The Pedestrian Poet

September 16th, 2015

One reason I have decided to resurrect my blog is to document my cross country solo road trip. Today I hit the road and won’t find myself back on the West Coast until I have climbed the mountains of Colorado, rolled in the fall leaves of Northern Michigan, put my feet to the pavement of New York City, driven nearly the entire length of the East Coast, let the Atlantic Ocean wash the dirt from my tired feet, sipped a cup of coffee at Cafe Du Monde in New Orleans, and driven all the way back home. In total, I should be gone for about three months. Just me, my Prius (nicknamed PriPri), vast open expanses of road, and any adventure that finds me along the way.

The main question I have received upon telling people this (after clarifying that yes, I do actually plan on doing this and no, I am not crazy) is WHY?

And this question is not unjustified either, I have asked myself the same thing over and over again as the date of departure creeps closer and closer. I will be the first to admit it, I am terrified. I can make this trip sound so romantic, dreamy, courageous, and many other enviable traits, but the reality is that this is scary; this is going to be extremely hard. There are going to be days I will wish that I had never left home, never gotten out of my bed, never said goodbye to my parents, and never abandoned everything that made me comfortable in life. There is one thing that I know even though the trip has not yet begun: I will never regret this decision.

I could have stayed at my job in the Bay and lived comfortably, but this is the path I have chosen. So to answer the ubiquitous question, which follows me like a shadow wherever I go, I have four things to say.

I can hear my bones straining under the weight of all the lives I am not living. This quote from Jonathan Safran Foer’s Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close has resonated in my heart like the rattle of little Oskar’s tambourine since I first read this magnificent book my first year at UC Berkeley. My bones, my body, my mind, and my spirit ache with the weight of not knowing the many paths that my life could lead me down. I plan to go to graduate school and get a doctorate and after that seek a professorship for the rest of my days. While a majority of the people I know are now desperately pursuing a lifelong career, I have found myself unwilling to tie myself to one thing. There are so many things in life I want to do and be that after graduate school I may never get to experience. So I have decided to put real life on hold and go adventure for a while. I do not want to be one thing, I want to be many and I hope to never cease changing in my life. As an English major (aka major book nerd) I have always felt that the most amazing result of reading is that the reader is able to live a thousand different lives through the novels they immerse themselves in throughout their own finite life. I have lived the lives of others both real and imaginary, some more than once, but I have yet to live my own.
Desperately seeking self. Perhaps it is cliche to seek yourself on the open road, or perhaps there is a wisdom in this repetition that proves success. I never feel so inspired than when my wheels are spinning on the pavement and my mind is whirling with thoughts heavily lined with the experiences of yesterday. A solo road trip is obviously a lot of alone time, which both terrifies me and intrigues me with the possibilities of unformed experiences. I have to communicate with me; there is no way around it, no where to run or hide. I am an introspective and introverted person, so this isn’t exactly new to me, but lately I have found myself wrapped around the fingers of others. As time has passed and I have dedicated less time to writing and creating, I have found myself throwing all of my time into others. This is not to say I should not have done this, or that I regret doing this, but I have lost the confidence in being alone that I once had. I have shelved my purpose, my pursuits, and my identity for far too long and traveling alone allows me to be selfish in a way I have not been able to be in a long time. I want to recover the entirety of who I once was and learn how to live a life that is fully mine.
I am a strong young women building my inner independence from the ground (or road) up. Let’s be honest, the main reason people ask me why in the world I would do this is the same reason I have to do this: I am a woman, alone, and the world isn’t always nice to solo women trying to find their place in the world. People ask me, aren’t your parents scared for you? and I can see the real question in their eyes and implied in their words, there is a lot of danger that I am courting just because I am a young woman with no one to watch my back, no one to protect me, no one to stave off the danger of cat calls, rude and greedy eyes, lecherous thoughts of strangers, and the unknown/unpredictable mishaps that could occur on the road. This, however, is the very reason I must go. Yes, I am a woman, yes I can do this on my own. I am capable, strong, independent, cautious, wise, and fear will not hold me back. I am a part of this world and I am going to take part in it. Hiding at home will never change the way the world perceives women. To think that my blog in any way will affect this though is naive and not what I am getting at. What I want this blog to do over the next couple of months is serve as an example that women can do anything. I am just one of many women who has chosen to take to the road alone and just as those women who have served as an example for me, I hope that I can help at least one other woman see that they can do it too. To help show just one person, even if that one person is myself, that it is totally worth it is all I want to achieve.
I am an adventurer and nothing is going to stop me, not even myself. A lot of people see me as someone who is unafraid, outgoing, adventurous, and motivated. In truth, I struggle with all of these things greatly. But still, I must go. Crippled by anxiety, scared, small, often sick, and indecisive, I am horrified by things that are unknown and uncontrollable. But still, I must go. Unable to let go of control and filled to the brim with nervousness, I am unsure about everything I am about to embark on over the next few months. But still, I must go. Why? Why. why. No matter how scared, nervous, chronically in pain, or unsure I am, I am only sure that I must go. Because I am an adventurer; because the road has been calling my name since my mother first introduced me to it six years ago; because I am my own worst enemy and adversaries exist to bring out the best in us; because I am not living my life if I let my fear, anxiety, or illness win. These are the things I know. For some reason my heart picked adventure and I cannot say no, even if the rest of my being is against it.

In some ways, this post is more for me than for you. I am my harshest critic, the one with the most to lose in this, but also the one with the most to gain. I guess you can say this is my manifesto, or simply a reminder for those dark days when all I want to do is give up or cry in a corner. This is my reminder that I can do this, that this is exactly what I want and need, and that no matter where I find myself, I am still me, I am still strong, and I will keep moving.

By the time you read this, I am already gone. Another white streak across the sky, tumbleweed rolling down the road, a stranger in a car window disappearing in the opposite direction. I will see you all again, some sooner rather than later, and hope that you will embark on this journey with me in one form or another.

Ultimately, there are a thousand reasons why I should not go and only one that underlies all of the reasons of why I should: I must. I have told myself a thousand times that I would and now it is hear and there is no backing down. So here I go, down the rabbit hole. Unsure of where it will lead me, this road is the path I have chosen; through all of the exciting loops and digressions, through all the wrong ways and misadventures, through all the new friends and unfriendly strangers, through all the beautiful sights I will see and the empty expanses of nothing, I have chosen this path and now I must follow it to its end.

