I'm on a horse.

Christine speaking here...

We survived a pretty cramped night train from Florence to Munich. The train was Harry Potter style with the different cabins. Of course in my imagination the characters had more room. The six of us (Liz and I, 2 Germans and 2 from who knows where) stared at each other from around our bags for many hours in between passport checks. (Liz: Awkward turtle everyone. Supremely awkward turtle. There are only so many places you can look, and it's dark outside, so there is NOTHING entrancing outside that window.)

Liz played solitaire on her phone furiously all night ("where are the f-ing 8s!?") while I managed to put all my limbs asleep but nothing else. We were able to catch up on sleep on the roomier train to Prague. Our trick: spread out all of our stuff, take off our shoes, start snoring and people choose to sit in a different cabin. (Liz: Christine also instructed me to hack and cough when people came in the room. Which actually didn't work. Not enough germaphobes in eastern Europe apparently. And can I just say, my immune system is not behaving. How can I have had this cold for a solid three months? I have not made white blood cell furlough days.)

We are now in Prague, which was a bit of an unexpected turn in our adventure, which is why the Prague translation pages are missing from our books. We managed to get by with English and Liz is currently researching stuff for our stay over the next few days. (Liz to C: "Kafka." Nothing. "Franz Kafka?" Zilch. "Metamorphosis?" .... "Dude turns into a cockroach." OOOOH!)

Whitney will be joining us from Germany. A plan that somehow got hatched last night during the train ride. (Liz: I was answering email at 2am because there is only so much solitaire you can play.) Very excited to see her!!

We had a great time in Florence. We climbed many stairs, saw lots of art and ate plenty of gelato! (Liz: And by gelato, she means Ben and Jerry's. There is a store right next to the duomo, and we totally went there instead of gelato and it was AMAZING.) We miss all of you a lot though, and we really, really miss TV. Since we had a little bit of internet at our last hostel we were able to watch some you tubes. The old spice commercial has us cracking up within seconds. And the inspirational speech (courtesy of Katelyn) has filled our movie void.

A few notes from Christine...

Dad: I know it is not quite April 1st in California, but Happy Birthday! In a completely unrelated note, here is this fun Beatles video.

Mom: Pretty soon it will be April Fools Day, be on alert!

Nana (C's Nana): Thanks for the message. I will let our Swiss Cousins know!

Diana: I can't wait to see you guys!

And from Elisabeth/Liz:

Pops: A very, very happy birthday to you! All my love. ( I'll call soon!)

Chag Sameach to anyone it applies to :) I hope the Seders went well, and someone read their bits of the Hagaddah gender-neutrally for me, and fought the good fight for the misunderstood and oft maligned so called "wicked" child. Maybe the JWW Social Justice Seder Piece even made an appearance!

"Pope, the floor is not a hamper."

(Elisabeth/Liz:) I hope you all will understand our lack of updates when we say that we have had irregular access to internet, and those precious minutes that we did have were used to read about healthcare. CALIFORNIAN ELECTED OFFICIALS GET IT DONE.

Now that we officially feel safe going back to the states, we can give you a little smattering of what we've been up to. We really thought we would have more time to do this, but it's crazypants up in here-- we are a good 17 days behind in our journals for goodness sakes. Either way, we are terribly flattered that you're so interested in what we're up to that you're -ahem- requesting more.

So we are writing to you from our brand spanking new Florence hostel, which we just arrived at today. But as we have yet to see anything of Florence besides some confusing streets lacking obvious pedestrian walkways, I'll talk about Roma. We got to hang out with Bruce, Amy, Rebecca, and Sam (my uncle, aunt, and cousins), which was so special. They were perfectly lovely to us, taking two poor bedraggled backpackers to restaurants and private tours through the Roman Forum and Vatican City (I'll let Christine tell the awesome story from Vatican City). My favorite part though was spending the night in with Rebecca and Sam. I got to cook (and it was quite delicious if I do say so myself [and so did Sam! I was so proud]- pan seared zuchinni, decently al dente pasta with pesto accented tomato sauce and a small boulder of parmesean, bruschetta, and rocket). We ran a chocolate experiment on the kids (conclusion: Chocolate delivered in small doses makes them happy, minorly impatient, and thirsty). And finally, Christine taught all of us yoga (very few things on this Earth are quite as adorable and giggle inducing as the four of us sticking out our tongues in what Christine decided to call otter pose).

