Hei Hei fra Norge!
Happy Thanksgiving!
Katherine and I celebrated over-seas by hosting Takk-giving (Takk=Thanks) for 16 exchange students from around the world. Feeling obligated to educate, we introduced hand-turkeys (yes, the ones from kindergarten), encouraged “typical American” apparel, enlightened them on the joys of sweet potato (and pumpkin, and apple, and pecan) pie, then ripped off the tablecloths for a post-dessert game of beer pong. Katherine’s mom sent us an email reminding us that we have a lot to be grateful for this year. She is right, and as the days get shorter, so does our time here in Oslo…we find ourselves savoring every last minute of both. We try to get outside sometime between 9:00 and 14:30 when the sun is still in the sky, but with 5 hour long finals, review sessions and sleep I am thankful that I am a night person.
Norway is about the same size as Michigan with less than half the population, so I find flying out of the domestic terminal is a little humorous. A couple weeks ago I visited my friend Henrik (who I had met in Aspen) at his home in Tonsburg, an hour south of Oslo. Established in AD 871 it is the oldest city in Norway and home to the castle Castrum Tunsbergis intact with distinguishable wall, turrets, and one hell of a view of the fjord. Katherine and I also had a chance to head to Stavenger, Norway’s oil capitol. A little Norwegian History: Norway used to rely heavily on the sardine packing industry and thus (as you can imagine) was dirt poor until the 1970’s when (surprise!) they found an oil field off the coast and consequently, Norway’s “Average Jonas” became a very wealthy man. Other than petrol, Stavenger also has a quaint downtown, great beaches and some friends of my roommate’s who hosted our stay and taught us how to make traditional Pepperkaker cookies (think gingerbread and white icing). Their beautiful traditional wooden cottage complete with crackling fireplace was a harsh contradiction from our apartment’s minimalist motif somewhat-less-complete with Ikea candle. We exploited the opportunity to relax.
The last of my traveling included a rendezvous with my mom and three of my aunts (post Paris girls weekend) in green, green Ireland. Within an hour of meeting them at Dublin Airport we were quite literally having a blast (no comment). After a stimulating drive on the “wrong” side of the road through a scattered matrix of stone-fenced fields of multi-colored (tagged) sheep we arrived in Galway at the Sea Breeze Lodge B&B. The next morning I woke up early, pumped up the “St. Patrick’s Day” mix on my iPod and hit the road along The Atlantic watching the sun rise over the bluffs. Running in countries like Ireland and Germany where so many people have ran before is an indescribable means of Ironman motivation.
After a hot plate of grilled tomatoes and white pudding we jumped on a bus to explore the lakes, harbors, fields and mountains of Connemara, one of the few traditional and galic speaking regions of the country. The tour stopped at the Kylemore Abbey, a former private residence built by textile merchant and politician Mitchell Henry in 1863 (later sold to and currently run by the Benedictine Nuns). My favorite part was the gardens that were nestled between mountains and surrounded by a tall brick wall. Still somewhat in shambles, it was like a secret garden, filled with everything from exotic plants to pumpkins. The next day, after a bit of shopping in Galway, we hopped back in the car and returned to Dublin to hit the town. Although we had a lovely time in the Temple Bar district enjoying our freshly brewed Guiness and Bulmers Cider, we were pointed in the direction of a dirtier, grungier, livelier and far superior locals pub that had a great jam session going on that evening (with a very cute fiddle player). I want to go back with my father and my hammered dulcimer.
In the morning, with the help of the nicest taxi driver I have ever met, we succeeded in finding the small cottage overlooking the mountains where my great grandmother left her family100 years ago. It was hard to imagine how desperate times had been for her to walk out that front door alone at 16, en route to a country thousands of times farther than she had ever dreamed. I really cherished sharing that moment with my aunts. Traveling Europe with a small group of 50 year old women is a very different than with a large group of college students but I thoroughly enjoyed getting spoiled by my Aunt Patty and Aunt Susie, discovering that my Aunt Joanie and I have exceptionally similar taste, and using a fake ID to get into a bar with my mom.
Speaking of spoiling…If you are ever wondering what to get me for my birthday, Christmas (or holidays in general), any large life event like graduation or a wedding, there is now an answer: Puccini Chocolate (www.puccinibomboni.com). Upon tasting it on that corner of Staalstraat in Amsterdam, a feeling of completion inundated me completely as I realized that I have tasted the most amazing thing in the world and can now die happy.
Perhaps it has something to do with the chocolate, my triathlon-driven love of bicycles, or the way the lights sparkle on the canals at night, but Amsterdam surpassed Prague as my favorite city in Europe. Feeling adventurous on our bikes, we made our way outside the city and to the small village of Ransdorp. It was everything that you could ever want in a small Dutch village; tiny cottages on the water, cute old Dutch people watching us (clearly NOT locals) from behind lace curtains, and a man driving a front loader down the main drag with a dead goat. Our trip had good timing and we were in the city for MuseumN8, a yearly museum bar crawl that included everything from DJ’s to light shows. Like Marijuana until the 1970s, for two centuries Catholicism was illegal in Amsterdam beginning in 1575 after the Protestant Reformation, so Catholics in hiding worshiped at the “Our Lord in the Attic” church disguised as a canal house in the Red Light District where, while waiting in line on MuseumN8, I was struck by the mirror of a small truck. Why that is relevant to this letter home… I was hit by a truck while waiting in line for church in Amsterdam’s Red Light District. Now that’s a story to tell your mother.
Life in Oslo by comparison is incredibly less exciting, although with guests in town we have managed to see it in a new light. My exploration got me in trouble when I found myself INSIDE of one of Norway’s most famous tourist attractions at Frogner park and consequently also found myself to be the laughing stock of a swarm of Japanese tourists who thought my predicament was photo-worthy.
Finals continue through December 19th and then it is time to say goodbye to Oslo and my adopted family of friends here. As unusual as it will be to take weekend trips to Plymouth instead of Prague and to be to young to go to the bar I am looking forward to most things American. I suppose I could always go to Windsor if I miss that oh-so-pleasant customs experience. My family will be in Norway to celebrate Christmas and then I fly home to kick off the New Year with the first real swim of Ironman training on January 1st.