Tags: adventure, colorado, cross country road trip, driving, east coast, find your park, independence, life, manifesto, michigan, never stop exploring, new york, rei1440project, road trip, solo woman, travel, traveling alone, USA, west coast, why, women, women traveling alone | Posted in Photos, Thoughts, Travel Updates | Comment (4) |

Back to the Beginning

September 14th, 2015

I want to begin again.

I know I have been gone a long time now but I miss this. I miss the feeling of my fingertips pressed against keys or pushing my pencil to the barren page. I miss having a place to put my words, a place to rest my weary head stirring with mercilessly jumbled thoughts. I miss knowing that I am doing exactly what I was put on this world to do. I have found myself purposeless these last few months, maybe even the last few years of my life and I am the only one to blame.

Thousands of excuses, busy days, hectic life, reorganized priorities, and a ceaselessly transforming sense of self have created a convoluted conundrum that I have self-titled ME. Here I stand six years after I began this blog and I am ashamed of how little I have written. Over the last four years I have found many new titles for myself: UC Berkeley Student, English Major, Jew, Christian, Proud Nerd, Tutor, Employee, World Traveler, Rome Resident, Slackliner, Rugby Player, Slam Poet, Academic Honoree, and finally, UC Berkeley Graduate.

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There are two titles that once meant the world to me that seem to have dropped from this list: Writer and Photographer. While yes, I have done both of these things over the past four years, I set them aside to see what other molds I could occupy, other worlds I could be a part of and inhabit for even a short amount of time. Those two words, writer and photographer, were my entire world and I never thought I could do or be anything else.I have found out two things over these last four years: I was both very wrong and incredibly correct. I have been a so many different things, but I don’t want to be anything else.

My friends who also graduated have been asking themselves and people have been asking me How have I changed in the last four years in college? I have heard a variety of responses; most respond that they have changed radically in unbelievable and unpredictable ways. Others mildly agree that they have changed, but not necessarily in a world shattering manner that leaves them aghast at how incredibly different they are now than the young freshmen walking under Sather Gate for the first time. I have pitted myself against this question several times and battled with the memories of who I was and who I am now. I have come up with a response that surprised myself: I have not changed at all.

This is not to say that I have not tried new things or had experiences that altered the way I view the world. What I mean by this is that I started at point A of myself, entered college and departed from point A into a million different directions and digressions that led me to very strange and unfamiliar places, which have radically affected me. However, in all of these different circles and loops off of the trajectory I had envisioned when I graduated high school, I have found that the root, the core of what made me me never changed. So, in saying that I have not changed at all, I am not declaring this a negative lack of progression or growth in character. Instead, in discovering this, I have also relearned how much those two titles meant to me because they were absent from my life for so long. I would never take back the things I tried, the hobbies I took up, and the adventures I had into the vast unknown world full of different opportunities, but I did lose an important part of myself as a result.

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I was lost in the craze of a thousand possibilities and the path that had always been so clear to me before was obscured. Like Dante, “Midway upon the journey of our life/ I found myself in a dark wood,/ For the straightforward pathway had been lost” (Canto 1, Inferno). Except I, unlike Dante, had no Virgil to guide me through the perils. But if there is one thing that I have discovered in my wanderings, it is that being lost is the best way to find yourself. Being lost is not necessarily a bad thing; for me, it did mean losing sight of the things that were most important to me, but if I had not put those pursuits on the shelf for as long as I did, I never would have known just how much I needed and loved them. It was only when I found myself lost and without my purpose that I was able to understand just how essential writing was to my entire existence. Writing and digital storytelling through my photography truly is my purpose above all else in the world, without it I am not really me. This is what I have found.

So here I stand, wholly changed, yet exactly the same and ready to begin again.

Welcome back to my strange little world; walk with me, talk with me, cry with me, and learn how to live again with me on this unexpected journey. I am ready to claw my way back to the roots of my being and strip away the atrophied muscles of my mind in order to find the words that have been buzzing in my brain, dormant but living, for the last four years. Join me.

Tags: change, college, Dante, graduate, identity, lost, new beginnings, photography, purpose, starting over, titles, UC Berkeley, writing | Posted in Thoughts | Comment (0) |

Last Day in London

August 8th, 2014

My final day in London was filled with some of my favorite things that I had purposefully saved for last because I had been looking forward to them the most. The first of these things was actually going inside of the Westminster Abbey. I had been inadvertently circling this famous monument since I had first stepped foot in London, but despite being a constant in my time in London, I did not know what sort of treasures lay within the Gothic spires and flying buttresses of this impressive edifice.

Inside the Abbey I wasn’t actually supposed to take any photos so I only have a few secret photos of this incredible place. I spent hours slowly wandering up and down the aisles of this unbelievably beautiful building. Listening to my free audio guide, I took as much time as I wanted without a worry in the world, letting myself be wholly consumed by what was presently before me.

Each stain glass window, every statue protruding from the towering ceilings, every arched hallway stretching like the arms of a cross, the intricate carvings that covered seemingly every surface. It was easily worth the ridiculous cost of entry because it was up in the top of my favorite churchs, which is saying a lot after becoming a cathedral snob due to Rome’s over abundance of incredible churches.

Even from within the Abbey you could see the spires of Parliament peaking around the intricate rooftops of the Westminster. It was a pretty magical place on its own, but coupled with its amazing neighbors, it was truly phenomenal.

But the interior was the real show stopper. I wish I could have taken more, and better pictures of it, but it was definitely one of my favorite things in London. The Poet’s Corner, not pictured here, was a wonderful treat for me to see all the stone tablets commemorating so many incredibly talented writers that I have been reading for years. To stand amongst their names, circled in their words, portraits, and often times their very graves, was an unforgettable experience. Chaucer, Dickens, Dryden, Hardy, Kipling, and Tennyson lay buried at my feet, and memorials to Milton, Shakespeare, Blake, Austen, the Bronte sisters, Coleridge, Keats, C.S. Lewis, and many other world changing poets and writers surrounding me. To stand in this hallowed place as a writer and English Major was mind blowing, to be surrounded with such ineffable talent was a dream come true.

But back out in the world of the living, I had a whole day of wandering and things that I had not yet experienced in London that I knew I had to see before I went on my way to my next leg of the journey.

Crossing the London Bridge I came to my next, and shamelessly one of the most exciting things for me besides the Poets Corner, The Borough Market because everyone knows how much of a nut I am for markets of any and every sort.

I started my market experience with a little lunch at what seemed to be a very popular outdoor assembly line of awesome food.

I opted for the Catalan Stew, consisting of an amazing Paella cooked in an insanely huge wok type pan.

