Kissing Oscar Wilde's Tomb

Instead of going with my friends to the Louvre, I decided to take a long, long walk in the Paris springtime to the Pére Lachaise Cemetery to meet some famous dead people and do some tomb kissing. 

shaded walk in the maze-like cemetery

It's a cheeky thing to do, kissing the grave of a dead person, but I think Wilde would have loved it.

Photo credit

Look how beautiful it is! Sadly, removing the lipstick and graffiti slowly wears away at the stone, so in 2011 they erected a glass barrier to keep the smoochers off. Although it doesn't feel as fun or romantic, people still kiss the glass to keep the tradition alive.

My reflection with a lipstick mark. It's been exactly 3 years since I took this photo so I can't remember if the lips are mine or not. 

I arrived at the cemetery a little too close to closing time so I wasn't able to see all of the people I wanted to visit. (Gertrude Stein is hard to find.) If you go, go early because the cemetery is HUGE and beautiful. I recommend taking a book and some snacks so you have plenty of energy to interact with all the spirits of great artists around you. 

Attachment: Working in a Hostel

graffiti in Veliko Tarnovo, Bulgaria

"Just don't get attached, okay?" he says and the frustration hits me instantly.

Attached? ATTACHED? He's concerned about ME getting attached to HIM?

I'll give him some credit: he may just be the most attractive man I have ever met.  A Justin Trudeau look-a-like but with a stronger jaw, if you can believe.  He had the perfect personality to match the face with a soft voice, strong arms, and a kind demeanor.  I could get attached to him if given the chance, but of course, I wouldn't give myself that chance.  If anything, he started to show signs of getting attached to me. Bringing me chocolate bars from the shop, paying for lunch, letting me keep his t-shirt.  I don't think he realized that this wasn't my first rodeo.

I take a slow breath so he can't see how angry his assumption makes me, as if it's inevitable that I'd develop a crush on him.  "I work in a hostel and have traveled to 20 countries alone.  I know how to not get attached." 

Working in a hostel is great.  I get to connect with so many people since being social with guests is an unspoken part of the job description.  I meet people I would be close friends with if we lived in the same town and guys I'd like to date if the circumstances were right.  But you never live in the same town as the person you can talk with for hours and the circumstances are never right. If I got attached to every nice and decently looking man that walked through those hostel doors, I'd be in deep trouble.

Working in a hostel (the same one I volunteered in for five weeks last summer...I really need to tell y'all that story) has taught me a lot about attachment and letting go. But it hasn't taught me what I was trying to insinuate to the assuming Canadian above.

I was trying to act nonchalant.  As if people walk out the front door, onwards to their next destination and I never give them a second thought.  I wanted him to think I was cold-hearted, the type of person that doesn't get hurt or miss people or care about much of anything. I wanted him to think I was a "cool girl", the type who doesn't fall hard and fast and often.

But that's not me at all.  I get attached all the time, to everyone and anything.  And even though I was trying to get him to believe a false version of me, he was also completely missing the point. Getting attached is the whole point of travel. 

Travel is pointless if you don't get attached, if you don't fall in love.  I get attached to cities, towns, hostels, people, bookstores.  Attached to the view of a city at sunset.  Attached to hostel cats and dogs.  I get attached to mountains, keep returning to them somehow, even though walking uphill is a bitch.

I understood what the attractive Canadian meant and why he felt the need to say it. He was a bit older and gorgeous and I'm sure he's used to girls falling in love with him all the time, but he needn't worry about me. 

The only part of him I'm attached to is the memory of the week he stayed at the hostel, of how he was only meant to stay two nights but kept extending because he also fell in love with the same mountains. 

I 100% recommend attaching yourself to everyone and everything.  Your life will be so much fuller because of it.

In Possession of a Female Body

me and my female body somewhere in the mountains in central Romania

By most measures, I am classified as a "strong and independent" woman.  I started traveling solo at 21 and have since been to 22 countries by myself.  I fund my own travels. I'm comfortable striking up a conversation with a stranger because I know that (most) everyone wants to be your friend as badly as you want to be theirs but they're also nervous about proffering the first word. I'm way more confident now than when I was 16 (thank god for that). Hell, I'm more confident now as I'm typing this than I was last month. That's how growth and experience work.

However, a few times a year, I am forced to remember that I am vulnerable due to the world I live in and the body that I possess.  At the end of the day, I am female. I inhabit a female body and because of this, I am at risk.

Last night* I was reminded that at any moment, everything I own can be easily taken from me. Please don't be concerned, nothing bad actually happened. But I was reminded of every bad thing that could've happened.  A few disrespectful words from an older, drunk man doused cold water over my head and took me out of my mind and personality and thumped me back into my body.  He forced me to become all too aware of the corporal. He reminded me that no matter how hard I try to be just a human on this planet who is doing their best, the shape of my body, sound of my voice, and structure of my chromosomes will always come first. I can't rise above this body.

my female body having fun in the bathroom during a wine tour in Moldova

I walked into the living room of the hostel I volunteered at where other people were finishing up a movie. A cute German guy had just won poker night so he bought beer for the room.  I carried a bottle opener with me, trying to be helpful. An American from D.C. began popping the bottle caps in some creative way that only guys and experienced drinkers know how to do. He let the caps fall on the wooden floor of the living room.

"You're going to pick those up, right?" I said with a laugh. Lighthearted, chill, jokingly, never confrontative or overbearing.

"That's your job, isn't it?" said D.C. guy, in all seriousness. He had made a few sexist "jokes" earlier in the night and I was tired of it.