I hope all is well at home, wherever home may be!
Alexandra
Saturday, December 8, 2007
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Euro Adventures
Sit down and hang on….this is a long one!
Because I keep receiving the same inquiries about my adventures, I thought that I would address them all at once:
Yes, I am having a great time. Yes, I do miss home. The food does suck. I like my roommate (a lot). I have made friends, they are nice. Norwegians speak Norwegian. I still cannot speak Norwegian, but that is not a problem. I call home using Skype. It doesn’t matter that things are so expensive because I am already broke. My address is: Alexandra Clark, Gunnar Schjelderups vei 13a Rom:320, 0485 Oslo, Norway.
I believe that the most common inquiry can be best addressed using a direct quote from my Scandinavian Work Life class:
“According to social scientists, when scored on their gender traits, Australian women are actually more masculine than Norwegian men.”
Seeing as how my taste in men tends to endorse the “rugged, manly” type, the general lack of Vikings has ruined my pursuit of a Norwegian “Lovah.” Not to worry, the exchange program has provided an ample amount of Canadians to get me in enough trouble for one semester.
Maybe it is the fall weather, my friends we lovingly refer to as Mom and Dad, or maybe it is the blues play list on my iTunes, but my white cube of an apartment in Nydalen is starting to feel like home. The grocery store is no longer a daunting experience and I have grown accustomed to utilizing public transportation. I have even began making some soul-food to feed the starving homesick North Americans. Tired of cheese in tubes and FirstPrice pizzas they come to our room to enjoy chicken pot pie, banana pancakes, and oatmeal chocolate chip cookies.
School in a brand new building, in a brand new city in a whole different country has become just as lackluster as good-ol’ East Lansing, and we needed to get out. With a “go big or go home” mentality, we decided to take a plane into Copenhagen and then rent RVs to go to Oktoberfest, Prague, and Berlin (yeah, babe).
COPENHAGEN, DENMARK
Weather: Wet, Gloomy, 55ºF
Favorite Landmark: The Hotel Alexandra
Favorite Food: Danishes and/or Italian Sandwiches from Al Taglio
Beverage of Choice: Carlsburg
The Chocolate: Superior Extra Dark with 76% cocoa and cocoa nibs
The twelve of us started our day at 5:00am to catch a subway, to catch a train, to catch our plane to Copenhagen. Having decided to stay up the night before, it was miraculous all arrived, and when we did we were strictly business: Food, Nap. In our attempt to be “good little tourists” a few of us woke up, wrapped up and stumbled down the street in the rain to see the thinker behind the Ny Carlsburg Glyptotek art museum. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep, or the six months I have been away from home but I couldn’t help but to wonder, “If he has been sitting there thinking so long, why hasn’t he thought to stand up and move?” It was at that very moment when I said that awful, awful joke I realized just how much I missed my father.
We began scouring the town for hours reading “meny” after “meny” so in awe of the variety of restaurants that would not have been affordable in Oslo we forgot how hungry we were until returning to retrieve the rest of our group. Now wet, freezing, and famished we abandoned our investigation and resorted to the closest restaurant to the hostel; a mom-and-pop Danish place with bad wine and sub-par food. Nothing was particularly great but there’s something about knowing that your waitresses husband is in the back making your food that makes you leave happy anyways.
Some friends-of-friends studying at University of Copenhagen took us to a club that evening where we drank shots that tasted like cough drops and got to dance on podiums. Needless to say, it was a good time, but the highlight was not until the trip home. Sick of breaking in my (brand new, knee-high, black) cowboy boots, my friend Nick (who, I think, was sick of hearing me complain about breaking in my cowboy boots) and I decided to catch a bicycle taxi back to the hostel. I have yet to top that experience during my stay in Europe, it was one of those times when everything just hits you “This is really, truly exceptional.”
Bicycles on the mind, the next day following some light shopping, Katherine and I jumped on some CityBikes (pay 20 Kroner to unlock a bicycle, ride it around, and then when you lock it back to a CityBike station, get your 20 Kroner back) and enjoyed a ride across the bridge to Christiana where we effectively saw nothing exciting and thus headed back to the “sentrum”. Hungry, and walking through the college district we stopped at the closest sandwich shop to pick up a quick meal. By twist of fate, it was the best sandwich in the entire world. I was enjoying each bite of warm bread and drop of sour basil so completely that I barely remember the walk to the train station. Upon our return to Copenhagen at the end of our trip Katherine and I loyaly ate every meal there.
When the RVs arrived I watched our group of 12 twenty-something year olds transform into what best resembled my 5th grade class when we boarded the plane to Space Camp. We jumped in and started driving to The Motherland…
MUNICH, GERMANY
Weather: 70ºF and Sunny, Perfect.
Favorite Landmark: “The Hill”
Favorite Food: Pretzels and Brats
Beverage of Choice: Oktoberfest Bier
The Chocolate: Wrapped in Pastry
Stir-crazy and lost, our arrival to Munich was nothing less than a stimulating experience. We very quickly learned our first German phrase, “dieses ist eine Einwegstraße” (this is a one-way road) but never the less managed to snag the last two camping spots in the city.
The year-round population of the city of Munich is approximately 1 million people, and on that day, opening day of Oktoberfest, the equivalent amount of people find themselves gathered in the 103.72 acres that are the Oktoberfest grounds to begin drinking the over 2,000 gallons of bier consumed every year at the festival. Arriving around noon, we were much too late to get a table and thus a stein, so we grabbed a brat, did a lap, and then headed to a sunny hill. Little did we know, we had front row seats to the consequential shit show that occurs as a result of the Oktoberfest celebrations. We became captivated observes of the bloody faces from the Aussies throwing punches (and steins), men ripping off their lederhosen being escorted by police (we know what they wear under them, and it is not much), and fallen soldiers being carried to the hill to recover in the sun.
