Plan D

If I will take nothing else from this trip I certainly better learn some flexibility, and fast!

Plan A was to stay with my friend immediately upon arriving in Germany.  She began to have some  serious health problems and it became apparent a few days before I left that it would not be possible for me to stay with her right away.  While I was disappointed, I realize she did not ask me to make other arrangements lightly.  I will still get to meet and visit her, but having my original plan changed so last minute really threw me for a loop.

Plan B was to stay one night in Nuremberg and then travel the next morning to Prague.  I booked my tickets and hostel while still in the US a few days before I left.

Plan C was formed during a panic attack on the plane.  I had access to the internet and found there was a hotel attached to the Frankfurt airport.  I told myself if I couldn't handle any more that I would go directly there and stay until I could figure something out.

Then I went back to plan B.  I thought I would force myself to power through whatever anxiety I was experiencing and make it to Prague.  However on my first night, and what was supposed to by my only night in Nuremberg, plan D came into being.

At 3:00 am while I was sitting in bed shaking from anxiety, I realized there was no way in hell I could force myself to get up in a few hours and travel 4 hours by train with multiple transfers.  Maybe on a good day I could have handled it, but today was not that day.  At 4:00 am I stumbled down to reception and found out that I could stay at my current hostel for 2 additional nights.  While it was definitely not what I was planning to do today, I knew it was the right decision.

I finally managed to fall asleep again at about 4:30 am and slept somewhat soundly for the first time in a week.  Maybe not as soundly as I'm used to, but I'll take it! I awoke feeling a bit off, but mostly alright, and decided to venture out into the Old Town section of Nuremberg.

Nuremberg Old Town

A river cuts Old Town in half

Nuremberg's Old Town is surrounded by a stone wall.  My hostel is located right inside the South wall, and you can see it from my room.  It takes about 20-25 minutes to walk across Old Town and there is a castle located on the other side.  Today I wandered through the streets for a few hours this afternoon and found my way to the castle.

On the way there I munched on a pretzel, wandered into a craft store (who's surprised? No one?) and visited 3 different Cathedrals--all of them spectacular.

St. Lawrence Cathedral

One of the beautiful stained glass windows 

 The castle was pretty neat.  It was built during the middle ages and hosted many Roman Emperors through the years.  I got a bit burnt out part way through the audio tour and unfortunately didn't absorb much, but it has some spectacular views of the city from one of the towers.

Imperial Crown

Climbing the tower

Part of the castle and Old Town

It started to rain on my walk back to the hostel so for the rest of the afternoon I took a nap, watched Buffy The Vampire Slayer and skyped with my mom.  I still feel a bit disoriented, but I definitely think I'm starting to regain my footing.  I've got one more full day in Nuremberg before I take a train to Berlin.  At least, that's the plan for now! We'll see if Plan D is the one that actually sticks.

Food Diplomacy

After almost 24 hours of travel and very little sleep I made it to Europe and to an actual bed that I will actually get to sleep in tonight. Actually,  I can hardly believe it!

My morning started with a panic attack.  And lots of second guessing whether or not I was doing the right thing.  There have been a lot of obstacles, and only a few days ago I had to completely change my plans for my first week in Europe.

After saying goodbye to my Bogie pup, (we're not even going there.  I can't even look at pictures of him at the moment,) my mom and brother drove me to the airport.  I was freaking out and mostly quiet, which freaked my mom out, so it was good to have my brother there.  When my mom and I were once again discussing the pros and cons of my delaying the trip (read: trying to convince ourselves that this wasn't a completely stupid idea for me to go,) my brother replied in his always clear and even tone; "Do you really want your actions to be dictated by what the chemicals in your brain are telling you to do?" But it was much more succinct and wise than that.  I can never fully replicate the way my always-rational brother talks.  He's like a scientific Buddha.

When I arrived at the terminal I was physically shaking.  I'm afraid my goodbye with my family wasn't the best, because I could hardly focus on anything but not letting my legs collapse underneath me.

