Sunday, September 19, 2010

Dutch: It's The Way To Go

I once knew a Dutch kid named Marco. I did not like him.

A combination of my senior year with Marco and several layovers in the Amsterdam airport led me to conclude several years ago that I did not like the Netherlands, nor its tall, skinny, jerky, smoking people.

An unfair judgment, I know. I knew it then, too. But until I met a Dutch person I liked, I was determined to look upon Hollanders with disdain.

And then this July I attended a conference in Prague. 80+ students from over 30 nations around the world gathered for a week of leadership activities, and one night of culture-sharing. The first act of the night was a tall, skinny, non-blonde named Yori, who explained a bit about the bizarreness Dutch National Anthem, and tore off his shirt while singing it. I can't remember why he did, but I distinctly remember agreeing with him that, yes, that is not all that's strange about the Dutch.

The next day, I got to talking to him in one of the activities . I didn't mention my prejudice against his people, but I did bring up the Amsterdam airport, and--more importantly--that Holland is home to the best peanut butter in the world.

Ah, Calvé Pindakaas!

What? Yes! You know it! They used to sell it in Dubai, but now I can't find it anywhere and I loooove it.

Well, I can send you some!

I got a very nice email a few weeks later apologizing for the delay, but his parents had eaten the pindakaas [peanut butter] intended for me (see? it really is the best!) and of course that delayed the sending somewhat. But no matter. It's in the mail and should arrive in 8-10 days.

Sweet! I thought. And then I left for Europe and forgot all about it.

Until today.


It came!! All 2 jars and 20 (!) Euros of it.

I still think lowly of Marco and the Amsterdam airport in all its toxic secondhand haze, but overall, I'm feeling very kindly toward the Dutch.

Very kind indeed.

My only problem is: What to send back?





Thursday, September 16, 2010

A Thought


I wanted to tell the book thief many things, about beauty and brutality. But what could I tell her about those things that she didn't already know? I wanted to explain that I am constantly overestimating and underestimating the human race--that rarely do I ever simply estimate it. I wanted to ask her how the same thing could be so ugly and so glorious, and its words and stories so damning and brilliant.
--The Book Thief
By Markus Zusak

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

I LOVE FRANCE

I had every intention of telling you about how freaking wonderful Munich is, and how beautiful the weather was, and how much I enjoyed walking along its quaint little streets. Oh, and how well organized, easy, and efficient its underground is! And how everyone just assumed I was German, until I had to reveal I wasn't in order to pay for my soft Pretzel (mmmmmm). I have great pictures for you, and great things to say about Munich. But right now, all I want to talk about is how much I LOVE Paris!! I love it. All I've done is wander along its streets, stopping every now and then to snap a picture. I love cities. I love wandering around cities. I love wandering around Paris. I love, love, love this city!

I have so many great things to say and pictures to post that I hardly know where to begin! How about with today? Highlights:

I ran into an acquaintance from Salt Lake City! A guy from my ward whom I didn't know well. He was standing outside a store with a camera around his neck.

I have this game I play when I travel--it's especially fun in Europe--called "Spot the American" and whenever I correctly identify someone as 'American', I win! It seems like a boring game that would get old fast because of course it's always the fattest, loudest, worst-dressed people that are the Americans (sorry, fellow citizens, but these Europeans are a slim, stylish bunch) and spotting them is like spotting a kool-aid stain on a white polo. But I don't spend much time in touristy areas (read: places with lots of Americans) and so the game maintains its appeal.
So, I spotted the American loitering along the sidewalk and then realized that wasn't just an American--that was a UTAHN. Whom I KNEW. But how? And what the crap was his name?

I stopped right there on the street, not 5 five feet away, and pointed directly at him.
"You." It was all I could say, since I couldn't remember his name or how exactly I knew him.
For a second he looked alarmed, and then recognition dawned and he said, Yeah, I do know you from somewhere--as though he was answering some unasked question.

And then I remembered! A roommate of a friend from the ward. (I still couldn't recall his name.)

Yep. That was it.

Turns out he was on vacation with his mom! SLC flights directly to Paris, you know. Oh, and his name is Steve.

I never get tired of these small-world incidents.

_________

I visited 11 Rue Jacob today. I know that doesn't mean anything to you, but it's haunted. I know that because I've listened to this story 13 times (iTunes play count!) and decided it made a much cooler landmark than the Eiffel Tower, which I didn't visit.

