A Little Piece of Heaven Called Howth

After the eventful two days in Dublin, Morgan and I decided to take a day trip away from the madness. After a thirty minute train ride, we found Howth, a little village on the coast. As soon as I walked outside, I was instantly calm. The air smelled like saltwater and I could finally hear myself think. Howth was so small we figured we would just wander. Getting lost would take some serious lack of brain cells.

Our first stop was the bay filled with fishing boats complete with a seal spotting. We figured we would walk up near the cliffs to get better pictures. This just wasn't a walk, it was a test of my balance. The angle of this road had to have been at least 50 degrees, but the views were beautiful so I couldn't complain.

The highlight of the trip was the cliff trails. There were miles and miles of trails along the edges of these huge cliffs. To the right were huge fields and to my immediate left was the edge of the cliff. There were no safety rails/ ropes either. One wrong step and you would plummet. We walked along the trails for probably four miles. Enough to feel the burn and to work up an appetite.

We were determined to find sea food. After all, we were in a fishing village. We couldn't have picked a better place. We ordered calamari first and if I could have licked the place without being judged, I would have. The main dish was a seafood chowder. I've never tasted anything like it. It was a thinner broth full of any seafood known to mankind. 

Anyone visiting Ireland must travel to Howth. This blog certainly doesn't do it justice. Hopefully my pictures will.

Dublin Left a Mark on my Heart... and my Right Cheek.

This blog is a few weeks late because I've been ultra-studious lately. Anywho. For everyone who said people in Ireland don't have a good time on St. Patrick's Day, you're wrong. Really, really wrong. This blog is entirely way too long, but these stories must be told.

The story of getting to Dublin deserves a blog of its own. Long story short, our taxi driver had absolutely no idea where he was going. When we finally got to the airport, we shamelessly cut everyone at the check-in line, sprinted to our plane, and just barely made it. Oh, did I mention we had to get up at 2:30 AM to catch our flight? I figured I would be able to sleep on the plane, but I was too entertained by the swarm of green around me. One guy ahead of us was asked to give his beer, which he somehow snuck onto the plane, to a flight attendant. Instead, he decided he would chug the entire 6 pack. Props to you big guy. You deserved... and probably needed an aisle seat after that.

As soon as we got to Dublin, we headed out for festivities. Our Canadian friends heard there was a famous radio personality at the Jameson Distillery. Being the ambitious crowd we are, we figured we would go meet him. We not only got into the event, but we also managed to be on the air and stay for free drinks.

Later that night we went to a Patty's Day bash at Howl at the Moon, a bar which I was later told multiple people have died at from falling over the balconies. However, the highlight of the night was our friend Jeff and his beloved whistle. Since we were with a group of at least 20 people, it was hard to travel around. Concerned with everyone's safety, Jeff deemed himself has traffic conductor. As we approached an intersection, he would run ahead, blow his whistle and hold his hand out in front of all the cars. This was, surprisingly, very efficient... not to mention hilarious.

The next day we went sightseeing around Dublin. A lot of neat history. My favorite spot was the park outside of St. Patrick's Cathedral. It seemed like a popular place to just relax and it was obvious why. Everything about this park was light, bright, and beautiful. A few of our friends on exchange go to Trinity College so we decided to stop by there as well. We even managed to catch the beginning of a rugby match.

That night was an interesting one. I had gotten absolutely no sleep since two nights before and I was running on empty... to the point where I took a nap while waiting for my food at lunch. However, in my defense... I was tired, the food took two hours to come, and the booth had pillows. It was a sign, right? Anyways, I managed to find enough energy, tucked away in my newly grown love handles, to meet the boys for dinner with Morgan.

As we were leaving the hostile, I heard someone yelling. All of a sudden, I realized this middle-aged woman and her son were screaming at us. Before I continue, maybe I should try to describe these two so you can visualize this in your head.

The woman was in her 40's, but looked about 50. In her left hand she was holding a beer; and even though her right arm was in a sling, she managed to be smoking a cigarette from that hand. Quite the multi-tasker that one. Her son was probably at about my shoulder's height and he was just as inebriated. What a couple.