What else what else....we consumed an impressive amount of gelato. The Spanish Steps are ALWAYS busy. Christine is quite talented at saying no to the rose/weird glowy flying toy/weird flour sack toy/mini tripod salesmen, and impressed Rebecca in the process. We really loved the Trevi Fountain-- I think we ended 3 of 5 nights there. We greatly appreciate that the Pantheon is still called the Pantheon even after being a church for-- 300 (?) years, and kind of think the church should take the hint.

Before all of this, way back in Barcelona (and through Venice), we made a lovely Aussie, physio, Rocky-obsessed, fellow backpackery and Veronica Mars/Harry Potter appreciating friend named Becky. We miss her already (she sat through Dr. Horrible for us- I mean really), but she had to go have adventures with her sister. And since I've been typing forever, I'll let Christine tell you about her. (She's to blame for our lack of updates as well! Siestas and late night gelato outings! Sneaky girl).

(Christine:)

We are sitting in what was a groovy little restaurant in the basement of our hostel, but as Liz handed over the computer it became a disco place with some hardcore techno music (Liz: They had been playing Madonna and Hanson and Wheatus and, lo, it was awesome). And there go the lights. So I will be quick.

We both miss our new Aussie friend Rebecca to bits! Especially since we had to leave her on a night train with a vagabond in her cabin. I have since heard she was able to trade seats and arrived in Switzerland safely. We will miss the Australia trivia. (All throughout Italy, in restaurants, shops and hostels, every other song is Forever Young. Apparently this was the advertisement song for The O.C. in Australia [I guess California theme song would not have sold well in Australia]. We have yet to find out why it is so popular in Italy, but that is why it is popular in Australia.) And we look forward to teaching her how to make a proper American smore at some point in our future. (Liz: And PB&J!)

Oh and the Vatican story...

In case you didn't already know... at some point Michaelangelo's pieta (in St. Peters) was attacked by a crazy Hungarian man with a chisel.

Something new I learned this week... apparently when he entered the church he yelled in English "I AM JESUS, AND THIS IS NOT MY MOTHER!" before he began attacking the impersonator, stone Mary. Why in English? And did he know English or did he just memorize that exact line? Why not in Hungarian or Italian or Latin as it is the Vatican? Since I do not know the Italian or Hungarian equivalent we may never know. (Liz: Couldn't possibly be as funny as it is in English. Anyway-- a bunch of people ran off with the random bits of Jesus and Mary. The Pope then said that "Each of those pieces of marble are little tickets to hell." All but one were returned. Impressive, right?)

I hope everyone is having a wonderful time in the States or wherever you may reside!

(Both)

Ciao!

I think we've all arrived at a very special place. Spiritually, ecumenically, grammatically.

We are taking a night train to "Venice" tomorrow. "Venice" not Venice. Because Venice is an island, and though they say the train will be taking us to Venice, it actually goes to the mainland. We have yet to figure out our other means of transportation, and thus we have resorted to paddling across on our backpacks like sea turtles.

Our Future Hostel

1) Will be called The Dainty Turtle

2) Will have hooks everywhere. On every wall. In every shower stall. So many it looks like the hostel has hook-pox.

3) Will have a place in the shower to change and where things can stay dry.

4) Will have a light in the shower.

5) Will have full length mirrors in each room.

6) Will have staff that can give directions accurately.

7) Will be temperate at night.

8) Will have luggage storage that does not creak like it wants to die a rusty death.

9) Will never smell dank.

10) Will have laundry that a) is easy to use, b) works, and c) does not have soap that smells like cheap, strangely fishy cologne.

11) Will definitely have free breakfast. With fruit. And coffee. Nescafe- shockingly- is not the same thing as coffee.

Paris Holds the Key to Your Heart...

Christine speaking (because it has been reported it's confusing if we don't specify)....

Fitting Paris into less then 4 days was a very difficult but wonderful experience. We were singing Anastasia and Les Miserables the entire time. Here is some of our title plus How I Met Your Mother's version of the Confrontation song.

We made it to the New Europe tour (the free plus tips student tour that I highly recommend) on Monday and had our introduction to Paris. My favorite tidbit... Henry the Forth was protestant but had a sudden 'enlightenment' and became Catholic, which just happens to be a bit of a requirement to rule France. He reportedly said that "Paris is worth a mass." After staying in Paris and visiting Notre-Dame I have to agree.