"No, it's not actually. It's not my job to clean up after grown men."

"Why are you such a bitch?" Tyler*, who had spent most of the night silent, said.  Tyler is the worst type of American I've encountered during my travels. In his late 30's, no attachments, no respect for women, with a dash of a drinking problem. I hadn't been around when he arrived but when I first noticed him around noon he had already started drinking. During dinner, I overheard him bragging to other guys about all the prostitutes he's slept with. That type of guy.

I didn't reply. I didn't know what to say, I wasn't even talking to him, didn't even notice he was still in the room. I was too focused on the cute German to realize that Tyler had been watching me interact with others for a few hours, slowly letting his anger towards me build.

I stood there in the doorway. When I didn't move or say anything, he continued.  "Seriously, why are you such a bitch? What's your role here? Do you even work here? I'm going to complain to the manager tomorrow and get you fired. You don't have a role. You're just a bitch. You bitched about the movie and you bitched about the game now you're bitching at us. Get out of here. Just leave."

No one else in the room seemed to hear. Either that or they chose to ignore. And so I left. Of course I wasn't going to argue with a big, drunk, ex-Marine.

I know my place. I know how easy it is for a man like him to hurt me if he wanted to. And I could tell he wanted to by the disdain in his voice. If we were alone or I dared to talk back he wouldn't have hesitated. So I left.

my female body in a place that feels like home

I shut the door on to the living room and stood in the dark hallway. Most of the hostel and the rest of the staff had already gone to bed. I stood there, warm with anger, too angry to move my legs and move on. Even though the door was shut and I had left just like he asked, I could still hear him talking about me on the other side. He was drunk, repeating himself. Talking about how he was going to get me fired tomorrow and other big talk, as if he had any power other than the fact that he was a large male and I was an average sized, young female.

I texted the manager, John, my friend. "You don't have to do anything now, but I want Tyler gone tomorrow. He called me a bitch and other things and I don't want him around."

I went into the kitchen where a few people were still hanging out. John came down, even though I told him it could wait, and went into the living room. I heard raised voices but no specifics. The next morning, Tyler and the guy from D.C. were gone before I woke up. "No one talks to my friends that way," John said when I asked why he came downstairs immediately instead of waiting until the next morning. I already felt close to John, but seeing how much he cared meant a lot, especially when my legs still felt weak and my backbone hadn’t fully recovered.

As you can see, nothing bad happened to me, physically.  I was lucky to be surrounded by people who trusted me and friends who would protect me. Even though Tyler succeeded in making me quiet and small and scared, I knew in the back of my mind I'd be okay since I had John in my corner.

But I also hate the fact that I needed John. That I couldn't stand up for myself or protect myself. Even though Tyler was a guest and I had superiority as a staff member, I still needed a man to protect me.

I'm extremely aware of the fact that most people don't want to hurt me, don't want to hurt anyone. Most people are good. My travels to 23 countries and counting can attest to that. No man has ever physically hurt me but the potential is always on the back of my mind. Walking down a deserted street, trying to make my way to another hostel, I think "What if tonight's the night?  It's just a matter of time, isn't it?"

my (blurry) female body using its strength to row around a salt lake at the bottom of a salt mine near Cluj, Romania

I like being female most of the time, in the instances when I'm aware of my sex and gender. I like many of the traits that my culture allows a female to possess.  I like painted nails and picking flowers and romcoms and expressing my emotions with ease. I like pink and yellow and journaling and babysitting. I hate most makeup but I like lipstick and mascara and easily getting sympathy by squeezing out a few tears.

But sometimes, I hate having a female body. I hate walking home alone at night. I hate second guessing the intentions of every man that is nice to me.  I hate wearing dresses or looking too nice because then male eyes linger for too long. I hate curtailing my drinking because I know what happens to girls who just want to have fun. I hate how I feel more comfortable, more at ease, more safe whenever I'm with a male friend. I hate how guys like Tyler can so easily remind me that I'm not safe even when I'm in my favorite place. I hate how I need quality men like John to protect me from the Tyler's of the world. I hate I hate I hate I hate.

As long as I occupy this female body I will always hate the culture that made me believe that the female body is a thing to be hated.

*names have been changed, obviously, and this did not happen 'last night'. I wrote the beginning of this post the day after it happened but it took me a full month to write about it.

Posting While Sedentary (Also, Where I'm Going This Summer)

Alternative title: should I post if I have nothing to say? If I'm not traveling?

I hate having my time wasted and I hate wasting other people's time.  But I feel like everything I read by (most) travel bloggers these days is just fluff.  Meaningless #hashtag content.  Like everyone is trying to fulfill their requirement of one Instagram post a day and two blog posts a week, nevermind if they even have new pictures or new stories to tell or new thoughts to share.

What bores me most about travel blogs is that people feel compelled to have a "point" for every single post.  A long layover in the Netherlands turns into "How to Spend 24 Hours in Amsterdam".  Visting a few cafes after a week in Paris turns into "The Best Cafes in Paris" as if they've had time to sit and contemplate them all.  I'm tired of everyone trying to have an angle. 

Just tell me about your day!

I want to see hastily taken pictures in a museum before security tells you to stop, shots of a flower that you thought was pretty.  What book did you read in that park you sat in for hours since your feet hurt and you couldn't bear the thought of walking one more kilometer to the metro? Were you having a nice day at a cool museum then, once you connected to the free Wifi, accidentally got into a text-argument with your best friend and now your thoughts of that museum and the artists you saw are tainted?