After about a minute of screaming, I realized they wanted the time. I quickly told them and kept walking. The lady continued to follow us and started touching me. Anyone that knows me, knows I value my personal bubble space to the fullest. My immediate reaction was to tell her to quit touching me, obviously, and to grab my purse. I thought maybe they were trying to pick-pocket us. The woman continued to follow us and ask us where we were from. We ignored her until she pushed Morgan and said told us to get out of her country and go back to ours. (Expletives Omitted) So, this lady is getting physical? Not cool. I told her to "chill out" or I was going to call the cops. Her response to that? Invading my bubble yet again, telling me never to say that to her again, and a slap in the face... a cherry on top in my opinion.

Thinking about this woman now, she was pretty extraordinary. Her hands were tied up yet she still managed to push Morgan, slap me, and sprint after us. Think about those skills channeled into something positive. I bet she could make lunch, take the dog for a walk, and check her e-mail... all while driving to her afternoon Pilates class.

After this ordeal we met up with the boys, Jeff and his whistle included. He was ecstatic to direct traffic for the night. However, the first car he stopped happened to be an unmarked police car. They jumped out of the car, grabbed him by his shirt, and took the whistle. One officer asked him if he thought he was funny. He explained he did and that's why he was doing it. Luckily, that is all that happened and Jeff managed to stay out of jail. Quite an eventful two days if you ask me.

Sensation White... and I Don't Mean the Tooth Paste

After our Brussels extravaganza, we traveled to Hasselt, Belgium to Sensation White. This party goes from 9 pm to 6 am and everyone is required to wear white, hence the name. The only way I can really describe this to you is by saying it's a rave. There are multiple DJs throughout the night playing techno music. You could only imagine the people I came in contact with. There were 55,000 people in one arena, but everyone could surprisingly keep their privacy bubble... if they wanted to. Words can't explain so I will just post videos and let you see for yourself.

Since I had already been traveling the entire weekend, I was pretty tired. I managed to soldier through until about 4 am. I decided I needed a nap so I took a break from the stage I had deemed mine and went up into the nosebleed seats with my friend Kurt who said he'd lookout while I snoozed. Fifteen minutes later, I woke up feeling energized and ready to go. My second wind carried me through another two-and a-half hours of stage raving and the ride home. I figured when I got home I would collapse in my bed, but the actual opposite happened. I didn't get to bed until 9 pm that night. 

Sensation was a great time. The music was great and the special effects were insane and I didn't end up in jail... like another American in Maastricht. I'll keep her name confidential to preserve what little dignity she has left. I wish I could do it all over again, but maybe during the day because my sleep patterns are seriously off now. 

Mussels in Brussels

Brussels is such a great city to travel through. We ended up having to stay in two different hostels. The first was most definitely better than the second. The first hostel we stayed at had internet, a kitchen, and was really impressive for the price we paid. The second hostel was actually called a hotel, but was anything, but that. Online it said that there was a continental breakfast. The real breakfast consisted of bread and cheese... not exactly my idea of continental breakfast. However, we did manage to find a restaurant that had GREAT food. I think the food may have been one of my favorite parts of Belgium. I am so used to eating only sandwiches in Maastricht so I look forward to the food when I travel. 

I could blog forever about Brussels, but I will try to keep it short by telling you the best stories and loading this blog with pictures.

The last night out in Brussels, Morgan and I ventured near the City Center. A random guy came up to me and asked to take a picture with me because it was his birthday. Of course, I told him it was mine too. The old man across the alley invited us in to his restaurant to have a free birthday beer. Well, one beer turned into four beers and a cheese plate. We were also offered mussels. He said we have to have mussels in Brussels. The owner's cousin grabbed my hand at one point and said he loved my hands. I wish I could document how ugly my hands were at that point. I will try to describe. I haven't put on lotion in weeks and my Fiercely Fiona, yellow nail polish is chipping to the max. He also asked me to meet him back at the restaurant when they closed and he would take me out.... I was in bed watching television, at the hotel, by 12:30 AM. 

The next day we went exploring in Brussels. There was a lot to see, but we managed to power through everything by early afternoon. There is a church on a hill that you can see from almost any point in Brussels and we were determined to find it. We didn't exactly realize how far this church was or what we had to pass through to get to it. First of all, this church was far. I'm talking an hour and a half walk just from the other end of the hill. On the way there, we passed through an area of Brussels that no tourist should go through. 

First of all, I witnessed at leasstttt three drug deals. I was so terrified of this area I shoved my purse down my pants, zipped my coat all the way up, and held Morgan's hand. There was no way I was getting pick-pocketed or ending up in a real-life version of the movie, Taken.