The plane ride was hellish.  I got maybe 2 hours of sleep, and was so freaked out that I couldn't eat breakfast.  I actually had to pull out the barf bag at one point.  Luckily it didn't get any use.

Once we landed, I managed to withdraw money, get a phone with a local number, and stumble upon the right train accidentally.  But oh! When I turned the corner from the train station and saw the sign for my hostel I could have done cartwheels.  It's really nice, and clean, and just what I needed.  I'll be sad to depart so soon (tomorrow actually!) but for tonight I'm grateful to have a place to sleep that's not a tiny airplane seat or hunched over my backpack on the train.

Things I learned on Day One:

1. Don't panic pack and bring a huge suitcase even though you promised yourself you wouldn't bring one.  Your back will hate you.  
2. Sometimes it's worth paying a little extra to not have to wait for four hours outdoors on the freezing train platform.  
3. Most people are pretty helpful, even if they are a sketchy looking middle aged German man, smoking outside a bar (Sorry mom! I promise I'm safe!)
4. German 99 cent microwave meals are just as crappy as American ones. 
5. Food breaks down language barriers.  If the half German half Turkish man you're eating dinner with offers you olives out of a plastic bag, you accept.  Even if you don't like olives.  
6. You then offer him a chocolate covered strawberry in return.  Food diplomacy at it's finest. 

Keeping a Journal

Those who know me well know I am an avid journaler.  I got serious about keeping one when I traveled to Europe in high school, and since then my journals have evolved and grown into an integral part of my life.

My history with journaling began before I could write.  On family trips my mom would sit down with me and my brother every night and write as we dictated our entries to her.  Obviously the practice stuck with me, as I even made mini journals for my stuffed animals.  

On my trip to Fiji, I kept a journal--for exactly one day.  Granted I was only 8, but when I found the little red and while book years later I knew if I ever traveled again I would write religiously.  While I remember quite a bit from that trip, many of my memories are pieced together from photos and stories my parents have told me.  I know there is so much that has been lost by not writing down my thoughts. 

The only entry I wrote in Fiji

Europe Journal 2008

Months before I left for my Europe trip I was wandering through my local art store and stumbled upon a book about bookbinding.  I flipped through the book, completely absorbed, until my mom pulled me out of there.  For weeks after I had dreams of sipping tea in some hidden restaurant in Paris, the Amelié soundtrack played softly in the background, while I wrote in my well-worn, leather-bound journal.  Not long after, I went back to purchase the book along with all the necessary supplies I would need to make a journal of my very own.

I had no idea what I was doing, but somehow I managed to make a book that stayed together.  It was massive, but I carried it everywhere during my 3 week long trip.  I collected stamps, stickers, tickets, and brochures, and filled my pages with doodles and maps of the places we stayed.

Journal Spread Paris 2008

My journal from Europe 2008 was Journal #3, and I just finished assembling Journal #12- Europe and Africa 2014.  I'll post pictures of my latest journal in a separate post, as I'm really pleased with how it turned out.   I can't wait until it's completely full and brimming with memories from my next adventure!

Journaling must be in my blood, because my mom kept a journal when she went to France in high school.  Can you believe she only took $130 with her for a full week in Paris?

The Path to Morocco- Part 1

The short story is that my European trip just became an international one.

The long story is that a while ago I realized that I was having some reservations about my trip.  I have always been excited about the opportunity to travel for such an extended period of time, but I realized that something was holding me back.  There are places I'm dying to visit, and monuments I'd love to see, but I never really wanted to spend almost 4 months simply sightseeing.

About a month ago I was rushing off to my nannying job and realized I didn't have anything to read at the doctor's appointment I was taking the kids to, so I grabbed a book off my shelf.  The Art of Pilgrimage: A Seeker's Guide to Making Travel Sacred.  The book is basically what you'd expect.  Lots of Rumi quotes with a dash of Buddhist philosophy on top--complete with generously applied underlining and exclamation points in the margins in bright red pen from the previous owner.   While it was a bit excessive at times, when I reached the chapter titled "The Call of Destiny" (I know, I know, I rolled my eyes too), I couldn't put the book down.