College-aged boys being especially motivated by the opportunity to overindulge themselves with good beer all day long, the next day had an exceptionally early start. After a long, meditative run around the lake across the campground, a pretzel for breakfast, and pictures in our team t-shirts, we picked our tent, found a table and got some steins. Using the table as home-base people could come and go as they pleased until more had gone than came and a proud few of us closed the festival at 11:00pm.
We started the next day with a coffee and streusel and headed to Dachau, a concentration camp 10 miles north of the city. Closed because it was Monday, we decided to walk the historical path from the station to the camp, the same journey that Nazi prisoners took 70 years earlier. The large trees seemed portentous, holding the path together at their roots and allowing but a few speckled bits of glistening light to show through their canopies of fall leaves. We paid our respects and then headed into the city to hit the town like true tourists. After a quick lunch we walked the main drag, past the fountain and to the glockenspiel (which was broken). Indecisive as a group, Katherine and I found an hour to ourselves, and thus also found the cheap-o jewelry store. Enjoying the contrast from our life in a camper, we grabbed cookies and wandered the cosmetics section of the department store until we met up with the rest of our group. In bright red lipstick and fake pearls, we journeyed to Oktoberfest for one last stein (which turned into a few steins) to say goodbye.
PRAGUE, CZECH REPUBLIC
Weather: 60ºF and patches of rain
Favorite Landmark: The Cathedral
Favorite Food: Spinach Stuffed Pork
Beverage of Choice: Absinth and Red Bull
The Chocolate: Essentially Freia Dark, disguised and packaged under a different name
The twenty-five minute taxi ride from our campsite to the city center in the Czech Republic costs less than the five minute ride from our apartment in Nydalen to Oslo’s city center. That being said, we all loved Prague.
One night-time walk through Prague is enough to make any person a God-fearing individual. The streets are mosaics that intermingle at crossings where gold-leafed religious icons cast stares from the perches where they have stood for hundreds of years. Crowds of tourists seem tiny compared to such a stalwart bridge and great cathedral. The biggest tourist attraction is The Prague Astronomical Clock (Prague Orloj), a medieval clock located in the town square attracting crowds of tourists every 15 minutes when it rings. Watching it, you see two doors open displaying statues of the apostles which “walk” in a circle and then the doors close and it is over. Watching the opposite direction provides greater entertainment in that you get to see maybe hundred disappointed faces of tourists that came to Prague just to see that.
Our night-time adventures brought us to a bar with live music and 15cent Stella Artois’ followed by our conquest of the techno dance floor at the largest club in Europe. No bicycle taxi home, but a cheap taxi was sufficient.
With the exception of the occasional castle or prostitute, driving the autobahn is remarkably similar to driving the U.S. Interstate system (which was modeled after it). Even more like home, our RV was based off of a Ford Econoline van. On the road again…
BERLIN, GERMANY
Weather: 65ºF and patches of rain
Favorite Landmark: The blown out church (I am sure there is a better name for this)
Favorite Food: Soup (it was cheap)
Beverage of Choice: Pepsi Max
The Chocolate: Ritter Sport
There is something about driving in an RV through the center of a large city such as Berlin that makes people want to wave at you. That can be a good thing when it is school children that cheer as you drive by, and a bad thing when the prison transport truck is stuck at a standstill next to you.
Arriving late to the campground on the outskirts of the city, we jumped out of the RVs and on to the subway to make it to Checkpoint Charlie. Having not been paying attention, we made it all the way to the end of the track, notified of what we had done when the driver of the train walked back to pay our car a visit. After an hour and a half, we made it and my hungry stomach made the already disorganized museum an even more random display of soviet remnants and escape artifacts. Unable to take it any longer, we cut early and headed across the street to get some food at a cafeteria. I chose an Italian restaurant where the man behind the counter told me I was beautiful and proposed to me. I told him our love would never work, but he did make a damn good omelet. Without much time, and feeling as if we missed out on much of the Berlin experience, we jumped on the double-decker tourist bus to see the Berlin gate, The Embassy’s and some Nazi history. My favorite landmark was a church at the end of the tour in the town square. Bombed severely, it miraculously was the only thing left standing and remains as the memory of a long and twisted history. We scurried back and jumped in the RV to take the ferry voyaging the rolling Baltic Sea set on our way back to Copenhagen.
All of this traveling to Kobenhavn, Praha, Munchen, Danmark, and Deuchstland left me wondering why there can’t be an international agreement to call countries by their native names. Sadly that point aside, whether you tell someone you are from Amerikas Forende Stater, Spojené štáty americké, or Vereinigte Staata fa Amerika they still are not too excited. As much as Europeans dislike The States, they do love Detroit thanks to a popular Fedde Le Grand techno song, “Put your hands up for Detroit (I love that city).” Although après telling someone you are from Detroit and having them tell you, “they love that city” the next question is generally “do you have a gun?” Or “are you afraid to go outside?” If you could all learn your basic geography and lose some weight, Europeans would like us a lot better. I met a man last week that was sincerely sad when Katherine and I told him that we indeed were not Canadian, but in fact from Detroit.
After having a weekend in Oslo to recover, and feeling restless, I grew envious of a weekend trip to Sweden. And so, with 20 minutes notice I jumped on an overnight bus headed to Stockholm...
I didn’t realize how little planning had gone into the trip until we arrived and were fully relying on the strategy, “find the big important-looking pointy building and go see what it is.” Our implementation worked remarkably well as we managed to see a medieval church, the castle and homes of the nobles, and the national museum. We advanced as far as the Stockholm Visitor’s Center where we booked a hostel in Gamla Stan (Old Town) located on the original small islands of the city’s earliest settlements. Having not planned on the trip it finally occurred to me that I was, indeed, in Stockholm and the question soon arose, “who invited you?” We never seemed to figure out and answer, but I am sure glad I went. Our strategy was modified to “Anything that’s free, and in between, bad coffee” which also worked remarkably well seeing a spectacular view of the city and visiting the Stockholm museum. The remainder of the trip was motivated completely by chocolate and hockey sticks. Lucky for me, the International Chocolate Festival just happened to be taking place at the Nordiska Museum, also lucky for us we managed to get in free because it was seriously lacking samples. After some quality cheap (compared to Oslo) sushi and a couple of hockey stick purchases, we boarded the bus back to Oslo and drove through the night.