The whole area around nearby is just as amazing. Liz and I visited Shakespeare and Company, where different famous writers like Ernst Hemmingway and Alan Ginsberg would gather to write. Today there are beds hidden between books where poor writers can stay in exchange for working at the bookstore below (Liz: I'm not sure how much work they can possibly be doing, because the books are in absolutely no discernible order. There are piles and piles of books everywhere- on the staircases, on windowsills, around the beds-- creates a very quaint atmosphere, but would be seriously annoying if you wanted to find anything in particular). So if you want to be a writer, I suggest booking a flight to Paris and writing at the foot of Notre-Dame. It looks cold but fantastic (maybe wait until it warms up a bit)!

Liz speaking now...

We saw Jonah! Lovely host. He came to meet us after class at the Musee d'Orsay (collections from the mid 1800's to the early 1900's- under renovation so actually kind of disappointing, though I'm always happy to see Van Gogh, Degas, and Lautrec pieces ). He left us to go study, with the promise of dinner at his place later.

In the mean time, Christine and I went to Sacré-Cœur, this gorgeous church we had been seeing up on a hill between buildings up to that point. The metro stop was kind of hysterical-- something like 7 or 8 winding staircases to get up and down-- the metro has to stay on the same plane I guess-- we had just never really thought about it. A bunch of school children were going up at the same time-- some ran ahead of us with freakish child energy, and some were behind us sulkily stomping slowly up the stairs, breathing theatrically hard. I liked them.

The walk to Sacré-Cœur and the place itself were really stunning. Montmartre felt like it should up there, as opposed to around where the Moulin Rouge is. Little cobble stone streets, awesome graffitti art, and surprising glimpses of the city below. We got up to the basilica around sunset, and it was just beautiful. F*ing freezing, but beautiful.

We hoofed it to Tour Eiffel because we didn't know when else we would get to see it, and I'm so glad we did. Way more interesting at night, I think. We didn't get to see it sparkle though, which would have been awesome. Then, finally, dinner.

Have I said how much I love my cousin? He is possibly the greatest human being on this earth. He and Jon cooked us the most amazing meal-- baguette and a selection of cheeses (fromage! --one of the few words that has stayed with us), fried eggplant with a seriously delicious tomato sauce (I don't care if it was from a can), pasta, and salad-- honest to god green things on our plate. On our budget, that hasn't happened that often. I magically managed to pick out a perfectly drinkable red-- no one was more surprised than me. It was absolutely the best meal we've had in Europe thus far. As long as I didn't mess with their kitchen sink too much (never assume their is a garbage disposal), it was an awesome night.

We met again the next day in the Latin quarter (after our Norte-Dame/Shakespeare and Co. morning) for Jonah's favorite hot chocolate. They bring you a cup of melted chocolate and a tiny little pitcher of hot milk to pour over it-- and he ordered for us which was kind of a relief. So delicous. Christine skipped out for a run (a very impressive run), while Jonah did his first trip to the Lourve of the day as my tour guide- flexing his art history muscles, taking me around to his favorite rooms, and being patient through my mythological reference giddiness. As soon as he left, I got reeeallly lost. Inside the Lourve and under the Louvre. Go in with a buddy, my friends. I was on the verge of going up to offcial looking people and mournfully whispering, "Sortie?" when I finally made my escape.

Christine and I met up at the St. Paul metro stop to wander in the Jewish quarter. We didn't get to see all that much, but we had delicious falafel and an even more delicious crepes with nutella and banana before heading back to the hostel (which we ended up needing as a inverse-retroactive moral booster when some laundry drama ensued).

Christine speaking again...

My run alone through Paris was very interesting. When I explained that I did not know French and did not have a good sense of direction one of the Parisian Hostel workers gave me an easy run to meet Liz.

I ran along a river for most of my run. Of course this is easier said then done. There is a really flat part next to the river about 2 feet wide, but I didn't want to fall in. There is a space of cobble stones next to the river, but I didn't want to sprain my ankle. So I went with the sidewalk on the other side. Much like the metro stops in Paris, nothing is a straight shot. I had to keep crossing a bridge over the river to run on the other side and then back. I am beginning to understand how the French stay so skinny despite all the bread and butter. All the river crossing led me to some pretty swans though.