The Paella was then topped with the stew, which was a spiced blend of vegetables and meatballs simmered in yet another ridiculously large pot.

All mixed together it was a fantastic lunch that I ate under the shadow of a church while rain began to softly fall.

When the rain became to much for me I wandered into the actual market under the covered safety of a bridge with a green underbelly of iron. There were so many stands full of so much amazing food, I couldn’t even begin to take pictures of it all let alone eat it all, and believe me, I did try.

Weaving between the stands, the smokey wisps of cooking food, and fresh produced piled high, I was entirely mesmerized by this wonderland of food.

I tried a lot of different things, dumplings, Turkish delight, chili, cheese, olives, and even an incredible gluten free almond croissant that blew my mind and my taste buds.

I spent a long time wandering the market, even ducking into an old pub hiding under the bridge called the Globe from the 1800’s, before begrudgingly leaving with a stomach full of delicious food.

My next stop was the Tower of London and Tower Bridge, two iconic images of London that I had yet to see.

Walking around the Tower of London in a soft drizzle, it was an intriguing structure to behold. This historic palace and fortress seemed almost hilariously out of place with the modern surroundings that stood tall around it.

It was definitely a strange juxtaposition between the old and the new, a juxtaposition I had grown accustomed to during my time in Europe because this seems to be present in almost every major European city I have yet traveled to, which I suppose isn’t saying a lot looking at my travel history, but still, an intriguing motif no doubt.

Coming around the Tower of London on the side along the Thames, the wind picked up, so freezing my butt off I continued along the huge river towards the Tower Bridge, which is an incredible lift bridge with wonderful architectural features.

I really enjoyed the bridge and walking across it slowly, looking back over the city that I had explored for several days, it felt right to end my time there in that way.

It had been a wonderful experience, so leaving on the commuter train for Wallington was a sad feeling, and the ride home gave me a good while to consider all of the incredible things I had seen over the span of my time in England. With only one day left in England before continuing on to the Netherlands, I was well pleased to watch the sun descend over London one last time.

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Oxford

August 6th, 2014

The day after I returned from York, I took a day trip to Oxford with my gracious host Gavin who was an alumnus and wanted to show me around this world famous university. On a rainy day, interrupted sporadically with moments of blue sky forcing their way through the stubborn rain clouds, we took in the sights of this little city with such a big name.

Wandering around every building it was easy to see why this was such a prestigous school with its impressive architecture, incredible location in the adorable town of Oxford, and I am sure the academics are insane but I sadly didn’t get to see any examples of that since a majority of the colleges where closed due to examinations.

I was pretty disappointed that I didn’t get to see the inside of Oxford’s incredible libraries that I had always dreamed of visiting, but I was still very glad to see what I could.

Everything in Oxford seemed like some wonderfully ancient relic of mankind. The architecture was mind blowing and we got to see a couple of cool things like this old illuminated Bible.

I loved the colors of the pale buildings that surrounded the university buildings. The mixture of the architecture that was so striking in the colleges contrasted with the short, and rather plain but well colored normal houses made the town just a little bit more endearing to me.

We also got to wander around an adorable market with twinkle lights and red paint covering everything except for the white trim and the hanging lanterns.

After taking a short break in a pub for lunch, we thought we had escaped the rain, but once we left were immediately drenched in a fierce downpour that continued for a majority of our short stay in the town.

We dashed between chapels and colleges hiding as much as we could from the torrential downpour that seems so characteristic of England, which I had up until this point been spared form during my time in England.

The chapels where unbelievable, with their huge organs and impressive interiors.

Everything was straight out of a movie it seemed (probably Harry Potter if I am not mistaken) and how fairytale-like it all was.

It was hard for me to look at everything and think that it was a real school, where real people go to get an incredible education. It was just so otherworldly feeling and different than anything I had ever personally experienced back in the States. It was hard for me to wrap my brain around the idea of actually going to school in a place that truly belonged in a storybook.

We spent the whole day just wandering as I usually do when I visit a new place and I was just so grateful to get to see another wonderful town in England.

Magdalene college was probably my favorite with a wonderful courtyard and it’s back facing the deer park where deer roamed behind fences and a river that ran through oxford.

The sun finally broke through for a brief moment lighting all of the buildings and the beautiful flowers even as the sky grew darker and darker with the same old rain clouds that had been following us all day.

I really loved the river and the little colorful boats that people used to peruse down its watery ways.

With increasingly dark clouds warning us to part ways, we left Oxford behind, soaked through, but so glad I got to see what an English University looks like, because who knows, maybe I will return to take classes there some day.

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York: Part Two

August 5th, 2014

The entirety of a day lay before me, the whole of a city yet to be explored was my wondrous opportunity, so with feet to the cobblestones that lined these streets I set out to conquer every avenue in York.

The town was wondrously fairytale-like with banners of flags draped across courtyards bringing color to the old buildings that appeared on every street corner.

I felt like no matter where I wandered there was some mysterious building calling my attention away. With no object except exploration in mind, there is so much to discover in a place such as York because everything is new, yet old at the same time. I think in some small way I loved York deeply because it made me feel like how I felt while in Rome; like anything was possible in a world caught between the old and the new of infinite wonders.

After a small jaunt of aimless wandering I made my way to the Museum Garden Park, which is a wonderful little area along the river that is lined with museums, flowers, and ruins standing tall and monolithically pervading over all who passed in the shadow it cast on the green lawns. There were people everywhere lounging laughing, and soaking up the good weather cast down by the sun’s rays.

I spent a while walking around the ruins, looking into ancient fortress walls and towers left behind by the mercy of time.

When I returned to the main part of the park area I was surprised to see a birds of prey exhibit, which meant that there was a tent where a bunch of huge birds and small ones where on display.

This little guy was probably my favorite, he had a lot of energy and wanted nothing to do with his perch.

The owl was the funniest and I actually got to hold him, which was really incredible yet scary because he was not exactly pleased to be so surrounded by people.

He was very vocal as well, constantly screeching and reeling his head around to stare down some innocent passerby.

This little one with the big dark eyes was absolutely silent, he watched quietly all of the people without the slightest sound as his loud companion, the great horned owl squawked up a storm.

After enjoying the birds, I returned to the famous walls of York to take a walk around the city to observe the center from the outside.

It seemed like from almost every angle on the wall you could see the impressive spires of York Minster peeking out from behind brick buildings or through tree branches covered in small blossoms.

I loved every little street or alley way I wandered down, everything was so incredibly quaint.

I got to see some of the most historical places in York aside from its ancient walls, like these white houses below which are the oldest buildings in York.