My time in Oslo seems to be dwindling, and there are so many adventures to fill the little time I have left. I am looking forward to spending more time in Norway, visiting my friend Henrik, doing Amsterdam with friends, and traveling to Dublin to visit my mom. With so much going on I will try to write these more often to save all of us some time!
I hope all is well at home, wherever home may be.
Much Love,
Alexandra
Because I keep receiving the same inquiries about my adventures, I thought that I would address them all at once:
Yes, I am having a great time. Yes, I do miss home. The food does suck. I like my roommate (a lot). I have made friends, they are nice. Norwegians speak Norwegian. I still cannot speak Norwegian, but that is not a problem. I call home using Skype. It doesn’t matter that things are so expensive because I am already broke. My address is: Alexandra Clark, Gunnar Schjelderups vei 13a Rom:320, 0485 Oslo, Norway.
I believe that the most common inquiry can be best addressed using a direct quote from my Scandinavian Work Life class:
“According to social scientists, when scored on their gender traits, Australian women are actually more masculine than Norwegian men.”
Seeing as how my taste in men tends to endorse the “rugged, manly” type, the general lack of Vikings has ruined my pursuit of a Norwegian “Lovah.” Not to worry, the exchange program has provided an ample amount of Canadians to get me in enough trouble for one semester.
Maybe it is the fall weather, my friends we lovingly refer to as Mom and Dad, or maybe it is the blues play list on my iTunes, but my white cube of an apartment in Nydalen is starting to feel like home. The grocery store is no longer a daunting experience and I have grown accustomed to utilizing public transportation. I have even began making some soul-food to feed the starving homesick North Americans. Tired of cheese in tubes and FirstPrice pizzas they come to our room to enjoy chicken pot pie, banana pancakes, and oatmeal chocolate chip cookies.
School in a brand new building, in a brand new city in a whole different country has become just as lackluster as good-ol’ East Lansing, and we needed to get out. With a “go big or go home” mentality, we decided to take a plane into Copenhagen and then rent RVs to go to Oktoberfest, Prague, and Berlin (yeah, babe).
COPENHAGEN, DENMARK
Weather: Wet, Gloomy, 55ºF
Favorite Landmark: The Hotel Alexandra
Favorite Food: Danishes and/or Italian Sandwiches from Al Taglio
Beverage of Choice: Carlsburg
The Chocolate: Superior Extra Dark with 76% cocoa and cocoa nibs
The twelve of us started our day at 5:00am to catch a subway, to catch a train, to catch our plane to Copenhagen. Having decided to stay up the night before, it was miraculous all arrived, and when we did we were strictly business: Food, Nap. In our attempt to be “good little tourists” a few of us woke up, wrapped up and stumbled down the street in the rain to see the thinker behind the Ny Carlsburg Glyptotek art museum. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep, or the six months I have been away from home but I couldn’t help but to wonder, “If he has been sitting there thinking so long, why hasn’t he thought to stand up and move?” It was at that very moment when I said that awful, awful joke I realized just how much I missed my father.
We began scouring the town for hours reading “meny” after “meny” so in awe of the variety of restaurants that would not have been affordable in Oslo we forgot how hungry we were until returning to retrieve the rest of our group. Now wet, freezing, and famished we abandoned our investigation and resorted to the closest restaurant to the hostel; a mom-and-pop Danish place with bad wine and sub-par food. Nothing was particularly great but there’s something about knowing that your waitresses husband is in the back making your food that makes you leave happy anyways.
Some friends-of-friends studying at University of Copenhagen took us to a club that evening where we drank shots that tasted like cough drops and got to dance on podiums. Needless to say, it was a good time, but the highlight was not until the trip home. Sick of breaking in my (brand new, knee-high, black) cowboy boots, my friend Nick (who, I think, was sick of hearing me complain about breaking in my cowboy boots) and I decided to catch a bicycle taxi back to the hostel. I have yet to top that experience during my stay in Europe, it was one of those times when everything just hits you “This is really, truly exceptional.”
Bicycles on the mind, the next day following some light shopping, Katherine and I jumped on some CityBikes (pay 20 Kroner to unlock a bicycle, ride it around, and then when you lock it back to a CityBike station, get your 20 Kroner back) and enjoyed a ride across the bridge to Christiana where we effectively saw nothing exciting and thus headed back to the “sentrum”. Hungry, and walking through the college district we stopped at the closest sandwich shop to pick up a quick meal. By twist of fate, it was the best sandwich in the entire world. I was enjoying each bite of warm bread and drop of sour basil so completely that I barely remember the walk to the train station. Upon our return to Copenhagen at the end of our trip Katherine and I loyaly ate every meal there.
When the RVs arrived I watched our group of 12 twenty-something year olds transform into what best resembled my 5th grade class when we boarded the plane to Space Camp. We jumped in and started driving to The Motherland…
MUNICH, GERMANY
Weather: 70ºF and Sunny, Perfect.
Favorite Landmark: “The Hill”
Favorite Food: Pretzels and Brats
Beverage of Choice: Oktoberfest Bier
The Chocolate: Wrapped in Pastry
Stir-crazy and lost, our arrival to Munich was nothing less than a stimulating experience. We very quickly learned our first German phrase, “dieses ist eine Einwegstraße” (this is a one-way road) but never the less managed to snag the last two camping spots in the city.
The year-round population of the city of Munich is approximately 1 million people, and on that day, opening day of Oktoberfest, the equivalent amount of people find themselves gathered in the 103.72 acres that are the Oktoberfest grounds to begin drinking the over 2,000 gallons of bier consumed every year at the festival. Arriving around noon, we were much too late to get a table and thus a stein, so we grabbed a brat, did a lap, and then headed to a sunny hill. Little did we know, we had front row seats to the consequential shit show that occurs as a result of the Oktoberfest celebrations. We became captivated observes of the bloody faces from the Aussies throwing punches (and steins), men ripping off their lederhosen being escorted by police (we know what they wear under them, and it is not much), and fallen soldiers being carried to the hill to recover in the sun.