During my car ride home, the best place for thinking second only to a hot shower, my mind was buzzing.  The chapter focused on discovering what your true passion or purpose is, and making your travels focused on that.  I am passionate about animals and art and psychology and a million other things, but what I kept coming back to is the work I've done with children and adolescents.

I thought about the girl I mentor who is in every way like a true little sister to me.  How she bought me a Doctor Who necklace with her carefully saved money because she thought of me when she was at the mall.  How she shyly and proudly presented it to me as soon as I picked her up the next day.

I thought about the kids I nanny and how--without even realizing it-- my job went from a way to save up to my trip to an integral part of my life.  How that afternoon the 12-year-old had followed me around the living room, resting her head on the arm of the couch where I was sitting.

I thought about the girl my mom and I sponsor who lives in Kenya.   How she wrote a letter saying she was proud she had a sponsor so she could continue her education.

I thought of the girls who were adopted from foster care who received dolls I made as a Christmas gift this year.  How they drew me pictures and wrote how they tell their dolls their worries every night before bed.

And I realized this is it.  This is why I exist.  This is why I survived all the struggles I went through in high school, even though I didn't realize it at the time.

I dedicate my free time to volunteering and helping at-risk children.  My major and future career path are structured around giving back and helping kids who need it most.  Why not make my trip about that too?

5,968,800 Seconds

In two months and a little over a week I will be boarding a plane for another continent and leaving behind the city where I have lived for more than 21 years.  I like to think of myself as adventurous, as someone who likes to explore new places and meet new people, but the truth is I love familiarity.

I like the way the banana with peanut butter tastes every morning when I eat it for breakfast.  I like knowing exactly where they keep the cilantro in the grocery store one block from my house.  I like waking up every morning under the quilt my cousin made me, with my dog's whiskers tickling my ear.  I like knowing exactly how much it costs to mail a letter, all of my neighbors' first names, and when the leaves on the gingko tree across the street from my house turn yellow in the fall.
Leaving my life for several months, saying goodbye to family, friends, my beloved dog, and flying half way across the world terrifies me.  And that is exactly why I'm doing it.

I bought my ticket in November and promptly put it out of my mind.  I needed to focus on school and work.  "You'll plan more after the semester is over," I told myself.
Well, now the semester is over.  But I still have work.  And some loose ends to tie up for school.  And I need to decide what university I'll be transfering to next fall.  And I have to return books to the library.  And go to an eye check-up appointment that I was suppose to schedule in September.  Life keeps moving and I have no idea where I'm going to be sleeping in three months.
I have a stack of guide books to read, hostels to research, shoes to buy.  I have to decide if I'm taking my cell phone, if I need travel insurance, and, oh yeah, which countries I'll actually be visiting.
For years I've lived in the same house, slept in the same bed since I left a crib and although I'm definitely excited, the reality of traveling so far away by myself is really sinking in.

I've been abroad before, but I really struggled on my last international trip.  I was 16, traveling with a friend's family and dealing with undiagnosed health problems.  Pretty much a recipe for disaster.  Almost every journal entry from that trip talks about how homesick I was, I cried at least once a day, and by the time I returned I had racked up hundreds of dollars in phone charges calling my family frequently.

I realize I am much stronger, more stable, and happier than I was during that period in my life, but that's partly due to a carefully crafted regimen. Yes, I am stronger now, but I am also more careful about taking care of myself, and traveling will throw that all out of whack.

I am hoping that this semester will be one where I discover just how strong I really am.  I know no matter what happens it will be a life-defining, monumental experience, but I would be lying if I said I wasn't having some major anxiety about it.

I've got 68 days before I set out on the biggest adventure of my life so far.  So stick around! I'm going to Europe!