Also an incredible old church with box style pews and crooked floors where the dead where buried under each slab of stone.

After getting to see all of these sights I stopped for a quick lunch break and got my first taste of fish n’ chips at a lovely little place with the biggest portions ever.

With a trough like box full of fries and fried fish I sat in a cute courtyard surrounded by little ice cream vendors with a direct line of sight to York Minster looming in the distance.

Next on my agenda were the famous York Shambles, a small area with crooked leaning houses looming over a cobblestone street lined with adorable shops. But while taking a short break, wherein I talked randomly with an elderly woman about her garden and her children, I got to take in the sights of the market just outside of the shambles.

The Shambles where like every picture in a story book of England I had ever seen before, and they were maybe my favorite thing in York.

It was a small street, but I wandered up and down it again feeling like I was strolling through a story book trying to understand when exactly my life became a fairy tale. It is a strange thing to realize that suddenly you are leading a life that is everything you had hoped it would be, but you still cannot really believe that life truly belongs to you.

After my breath taking time in the Shambles I returned to the garden area to see that the birds of prey were now released from their perches and where casually hopping around on the grass freely. There was a exhibit going on where the bird keepers where showing off the skills of the birds and it was pretty fun to watch, like the low flying skill of the Great Horned Owl.

Or the diving and swooping of an Arizona Kestrel Hawk snatching food from the keeper’s hand in a flash of feathers.

The rest of my time in York was spent wandering up and down every street that I could find, weaving my way across the fabric of this wonderful little place.

Finally I made my way to my last stop of the day, York Minster, the towering cathedral that is the most impressive sight in York aside from its walls.

I had decided to go to an evening song service, so instead of going inside I marvel at the exterior and then decided to get some afternoon tea to kill time until the service.

I stopped to get some good ol’ tea and scones with clotted cream and jam since I had already had the classic fish n’ chips I figured why not go for all of the english classics? The waiter was super nice and I stayed in the tea shop for about an hour and a half just savoring the peacefulness of tea and the view of the Minster right outside of the window lined with colorful flowers.

When the time came I left behind my new friends at the tea shop and went to the cathedral for service.

The inside was massively impressive but I wasn’t really supposed to take pictures because I hadn’t paid to get in since I was attending a service which is free. There was a majestic beauty in the immense stain glass and the high arching stone of the interior that matched the exterior I had been marveling at all day from afar.

The service was beautiful and the surroundings unbelievable, I was sad to have to leave by the end.

The bells of the church, the song of the choir still ringing in my ears as I boarded my train back to my temporary home outside of London was a perfect way to conclude my time in York. The entire train ride back I marveled at how incredibly lucky I am to be able to see the things I saw. The sun descended behind the train as we rocketed homeward, closing the final light on my adventure to York, but as I closed my eyes that night back in my bed, I knew it only meant there would be a new adventure tomorrow.

Tags: adventure, ancient, birds of prey, Cathedral, clotted cream, england, english tea, fish n' chips, ruins, study abroad, tea and scones, the shambles, travel, UK, walls, wandering, york, york minster, york shambles, york walls | Posted in Photos, Stories, Travel Updates | Comment (0) |

Home Away From Home

July 5th, 2014

I am writing from my home away from home in Upper Michigan where I will be for the next two weeks and I thought everyone deserved a little update. I finished my adventures in Rome almost two months ago, and my adventures in Europe just a few weeks ago. I have bounced between places, rooting and uprooting myself from everywhere I went, not realizing how deep my own roots had grown, and how hard it got each successive time to find a way to dislodge myself without damage. Whenever I travel I try to get to know a place, which makes it all the harder to leave in the end.

I am a deep rooted person and because of that, every time I drag myself from the bottom out to a new place, I know that there is always something I leave behind of myself. It makes travel somewhat painful, but it also makes it so much more beautiful. To feel the pain of missing something is a discomfort I have come to enjoy in my travels because it means I cared enough, felt deep enough, about a place or the people in it to truly miss it when it is gone. I choose to cherish the fact that I was able to build these strong connections instead of dwelling on the pain of missing them.

I have come to understand now that the older we grow, the more homes we accumulate. As little children collect doll houses, which they fill with all the pieces they think makes up a house and home, I have seen people as they grow older collect homes. However, instead of physical houses gathering dust in the corner, I have found that certain places leave images of themselves behind in my heart that cannot be uprooted, no matter how hard I try. I am 21 years old, I have collected four homes so far in my life:

Santa Cruz, California: My first and everlasting home filled with the sound of wind blowing through trees and waves crashing on the beach. Filled with childhood memories of me and my family. If you put your ear close to my heart, you can hear Santa Cruz continually ringing like a conch shell murmuring of the ocean it once belonged to.
Bootjack, Michigan: A home the color of crystal water, and sunsets like none I have ever seen elsewhere. It rings like thunder rolling deep across the lake as rain hangs like a curtain over the things I love. It is filled with my most cherished family memories that have made my heart so full of family I could never let them go. The welcome mat in front of my home reads out to all who peer inside my heart, Just Another Beautiful Day in Bootjack.
Berkeley, California: This home is filled to the walls with books, ones I both love and hate. The walls are covered in words of the things I have collected from professors, peers, and some life long friends. This home is ever changing as I enter my final year of physically living here, but this place houses all of my wisdom, my hard work and dedication. It is in this home I have watched dreams become reality.
Rome, Italy: My newest home full of memories like a live-wire bringing new things to life in me. A home the color of perpetual dawn like the buildings painted to never loose the colors of each wonderful day. A home filled with reconstructed ruins, where rubble is the remnant and reminder of how grand life can be. A home that stole my heart quite forcefully, rooting deep and fast making it the most painful to leave.

All of this to say, I have been bouncing between all four of these homes for the last couple of months, leaving Rome to return to Santa Cruz, leaving Santa Cruz to see Berkeley, and Leaving Santa Cruz again to come where I am now, my home away from home in Michigan. I hope to share some memories and experiences of my most current home as I have been doing for my others so recently.

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York: Hope for Humanity and Hedgehogs

June 30th, 2014

While in England I took a series of day trips to spread my knowledge’s reach to other parts of England beyond London. Branching out on the train lines I set out to adventure in England beginning with York where I stayed for two glorious days. With just my purse and my camera packed away I trekked across London to the King’s Cross Station, which is a big impressive station, next to the even bigger and more impressive station in my opinion, the St. Pancras Station. I had a bit of a long wait for my train so in the meanwhile I explored the area surrounding the station, and even watched a Lays commercial being made with a blind taste test where people kept burning their mouths on hot food.