College-aged boys being especially motivated by the opportunity to overindulge themselves with good beer all day long, the next day had an exceptionally early start. After a long, meditative run around the lake across the campground, a pretzel for breakfast, and pictures in our team t-shirts, we picked our tent, found a table and got some steins. Using the table as home-base people could come and go as they pleased until more had gone than came and a proud few of us closed the festival at 11:00pm.
We started the next day with a coffee and streusel and headed to Dachau, a concentration camp 10 miles north of the city. Closed because it was Monday, we decided to walk the historical path from the station to the camp, the same journey that Nazi prisoners took 70 years earlier. The large trees seemed portentous, holding the path together at their roots and allowing but a few speckled bits of glistening light to show through their canopies of fall leaves. We paid our respects and then headed into the city to hit the town like true tourists. After a quick lunch we walked the main drag, past the fountain and to the glockenspiel (which was broken). Indecisive as a group, Katherine and I found an hour to ourselves, and thus also found the cheap-o jewelry store. Enjoying the contrast from our life in a camper, we grabbed cookies and wandered the cosmetics section of the department store until we met up with the rest of our group. In bright red lipstick and fake pearls, we journeyed to Oktoberfest for one last stein (which turned into a few steins) to say goodbye.
PRAGUE, CZECH REPUBLIC
Weather: 60ºF and patches of rain
Favorite Landmark: The Cathedral
Favorite Food: Spinach Stuffed Pork
Beverage of Choice: Absinth and Red Bull
The Chocolate: Essentially Freia Dark, disguised and packaged under a different name
The twenty-five minute taxi ride from our campsite to the city center in the Czech Republic costs less than the five minute ride from our apartment in Nydalen to Oslo’s city center. That being said, we all loved Prague.
One night-time walk through Prague is enough to make any person a God-fearing individual. The streets are mosaics that intermingle at crossings where gold-leafed religious icons cast stares from the perches where they have stood for hundreds of years. Crowds of tourists seem tiny compared to such a stalwart bridge and great cathedral. The biggest tourist attraction is The Prague Astronomical Clock (Prague Orloj), a medieval clock located in the town square attracting crowds of tourists every 15 minutes when it rings. Watching it, you see two doors open displaying statues of the apostles which “walk” in a circle and then the doors close and it is over. Watching the opposite direction provides greater entertainment in that you get to see maybe hundred disappointed faces of tourists that came to Prague just to see that.
Our night-time adventures brought us to a bar with live music and 15cent Stella Artois’ followed by our conquest of the techno dance floor at the largest club in Europe. No bicycle taxi home, but a cheap taxi was sufficient.
With the exception of the occasional castle or prostitute, driving the autobahn is remarkably similar to driving the U.S. Interstate system (which was modeled after it). Even more like home, our RV was based off of a Ford Econoline van. On the road again…
BERLIN, GERMANY
Weather: 65ºF and patches of rain
Favorite Landmark: The blown out church (I am sure there is a better name for this)
Favorite Food: Soup (it was cheap)
Beverage of Choice: Pepsi Max
The Chocolate: Ritter Sport
There is something about driving in an RV through the center of a large city such as Berlin that makes people want to wave at you. That can be a good thing when it is school children that cheer as you drive by, and a bad thing when the prison transport truck is stuck at a standstill next to you.
Arriving late to the campground on the outskirts of the city, we jumped out of the RVs and on to the subway to make it to Checkpoint Charlie. Having not been paying attention, we made it all the way to the end of the track, notified of what we had done when the driver of the train walked back to pay our car a visit. After an hour and a half, we made it and my hungry stomach made the already disorganized museum an even more random display of soviet remnants and escape artifacts. Unable to take it any longer, we cut early and headed across the street to get some food at a cafeteria. I chose an Italian restaurant where the man behind the counter told me I was beautiful and proposed to me. I told him our love would never work, but he did make a damn good omelet. Without much time, and feeling as if we missed out on much of the Berlin experience, we jumped on the double-decker tourist bus to see the Berlin gate, The Embassy’s and some Nazi history. My favorite landmark was a church at the end of the tour in the town square. Bombed severely, it miraculously was the only thing left standing and remains as the memory of a long and twisted history. We scurried back and jumped in the RV to take the ferry voyaging the rolling Baltic Sea set on our way back to Copenhagen.
All of this traveling to Kobenhavn, Praha, Munchen, Danmark, and Deuchstland left me wondering why there can’t be an international agreement to call countries by their native names. Sadly that point aside, whether you tell someone you are from Amerikas Forende Stater, Spojené štáty americké, or Vereinigte Staata fa Amerika they still are not too excited. As much as Europeans dislike The States, they do love Detroit thanks to a popular Fedde Le Grand techno song, “Put your hands up for Detroit (I love that city).” Although après telling someone you are from Detroit and having them tell you, “they love that city” the next question is generally “do you have a gun?” Or “are you afraid to go outside?” If you could all learn your basic geography and lose some weight, Europeans would like us a lot better. I met a man last week that was sincerely sad when Katherine and I told him that we indeed were not Canadian, but in fact from Detroit.
After having a weekend in Oslo to recover, and feeling restless, I grew envious of a weekend trip to Sweden. And so, with 20 minutes notice I jumped on an overnight bus headed to Stockholm...
I didn’t realize how little planning had gone into the trip until we arrived and were fully relying on the strategy, “find the big important-looking pointy building and go see what it is.” Our implementation worked remarkably well as we managed to see a medieval church, the castle and homes of the nobles, and the national museum. We advanced as far as the Stockholm Visitor’s Center where we booked a hostel in Gamla Stan (Old Town) located on the original small islands of the city’s earliest settlements. Having not planned on the trip it finally occurred to me that I was, indeed, in Stockholm and the question soon arose, “who invited you?” We never seemed to figure out and answer, but I am sure glad I went. Our strategy was modified to “Anything that’s free, and in between, bad coffee” which also worked remarkably well seeing a spectacular view of the city and visiting the Stockholm museum. The remainder of the trip was motivated completely by chocolate and hockey sticks. Lucky for me, the International Chocolate Festival just happened to be taking place at the Nordiska Museum, also lucky for us we managed to get in free because it was seriously lacking samples. After some quality cheap (compared to Oslo) sushi and a couple of hockey stick purchases, we boarded the bus back to Oslo and drove through the night.