Believe it or not, I don't read travel blogs for useful information. Sounds ridiculous, but I'm sure most people relate.  If I want information, I use a guidebook or a tourism website. If I read a blog, I want to hear about your day. I'm sure I've retained information through osmosis of all I've read, but in my four-ish years of reading a few blogs a week, I've never actually, consciously used any of it while traveling.

WHAT I'M TRYING TO SAY IS that I don't want to post just for the sake of it.

Because I don't want to bore you.  Because you don't deserve to have your time wasted since everyone and their mother is trying to waste your time on the internet.

I've said all of that ^^^^ to preface this new information (although this info isn't new if you follow me on Twitter or Instagram):  I'm traveling again! Starting June 6th!

I will (hopefully) travel until late August or early September and I really don't have much planned.

The only definite is that I will be in Slovakia for a month, back at the hostel in the mountains that I ran back to last July when I needed a break. (I really need to update y'all on that story. I only wrote one post about it and never followed up with a part II. Oops!)

After Slovakia, there's a strong possibility that I'm going to China (Beijing, specifically) with my school for two weeks because my school is paying for it, even though I graduated!, and over my dead body will I ever turn down a free trip.

From there, who knows! I might have a long layover in Dubai on the way back from China. I was wary of the idea at first, but now that I looked into fun and reasonably priced desert tours I'm extremely excited at the thought. 

Once I'm back in Europe, I have no plans for a full month. I'm considering Moldova, Romania, and Bulgaria, but August in those countries might be too hot for me. That sounds like a dumb excuse, but last summer when I was in other south-ish eastern European countries, like Croatia, Bosnia and Herzegovina, and Serbia, I was so miserably hot I couldn't fully appreciate my days. Hence my exodus to the High Tatras in Slovakia.  So I'm not going to let myself be miserable again if push comes to shove.  Maybe I'll go to Slovenia and do some chill hiking, or Latvia and Estonia. Who knows! I'll probably let Ryanair decide my next move.

Near the end of August, I'm heading to London to meet Poppy, an Australian friend that I met last summer in Slovakia. From there we'll take a night bus to Scotland and do some hiking.  I didn't expect to go back to Scotland this soon after leaving last year, but Poppy has never been and suggested we go. Similar to free trips to China, I will also never turn down an excuse to go back to Scotland.

From there, I'll (hopefully) follow her to Sweden where she's starting her master's degree and just chill for a bit.  For some reason, there are insanely cheap flights back to the US from Sweden compared to other places in Europe. How convenient!

That's my ~general plan~ but who knows how the next three months will unfold!  I had a plan for last summer too and I set fire to that only one month in.

Whatever happens, I'm going to blog about it.  In the most genuine, unselfconscious way possible. No forced angles to any of my stories. Not trying to pretend I'm an expert in anything, much less a city I've only spent a few days in.

I'm just a girl with a blog, standing in front of a Europe/China/UAE, asking them to love her.

detour to the Slovakian mountains, part 1

Photo by Tanvi Malik

I'm at an incredibly friendly hostel in Bratislava, right in the old town, but I can't be bothered to go socialize or see the city.

I acknowledge how lucky I am, but I'm bored.  I'm tired.  If I see one more building described as neo-classical or neo-gothic or neo-ANYTHING, I'm going to scream.  All I want to do is go see the new Wonder Woman at the cinema in the mall and figure out where to go next.

I'm in Bratislava because it was on my itinerary and because I'm on my way to meet my friend in Budapest.  A week ago I realized I was traveling too quickly, which is why I added 5 days in Munich, but I still have a few days to kill in between.  I could stay in Bratislava for a full week, but there's not much to keep you entertained in that town for more than 2 days.  I have to find somewhere to go.

---

Photo by Zach Taiji

I sit down on the toilet.  Usually an irrelevant tidbit, but this moment changed the course of my trip.  Right at eye level from sitting on the pooper is a flier for a hostel in northern Slovakia in the High Tatras.  The mountains are what intrigued me, but the 10/10 Hostelworld review and the promise of a dog are what convinced me.

Two days later and I'm on the train to Poprad.

I've stayed in some enjoyable hostels, but this one is definitely the best one I've ever been to.  Right after I get there, I'm invited out to dinner with a few other guests, which I find out later is a regular occurrence.  Restaurants are so cheap in this village you can get a meal for under 10 euros, and even that's on the higher end (I average on 6 euros or less).

This is the first place I've been where the hostel actually has a family-feel.  As someone who hasn't been home since the very beginning of January, it feels so nice to just sit around and have a laugh with friendly people.  This hostel is slightly out of the way (i.e., not on the main Eurotrip path), so it attracts what another guest called "the right kind of people."  No stag parties, no huge groups, long-term travelers (at least longer than a few weeks), and a lot of solo travelers.

Also, the mountains.  I forgot how much I missed them.  I don't live in the mountains in Virginia, I'm right smack dab in the middle of the state, but something about being in the mountains makes me feel more at home than anything else in the world.

I do a 25-kilometer hike on my first full day, by myself for the majority of it.  Hiking is tough for me, especially alone without any distractions, because I internally beat myself up most of the way.  Usually, my head is a pleasant place to be, but for some reason, strenuous physical activity brings out my inner critic more than anything.  What matters is that no matter how much I wanted to give up and turn around, I didn't.  Which is what I like about myself.  Even when I am my own worst enemy, I can't seem to give up.  I'm sure that's a trait that will help me out in life.