_________

I ate a fabulous French lunch today. It was expensive and fancy and had an entree AND a main course. (Who even knew an entree wasn't a main dish?) Anyway, it was superb, expensive, downed with Evian, and didn't cost me a cent. Bada. BING.

__________

That's why my job is awesome. It pays me to travel to cool places and eat lunch on other universities' dimes.

___________

It also gives me a per diem--a daily allowance--for food and transportation. I haven't wanted to take the time to sit down and eat a proper meal (too much to see!), so instead I've just bought lots of ice cream. If you learn only one word in French, learn this: glaces.

Mmmmmmmm.

___________

I still haven't eaten a croissant :(

____________

I visited Notre Dame today.

It's so beautiful.

____________

Tonight, my pre-dinner gelato cost a fortune (3.50. EUROS!) but it was chocolate and raspberry and shaped like a flower! A scoop of chocolate in the center surrounded raspberry petals. I'm so sad I didn't discover that place last night.

____________

I'm really proud that no one speaks English to me. It means no one assumes I'm American. In my book, if you can pass for local in TWO European countries, you are a legit traveler.

(This rule doesn't apply in the Middle East.)

___________

I have work to do now. The rest of the week is work and travel and business meetings, and then it's back to the office.

Hm. Come to think of it, I think I'll just take a bath instead. I won't get another vacation until November and I think I need to take advantage of this night.

Plus, I went to Sephora tonight. That bath cube ain't gonna dissolve itself!

More to come,
Paris Paris Paris!

Saturday, September 11, 2010

Finally! A Post About TRAVELING!

I am typing this from a wee hotel room hotel in Munich, Germany. Tomorrow, I will be typing from a (hopefully much less wee) room in PARISSS!!! I am so excited. Want the full details of my European tour?



View Europe September 2010 in a larger map

Weeeee!

I spent Thursday preparing for the trip by eating the rest of my food (chicken, homemade soup (!) and zucchini pasta(yum!)), packing and shopping. Yes, it is important to buy new clothes if you are going on a business trip to Europe. It is also important to borrow from your awesome roommate's stash of business attire and designer bags! And to adopt her too-small heels. Yeah!

When you fly internationally, you should be at the airport 3 hours before your scheduled departure. I never, ever break this rule. It often means I have a good 1-2 hours of empty time at the airport, but better empty time in Duty Free! than not enough time at check-in! I always say.

My flight (to Munich vai Paris) was scheduled for a 1:45 takeoff Friday AM and so a 10:45 airport arrival would leave me with plenty of time for check-in, duty free browsing, and my traditional buying of the Jelly Bellies (they're like 2 bucks at the airport! I buy a pack or two every time I fly and while eating them, tell each little bean how it was made and the cool state they are from.)(Just kidding. But wouldn't that make a great story for the person next to me? 'So how was your flight?" "Dude, I sat next to the craziest lady!' haha) Uh, so I don't remember where I was before that parenthetical tangent.... Oh right, so I thought I was leaving at 1:45 but I checked my itinerary around 10 PM (I had just finished packing my suitcase for the 8th time. Only one carry-on suitcase for 8 days!) and realized it said: 0045! oh no! WHAT HAD I DONE?

I was like, Roommate, I got the time wrong!

She was like, What's the rush?

I was like, 3 hours!

She does not believe in that rule, I learned, and so we pulled up to the airport just after 10:45 (I live 10 minutes away) and it was a MADHOUSE. You know how it is traveling in the US around the x-mas holidays? It was like that. (because it was the start of the Eid holiday and everyone and their mothers, brothers, and children were leaving the country!)

I waited 45 minutes to check in (You never have to wait when you're 3 hours early!) and then the lady asked me about my carry-on and was like, Uh, I'll need to weigh that.

It was overweight by 1.6 kg and she was like, You can check it.

And I did, even though inside I was like Nooooooooooo! I really hate checking bags. I packed a carry-on sized suitcase just so I wouldn't have to! But really, what other option did I have?

That was bad, but not as bad as the next thing she said to me: The only seat available is in the middle.

WHAT?? (Because my travel guy always books me an aisle seat!)

You need to make your seat selection when you reserve, she scolded.

I was like, But my travel guy always books me an aisle seat! Is that really my only option?

And she said, Well, let me check.

And 10 minutes later: A window seat. bada BING.