My time in Oslo seems to be dwindling, and there are so many adventures to fill the little time I have left. I am looking forward to spending more time in Norway, visiting my friend Henrik, doing Amsterdam with friends, and traveling to Dublin to visit my mom. With so much going on I will try to write these more often to save all of us some time!
I hope all is well at home, wherever home may be.
Much Love,
Alexandra
Thursday, August 30, 2007
Hei Hei fra Norge!
Hei!
With unpacking, eating Pad Pak at Little Bangkok Thai restaurant, packing an entire Plymouth experience into a few days, hanging out with my pack (friends and family), buying necessities like a backpack, workin’ on my six-pack (Translation: working out), and then repacking, my few days at home could be most readily be described as packed. I had a great time, and on Friday after a long kayak trip in Ann Arbor I jumped on a plane and started my journey to Scandinavia with a celebratory legal glass of white wine over international waters.
After a 5 hour layover in London I, one of three brunettes, boarded the plane to Oslo, Norway. I have only continued this trend of looking completely out of place and in attempt to mildly conform with societal norms I walked to H&M and bought some necessities: skinny jeans and silver tennis shoes. Since, things have been better but I am still definitely foreign.
I live in a student apartment building that is a 2 minute walk from school. My roommate, Katherine (also from Michigan State), is a great companion. Not only is it nice to have a comrade when the Canadian exchange students are on the offence, but she is ready to explore and not afraid of trying new things. We decided we had done well in adopting the culture the day we were both eating fish for breakfast. This morning I learned something very valuable at the grocery store: Laks (smoked salmon) is cheaper than chicken. I bought a 1.093 Kg fillet as protein this week which is too long to fit in my fridge and makes me laugh every time I see it.
School is great. I am attending The Scandinavian School of Management BI in Oslo, Norway (www.bi.no). It is a private international business university with about 7,000 students. The school is housed in a beautiful 2 year old building located in Nydalen, a refurbished industrial burrow of Oslo. My favorite class is my finance class, followed by Managerial Accounting only because my teacher looks, talks and acts like Goldmember from Austin Powers AND he is from Holland (isn’t that veird?) I have spent a lot of time studying in order to stay in line with my newly adopted objective to truly learn material vs. just getting A’s.
I have gotten a glimpse of the city in the midst of getting settled in and beginning school. An MBA student from Minnesota took me on a bar hop of some of the cheap places in town (average beer cost: $10.00). We ended in Gronland, the immigrant neighborhood, where you can find a rare gateway to acceptable meat: The Halal Butchers. On Sunday, some friends went on a daytrip to the old castle on the Fjord. It was a beautiful day which caused for many pictures and a reason to take our time. Afterwards, we wandered the city where we found an intimidating jail-like building known as the U.S. Embassy. My roommate and I stuck our hands inside the fence to feel a little piece of home (it felt great). We also went to the movies last week to see Rush Hour 3. It was in English and subtitled in Norwegian, which was fine until Jackie Chan started speaking Chinese, which was also subtitled in Norwegian.
I am two weeks into Ironman training and it is going good. The date is official: August 9, 2008. More information to follow!
I hope all is well at home, wherever your home may be.
Much Love,
Alexandra
With unpacking, eating Pad Pak at Little Bangkok Thai restaurant, packing an entire Plymouth experience into a few days, hanging out with my pack (friends and family), buying necessities like a backpack, workin’ on my six-pack (Translation: working out), and then repacking, my few days at home could be most readily be described as packed. I had a great time, and on Friday after a long kayak trip in Ann Arbor I jumped on a plane and started my journey to Scandinavia with a celebratory legal glass of white wine over international waters.
After a 5 hour layover in London I, one of three brunettes, boarded the plane to Oslo, Norway. I have only continued this trend of looking completely out of place and in attempt to mildly conform with societal norms I walked to H&M and bought some necessities: skinny jeans and silver tennis shoes. Since, things have been better but I am still definitely foreign.
I live in a student apartment building that is a 2 minute walk from school. My roommate, Katherine (also from Michigan State), is a great companion. Not only is it nice to have a comrade when the Canadian exchange students are on the offence, but she is ready to explore and not afraid of trying new things. We decided we had done well in adopting the culture the day we were both eating fish for breakfast. This morning I learned something very valuable at the grocery store: Laks (smoked salmon) is cheaper than chicken. I bought a 1.093 Kg fillet as protein this week which is too long to fit in my fridge and makes me laugh every time I see it.
School is great. I am attending The Scandinavian School of Management BI in Oslo, Norway (www.bi.no). It is a private international business university with about 7,000 students. The school is housed in a beautiful 2 year old building located in Nydalen, a refurbished industrial burrow of Oslo. My favorite class is my finance class, followed by Managerial Accounting only because my teacher looks, talks and acts like Goldmember from Austin Powers AND he is from Holland (isn’t that veird?) I have spent a lot of time studying in order to stay in line with my newly adopted objective to truly learn material vs. just getting A’s.
I have gotten a glimpse of the city in the midst of getting settled in and beginning school. An MBA student from Minnesota took me on a bar hop of some of the cheap places in town (average beer cost: $10.00). We ended in Gronland, the immigrant neighborhood, where you can find a rare gateway to acceptable meat: The Halal Butchers. On Sunday, some friends went on a daytrip to the old castle on the Fjord. It was a beautiful day which caused for many pictures and a reason to take our time. Afterwards, we wandered the city where we found an intimidating jail-like building known as the U.S. Embassy. My roommate and I stuck our hands inside the fence to feel a little piece of home (it felt great). We also went to the movies last week to see Rush Hour 3. It was in English and subtitled in Norwegian, which was fine until Jackie Chan started speaking Chinese, which was also subtitled in Norwegian.
I am two weeks into Ironman training and it is going good. The date is official: August 9, 2008. More information to follow!