Days 2 and 3 were much more chill, only short walks with the dog by the river and over to the Goulash Man.

On Saturday I reluctantly leave the hostel in the 1,300 person village (smaller than my high school) for Budapest.  Now that I've rested for a few days, I feel rejuvenated enough to tackle more central and eastern European cities.

Right?

How I Messed Up My Trip to Auschwitz

Photo by Adrian Infernus

Visiting and then subsequently talking about your trip to a concentration camp is a very tricky thing.  I talked in a previous post about how I don't know how to talk about Auschwitz; I will try to make this post as respectful, sensitive, and un-awkward as possible.

---

I messed up my visit to Auschwitz.

I've been looking forward to the visit ever since I decided to go to Krakow.  I expected it to be a humbling, life-changing experience, going at my own pace through the camp and showing as much respect to the murdered as possible.  I knew during the high season summer months free entry is only allowed from 8am-10am and then again 3pm until closing.  This is what my friends have done when they visited, so I was going to do the same.

I did some last minute research the night before, trying to figure out when the buses left for Oświęcim (the Polish name for the town; 'Auschwitz' was forced upon them by the Nazis) when I saw people commenting on forums about the reservation website.

Apparently in 2015, after my friends visited, the museum added an online reservation system.  Even those going during the free hours must have a reservation.  I understand why they have this system; it limits the number of people at the museum and makes things a bit more orderly.  Still, this came as a surprise to me and threw a wrench into my plans.  Sure, I could still show up at 8am and hope for the best, but that still wouldn't guarantee me entry to Auschwitz I.  (Auschwitz II, or Birkenau, is always free, but you are not allowed to enter any of the buildings in that camp.)

I didn't come all this way to take a gamble with visiting Auschwitz (disclaimer: yeah I should've done my research ahead of time, but hindsight is 20/20), so I took the only option left.  At the last minute, I booked a tour with SeeKrakow for 120 zloty, about $32, which included pickup at my hostel.  This included a guide for both camps.  What was supposed to be a free day trip (bus transportation would've cost 30 zloty, or $8) suddenly got a lot more expensive.

I still could've shown up at 8am and hoped they would let me in, which is what two girls in my hostel did and it worked out for them.  I just didn't want to take the risk since it was my only day to visit.
Learn from my mistakes.  I'm of course very grateful for the privilege that even allowed me to visit the camp, but I would've appreciated Auschwitz a lot more if I didn't have to do a guided tour.  After toying around with the reservation website, I suggest you reserve your place at least a month ahead, since that's how long I would've had to wait for a 'free visit' reservation spot.  The website says to do it even further in advance, so keep that in mind.  Of course, you don't absolutely have to have a reservation like the girls in my hostel, but it'll save you some peace of mind.

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What is left to say about Auschwitz

What do you wear to Auschwitz?

Not your cut off Levi's you bought in Valencia.  Shorts feel inappropriate somehow.  Neither can you wear your beloved Chacos.  The thought of your toes touching the same dirt that they labored and died on feels disrespectful.  Jeans, a navy top, and covered shoes it is then, even though it'll be 80+ degrees.

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How do you talk at Auschwitz?

You don't.  Other than an "excuse me" when you bump into people, you stay silent.  There is something restricting your throat.

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How do you take pictures at Auschwitz?

Very carefully.  No selfies, no snaps of areas that feel too personal, still somehow too vulnerable.  You say no to the man that wants you to take a picture of him in front of the gas chamber replica.  He's confused, thinks you don't know English, because he then tries to show you how to use a phone camera (you have an iPhone 7 in your hand).  You say no again and move on.

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How do you cry at Auschwitz?

You don't.  The few times you tear up, someone near you cracks a joke or says something to their partner.  Another time.  You'll be back when it's winter and less people are around.  There's way too many people around to focus on the tragedy in front of you.

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What is there left to say about Auschwitz?

Nothing, except we must never let it happen again.

Eastern Europe 2017: Days 1-13 (Lithuania, Poland, Ukraine)

Sunset over the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier in Warsaw

Day 1-2: Glasgow ---> Palanga, Lithuania

I only got one hour of sleep last night since I had to leave at 4am for the airport.  After going through security I used my leftover pounds to buy books in the WH Smith because I'm going to be on A LOT of long buses and train rides over the next 80 days.  I plan on just leaving them at whatever hostel I'm at when I finish them because I can definitely not lug around all these books forever.  My Osprey 30L is a good size for all of my essentials, but I'm going to have to buy a second bag to hold all the souvenirs I want to buy.  (That's alright though because I'm not going on any budget flights until I fly home.)

I'm only spending one night in Palanga because I REALLY want to get to Poland so tomorrow will be entirely spent on a bus!

Days 2-6: Warsaw, Poland

Spent most of this day on a bus.  Got to Warsaw around midnight.  Took a taxi to my hostel because it felt safer, but the taxi driver still tried to scam me.  The front desk worker at my hostel (Oki Doki Hostel) helped me talked to the taxi driver.  Even though it wasn't her fault at all, she gave me a little discount on my reservation and gave me a free breakfast token, which was really kind of her.

I did 4 different walking tours and they were all pretty quality.  I really enjoyed Warsaw, even though many people told me that they liked Krakow more.  I went to the Warsaw Uprising Museum (16 zloty for student ticket), which had a recreation of a sewer that you can walk through.
 The Museum of Polish Jews is free on Thursdays, but it was so informative I would've paid for it.  There aren't many artifacts; it's mainly just a visual history of Jewish people in Poland so prepare for lots of reading.