Secondly, we managed to walk through a massive street sale. I'm not talking vintage jewelry and teapots.  I'm talking mutilated baby dolls without heads that were thrown in the trash and televisions with smashed screens; not your run of the mill street sale. This continued for at least seven blocks, which seemed like fifty.

After we made it through that mess I found a really neat church that was painted black. Being the tourist I am and feeling a bit more safe, I took out my camera really quick to snap a picture. After I did, I felt people watching. I turned around to find at least twenty pairs of eyes mean-mugging me. At this point I wanted to run, but I was afraid this Middle-Eastern mob-looking crew was going to chase after me. I hid my camera and quickly walked past with my head down. 

.... But we made it and it was so worth it. We even got to go inside and take pictures.

My final story involves our departure from Brussels. We left our bags at the hostel and planned to pick them up on the way to the train station. We asked the man at the front desk to call us a cab. Since we were in a hurry, we thought it would be faster than lugging our bags on foot. Apparently this man was too infatuated with the Indian spin-off of "Who Wants to be a Millionaire" that he couldn't find time. He told us a short-cut to take and we would be there in five minutes. Okay, fair enough. Well, fifteen minutes later, after we managed to make our way through the crowds of people on a street that smelled like kabobs and body odor, we found a street where the train station was actually visible. Phew.... until I turned my a head to the left. I see a significantly overweight woman, in a bikini, smoking a cigarette in the window. Ahhh. Look away, look away. I couldn't help, but laugh in disgust. Until the next store front and the one after that and so on. I even saw an old woman, overly tan with white hair, in one window. This strip of store fronts was like watching any reality show on MTV; you know it's terrible when you're watching it, but you can't look away. The worst part wasn't even the women in the fronts, it was the creepy men drooling over them. So, if you are ever in Brussels, do NOT take any shortcuts. Go all the way around, even if it takes forty-five minutes to walk. 

Katy Perry, I Love You

Thursday night I trained it to Brussels, Belgium for the Katy Perry concert. Yes, this experience deserves a blog all it's own. I expected a lot from this concert and it delivered... and some. No words can express the appreciation I have for Katy Perry after this concert. It is obvious that a lot of effort goes into this performance and that she truly loves her fans. A fellow concert-goer threw a teddy bear on stage that said, "Can I get a meet and greet?". She poked fun at the guy for a minute, but then told security he was allowed backstage to meet her. She also pulled about 10 people out of the crowd to get on stage and dance. My only thoughts as this was happening was... If customs didn't still have that tutu my mom sent me and if I would've worn my Birthday shirt... I would have danced with Katy Perry. Regardless, where I was standing was an ideal spot. I was so close I could see her sweat. Gross to most people, but to me I thought it was amazing. It also helped that I was surrounded by 12 year-olds and I was about 4 inches taller than them.. except one amazon that managed to get in front of me. What are they feeding these kids?

I also learned that it's hard to take videos at a Katy Perry concert because dancing and filming just don't go hand in hand. It doesn't matter how are you try, you have to dance to her music. It is contagious. I'm sure I embarrassed myself on multiple occasions by mimicking the dance moves in her music videos and heinously singing all of her songs. Sorry to the people around me, but I was having a great time.

On a more disturbing note. The theater was VERY hot. I turned around to a girl bumping into me, which turned into her falling into me. She was overheating and I managed to catch her before she hit the ground, but dead weight is so heavy that I ended up on the ground holding her. My friends Morgan and Helen saw this happened and immediately started calling for help. Meanwhile, this girl starts convulsing in my arms. I worked in a doctor's office for 3 years and completely blanked. What really frustrated me was that there were three grown men standing nearby watching everything happen and didn't bother to help us get her out of there. Finally, Helen threw water on the girl's face and she completely snapped out of everything. She got up and just ran off before any of us could help her. We found her later with the paramedics.. along with about seven other pre-teen Katy lovers.

"We Don't Care It's Your Birthday, It's Carnival."

I am still lagging from the three days of Carnival. It is a non-stop party all over town and everyone gets really into it. My favorite part was seeing all of the outrageous costumes and celebrating my birthday, obviously.

Carnival really helped me understand the Dutch culture a bit better. I would walk into the bars and the children would be standing in the window while their parents were at the bar getting drunk. This was confusing for me. In America, I'm pretty sure that would constitute as neglect/child endangerment. Am I right? Needless to say, after a few beers I was loving the fact that there were kids to hang out with everywhere... After the parents' few beers, I'm sure they were loving the fact that their kids had someone to entertain them.