Then I explored the interior of the station and realized that King’s Cross has Harry Potter’s Platform nine and three quarters and in the actual station they have this whole elaborate set up now for tourists looking to follow the Harry Potter things in London. It was a baggage cart cut in half next to wall with even an owl stuffed animal on it, and people had lined up, zigzagging through the station to take a photo with it pretending to be going through the wall. Not being a huge Harry Potter fan and finding the fanaticism funny, I sat on a nearby staircase watching the insane antics knowing if I had been with my friends we would have been one of those groups waiting in line since all of my friends are pretty die hard when it comes to Harry Potter. So I sat back and watched, laughing for almost an hour, watching the line snake its way forward endlessly.

Finally my train arrived and I was really surprised by how nice the trains where, especially after having used Trenitalia all semester in Italy which is pretty bare bones on the regional trains. The seats where plush and each one either had a chess/checkers table or a monopoly table for playing games. I had a really nice seat all to myself and a nice big window to watch the countryside roll by.

The two hour ride from London to York was wonderful, we essentially crossed all of England, almost to Scotland and the countryside was beautiful. Rolling hills of mustard grass and buttercups coloring the hills like a sea of yellow. Cows and cute towns speckled the landscape, the occasional river and undulating little hills with the fields of cows or sheep passing by the speeding train. I loved the ride and was almost sad when it ended, but even more excited to see what York had to behold.

I rather liked the little train station and once outside in the sunny, slightly muggy air I made directly for one of the towns most famous aspects, the ancient walls that still enclose the city.

I have thus far neglected to mention an important part of this little solo adventure to York, the fact that I was couch surfing with a total stranger. My housing for York fell through and I had to last minute find random housing and a 66 year old woman named Heather was kind enough to accommodate me. This was the first time I had ever done this and I was a little worried. But I had a few hours to kill my first day in York before I was supposed to meet her at the house. So I began with the wall.

The wall that runs almost entirely around the city of York is an artifact of ancient times, the preservation of the old city’s fortress walls. Almost entirely intact, today you can go around the city on the winding dragon spine of this town to take in its sights. I got onto the wall and could see York Minster in the background and I started making my way along the wall to see what there was to see. At the end of my first section of wall that dipped at a bridge crossing a river leading to what I assume once was an old guard tower tucked away by the riverside.

Much to my surprise I discovered that this little turret tower was in fact an adorable coffee shop. I knew I had to go in and see what a tower coffee shop looked like, but first I made a stop by the river to look at all the baby geese wandering everywhere in the town.

(Notice in the background of this shop, the super pissed off goose ready to chase me off)

I climbed the stairs to the tower and looked inside to see wooden beams crossing the ceiling and couches filling every inch of the room that wasn’t taken up by the counter. It was really extremely cute, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to spend my money just yet having just arrived maybe 10 minutes previous to this point in time. However, I wasn’t given much choice by a nice, but bluntly gruff man sitting in the corner whom, upon seeing me standing, gawking in the doorway, hollered at me to step in and get something to drink instead of just staring. He was a hilariously caustic man I came to known was called Shawn. Little did I know that him calling me into the coffee shop against my will and my wallet’s desires would lead to one of my favorite experiences of my entire month of travel after my program.

I shyly shuffled in and still a little cautious of the man who had called me in who was now muttering over his computer, I ordered coffee from the very kind barista. After I ordered I figured I could take a few pictures, so I asked permission first and the man in the corner, Shawn once again pipped in saying he would be very glad to model in the corner. And as I was taking pictures another traveler such as myself wandered in behind me and seeing me taking photos, jumped into my shot just like this. Didn’t have any idea who he was, but I deeply loved the photo.

So laughing I sat down with my delicious coffee and began talking with everyone there, observing the barista and Shawn who obviously where friends ad kept poking fun at each other; Shawn caustically muttering and the barista calling him a grouch and an old man because of his bad behavior. And I got to talking with Ben, the traveler who, like me had just hopped of the train, and we wound up sitting and talking for about 2 or 3 hours. It was a marvelous time, laughing at Shawn bashing every city in England besides York to prove that York was clearly the best city in the UK and the barista teasing him about him just being a silly grumpy person with impossible standards. Ben told me he was traveling from Scotland to meet up with his grandmother whom he loved very much so the two of them could travel together in the UK. I told him all about Italy and the cultural curiosities of the country that most people wouldn’t know. The entire time, any time I would say something he liked he would stop and hunched over his little notebook would write anything he liked that I said in his little journal for later so he could remember the things I said. It was invigorating to have a conversation with a total stranger and realize that my words mean something to him; that even though he would probably forget my name, my words remained in that little black book to be viewed again.

I was very sad when he realized he was late for his train and ran off, neither of us realizing the time that had passed while we were talking. He ran off, and I didn’t even know his last name at the end, it was a saddening end to a wonderful encounter, but my entire time in that coffee shop was so up lifting and had me believing so thoroughly in the goodness of total strangers that when I got back to the wall I was grinning from ear to ear with the possibilities of human interaction, which, coming from an introvert, is not a phrase I say often. I was just so happy and felt so rejuvenated that I wandered down the wall in total awe of people and a new hope for humanity blooming in my heart.

I walked all the way around the wall, enjoying the views, the flowers, and the warm summer air.

I got off the wall to go to another ancient site in York, Clifford’s Tower, a lone little circular tower perched high atop a hill overlooking the city. I walked through a field of geese and their little babies just to get to it.

The tower was very interesting and from there, with more time to wander, I decided to just weave my way through the backstreets of the city to see what there was to discover.

I found purple doors, with fox door knockers, old churches knee deep in buttercups and dandelions, ancient cemeteries in older churchyards, and crooked streets leading me to crooked buildings.

Past convents with shining stain glass windows, flowers blooming a deep crimson, old english buildings and back to the river again to hang my feet above the water with a beer in hand.

I took a short break on the water after an interesting encounter over taking pictures of geese that went a little something like this: I was taking pictures of some adorable baby geese, and realized there was an elderly gentleman also taking pictures of them. I thought it was a nice moment to share together, we made eye contact and I opened my mouth to affirm what I thought we both were thinking, how adorable are these baby geese?, when he looked at me, also about to speak but before I could say what I thought he was going to, he just looks at me and whispers, DINNER. I was so deeply shocked at how wrong I had read the situation that I just started laughing and couldn’t stop until he had left.