Chernobyl had a lot of creepy moments like this one

Days 7-11: Kiev

I was so close to missing my bus to Kiev it's not even funny.  I couldn't find the bus stop to take to the bus station and there was a traffic jam so I couldn't get a taxi.  I ran back to my hostel and when they told me again that bus 127 "is so easy to find" I started crying because I was STRESSED and no it was NOT easy (it was pretty simple to find I just wasn't thinking straight).  Once I got to the bus station it was 5 minutes til departure and I couldn't find anyone who spoke English so I wasn't even sure if I was on the right bus or not.  Thankfully I was, but there was a little voice in the back of my head worrying about it the entire way.

I like Kiev, I really do.  I was concerned at first when I arrived at the Central Bus Station at 7:35am since it's not in the nicest side of town, but once you get to Independence Square everything really lightens up.  It's crazy inexpensive in Ukraine: breakfast for less than $2, a huge dinner for $4.60, metro rides for 15 cents, and a ballet performance for $3.  It's going to be hard facing the prices everywhere else.

The highlight of my time in Kiev was definitely the day trip to Chernobyl.  A guy in my hostel was also going on the same tour as me so we got breakfast beforehand and arrived a tiny bit late.  This turned out for the best because we were put in the overflow van instead of on the big bus.  So we had a small 15-person tour compared to what could've been a 40+ person tour.

Days 11-13: Lviv

Lviv was very sweet and is very similar to Krakow (which is where I currently type this).  I'm glad I went to Kiev, but to save time and have an easier trip, you can skip Kiev and just go to Lviv.  There are a lot more English speakers in Lviv than Kiev, and it's actually a little bit cheaper.

I watched the sunset on the top of a hill with a girl that I met in Kiev and a really beefy Norwegian, so that was a good ending to my time in Ukraine.  I was very excited to get back to Poland though, to a country where I can actually understand the alphabet.

I'm going to Eastern Europe for 2.5 months and I can't believe this is happening

Photo by Zachary Staines

36 hours from now I'll be in Lithuania, and by the time you read this I'll already be on the plane.

Why am I so chill about this?  Why am I not freaking out more?  If you told freshman-year-of-college-me this was my plan for the summer of 2017, I would've laughed in your face.

I remember my first college spring break.  I was stuck at home all week because we had a HUGE snow storm, so I had nothing to do except watch Kimmy Schmidt (funnily enough, the 3rd season just came out on Netflix and I'm watching it right now) and toot around on the internet.  I'm not sure what led me there, but suddenly I was sucked into the vortex of travel blogs and the "phenomenon" of solo female travel.  I thought it was the coolest, most badass thing.  I remember reading about post-graduation Europe trips and how 3 months felt like such a long time to travel.  I remember reading about people backpacking around Southeast Asia for 7 months and thinking "what in the world would you do with all that time?".

Flash forward 2 years and here I am, about to be gallivanting around Europe for 81 days.  And before that, I was in Scotland for 5 months, 1 month of which was traveling outside of the UK.  By the time I get home, I'll have been gone 8 months.  The last time I was on American soil, Obama was still president.

It feels very, very weird when dreams become reality.

A Love Letter to Glasgow

Hey, Glasgow.

Our time is coming to an end, and sadly I don't know when I'll see you again.

It's been a wild ride, hasn't it?  I came to you on a cold Sunday in January, when your days were short and depressing, and I loved you anyways.

I waited almost two years to finally meet you.  Little freshman college me stumbled upon a travel blog and realized that wow travelling is an actual option.  Regular people do it!  Whenever I felt suffocated during the dark days of sophomore year, I knew I had to hold on so I could get to you.

On our first day together I cried.  Not because I missed my family, but because I was sleep deprived from my IcelandAir flight and couldn't find my power converter.  (I eventually found it packed away in one of my Bean Boots, but sadly not before I emailed the airline accusing them of confiscating it.  Not my best moment.)

I'm leaving you on another Sunday with the sunrise.  Your sun comes up really early and leaves really late now.  I appreciate it.  When we first met it would be gone by 3:30pm.  Tonight I sat with friends at the top of Kelvingrove Park, leaving at 10:30pm with a little bit of light still left.  I could get used to that.

But I don't have the time to get used to it.  My lease ends next week and summer is upon us.  I'm off to the eastern end of Europe, because even though I've been saving almost every penny for years I'm still a college student on a limited budget and I've been told it's cheaper out there.  I'll come back to you someday, Glasgow, when I have a bit more money to do the things I couldn't do this time around.

You were good to me.  You let me walk into your free museums whenever I wanted to learn something or to just look at art for a bit to clear my head.  You let me learn with teachers who have their own Wikipedia pages (!!!!).  You helped me be unafraid of travelling to France, Spain, Portugal, and Ireland on my own, since I knew I had you waiting for me at home.  You helped me realize what I want in a friend group and what kind of person I want to be, even if I can't seem to reach her just yet.

Funnily enough, my time with you has lasted exactly just as long as my two past relationships.  Five months.  But unlike those, you and I aren't ending on a bad note.  (And I actually love you, which I can't say about those other two.)

I think it's good to end things on a good note, though.  Bittersweet.  My last associations of you will be filled with sunshine and sunsets and lots and lots of fish and chips.  That's all a girl can really want from life, right?

You're the only place outside of Virginia that I can comfortably call home.

I don't know what else to say besides: thank you, I love you, and I'll miss you.