The first day was a lot of fun. There was a huge parade that we even managed to stumble into. We were trying to cross the street and before we knew it we were marching with the floats. When we tried to get out of the parade the police yelled at us. Apparently we looked like we belonged. We all went back around dinner time for a nap and all conveniently woke up at the same time... which was lucky considering we never set alarms.

The second day we got off to a later start since the night before ended around 6 am. We went to a house party near the main square which was a nice change of scenery. We always seem to hang out with the group here so the party gave me a chance to meet some new exchange students and even some of the Dutch people that are leading the Exchange Student program. I met two guys who said they traveled across the United States last year and got stuck in some really, and I quote, "shit" town in Ohio. I asked them which one and they responded, Toledo. Well, in my opinion, I like Toledo and I'm pretty sure it classifies as a city, not a town. All I responded with was, "Well, you should have gone to the zoo."

The  third day, more importantly my birthday, couldn't have gone any better. I woke up to a pounding sound, which at first I thought was my head. Turned out, Morgan woke up at 8:30 to get champagne, orange juice, and a birthday cake. I hope I can be as productive on her birthday. Nick, the Australian across the hall made the most delicious crepes. They were so good I ate them plain. It was good I had a group of friends willing to celebrate my birthday because the Dutch people could not have cared less... and they told me that when they saw my birthday shirt.

Since my wonderful package didn't come,  I had been in the same costume the last two days which was beyond rank. I think if I held a match close to it, it would burst into flames. My friend, Annabel, lent me her clown/scarecrow costume for the day so I wouldn't be forced to smell myself all day.

 The day was full of games and meeting very interesting people, one of which I think I'm forced to tell you about. There was a guy who built his own DJ booth out of cardboard. He had speakers attached so basically he was spinning cardboard circles around all day, boring if you ask me. My friends thought it would be funny if they spun around the booth, since it was on wheels. The guys said they could spin him, just not too fast because it would mess up his line of cocaine. He started dipping his fingers into this powdery white stuff and rubbing it all around in his mouth. This was about too much for me. All of these old people started doing the same thing. Finally I thought, if this was really cocaine, I don't think this guy would be so gracious as to let half the Vritjof have some of his stash. We then realized, we had been punked. I found a bag of powdered donuts on the side of the booth.

That night, as I was taking a break from dancing and sitting on the speakers I noticed a very young-looking boy dressed as a farm animal. I went ahead and asked how old he was. This is how our conversation went:

Me: "Um, how old are you?"

Dutch Cow: "Fourteen, but my fake I.D. says I'm sixteen."

Me: "Oh, you should really meet my brother."

Yes, I realize this conversation was wrong on so many different levels. I didn't realize just how wrong until I walked away... feeling a little uncomfortable partying with someone my brother's age. The more I look at this picture the more I see similar facial features so I did a side-by-side comparison. Grant, do you have a brother?

My friend Annabel during the closing events of Carnival. 

London

London: Take One...

Our original plan was to leave Maastricht Thursday afternoon to make the train to Brussels and then to London. I managed to switch around my schedule so this plan would work. The ride to Brussels was smooth. I even managed to have time to bond with the Subway employees while scarfing down my almost American tasting sandwich.  However, against my better judgement, I only brought a copy of my passport with me. Long story short, I was sent back home to Maastricht on a train. Luckily, the nice woman working at the counter stamped my pass and said it would be good for 24 hours. I figured I would try my London adventure again in the morning.

They say everything happens for a reason and I truly believe that. I had such a great time on the train ride home that I wasn't even upset about missing the train to London. I met a group of slightly intoxicated Americans from Texas and California that were pure entertainment the entire way back.

London: Take Two... 

Friday morning, after only two hours of sleep, I managed to roll out of bed, make it to the supermarket to put minutes on my phone, shower, and eventually make it to London. I met a group of friends in the market and went sightseeing the rest of the day. We went to The London Tower, Abbey Road, The London Eye, and The London Bridge. A lot of walking to pack into 4 hours.

That night, we went to an underground warehouse party. I've never been anywhere like this. The atmosphere was outrageous and the people there were even crazier. I witnessed some interesting dancing... I still don't know if interesting is the right word.