VERY IMPORTANT TRAVEL TIP: BE NICE. Always. Even when you're freaking out because you arrived 2 hours early instead of 3!
This lady volunteered to find me a better seat (middle seats suck! especially on international flights!), and when I was in Prague in July, I was allowed to take on my overweight carry-on because I asked nicely. My mom's colleague has gotten upgraded to business this way several times. Nice, folks, is not over-rated.

I made it to my gate just under an hour before take-off, and so I rewarded myself with Jelly Beans :)

Slept all the way to Paris, even though I was in the bulkhead. Do you want to know how I feel about the Bulkhead? Let me quote fellow short-person David Sedaris:
He was at the front of the cabin, in a single bulkhead seat, and I recall feeling sorry for him, because I hate the bulkhead. Tall people covet it, but I prefer as little leg room as possible. When I’m on a plane or in a movie theatre, I like to slouch down as low as I can, and rest my knees on the seat back in front of me. In the bulkhead, there is no seat in front of you, just a wall a good three feet away, and I never know what to do with my legs. Another drawback is that you have to stow all of your belongings in the overhead compartment, and these are usually full by the time I board. All in all, I’d rather hang from one of the wheels than have to sit up front.
Taken from this piece, which is SO FUNNY. It also appears in his book, When You Are Engulfed In Flames (of which I have a signed copy. boo yaw) as Solution to Saturday's Puzzle.

Thank you, David. I hope I run into you while I'm in Paris this week!

So, I slept uncomfortably, but I wasn't in the middle seat! (haha. I accidentally typed 'middle east' first.)

I arrived in Paris and they don't have a train to take you from terminal to terminal so I walked FOREVER to get to my next gate. It turned out okay, though, because I had a 3-hour layover :)

Then I slept all the way to Munich.

At the airport, I picked up my luggage and found a money exchange, and then had to figure out how the heck to get to my hotel. Would a taxi know the address? I asked the lady at information.
She said, Yes, but of course that is ridiculous, you silly little American, because a taxi will be 60 Euro and you can get there on the train for 10! Then she shoved a map at me and started helping the next person.

Germans, I hear, can be a little brusque.

I paid for the taxi, because 1 it's not my money 2 I don't know how to use the train!!

****This part is, uh, a little on the 'adult' side. Under-18 year olds: ye be warned!***

As we all know here on this blog, I have a talent for attracting, ah, 'interesting' taxi drivers. Turns out that in Germany, they're a little more interesting than in Jordan.

This man never asked me to marry him, never demanded I sit in the front seat with him, and really never made me feel even a little uncomfortable. This is significant considering our conversation, in which he revealed that if he could 'to change' he would be German woman because girls can have--how do you call it?--'one-night stays' with many men--hundreds even!--and it is okay. A woman can approach a man in a disco and ask for a night and he will not say no. No man will say no to this! But if he goes to a woman in a disco and asks for a night, she will tell him, No! You are crazy!

I said, Well, you can say no! You don't have to say yes just because you were asked.

He said, No, you not understand me.

What he meant was: He wants to be able to sleep with any woman he asks. Men can't. But women? The woman have options! Except not a woman in Africa and Arab and these places. They are with man one time and get killed! No, I want to be German girl.

I said, No, it's not okay for a woman, either. If a woman sleeps with many men, she gets a bad image and she gets called bad names. (<--Broken English is an important skill to master, if you are one to travel a lot.)

He said, Maybe in US, but not in Germany.

(I guess German doesn't have a word for 'slut', or any of the other degrading-exclusively-to-women words like 'ho', 'bitch' and 'whore'. I wonder if it also missing words like 'pimp' and 'player'?)

He said, Why don't you have boyfriend?

I said, Why don't you have a girlfriend?

He doesn't want a girlfriend. (Just the one-night stays), and marriage is for much later.

When I told him I had friends my age who already had two kids , he could not believe it. I tried to explain that for some people marriage and kids brought much greater happiness than one-night stays. He couldn't believe that either. But maybe when he is 35 or 40. For now, just the one-night stays.

I changed the subject to talk about Munich. He said I was very near--how do you call it?--downtown and asked me what I wanted to do. I said, I have a meeting, and then I want to sleep. (I slept on both flights, but was still soooo tired!)

Alone?

Yes. I just want to sleep, and just sleep.