Speaking of bread, everywhere there were French people on their way home with a huge baguette in their hands, over 3 feet long, which was so perfectly French. Eventually the river ended and I found the perfect way to get around Paris. I held my map out in front of me and within 30 seconds someone stopped to ask me if I need help (I think, it was in French). I pointed to the road on the map I wanted to find, and she pointed me that direction. Sometimes looking like a tourist can be helpful (as long as money and important documents are tucked away and hidden safely). All in all, a nice way to see Paris.

From both of us:

Now, we're halfway through our first day in Barcelona and have yet to leave the hostel, so au revoir, mes petits choux.

The Monkey is in the Tree

Christine (with Liz falling asleep in the bunk above):

Well we have arrived in Paris. We got to see Dublin late Saturday night and and a much more subdued Dublin early Sunday morning. As we walked to the airport shuttle at 5:30 in the morning we saw some hard core partiers still making their way home, barkeepers sweeping out the broken glass and lots of taxi drivers who seemed to be the only people awake.

We made the mistake of bringing our recently bought duct tape (for fixing rips in shoes and backpacks and more) in Liz's carry on. Apparently we could use the duct tape to hold the plane hostage. Ryanair took it away and we spent the plane ride sleeping instead.

We thought it was cold in Ireland, it is freezing in Paris!! It is deceptively sunny, but it is so freezing we had difficultly taking pictures because our hands were so numb.

We successfully bought some tickets for the metro despite the French directions and made it to our snazzy hostel St. Christopher's Paris. We have a huge room with 8 beds built into the walls (so no more being swayed terrifyingly to sleep).

We walked to the Moulin Rouge (of course) for our first stop. There were some shady shops on the way. I am trying not to be offended that most of them were advertised in English. We arrived at what turned out to be Moulin Rouge, but I insisted that it was just some Las Vegas style rip-off and the real Moulin Rouge must be somewhere else near by. After wandering in the cold Parisian streets for a while, we decided that Moulin Rouge has clearly done some updates in the last century and I have too romantic a memory.

We stopped in a French cafe and managed to successfully order food in French and pay for it! Then braced ourselves and headed out into the cold.



French Lessons from Eddie Izzard.

No smoking in bars, and soon no drinking and no talking.

Yesterday (and this morning-- so weird) we were in Galway. We decided to splurge on a tour and went around to see the Burren, Ailwee Caves, and the Cliffs of Moher. And some city that has a huge singles festival that they kept telling us about. It's not anywhere near now. I didn't really get it.



The Burren has lots and lots of strange cow-sheep-goat hybrid looking creatures (actually fluffy cows- but we did a bunch of double takes), sheep, BABY SHEEP, and alpacas. At one point the guide stopped the bus to let us take pictures of the sheep, mentioning that they occasionally got curious and would wander down the hill toward us. The whole herd comes SPRINTING over the hill and starts milling about in front of us, showing off their fannies. The tour guide was cracking up, and we felt terribly special.

The landscape was really gorgeous-- ancient rock walls, somewhat less ancient stone castles and churches, low rolling green hills and what certainly look like moors to me. I really need to read Wuthering Heights, speaking of. Christine made fun of me for it! Get her, Grandma. It's really spare, low on trees, rocks everywhere-- just begging to be made into a watercolor (we aren't actually that ambitious).

The Aillwee Caves were awesome. They're limestone, and it's a living cave-- new formations being created as the water drips down from above. Apparently the whole thing used to be filled with water, which kind of blew our minds. They are lit sparely, so as not to damage the cave, which made for some striking pictures. At one point our nice guide turned off all the lights on us and said she was going to leave us there. She says after a certain amount of time in pitch black you start hallucinating. Not very hospitable.



We stopped in Doolin for lunch-- which we had been encouraged to visit by another hostel kid. There was next to nothing there, so again- a bit confused. But we had delicious vegetable soup and some thick brown bread with tangy berry jam on it and we both just about died of food happiness.

Speaking of vegetarian food- we met a French girl and two Italian guys at the hostel, and after much needling, shared their pizza and eventually went out to a pub. Christine explained that she was a vegetarian and couldn't eat the pepperoni pizza because she supports animal rights. At the phrase "animal rights," one of the boys nearly spit out his food laughing. Christine whimpered something about cute baby animals as he tried to collect himself to no avail. Lots of hand quoting of "animal rights" and "freedom fries" ensued. Later at the pub we saw that there was next to no one inside, as everyone was outside in the 40 degree weather so they could smoke. Explaining California smoking laws stunned them into silence. As did our tuition costs.