After that encounter, it was time to meet my host for the night, who riding up on a bicycle with bunting covering the straw basket, didn’t even stop before asking me, Do you want to come bird watching in an old Victorian cemetery with me tonight at sunset?

Who says no to that? Easily one of the strangest experiences of my trip, I ran/walked next to her for about thirty minutes outside of York while she rode her bike until we reached the cemetery.

The cemetery was entirely overgrown, a glowing green radiance summoned from the depth of these vine covered graves and deep rooted behemoth trees with branches reaching out like arms to encompass the entire cemetery like a mother raven pulling her children tightly underneath her broad wings. It was beautiful, quiet, peaceful, and despite it being a cemetery was a place full of life and solemn solitude.

The birdwatching itself was kind of a bust with a majority of the group entirely fine with examining the calls of black birds, desperately craning their necks and squinting their eyes to make out a pigeon in the distance, but the surroundings where astounding and I was very glad I went and got to experience his oddity.

After leaving the cemetery at dusk and run/walking back into York I broke off again from my kind host and decided to go wander around York at night to maximize my day and time for exploration.

After again sitting on the banks of the river with my feet dangling above the black starry water with a cider in hand, I finally headed home on the crooked cobblestone streets.

While on my journey back to the house, I saw something crossing the street, at first I thought it was a really weird looking rat because I could only see its outline in the dark and its strange waddling stride. I thought it was the strangest looking rat I had ever seen, I mean it didn’t even have a tail, when to my surprise as I wandered closer I realized it was a wild hedgehog. I have always wanted to see one and nearly lost my mind when I realized I had encountered one in the wilderness of York’s streets.

After doing a little dance of celebration in the street at my luck, I made sure to take a few pictures and then leave the creature to its night wanderings.

I went back to the house grinning once again from ear to ear as I had done when leaving the coffee shop that same morning. My host was gracious enough to give me my own room in the attic of her terrace home. It was adorable, but felt a little haunted or something at night, but still adorable.

So after talking with my host about art, wildlife, her work, my travels, and a huge array of random topics over English tea, we both retired to bed after a long but fulfilling day.

Tags: birdwatching, cemetery, city walls, clifford's tower, coffee, countryside, england, flowers, geese, harry potter, hedgehog, hope, humanity, interaction, kings cross train station, medieval, platform nine and three quarters, relationships, study abroad, trains, travel, UK, york, york minster | Posted in Photos, Stories, Travel Updates | Comment (0) |

The Queen’s Walk

June 25th, 2014

The novelty of a double decker bus as a regular form of transportation in London was just one of many things that made me really enjoy exploring this world city. Hopping off the train in the morning and getting on a red double decker bus I would always hurry to the second level to secure one of the highly praised ad sought after front seats with the big window looking out over the streets directly in front of it. To see the surrounding sights of London from an elevated viewpoint gives one a sense of power yet separation from the surroundings, making it somewhat of an alien way to experience a new city, but in the best way possible. So camera in hand and my face close to the window in the front seat on top of the bus I watched as London slowly passed me by with a huge smile on my face and my eyes wide open to take in everything I possibly could. I even purposely took a longer route that would wind its way all the way through Westminster into the City of London so I could see everything from my royal seat atop the mighty double decker bus.

I went into the City of London, now the financial district to meet Emily, my father’s cousin who, along with her husband where kind enough to house me during my adventures, so that we could have lunch together on her lunch break in Spitalfields. First I made a quick stop in the Leadenhall Market that has been featured in the Harry Potter movies and when I visited I could see clearly why. Despite its small size it was really wonderful to behold. Wandering with my face up turned looking at the hanging flags, colorful banners, and glass ceilings stretching like long arms of a cross above the hallways of the market.

Shops to shoe shiners, it was a great little place filled with all sorts of business types making it a fun place to see and I thoroughly enjoyed it.

I walked from LeadenHall Market to Spitalfields near where Emily works but on the way took a quick peek at a beautiful train station, the Liverpool Street Station that was a wonderful mixture of old brick buildings housing the modern train station as well as being surrounded by some of the most iconic modern architecture there is in London. Hidden amongst glass faced skyscrapers, it was an interesting juxtaposition.

After lunch Emily showed me around the Old Spitalfields Market area that was really interesting and full of people selling all sorts of knick knacks.

Leaving Spitalfields and Emily to return to her lovely place of work I wandered around and decided to return to St. Paul’s Cathedral and from there go to the South Bank and wander along the river. I made sure to enjoy every street that I wandered down on my way to St. Paul’s.

It was interesting to lay in a nice little field below St. Paul’s and look up at its large dome, thinking of St. Peter’s in Rome, remembering how just a few short weeks prior (that felt like years ago,) that very similar dome had been my beacon signaling me home any where in the eternal city of Rome. I could stand anywhere in Rome and look for the dome of St. Peter’s and know, if I could see the Vatican, I could see home only a few short blocks from it; knowing if it was in sight, I was never far from home. To lay by the way side of St. Paul’s, a beautiful mirage of my now distant home, and think that the dome of St. Peter’s will always mean home to me, even though I will never again be able to look at my wonderful little apartment on Via Cola di Rienzo and call it mine. It was a sad realization, realizing your home is no longer your own, realizing the place that became my safe haven when the noise and clutter of Rome became to much is no longer a place I can return to. I miss Rome dearly, even amidst the splendor of exploration and world travel, I sat in that field knowing, no other city I would encounter could ever be what Rome now is to me. But that will never impede my ability to deeply appreciate the places I visit and the things I see, but it makes it plainly apparent the difference of being a traveler adrift in the endless sea of wonders this world has to offer, and the anchored resident trying to fight the current that tries to whisk you away because you know how important this place is to you now, knowing that if you don’t fight to stay, you will never know what it was to fight for a place you love.

After letting that realization sink into my heart, I continued on, letting the current of all things new whisk me away from St. Paul’s and the memories of St. Peter’s out onto the very interesting and very modern Millennium Bridge. The dome of St. Paul’s present, but diminishing in the distance as I walked farther and farther out over the bridge surrounded by the metal wings of its structure above the Thames River, cloudy and dark below.

Continually looking back over my shoulder to take in the view of London as I traveled closer and closer to the South Bank, taking the occasional look out over the river to the surrounding structures, I stood between the two sides of a magnificent city.

On the other side the entire vibe changed, there were musicians playing by the riverside, young people lounging, tanning on green fields below towering museum buildings, and various street performers including a woman dressed in a maids outfit (and not looking particularly happy about it) serving tea on little carts, a trumpet player who teamed up with a Charlie Chaplain look a like, and some break dancers.