But is Friday! You are nice girl! You can go to disco and downtown. Why sleep alone? You can call me even!

haha. No, I really just want to sleep
.

He told me of an American woman he spent a week with (he even showed me her business card). She cried when she had to go home. I asked him if he was sad, too, when she left. He said yes, but that he tells women he is just want the sex, not uhhh...

A relationship? I volunteered.

Right. My English is not so good. I didn't learn in school.

What? But I thought everyone in Germany speaks perfect English! How did you learn, then?


He smiles. 'Women.' He told me I will learn better from a man. A man from a woman and a woman from a man--this is the best way. A man from man or woman from woman--not good.

Or, I could take a class! That's another good way.

He just chuckled.

We arrived at my hotel. The meter read 62.70 (!!).

He wished me a pleasant stay as he handed me my luggage, and though he may have thought me a terrible waste of a Western woman, electing to spend the night alone in a hotel when I could so easily spend it with a stranger(!), he didn't indicate it. Just shook my hand and went on his way.

***********
Align Center
Now I am off to see the city. I would leave you with a picture, but my computer is being funny and won't let me upload any :(

Ah well. Hopefully I can post more when I get back!

Much love,
This Little Traveler


Sunday, September 5, 2010

View from a Balcony

I'm sitting on my balcony right now, listening to the air conditioners on the building run and enjoying the warm breeze as it passes across my face and shoulders.

I'm moved in, but my room is far from complete. Actually, it's more 'mess' than 'room' and I imagine it will be that way for several more months. I have clothes in my closet and toiletries in my bathroom and I just don't have time, space or energy to do any more than that now.

I have a lot of negative energy coursing through me at the moment. I'm stressed and tired from work. I'm really tired of and annoyed at the drivers around here. My feet are sore from a very long day. And I just keep thinking about the impossible amount of work that has to get done this week.

I'm going to Europe next week. I thought it would be a great way to pay for a European vacation--do business half the time and enjoy Europe with the rest.

Turns out: it's a terrible way.

I could have 9 days of unstructured time to relax, read, watch TV, get settled into my room, make bread, go shopping, enjoy the calm before the storm that is the start of a new semester. Instead, I get 3 days. I mean, that's not bad or anything--one day in Munich and two in Paris. But I have to visit 4 different cities in two different countries, fly 6 different airplanes, figure out how to get a damn TGV ticket, have several meetings, give a presentation, and attend a conference all in the wee space of 7 days. Not to mention how much of my three days of vacation are going to be absorbed in email because the semester is starting and new students are coming, my boss is gone, and I have 3 orientations to prepare.

A terrible way, indeed.

It's hard to be stressed right now, though. The airconditiong units in from the building across from me sound like rushing water. The far-away sounds of the freeway add a nice white noise to this still, warm night. Even the periodic interruption by a low, loud airplane passing overhead is calming.

In this crowded, noisy place all I hear is quiet.

And it is wonderful.

Wednesday, September 1, 2010

Postcard from The Real World

Sigh.

I like my job. I like helping people. I love traveling. I love helping students to travel abroad.

But sometimes I can't help. Sometimes there are rules to follow that people would like to circumvent--would like me to circumvent--and I can't. So, they put up a great fuss, and get their family members to call me and other family members to visit me in hopes that making an even greater fuss will somehow get them around the rules.

Oh how exhausting it is to be fussed with. So exhausting, in fact, that when it was through, I took a nap under my boss's desk. (Her office is carpeted.)

The problem is I'm soft. I have this bleeding heart and people sense it and do their best to exploit it. It reminds me of that line from the Princess Bride:


Once word leaks out that a pirate has gone soft, people begin to disobey you, and then it’s nothing but work, work, work, all the time.

Work work work all the time--and all because word has leaked out that I'm a big softie.

Except that I'm not! I really want to make exceptions, but I don't! I'm getting better. In fact, I'm sure that pretty soon I'll have earned my reputation as the Dread Pirate Ray, and it will all be thanks to Mr Burns for his inspiration. From now on, this is how I am going to deal with unwanted visitors:

That'll teach those fussers!

(seriously, you guys gotta check this out)
-------------------------------------------

The only thing getting me through these awful, draining incidents is my upcoming trip to France. I'll be hitting up Germany, too, but I'm most excited about Paris, Nice, and Nantes :)

Ten more days.

Until then, I just have to keep telling myself:


Just keep swimming.