I hope all is well at home, wherever your home may be.
Much Love,
Alexandra
Monday, August 6, 2007
Learning to Make the Very, Very Best of It
Greetings from Aspen!
T-minus 6 days and counting and I have mixed emotions about leaving Aspen, Colorado.
Fortunately, I have learned a lot from my internship this summer with Ritz-Carlton, unfortunately the majority of the lessons that I have learned have been what NOT to do in the hospitality industry. I have only 6 days left of work, and then I will happily never return to a Ritz-Carlton as an employee or guest ever again for the rest of my life. There were some diamonds in the rough and it will be hard to leave some of my coworkers. Rudy, our morning chef, Esther, our pastry chef, and Silvan, who does something (?), have become dear friends and advocates. I have also made some great connections to couches that I can sleep on around the world. I plan on visiting Poland (with Sylwek) and hopefully Croatia (with Mirna) during my stay in Europe and I can not wait to go to Argentina where my friend Josefina and her family are building a bed and breakfast.
Because of my disappointment with Ritz-Carlton, I picked up a second job working at The Belly Up (www.bellyupaspen.com). It is a 450 person concert venue in downtown Aspen that attracts small and large names the same. It is my favorite place in the whole town. Every seat has a great view and the walls are covered in pictures of past performances such as The B-52’s, Norah Jones, Seal, Blues Traveler, and Foreigner. My favorite concert was Hugh Masekela who is an African artist that is indescribably awesome, and my claim to fame was the night I was in charge of hospitality for Lynyrd Skynyrd. My coworkers are (as should be expected for an entertainment business) uniquely fantastic. We have had some really great times together playing Frisbee golf, going out, taking photos of the stars at the top of Ajax (Aspen Mountain) in the middle of the night, and dancing, hanging out, and working at work. They threatened yesterday to physically restrain me from leaving.
Two weeks ago my friend Sam Meek was in town from Connecticut- I actually met him here in Aspen a few months ago when he was visiting his uncle who happens to own a business next door to the restaurant that I work in. They came in for lunch, he asked for my phone number, and we absolutely hit it off. He recently went on terminal leave from the U.S. Marine Corps and is spending the summer traveling and sailing before returning to school which has allowed us to see each other a surprising number of times considering the distance. He is an eternal optimist who dreams big and is up for anything. As I keep telling my mom, he is not my boyfriend, but I wish he could be!
One of my very best friends, Kristin Cosens, will be here this Tuesday through Saturday and I can’t sleep in anticipation of her visit. We are going to go to my friend’s organic farm, do some hiking, hit up my favorite places, catch a couple concerts at the Belly Up, and ride mountain bikes down the Rio Grande trail to the Woody Creek Tavern. She has been working at Interlochen Fine Arts Camp all summer, and we have barely been able to talk for almost two months. Having her here will undoubtedly be cause for one of the best weeks in Aspen.
I got a call yesterday from a very close friend, Alex Poe, who is doing an internship for the summer at The Stockfarm Club in Montana. He has changed his flight plans and will be in Michigan during my 5-day layover at home. This means that all of my core group of friends will be together, in Michigan, for a just a few greatly anticipated days. I look forward to boating on the Detroit river (and having a beer with my family in Canada), eating Dairy King ice cream every day (with Megan Campbell), spending some quality time on my back porch, getting a pedicure (try standing on your feet 15 hours a day for 2 months, your feet would be nasty too), bargain shopping with my mommy, and visiting my sister whenever she is not too busy (she begins medical school today).
I am ready to move on to my next adventure, and depart for Oslo, Norway on August 17th.
I hope all is well at home, wherever your home may be.
Much love,
Alexandra
T-minus 6 days and counting and I have mixed emotions about leaving Aspen, Colorado.
Fortunately, I have learned a lot from my internship this summer with Ritz-Carlton, unfortunately the majority of the lessons that I have learned have been what NOT to do in the hospitality industry. I have only 6 days left of work, and then I will happily never return to a Ritz-Carlton as an employee or guest ever again for the rest of my life. There were some diamonds in the rough and it will be hard to leave some of my coworkers. Rudy, our morning chef, Esther, our pastry chef, and Silvan, who does something (?), have become dear friends and advocates. I have also made some great connections to couches that I can sleep on around the world. I plan on visiting Poland (with Sylwek) and hopefully Croatia (with Mirna) during my stay in Europe and I can not wait to go to Argentina where my friend Josefina and her family are building a bed and breakfast.
Because of my disappointment with Ritz-Carlton, I picked up a second job working at The Belly Up (www.bellyupaspen.com). It is a 450 person concert venue in downtown Aspen that attracts small and large names the same. It is my favorite place in the whole town. Every seat has a great view and the walls are covered in pictures of past performances such as The B-52’s, Norah Jones, Seal, Blues Traveler, and Foreigner. My favorite concert was Hugh Masekela who is an African artist that is indescribably awesome, and my claim to fame was the night I was in charge of hospitality for Lynyrd Skynyrd. My coworkers are (as should be expected for an entertainment business) uniquely fantastic. We have had some really great times together playing Frisbee golf, going out, taking photos of the stars at the top of Ajax (Aspen Mountain) in the middle of the night, and dancing, hanging out, and working at work. They threatened yesterday to physically restrain me from leaving.
Two weeks ago my friend Sam Meek was in town from Connecticut- I actually met him here in Aspen a few months ago when he was visiting his uncle who happens to own a business next door to the restaurant that I work in. They came in for lunch, he asked for my phone number, and we absolutely hit it off. He recently went on terminal leave from the U.S. Marine Corps and is spending the summer traveling and sailing before returning to school which has allowed us to see each other a surprising number of times considering the distance. He is an eternal optimist who dreams big and is up for anything. As I keep telling my mom, he is not my boyfriend, but I wish he could be!
One of my very best friends, Kristin Cosens, will be here this Tuesday through Saturday and I can’t sleep in anticipation of her visit. We are going to go to my friend’s organic farm, do some hiking, hit up my favorite places, catch a couple concerts at the Belly Up, and ride mountain bikes down the Rio Grande trail to the Woody Creek Tavern. She has been working at Interlochen Fine Arts Camp all summer, and we have barely been able to talk for almost two months. Having her here will undoubtedly be cause for one of the best weeks in Aspen.
