Europe, I am done with thee...
10/13/14 I don't feel as apprehensive flying to Europe this time around (I have a sneaky feeling that it's because this time I'm going to start in a country that actually speaks English...Sort of). Descending into Ireland is like riding on a paper airplane that's descending on a very pretty postcard, only the postcard is real and you realize that all of Ireland really does look like that. It's scenic. There are no other words- green rolling hills, whispy white clouds, fluffy sheep and old castles all over the place. I land, I find a bathroom, I find my rent-a-car place. After having some things explained to me by the rental people I am driven to my beyond tiny and compact rental, and for a minute it's just me and the car and my initial feeling of overwhelming terror. I'm not gonna lie, while I have fantasized about driving on the "wrong" side of the road, when you're actually faced with doing so in a place where you've never been before you kind of freak out. But then reason took over, and it sounded like this, "Ok, Hollie, you can stay in the car and not drive anywhere and then we will never eat. Ever. Again." I started the car and calmly turned on my GPS. I've named the GPS Barbara and I hate her. Within ten minutes of me leaving the airport she gets me lost, and while Ireland is beautiful and the quaint little towns she guides me through are nice, I am feeling more and more frustrated. Finally after making a quick, apologetic call to the B&B where I was supposed to check in over an hour ago I toss Barbara in the back and follow the road signs instead. Success! I find the B&B (Thank you God) in fifteen minutes. I love beds. I love showers more. I discover that after traveling for 24 hours with no rest I even love sleep and I pass out. Morning and breakfast. Roasted tomatoes, eggs, bangers, strong coffee and a sweet couple from California who have come up through Dingle and tell me all about it. It is time for me to get going. I get to the car and (reluctantly) recover Barbara from the back seat. Thankfully she actually works this time and I make it to the Cliffs of Moher without getting lost. I don't know if I have the words to adequately get this right, but have you ever seen something so grand that its grandness is lost on you? That's what the cliffs were like. They were so tall, so steep, so sweeping in their epic beauty that after awhile it takes over all your vision and you take it for granted after awhile. But it was beautiful, and I will never forget trotting along the little stone goat paths with green hills on one hand and a swift descent into the sea on the other. My time in Shannon is brief and then it's off to Kenmare. Can I tell you about Moll's Gap? That drive between Killarney and Kenmare broke my heart because it was so lovely. Until my heart goes or my memory, whichever comes first, that space of mountainous land will always remain with me. Rugged boulders softened by mounds of yellow flowers, forests where ferns are everywhere, and pools like mirrors appear every so often. And the people! The people are hilarious! You can stop someone and ask for directions and ten minutes later you're still talking and they're still telling you about some distant relative who you will never meet, but it doesn't matter because it's Ireland. My flight from Ireland to England is only an hour, but in that time I have already steeled myself for the worst. When I travel I make it a point to avoid large cities as much as possible. Cities have people and people can be trouble. Upon landing I make my way to the train that connects with the airport and from there it's another couple hours to my hotel. I'm so drained that when I arrive I barely notice my surroundings, hop in the shower and then collapse into bed. Because we want to see Stonehenge in the morning and Stonehenge is three hours outside of London I'm up at 4 and I look like a crazy person. I meet up with my friends in the lobby and then we're off! The train system in England confuses me, and I'm not often confused by public transit. There are so many lines, and they all connect in weird places. Finally we find our correct connection and get going. Stonehenge is polarizing in a way. On the one hand, it's so grand, so historical and beautiful-but on the other hand, it's just a bunch of rocks! After Stonehenge we head to Bath and I find that I like Bath quite alot. It reminds me of Florence; it's small, compact but filled with history and beauty. The next day I stand before Big Ben and look up and up and up. Buckingham Palace is beautiful and I am blown away by the magnificent golden gates. Parliament is serious, quiet and afterwards it's nice to run into a nearby pub and have a beer. We get up early the next day and I want to laugh and laugh because we head off to see London Bridge and for some reason I find it so funny that I am standing on the bridge that we sing about when we're kids. The Tower of London is larger than I expected and the crown jewels are incredibly gorgeous. We're not supposed to take pictures, but you know me ;) *snap snap*. Finally after a long day we wind up at dinner. And we've been sitting for maybe ten minutes when I see the maitre d' leading someone to the table right next to us and it's Oprah freaking Winfrey. I wish I could describe my dinner to you, because I'm sure it was one of the best meals I've ever had, but I don't remember much of it. Just Oprah. Sitting there. Five feet away. The next morning I leave London and I am pleasantly surprised because I've actually enjoyed my time there. My train ride to Belgium has me traveling through some of the prettiest French countryside around and I watch swaths of trees surrounded by herds of white cattle zip by me at lightning speed. Belgium is small and intensely crammed all together, which is good because I only have a couple days here. People in Brussels are friendly, and their friendliness is something I have to get used to. I sit down in a park with white washed trees and yellow leaves, and these two girls come up out of nowhere and sit down next to me. They talk as if they're fine with me and have known me forever. The local islander in me can talk to them, but the Asian in me is wondering, "What de heyall..?" But I learn as I spend more time in Belgium that that's just how it is. People smile and they talk to you and they think nothing of it. I go omiyage shopping and I really can see how much these people love their chocolate. Chocolate stores are more frequent than Longs back home. And the chocolate they sell is so pretty and so diverse that it almost makes me want to have some. Almost. Paris. Okay. I told myself as I was writing this that I was going to be fair to Paris in my estimation of it and my time there. I also am going to be honest. Within five minutes of me getting off the train from Belgium I arrived at Gare Du Nord in Paris and made my way to the metro so I could make the necessary transfers to my B&B. I find the right platform, and as I'm reading the train stops this guy comes up to me. "Bonjour". I say hi since I'm not trying to be that rude American, and he starts talking to me in French. I tell him, "I'm sorry, I don't speak French." "Ah, you are English?" I don't want to talk to him. I tell him, "No thank you" to whatever it was that he was about to say and I walk away. I see him walk ahead of me and I assume that he's gone. Wrong. So, so wrong. I find my platform and I see this same guy hanging behind me a few feet away. Maybe it's a coincidence. I board the train when it arrives and he gets on too, standing a few feet away from me again, and leaning against the opposite railing. When I exit the train I can feel him standing right behind me and stepping with me as I reach the platform. I have an unfortunate personality trait. In situations where I should get scared, instead I get mad, and the more this guy follows me from station to station the angrier I get. I get so mad that the next chance I get I look at this guy and I must have given him the stink eye from hell because it scared him off and he walked away. Lucky for him cause two more minutes of him following me and I was gonna knee him in the balls. I make it to my B&B and then it's off to the Louvre. Paris as a city is not so bad. On my way to the Louvre I see the famous Pont Des Arts bridge, all the locks making it look like it's grown an odd, bristling metal coat, I see the sweeping French architecture that makes Paris so famous. The Louvre is grand and huge and laughably the Mona Lisa is withdrawn and small. Versailles surpasses all my expectations. The Hall of Mirrors is opulent and I can't help but wonder what it would be like to live surrounded by all that grandeur everyday. I discover the best macaroons I will ever have in my life and I want to cry. How am I ever going to afford the shipping on these if I want them again?? Thanks for bearing with me and all my rambling =) I think we need to take a roadtrip together sometime soon! -H-