What I'm Reading: April 2017 #2

Books:

I had some time to kill in London and I was very tired after over 3 weeks of travel, so I just sat in Waterstones and read all of Laura Jane Williams' new Ice Cream For Breakfast.  I definitely want to purchase the book at some point so I can highlight my favorite parts and fill in all the prompts that are in the book.

In Waterstones I also picked up Caitlin Moran's new Moranifesto, which is a compilation of her columns for The Times and also some new essays.  I love how Moran writes (the only book of hers I haven't read yet is Moranthology), so I'm trying to be conscious of what I like about her writing so I can use it to improve my own.

I'm currently on track to read 50 books this year, which is pretty impressive because I feel like I don't read much at all!  I'll maybe read a few pages before bed and on my recent three week trip I often chose to listen to podcasts over reading (maybe because it's hard to read when annoying people are talking on the bus).  I definitely do need to commit to reading a little bit more every day though, so I don't do all my readings on binge days.  (Binge reading is fun of course, but not when you're doing it to make sure you're reading enough to hit your reading goal.)

Articles:

She wrote her boyfriend's obituary and didn't mention herself.  I choked up reading this.

Ask Polly: What Am I Doing Wrong With Men? This article will probably make you realize some things about yourself.

Why women shouldn't stop reading books just because the author is sexist.

Alternatively, young girls shouldn't read books written by men. (If I ever have a daughter I'll encourage her to only read female authors.)

I listened to the podcast S-Town and genuinely thought it was fiction, until I took a break during the middle of the very last episode to Google it.  Now that I know it's a true story with real people, I'm not sure how I feel about it.  Is it a story that should've been told at all?

Another article about S-Town.  Now that I know it's a true story I have this sinking feeling in my stomach and now I'm mildly distraught.

An artificial womb successfully allows little lambs to grow for four weeks in a natural progression.  That's so cool???

Blogs:

Not a specific post, but I get a lot of my suggested articles from Pack-Your-Passport's weekly newsletter!

Also not a specific blog post, but a blog in general.  I'm sure everyone is already reading her, but I just found Meg Fee's blog and I love it.  I'm randomly clicking on months in her archive, trying to absorb as much as I can.

“I wanted to say: do it all whilst you can, you know? Like you are doing. You don’t know when your time is up.”

Videos:

Apparently I lived under a rock in middle school because I had no idea who Old Greg was until I went to Greggs with my flatmates and can't stop saying "I'm Old Greg. Do you love me?".

Life:

Right now I'm just trying to make the most of my time left in Glasgow.  I have just under a month left, and one of those weeks will be spent in Ireland (which I haven't been to before!).  It's just...really bittersweet.  This city means so much to me now.  I dreamed about studying abroad for so long (literal years) and now I'm actually here and it's almost over.  Life comes at you fast, huh?

Quotes:

Look for something positive in each day, even if some days you have to look a little harder.

Packing for 3 Weeks in Europe (France, Spain, and Portugal)

Little Bits & Pieces

• toothpaste (two of them: one for mornings and one for night with a lot more fluoride), foldable toothbrush from Boots (#nonspon)
• Vaseline tin, tiny deodorant, nail clippers, Alieve, hair comb, razor, 28 days worth of multivitamins
• Glasses just in case, backup contacts, contact solution, contact holder (being legally blind is annoying)
• Concealer, powder foundation, waterproof mascara, eyebrow gel, tweezers, body spray that I got for £1 at Boots
• Clinique lotion because I'm worth it, hand sanitizer, hair elastics, bandaids
• Sunscreen.  It says oil free and for face but it STILL make my face super oily, which is why I'm taking the powder foundation
• 3 squeezy tubes: shampoo, face wash, and laundry detergent
• Bigelow lemon green tea (am I officially British now? I'm literally packing my own tea)

Clothing

• 1 dress
• 1 pair of navy tights to wear with the dress (they were really cheap from Primark and are holding up surprisingly well)
• 2 button up shirts
• 4 t-shirts (the white one can only be worn under the button ups)
• 1 pair of leggings for bus rides (I ended up ditching these right before Paris since they were pilling SO BAD and getting all over my other clothes)
• 1 flannel button up
• 1 sorority sweatshirt for bus rides/cold nights
• 1 pair of jeans
• 1 pair of track shorts for sleeping
• 1 Guns N' Roses shirt for sleeping
• 3 bras (1 "normal", 1 sports bra, and 1 for sleeping/chilling out)
• 2 headbands to make my outfits a little bit different (also I'm in that awkward stage of growing out my hair)
• 1 foldable rain jacket (Parka in a Pocket from Primark)
• 1 pair of shower flip flops (90pence at Primark)
• 1 pair of Sketchers walking shoes (judge me idgaf)
• 1 pair of Chacos (I can't even describe how excited I am to wear my babies again. They're ugly and super American and will probably give me blisters since I haven't worn them in so long but I LOVE THEM)

Electronics and Other

• Kindle + charger
• obnoxious American flag plug adapter
• iPhone charger + cord
• 2 sets of headphones
• Canon point and shoot + charger
• a tiny flashlight
• Journal + pens and highlighters + washi tape because I'm cReAtIvE
• cheap earrings, 2 locks, a Lonely Planet guidebook (will eventually do a post comparing Lonely Planet and Rough Guides)
• Passport + acceptance letter to the University of Glasgow because they won't let me back in the UK without it

I'm very glad I did this mini-trip before I go on my long one over the summer. It really helped me realize what I need, don't need, and would prefer to have.  For instance, I bought a pair of Levi cutoffs in Valencia because it was so hot outside and I wanted some color on my legs.  I'm also really glad I packed my flannel even though I almost left it.  Flannels are very ~American~ but at this point I don't care.  It's great to use as a blanket on cold buses or as a casual pullover for chilly nights.  I also picked up a scarf in Barcelona, which is nice to lie on at the beach or in a park.