I got a call yesterday from a very close friend, Alex Poe, who is doing an internship for the summer at The Stockfarm Club in Montana. He has changed his flight plans and will be in Michigan during my 5-day layover at home. This means that all of my core group of friends will be together, in Michigan, for a just a few greatly anticipated days. I look forward to boating on the Detroit river (and having a beer with my family in Canada), eating Dairy King ice cream every day (with Megan Campbell), spending some quality time on my back porch, getting a pedicure (try standing on your feet 15 hours a day for 2 months, your feet would be nasty too), bargain shopping with my mommy, and visiting my sister whenever she is not too busy (she begins medical school today).
I am ready to move on to my next adventure, and depart for Oslo, Norway on August 17th.
I hope all is well at home, wherever your home may be.
Much love,
Alexandra
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
Buenos Dias
Buenos Dias!
Colorado is amazing. I had a three and a half hour shuttle from the airport in Denver to Aspen, which was followed by a huge headache caused by the combination of the altitude and the kink in my neck (a result of gawking at the mountains). I was so enthralled that the boy next to me offered me his seat so I could have a better view, unfortunately he was very cute and so my excitement was mildly embarrassing.
There is a ton to do out here and all of it is outdoors. Running has been a challenge with the altitude but I do not mind because my road follows a river and is lined with beautiful ranches and the homes of the rich and/or famous. A man, Doc, who I see everyday with his mean-looking but really very sweet dog, Rex, showed me Jack Nicholson’s house the other day, it is 3 doors down from my apartment, a little less than a mile away. Our road ends at The Maroon Bells (Pictures attached), the most photographed natural attraction in the United States. Three of us went on Saturday, the view was beautiful and fortunately uncluttered by tourists because no one else seemed to be crazy enough to hike the 20 miles (the road is closed to cars until June) to get there. Weather has been great until yesterday when it snowed 3 inches, and stuck!
The accommodations are great, very woodsy and somewhat outdated, but clean and backed by a spectacular view. Attached are the pictures of my room and of the view from my back porch which looks on to a red mountain through the woods over a river. We leave the windows cracked at night so we fall asleep to the sound of the rapids just downstream. The facilities at the Ritz-Carlton Club are spectacular, but I do not think that they have as great of a view. It is a sort-of sophisticated rustic lodge that takes up 60% of the Highlands, very Ritz-Carlton.
I have passed my drug test, memorized the credo, and finished orientation which makes me officially a Ritz-Carlton employee. My first day of work was Monday, I spent the entire day polishing silver and scraping gum off of the bottoms of tables while trying to learn Spanish so that I can communicate with the majority of the staff, so far no bueno. Oh the glamorous life of a college intern! The restaurant manager and chefs are awesome, they are definitely showing us a good time. I am working on memorizing the menu which is a difficult task because there is a depressing contradiction between my “frozen stir-fry with egg and soy sauce” and “lavender thyme rubbed rack of Colorado lamb”. Needless to say I am looking forward to our staff tasting.
For now I have sketchy internet service, a mailbox that won’t be installed until tomorrow, and in-and-out telephone service, but all of those things should be up and running within the next few weeks. I will try to send emails regularly to keep in touch. My new address is:
Alexandra Clark
1679 Maroon Creek Rd. Apt.16
Aspen, CO 81611
I hope all is well at home, wherever your home may be.
Much Love,
Alexandra
Colorado is amazing. I had a three and a half hour shuttle from the airport in Denver to Aspen, which was followed by a huge headache caused by the combination of the altitude and the kink in my neck (a result of gawking at the mountains). I was so enthralled that the boy next to me offered me his seat so I could have a better view, unfortunately he was very cute and so my excitement was mildly embarrassing.
There is a ton to do out here and all of it is outdoors. Running has been a challenge with the altitude but I do not mind because my road follows a river and is lined with beautiful ranches and the homes of the rich and/or famous. A man, Doc, who I see everyday with his mean-looking but really very sweet dog, Rex, showed me Jack Nicholson’s house the other day, it is 3 doors down from my apartment, a little less than a mile away. Our road ends at The Maroon Bells (Pictures attached), the most photographed natural attraction in the United States. Three of us went on Saturday, the view was beautiful and fortunately uncluttered by tourists because no one else seemed to be crazy enough to hike the 20 miles (the road is closed to cars until June) to get there. Weather has been great until yesterday when it snowed 3 inches, and stuck!
The accommodations are great, very woodsy and somewhat outdated, but clean and backed by a spectacular view. Attached are the pictures of my room and of the view from my back porch which looks on to a red mountain through the woods over a river. We leave the windows cracked at night so we fall asleep to the sound of the rapids just downstream. The facilities at the Ritz-Carlton Club are spectacular, but I do not think that they have as great of a view. It is a sort-of sophisticated rustic lodge that takes up 60% of the Highlands, very Ritz-Carlton.
I have passed my drug test, memorized the credo, and finished orientation which makes me officially a Ritz-Carlton employee. My first day of work was Monday, I spent the entire day polishing silver and scraping gum off of the bottoms of tables while trying to learn Spanish so that I can communicate with the majority of the staff, so far no bueno. Oh the glamorous life of a college intern! The restaurant manager and chefs are awesome, they are definitely showing us a good time. I am working on memorizing the menu which is a difficult task because there is a depressing contradiction between my “frozen stir-fry with egg and soy sauce” and “lavender thyme rubbed rack of Colorado lamb”. Needless to say I am looking forward to our staff tasting.
For now I have sketchy internet service, a mailbox that won’t be installed until tomorrow, and in-and-out telephone service, but all of those things should be up and running within the next few weeks. I will try to send emails regularly to keep in touch. My new address is:
Alexandra Clark
1679 Maroon Creek Rd. Apt.16
Aspen, CO 81611
I hope all is well at home, wherever your home may be.
Much Love,
Alexandra
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