaves a site of such presence for us today. (I will expand on this experience later)

B: Budapest. K and I are here now and I really love it here. I feel such sadness for Hungary's history. This land has been the victim of SO many seiges and wars and tragedies.

C: Crakow (also known as Krakow). Perhaps my favorite place we have traveled. MAGICAL and less tainted by tourism. The main square is the San Marco (in Venice) of the North. LOVED IT.

D: Dunurs (sp. varies depending on country) rock my world. The Turkish kebab-like sandwich things have been a sure satisfier in every country we have visited. Thank you Turkish immigrants.

E: Europeans with hilarious haircuts. Keeps me laughing when my legs decompose beneath me.
F: Friends made in hostels. Think of it as the Real World meets the UN
G: Gifts that we give others. As I stated to K at the beginning of the trip: I imagine any funny things I do as small presents to the public. We have given oh-so many gifts to fortunate souls.
H: Hot dogs. Taste so good in Prague and Poland but does your digestive system handle that well? I think not.
I: International exchange rates. We have been trying to convert krons, HUF, and Poland whatevers on our phone calculators every 10 seconds. WHAT THE....is this $10 US dollars or $100 Euros? Today I nearly bought a $135 dollar tablecloth thinking it cost $13 dollars. exactly.
J: Jewish districts...The one in Krakow is especially amazing (featured in Schindler's List.)
K: Kunsthitoriches museum in Vienna left me awestruck.
L: Language barriers make everything dramatic. In Poland and especially in Hungary people don't speak English as often as in touristy destinations or Western Europe. Gestures are key and pointing to menus ( or items in a store) with a kind smile usually does the trick.
M: McDonald's. Hate it. Vowed to myself that I would never eat there (whether in or out of the US) Yet, that $1 garden salad tempted my weak stomach and wallet in Prague and the McFlurry seriously blew me away in Poland (carmel and almond/chocolate mixed in vanilla= perfect.) Sorry to myself and any other haters out there.
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People are giving me death stares (totally universal) because I am using the one computer at the hostel AND I must go off to absorb Budapest nightlife! TO BE CONTINUED

London and Berlin...(more blogging about biking)

Disclaimer: not much eloquence (too little time) or detail (this is no travel diary).


London: What's not to love? What's not to love in all of Europe? Our hostel was an old manor house and the people were lovely. We successfully went to Saint Paul's Cathedral, walked the Thames River, met up with Elizabeth Rhondeau, watched the Olympics in Trafalgar Square, lost ourselves in Harrod's, relaxed in Hyde Park, shopped in Primark (cheapandchic), and went to Westminster Abbey. Katharine and I saw Wicked. Pretty great for a horrid jet-lag and a first day of the trip!
Highlight:(everything) Katharine and I exploring hidden streets and finding a cool old church square to live in someday.
Lowlight: When we rushed to catch our plane in Berlin. We literally ran the whole time and almost missed it. Somewhere between the near strip-search by security (I always get targeted!) and the tiny RyanAir plane, I lost my only jacket and my ipod. Blast! Luckily Katharine and I listened to her "Mourning" playlist (made after a high- school heartbreak) and nearly died of laughter.

Berlin: I think everyone needs to come here. SO new but in touch with its turbulent past! Not only did I completely shed any secret anti-German sentiments (I think most Americans harbor some) but I loved the city- planning and the food. Hearing the history of the city, especially during WWI, WWII, and the Cold War, made me understand the people so much better. From the moment we arrived Berliners have been kind and helpful despite the language barrier. I wish we could stay here longer and eat Turkish duners and ride bikes around the city bridges forever.
Highlight: When we searched for our hostel and arrived at a gay/transvestite club and thought...."okay, we can be brave." But, luckily, that was not it. It was up the street and is wonderfully clean and cozy. The Pergamon Museum currently features the MOST amazing exhibit on Babylon that fits into global context perfectly with the Iraq War plus it has a permanent collection to die for. Thirdly, biking in Berlin is like breathing...everybody does it. So Katharine and I rented bikes for the day. Good times (read on)
Lowlight: After finishing a 4-hour-long "free" bike tour of the amazing city we headed back to our hostel in the pouring rain (remember I lost my jacket in London.) I was wearing very shear yellow pants and a white shirt today....need I say more? K and I had a good laugh about my transperancy until I was crossing a busy, slick street. Everything felt like slow motion....anxious German driver + me (going the right way at right cross-walking time) + rain= my life flashing before my eyes and truly biffing it on the pavement with German screams and honking cars in the background. Let's just say it was one of the more dramatic moments in my life. Full of shame and forced "grace", I hurried back on my bike and rode on....in a see-through, black, and bloody ensemble. (PS: I sustained no huge injuries.)

"Look ma...no hands!"

"Just let the trees guide you," my mom told me, "They help you balance." We were in Versailles on a sunny August afternoon. Like any storybook mother-daughter moment, we rode bikes. And she did it with no hands. Her tiny frame still as a statue and her bird-like legs perched and her hands liberated toward the sky: my mom knew what it meant to live. "Time me!" I rolled my eyes and I looked down the poplar-lined path, embarassed that someone might see us or hear her joyful screams. I timed her. Her wingspan diminished with the distance but I remember how stupidly I seethed in my teenage bratdom....I don't even remember why. All I remember is that I could never ride with no hands.
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What do you do with a blank page? Except for stare at the beautiful white with excitement? Liberation is so....liberating. In these past days I moved out of my house in Provo, relinquished my old room at home, cut my hair 5 inches, failed my final Final with flair, gave away over 1/2 of my possessions, and said my goodbyes without my characteristic nostalgia.
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Last night my mom and I went on a bike ride to pedal away any stress. We pumped hard until my hands smelled like metal monkey-bars. She asked me to time her. I laughed when I thought of my years of memories with her young-at-heart. And she did it with no hands.....for blocks of empty streets. I tried it too. And I did it. Not as well as she did it; because her legs know how to guide the bike from her years of practice (and her heart feels fine to let them do the driving.) Still, I lifted my palms up and saw my shadow of triumph. Then I understood what to do with my crisp page of nothingness. This is what you do with freedom: you just become free. And love every minute of it.