I really loved the South Bank of London and walking along it back towards Westminster, I walked the entire Queen’s Walk, a nice pathway along the river that weaves through tons of museums, wharves, food stalls, and even a skatepark. It was a place so full of relaxed joy and happy activity taking place all around me, it was hard not to walk along the path smiling ear to ear.

Past old boats anchored for eternity, clock towers leaning over wharves, and many a person reading scenically (which I deeply enjoyed and eventually took part in myself) I wandered down the Queen’s Walk feeling like a princess. These two readers where my favorite, the girl perched above the Queen’s Walk sign reading a red book that she had just begun and the man all in white, leaning casually on the banister with all of the City of London in the background.

It was a warm beautiful day which made everything even nicer and more pleasant. I wandered into a side courtyard full of adorable shops and restaurants that made me want to stop in every single one and buy something, but instead I settled with some pictures.

After the food stalls and cute restaurants I found the skate park and a little book market where I bought the tiniest copy of Milton I have ever seen, maybe 3 inches tall because when is it more appropriate to buy a book of Milton’s works than in England… especially when it is tiny.

Finally rounding the corner into Jubilee Park I began to see the super iconic images of London, but this time from the other side. The London Eye, Big Ben, and the Parliament building looming across the river with the sun shining bright behind it, casting the structures’ shadows across the bridge and water. There was even some sort of carnival going on in Jubilee Park that seemed fun but was packed with people so I moved on quietly, enjoying the peace of the river for the clutter of the festival.

I crossed the river again over Westminster Bridge back to the territory I had tread the previous day, but not after first taking my fair share of pictures.

I made sure to go back and take a few more pictures of Westminster Abbey as the sun started to descend casting the sky in a deep shade of blue.

I concluded my day with another scenic bus ride to a tiny little alley way with an adjoining courtyard that I had heard about called Neal’s Yard. Seeing pictures of it online I had to go find it. It was a little difficult because I didn’t know its exact location and didn’t have an iphone to look it up on, so after wandering down as many alleyways I could find, I finally found it and was not disappointed.

It was really quite small but full of so much color and life that it was totally worth it. filled with adorable little restaurants and people sitting under the japanese maple trees drinking wine, smoking, and laughing together. The people there seemed just as colorful and full of life as the walls reaching upward around them.

Soaking in the color in the fading light as I had soaked up the sun during my wonderful wanderings on the Queen’s Walk I concluded my second day in London and wearily, but happily returned to the station to catch my train home after another tiring day on my sore feet. But the soreness meant nothing knowing that my feet had tread on stones previously unturned in places all over Europe that I had always hoped to visit.

Tags: big ben, book fair, city of london, double decker bus, england, london, london eye, millennium bridge, Neal's yard, Queen's Walk, reading, rome, south bank london, spitalfields, st. paul's cathedral, st. peter's, study abroad, tourism, travel, UK, westminster | Posted in Candid Photography, Photos, Stories, Travel Updates | Comment (0) |

London Life

June 17th, 2014

While in England I stayed with some family outside of London in Carshalton and would take the train into Victoria Station in London for days of adventure and exploration about this world city. My first trip into London began with the British Museum since all museums in London are entirely free, which is a breath of fresh air after the outrageously expensive museum entries I have begrudgingly paid for over the semester.

With impressive sights like the Rosetta Stone and East Island Tiki Men, it was an interesting museum to walk around. I hadn’t realized going in that the Rosetta Stone was housed here which was particularly exciting to me seeing as it was something I had always wanted to witness.

The Lion hunting room was also pretty incredible with an entire room lined with these reliefs of people hunting down lions with chariots and bows and arrows. Brutal, but a beautiful exhibit.

The world’s oldest chess set was one of my favorite with tiny figurines delicately carved out of what I think was bone.

After the museum I just set about wandering London by foot, taking in every alley way, courtyard, and building that interested me. Whether they be streets lined with the old fashion telephone booths, or sculptures picturesquely placed amidst green trees, it was a beautiful day of wandering.

Covent Gardens was the first place I visited because I had a free walking tour with Sandemans schedule for the day that was meeting there. Before the tour I explored the market area that was truly a wonder to behold, it was easily one of my favorite places in London because it is a center for street performers. Performers of all sorts of talents gather at this rather touristy spot to entertain and earn some money. When I first arrived there was a lively string quartet playing down below, dancing with cellos, whirling violinists and instruments that sang out loudly under the covered roofs.

Our tour began by walking through Covent Gardens, telling us the history of how King Henry the Eighth turned what once were the gardens for West Minster Abbey into public markets. Afterwards we then moved on past St. Martin in the Fields to Trafalgar Square, a central point of sorts in London with the National Gallery, abounding statues (including a giant blue rooster) and a nice fountain.

From Trafalgar square we wandered for quite a while through London visiting various palaces and buildings of importance finally finding ourselves in front of Buckingham Palace after crossing through lush green gardens.

Sadly the Queen wasn’t in and you cannot visit at the time of year I was there but it was still a pretty cool thing to see.

And no trip to Buckingham Palace is complete without a couple of photos of the famous British guardsmen marching away in their red coats and funny hats.

Next they took us through St. James Park with lakes. swans, pelicans and more.

We came out on the other side of the park and found our way back to the iconic Big Ben and some more wonderful red telephone booths.

We ended our tour sitting looking at the incredible British Parliament buildings which are just a wonderful expanse of intricately detailed buildings ending with the towering Big Ben that rings out deep and low like thunder when the time is right.

When the tour was over I went back to Covent Gardens and went back to many of the places we saw on the tour to do them at my pace and enjoy the sights with some more leisurely time.

Back at the Covent Gardens I sat and watched a wonderful professional opera singer raise her voice to the rafters of the markets while I ate some delicious paella for dinner. I have never heard such a loud voice ring out of a woman that small, her voice commanded everyone in the market area and you couldn’t help but marvel at the strength of her voice.

Afterwards I then watched a Charlie Chaplain look a like ride a unicycle on a tightrope (what.) in addition to a man on a really tall unicycle juggle knives. It was pretty interesting to see all these performers in such a small place with such diverse talents. I spent quite a while there just enjoying the warm sunny air, some coffee, good food, and London life revolving around me.

After my time in Covent Gardens I walked everywhere, letting the sun guide me down streets and people lead me to different sights and impressive spectacles.

I even found Chinatown where I watched a woman expertly make dumplings from a seat in her restaurant window.

By the end of the day my feet where deeply exhausted since I had walked so much so I took a break and watched some more street performers for a while.