I packed all of this in my Osprey Porter 30L, which I'll post a review of soon.  Is it too small?  Too big?  Uncomfortable?  Tune in sometime in the near future to find out!

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pin it!

What have your trips taught you about packing?

On the Road Update: London, Pairs, Barcelona

Paris

Hello friends!  I am currently writing this from my friend's dorm in Barcelona.  I'm so lucky to have friends studying abroad in different countries because 1) it saves me money and 2) I'm going to places I normally wouldn't go.  The plan was to spend my spring break in Ireland, but right now is the perfect time for me to visit Spain which I never would've done if it weren't for my friend here.  And since I'm already in Barcelona, I might as well visit other Spanish cities and boop over to Portugal, right?
I'll write up a detailed itinerary once I get home, but for now, I'll just give you a little update.

I spent 4 days in London, on another friend's air mattress (God bless kind people), and mainly went to museums because they're free.  I also saw the Cursed Child play.  Shoutout to myself for buying tickets 18 months in advance.

Then I did 4 days in Paris and oh my god now I understand why so many people are Francophiles (which is a term that also fits for lovers of James and Dave Franco).  Paris was absolutely beautiful and if I didn't have my time in Spain already planned/it wasn't so expensive I definitely would have stayed there my entire spring break.

I arrived in Barcelona yesterday and it is so nice being by the water again.  It's also a lot more chill here, so I can catch up with online stuff like this.  Also Harry Styles' first solo single just came out, so if you see me with headphones in then 11 times out of 10 I'll be listening to that.

I have everyone is doing well!  Update me on y'all's lives in the comments!

A Day in Dumfries

Moffat 

My Saturday began with a rough start.  Not really even a start, because the night never actually ended. Not in a "party the night away and get a second wind to travel the next day while still drunk!" way. No.  It was a "I didn't go out on St. Patrick's Day because I knew I was travelling the next day like a responsible adult, but couldn't fall asleep no matter how long I lied there".  I'm pretty sure I spaced out at around 4:30am, but I know I didn't get any actual sleep.  I considered not going, but mama didn't raise no quitter.  So I picked up a very milky coffee from Tesco and walked to the Buchanan bus station.

Our first stop was in a roadside town called Moffat.  I walked to the river (River Annan, in case you have a thing for rivers) and sat on a rock as I ate the cereal I packed.  Very serene.  10/10 would recommend.  After that I took an entire loop around town.  All of this took me 30 minutes.

there's a lot of stairwells inside so it's fun trying to find the highest point

 We then went to Caerlaverock Castle which was built in the 13th century.  THIRTEENTH CENTURY.  That is so old how is it still standing?  Of course a big chunk of it is missing because of the English (it's always the English, isn't it?), but it's really the perfect decrepit castle.  According to the castle's page, they do weddings there.  If you have to get married, I can't imagine a better place than a half destroyed Scottish castle from the 1200's.  It even has a moat.  Do you hear me? A MOAT.

We also found frogs having a three way. Living their best life. 

 Next onto the actual town of Dumfries where, most famously, the poet Robert Burns spent the last 3 years of his short life.  This town endeared me a lot more than I expected.  River Nith runs directly through it (very similar to River Tay running through Perth) and on this particular Saturday they were having a fair along the river's sidewalk.  Lots of cute children on leashes it was adorable.



I made sure to hit up all the Robert Burns sites.  You can visit the main statue of him in the town's center, his mausoleum where his grave was moved to, his house, and another museum on the other side of the river.

In the graveyard that held his mausoleum, we met this very friendly kitty.  I'm convinced it's Burns incarnate.

The one thing that really stuck out to me about Dumfries was how nice all the museum people were. Usually in museums I just feel judged by the staff, like I'm about to do something wrong or break something or steal something or I obviously don't know anything about what I'm looking at, but the museum people in Dumfries were so not like that.  They all smiled when I walked in and didn't seem put off when I asked for more information.  It was just plain nice.

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Have you ever been to Dumfries, Scotland? Do you also normally get weird vibes from museum people or is that just me being paranoid?

confession time: I feel "too young" to solo travel

Photo by Slava Bowman

I'm trying to make plans for my summer.  Eastern Europe.  Poland, Ukraine, Romania, Bulgaria, and Greece.  I'll start from the top and work my way down, fly out of either Greece or Istanbul at the end of the summer or when my money runs out, whichever comes first.

*90's movie record scratch* But wait, back up.  I already have a plan for my summer.  I literally just told you my plan.  Poland, Ukraine, Romania, Bulgaria, and Greece.  Why do I act like I don't know what I'll be doing in 3 months time?  Why do I make jokes about my money running out when, as long as I don't go crazy, it definitely shouldn't?

I'm scared to commit to a solid plan because, in all honesty, I feel too young to be going off on my own.
This feeling is akin to impostor syndrome, feeling like I have no right to be where I am.

Which is absolutely ridiculous.  I'm 21.  I know PLENTY of people who have traveled on their own by my age or younger.

So why do I still feel like I'm too young to travel on my own?