Today we walked around Galway for a tiny bit (failing to find cheese which I was a bit miffed about), and got into Dublin. We went out for stupid Lebanese food (gross hummus for Christine and some unidentifiable sauce and RANCH on my sandwich) which left us in a bad mood, and so we went and found a brownie in a bar that played awesome homey songs. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bDKFn9gwNC8&feature=related)

Ms. Little and Ms. Moran's Excellent Adventure

We've been given new names by the Irish Ferries. I'm trying not to take offense about mine.

So today we went on the tube to the UK National Rail to the Irish Ferries to a bus to a tram to a train-- 7:30am to 10pm of straight traveling. And it was AWESOME. I know it's completely shocking coming from us, but damn do we live sitting while someone else whisks us away to new places.

And now we are off to bed-- but the take away message of all this is HAPPY BIRTHDAY KATELYN! A very merry 23 to you :)

Thank you for flying Church of England, cake or death?

Don't be misled by our big plans. Writing to the lot of you wiped us out and we went to bed, and I had a perfectly lovely sleep. Poor Christine was in a chatty sauna, and probably questioning the structural integrity of our bunk beds as it creeked above her. Christine just corrected me-- "It moved! It moooved." Cow bunk bed? (We are allowed bad jokes while still jet-laggy thank you very much.)


The sun made an extended appearance today (gorgeous), so we went on a free tour (turned out to be a new europe tour --thanks Jenn!). Our guide was Canadian-turned-English (hard core Royalist it turned out -"What would England be without its Queen?"), and seemed like he left the Berkeley Theater kids clan to swim over here to the motherland. Christine raised her hand when he asked if we think the monarchy should be abolished, like a proper American I guess- our forefathers would be so proud. We were told some pretty awesome stories about people breaking into Buckingham Palace--my favorites: some dude dressed as Batman climbed up a wall and danced there for 6 hours, and some Irish guy broke in and had a little chat with his new friend Elizabeth while she was in bed. There was lots of questioning what she does with her time-- "I'm bored, Charles. Let's go walk by a window to rile up the tourists!" Fun facts: Trafalgar square used to have a giant population of pigeons, and we were both very concerned we were about to hear a story that involved poison and an unfortunate amount of clean up-- instead, pigeon contraceptives! Some incredibly wealthy bloke owns entirely too much of London and stamped every street lamp with Coco Chanel's logo because she was playing hard to get. We think Big Ben needs to feature shadows of Peter Pan and the Darlings flying, and some entrepreneurial person needs to sell flashlights of Tinkerbell to shine on it.


On our way to the British Museum, we stopped to examine our map at a weird intersection, when a telepathic British dude and friend offered to take us there. The outside of the British Museum smells like Disneyland (and candied peanuts are delicious). The inside of the British Museum smells like imperialism. But I half forgive them because it's so beautiful. Every room has it's own character (one looks like a library for instance- as if it's some scholar's study from the Enlightenment). The center of the building is amazing-- a giant glass ceiling that's shocking and grand. Each piece was displayed with thought and care-- though I can't say I understood the organization. And lots of fabulous sculptures to mimic.


Anyway, we are awesome at using the tube. We went out to see Charlotte and Robert tonight (my 2nd cousin once removed and 1st cousin twice removed- check me, Grandma!). We had dinner, and discussed the ache in our hearts for TV, the relative sexiness of different accents, and lesbian hasids. (Charlotte- "When I came home from the states, I felt like I lost a magic power!") And Robert brought me flowers because he's an incredible gentleman. They send their love to everyone at home.

We're currently listening to the French dub of Star Wars in one room and karaoke Livin' on a Prayer in another and it's kind of hysterical. And we have no reason to wake up early! Woot!

Things I discovered at 2:00am this morning...

Sleep talking in another language is just as amusing as it is in English.

It is impossible to open a combination lock in the dark and upside down.

Some bathroom lights in England will not turn on until you lock the door.

No matter how tired I am, no matter how dark it is, my body will not be fooled because it is daylight in California!

On the plus side I made some serious head way with my book and I did not give in to the temptation to take a nap. I plan on sleeping tonight!