I decided to end my day in St. James Park since I had enjoyed it so much there when we walked through it briefly on the tour. Wandering through Green Park through green avenues of billowing trees as the sun began to withdraw, the light was fantastic and the heat of the day died off leaving everything perfectly pleasant.

St. James was full of geese, swans, squirrels, and even some pelicans that had been given to the Queen from Russia. It was a wonderful place to stroll was the last light of day vanished from the sky behind Buckingham Palace.

I lay under the trees watching the sun set and it was a fantastic end to my first day in London, I couldn’t wait to go back in and explore even more in the days to come.

Tags: big ben, british museum, buckingham palace, chinatown, covent gardens, england, geese, green park, guards, juggling knives, london, market, opera, pelicans, performers, rosetta stone, sandeman free tour, st. james park, sunset, swan, tour, trafalgar square, travel, walking, westminster | Posted in Photos, Stories, Travel Updates | Comment (0) |

Final Days in Berlin

May 24th, 2014

My last few days in Berlin before I headed off to England where a mixture of wandering the streets, exploring neighborhoods, and trying to get a feel for slow life as it really is in Berlin. Maiya and I explored, she showed me a lot of things she hadn’t done before but also showing me things that were just everday components of life in Berlin.

We got a nice German breakfast at Mokka Bar, which was in an adorable little cafe with beautiful breakfast spreads of fruit, bread, meats, and cheeses. After a lot of luxurious relaxing we wandered about the streets taking in the sights.

We also wandered along the canal which had lots of beautiful buildings and green covered walkways below little tree canopies next to the river.

We also explored a beautifully green park that had an old bunker up on a hill. But first we enjoyed the outdoors and the wondrous greenery of the place.

Frolicking around under the canopy of a willow tree, climbing hills, and wandering through pond areas with cute little bridges.

Awkwardly though, we climbed one hill to be directly faced with a couple very loudly having sex. Embarrassed and shocked at the public display and ran down the hill laughing in surprise.

After that and some cool graffiti we encountered we found a lovely little rose garden without any roses but lots of wisteria. We sat on the railing under the wisteria looking out through its branches onto the beautiful gardens just enjoying a quick moment of sunshine after several days of solid grey.

Then we scaled upwards to the top of the bunker where we could see most of the city past the green tree tops of the gardens.

The bunker area was very cool and the wind was blowing so strongly we could barely keep ourselves together. Through the mist of rain and the wind we explored the top of the bunker and then returned to where I had gotten coffee the previous day to get a Berlin tradition, curry wurst.

This funny tradition of sausage (maybe just a boiled hot dog?) with ketchup mixed with curry powder as well as a generous helping of french fries. IT is a funny dish that most Berliners affectionately say is something you really only get once but we went to one of the best places for it and it wasn’t too bad. Every city has its traditions I suppose, some more well loved than others.

The following day I began my day with an outing that was extremely relaxing but possibly a bit morbid. Maiya told me about a wonderful little cafe, Cafe Strauss that is actually in an old cemetery. It was a lovely brick building with a porch lined with tables right inside of a cemetery. As strange of a setting as it was, it was very peaceful with the silence and stillness of it all only broken by the sound of birds singing. I sat there for a long time wrapped in a blanket, which is something cafes and restaurants in Berlin seems to do is put out blankets for every chair, writing while enjoying the peace.

After a relaxing morning of writing and drinking hot coffee we decided to go out and enjoy a food market extravaganza that was a huge market hall filled with food stands from all over the world. It was truly amazing, there were so many different types of food, so many smells wafting in the smoky air of the market halls high ceilings and after the semester in ITaly with only italian food in sight this was like my carnival.

It was so hard to choose from all of the different types because everything looked so amazing but I decided to go for Thai food since it is my favorite and it did not disappoint. Also Maiya got some amazing wine mixed with wine saturated strawberries that was divine. I got to meet some of Maiya’s friends from her program and it was really great getting to know them even if it was just for a short little bit.

This night was my last night in Berlin and it did not disappoint whatsoever. After the food market we went for a walk in the park where we got to see some cool animals, a lot of people enjoying the sunshine and a fair deal of drug dealers trying to sell me some cocaine, besides that and Maiya nearly getting pushed into the street during a sudden street fight near the U-Bahn station our evening was nice.

We then had plans o meet some of Maiya’s other friends who were from California as well at a wine tasting place that was truly wonderful. But before we settled in Maiya and I decided to wait in a little children’s park right next door that was the most amazing park ever. We had so much fun jumping on little trampolines, sitting in swings that were too small for us, and just acting like kids despite both of us being technically seniors in college now. After out dearly beloved trip to the park we went into the wine place that sells you a glass and you can get as many refills of wine as you like and taste as many different types of wine as you please as well. It was quite the concept and I deeply loved it, it reminded me of the Italian aperitivo without the food. So sitting in a luxurious couch in the crowded place we sipped many different kinds of wine and I got to meet Maiya’s friends who were really just wonderful.

It was a great night, full of good conversations and great wine. We took our friends back to the park but this time in the dark and really just had the best time. It was probably my favorite moment in Berlin, sitting under the stars, spinning around on the children’s play ground, singing songs together loudly in the park, and just enjoying life. I deeply loved it, never have I enjoyed a park that much and it made me very sad when I realized it was my final night in Berlin. I wish I had met them sooner because they were so much fun and I was going to miss my Roomie. Six days wasn’t enough. I wanted more but sadly the night had to end and we all piled in a taxi and headed home. I said goodbye to my new friends and went to sleep in Berlin for the last time.

My final morning in Berlin was a blur of packing, panicking, and then some good clean fun in an abandoned airport. Typical travel day. This old abandoned airport has been transformed into a wonderful free space for everyone to enjoy the sun, the tall grasses, a space to run or bike, or fly kites. It really is a nice space for everyone to share. Maiya and I wandered around enjoying my last morning here and our last morning together for some time to come.

There were even people skateboarding with attached kites and sails to drag them along down the long airport runways.

It was a good end to my time in Berlin and I was very pleased overall with the first leg of my journey. I had a new appreciation for Berlin and had enjoyed my time with an old friend. It was a perfect blend of the old and the new, historically and experientially. I was sad to leave but with England next on my list and the Netherlands after that, it was the end of one experience and the beginning of many more.

Tags: abandoned, airplane, airport, berlin, bunker, cemetery coffee, coffee, cold war, curry wurst, food, food market, food porn, german, germany, graffiti, old, park, thai, wandering, world war 2 | Posted in Photos, Stories, Travel Updates | Comment (0) |

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