It's a confidence thing, really.  I just need to do it.  I need to go, to prove myself that I can do it.
It's just scary right now.  In my head, I keep thinking "I should go home, get a summer job, see my younger cousins, hang out with my grandma".  All very good excuses for not traveling this summer, but that's what they are: excuses.

I know I need to go because if I don't I'll regret it.  I just wish I didn't feel so damn young.

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Did you ever feel like you were "too young" for whatever you wanted to do?

Glasgow Week 10: Robert Burns' Hometown

Culzean Castle with the typically moody Scottish sky 

Different week, different essays to write.  I wasn't joking when I said most of my March will be spent writing.  And not the fun kind of writing.  The assigned kind.  I'm trucking along at about 1,000 words a day.  Onward and upwards, amiright?

Saturday was a class trip to Robert Burns' birth cottage and museum.  We also walked around the small graveyard where his parents are buried.

We then moved on to Culzean Castle (as seen above), which was really cool and updated.  It can be rented out for weddings for anywhere from £500-£6000.  Which is a lot cheaper than I expected.  The third floor is off limits for the tour because that's the level people stay on for weddings/for fun.

Sunday was a paper writing day again.  I know I'm here for study abroad but doing actual work is still a pain.  But oh well, I shouldn't complain.  I need to take a step back and be thankful!

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What did you do this week?

rest and be thankful

Blame it on my millennial-ness, but I catch myself being way too ungrateful way too often.

I find myself getting bored easily.  Spacing out as the beautiful mountains pass.  Taking a nap instead of looking at more sheep (I love sheep).

It's so easy to think "oh it's just another cloudy day", "cool, another castle", or "ugh this class is so boring".

Sometimes, you just need a mountain and a little bit of sunshine to remind you that you are so lucky to be in one of the most beautiful countries in the world, learning at one of the best universities from professors who have their own extensive Wikipedia pages.

If you find yourself complaining a little too much or getting down in the dumps, just pull over on the side of the road.  Rest and be thankful.

Glasgow Week 9: Y'ALL

I'll be honest, I'm getting bored of writing these weekly updates, but I do like them because they show the passage of time.  But rule one of writing: if I'm bored while writing it, y'all will be bored while reading it.

So I'm going to discuss what I've been thinking about recently...

Accents, economic class, and intelligence.

I have a slight Southern accent, I realize this.  My dad is from Georgia, and my mom's side of the family is a mix of coastal Virginians and North Carolinians.  Europeans always, and I mean ALWAYS, comment when I say "y'all."  But funnily enough, I've gotten the most shit for how I talk from Americans who are from the Northeast.  The occasional teasing is fine, I'll comment on my friend's Long Island accent sometimes, but people apparently have to say something almost every single time I open my mouth.  With some of them, the Northeasterners, I can tell that their teasing doesn't come from a good-hearted place.  You can tell that they think I'm dumb, or slow, or have worse manners, just from the way I talk.  They act surprised after they ask my major and I say "Neuroscience and English" as if someone who says y'all or exclaims "oh my stars!" can't do calculus or scientific research or comprehend Shakespeare.  They hesitate every time they mention Trump and look at me shiftily as if I must support him since doesn't everyone from the South?

I'm starting to understand my granddad's hostility towards "those damn Yankees."

I don't want to change the way I talk, though.  I don't even notice I have an accent (in the grand scheme of the South my accent is VERY mild), but it would kill me to alter myself because New Englanders still equate the Southern accent with stupidity.  It's just ridiculous, that's all.  Just plain ridiculous that the South is always ridiculed for being less intelligent and ignorant.  You'd think the "advanced coastal elites" would know better by now.  But it's not my problem what they think about me; if they wanted to hold on to antiquated ideas, then that'll just hurt them in the long run.  Hopefully, their travels in Europe will help them broaden their quaint worldviews.

And that's all I have to say about that.

Glasgow Week 8: car rides and essays

I spent most of last week working on an essay.  I have three more essays due throughout the next month.  Eight pages due the 14th, 3000 words and 4000 words due on the 28th.  The 4000 paper is technically due at the end of April, but I'm leaving March 28th for London and then will be gone for about a month (bless Scotland's month long spring break).  I noticed with my last paper that I average on 500 (researched and well-written) words a day, so it's safe to say I'm going to spend a lot of March in the library though.  It'll all be worth it when I basically have all of April and May free to do whatever I want.

One of my friends rented a car for Sunday and Monday and I joined even though I had a lot of work to do and class to go to.  I knew I wouldn't be able to see Scotland like that on my own, since I'm barely under the age to rent a car and also driving on the left terrifies me.  It was so much better than a bus or a train because we could stop wherever we wanted and got to see multiple sites in one day.  When I come back to Scotland in the future, which I know I will, I'm definitely going to do it by car.

Glencoe

Loch Ness

Sunday we drove from Glasgow through Glencoe and stopped at the Three Sisters mountains and to Urquhart Castle and Loch Ness.



On the way back we got dinner at Drovers Inn, which is over 300 years old.  That in is older than my country.  I got a haggis burger which was AMAZING.  Just a slab of beef and haggis.

me being dramatic around mountains

Monday we left at 8am to go up to Inveraray.  We drove past Loch Long, the place where I almost died, and stopped to take pictures.  We went to Inveraray Castle and Inveraray.

Loch Awe. The name is fitting. 

Then Loch Awe and Kilchurn Castle, which is VERY muddy to get to so bring rain boots or hiking boots.

We ended at Dunnottar Castle in Stonehaven which was closed for training, but the outside is just so pretty so it wasn't a big deal.

It was a good week.