The next day we got up early and continued our sightseeing with Buckingham Palace, Parliament, Big Ben, Westminster Abbey, and everything in between. I feel like there is so much left for me to see in London so I already decided I am going back. The Harry Potter tour is a top priority on my things to do.

 Out of all the sightseeing, my favorite place was our adventure in Notting Hill. We went to the Portobello Market there and it was a taste of what real London is like. It wasn't as touristy and everything was so bright and colorful. It was a refreshing little area with great shops and food.

The ride home was a memorable one. I think Morgan and I got stuck with the weirdest people in our coaches. Not to mention we were delerious from the serious lack of sleep. There was one guy in particular that kept whispering songs to himself which ultimately turned into a loud shout by the end of the trip. I couldn't tell you how many times we exchanged looks and started laughing hysterically at him. So to you, weird guy, thanks for the entertainment. I needed it since my iPod and phone were dead.
If you look in the background of the uber attractive picture of me sleeping, you will meet this man.

All in all, London was a success and I can't wait to go back. I could eventually see myself living there someday.

This hallway smells like poo!

I love the hall I live in. Everyone is so kind, welcoming, and outgoing. There is music constantly playing which seems to keep everyone in an upbeat mood. We've all even taken an initiative to decorate our doors with our home countries as a theme. Not going to lie, my USA door looks pretty good.

I've managed to bond especially with the Canadians and Australian in the unit. It's like having some older brothers around. Everyone seems to congregate in our hallway too. It's the place to be. The constant swarm of people in our unit truly attests to how great everyone is because... our hallway smells like a dirty diaper. 100% of the complaining in our hall stems from this stench. At least once a day I hear, "This hallway smells like poo!". A kid across the hall is a smoker and smokes in his room. I'm not the biggest fan of that smell, but let me tell you; I prefer it over the rank smell that typically consumes the hallway. Poo smell aside, I love where I am living.

I have to go to school?

The schooling here is so unbelievably different. It makes me appreciate the structure of Butler. There are small groups of about 14 or so and a tutor. Everyone is assigned reading, but instead of the instructor lecturing and teaching, the students are teaching each other. Kind of like the blind leading the blind if you ask me.

The first day of class everyone had to introduce themselves. I turned out to be the only exchange student in both of my classes. I felt like I was the new panda exhibit at the Amsterdam Zoo. There were so many questions. However, some people became completely uninterested when they realized I was from Indiana. They would respond with an underwhelmed 'oh' and find someone new to talk to.

I did manage to find a nice Dutch student named Juliette who keeps reassuring me that I will adjust to the new structure soon. I always look to her whenever I get confused and she graciously helps me. I've also managed to help her if there are any English words she doesn't understand. This has taught me something about myself, I really am horrible at describing things. I find myself speaking with my hands over here more than ever.

Maastricht

The past two weeks have been crazy and there is absolutely no way to sum them up in one post. So I'm going to begin with the things that have really stuck out in my head...

Laundry is... free. Not that I can read what any of the cycles mean since they are in Dutch, but  I'm not complaining. Free is good in any culture. 

What isn't free... Ketchup. Water. Using the Restroom.

I was so shocked the first night, in Maastricht, when I went to the bathroom and a lady made me pay her to leave. Since then, I've come up with quite a few good excuses to get out of paying or I wait in the stall for another person to come along and then dart out while the money collector is side tracked. Pathetic, I know. What has my life come to? Maybe it's just the American in me, but I think using the restroom is a God-given right.

Another shocker the first night? The Dutch LOVE the song, "Dynamite" so much that they feel the urge to take their pants off whenever it plays. I was unaware of this the first night and as the song was playing I glanced on stage and thought to myself... 'wow that girl's dress is really short'. My double take confirmed that her pants were at her ankles along with everyone else on stage. My jaw literally dropped. Another student must have seen my reaction because he leaned in and said that in two weeks I would be up there doing the same thing. Sorry kid, but my mom taught me to keep my pants on in public. I'm happy to report that I have been here two weeks and have yet to participate in that debacle.

I'm finally learning my way around the town, not that I can pronounce any of the squares or streets. I just kind of mumble and I think people understand what I'm talking about. Either that or they're just being polite. Churches in Maastricht are all good landmarks. There is one that was painted red. Absolutely beautiful. When I see that, I know I'm near the McDonald's. I'm so American.

I think I've gone on long enough. I will post pictures soon and try to keep up with the blogging. Catch you guys later.