Why I Miss Jenny...

I’ve been traveling by myself for a bit now but spent the most alone time in Lake Como. All of the girls in my room spoke German so, that left me out a bit. That being said, I had a lot of time to think, and much of what I thought about there was why I miss Jenny. So here’s where I take a minute to tell you just why that is while you look at my pictures of Lake Como…

I miss having someone to stare blankly at at the breakfast table because we are not morning people.

I miss knowing who is sleeping above, and below me.

I miss having someone in my pictures.

I miss having someone to talk through major navigational decisions with.

I miss the sound of her change hitting the ground several times daily.


I miss having someone to talk me out of, or into as it may be, a second gelato for the day.

I miss top bunk picnics.

I miss going for “a” drink.

I miss general banter. My own head talks way too much.

I miss having a dinner companion so waitresses don’t always have to say, “JUST one?”

I miss having a mutual siesta taker.

I miss having someone to “bang out” the sights with. Imagine how quickly I can do this alone.

I miss someone to take jumping pictures of me. That’s not one you can really ask strangers to take the time to do for you.


I miss her because senior pic’ing alone is just, well, lame.

I miss an up-for-anything (except beer) motivator.

I miss getting to verbally witness a sight with someone for the first time.

I miss Turbie Twist time.

I miss knowing who’s next to me on various modes of transportation won’t smell bad.

I miss her company on all accounts.

I miss having someone to laugh with and share frustrations with.


I miss having someone with me who always supports me and is always looking out for me.

I miss being in my own room with someone.

I miss having someone who stays awake on trains so I can sleep and not miss the stop.

I miss my other Parisian Idol judge.

But mostly, I just miss YOU, my cousin, my travel companion, my friend.

And NowEuropeToDate...

Left to My Own Devices

Duomo, check! Sforza Castle, check! Brera neighborhood, check!....cantelope-colored hot orange blazer, check! Turns out when you're left to your own devices in Milan and once you've hit all the tourist traps, you buy things that look like this...
It's a statement. I realize.

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No Cannes Do

For Kaya and Merv…

Nice, France. My first solo mission. After Bristol, I spent two more nights in London with my friend Stephen and then headed to the South of France…alone. No one to pick me up at the bus station or greet me upon arrival, just me, myself, and Alex. If I told you that I wasn’t a bit nervous then I’d be seriously lying, and since we’re all friends here, I would never do that to you. I was COMPLETELY nervous about this. If I’m being even more honest, I still am. You see, I do well alone. Always have. I really like “me” time. I’ve often thought it’s because I’m an only child that I do well on entertaining myself but I don’t even know if that’s it. I think you either know how to be with yourself or you don’t. That being said, being home and alone is very different than being on vacation and alone. Ask Kevin MacCallister. I’m sure he can verify. (Why am I always referencing him?!)

My first day in Nice, I headed to a beach called Villefranche Sur Mer. Stunning, though also not too challenging. Because here’s the thing, beach time alone doesn’t really count. Book, iPod, giant snooze in the sun.
Anyone can do that. I wasn’t really tested until that evening when I took myself to dinner in a very busy marketplace in the old town. Great people watching but there’s nothing like a lot of people around who aren’t talking to you to really make you feel alone. I did ok but was also very conscientious of the fact that there was in fact, no plus one facing me. Logically, I bought myself a bracelet after dinner to soothe my tensions a bit.

The next morning I woke up to the grayest of gray clouds, sat downstairs at the hostel breakfast and pondered what in the world I was going to do all day. Then, when I wasn’t even looking for it, a big lesson came my way. Her name was Kaya.

“Is it ok if I sit here?” she asked me. “I should try and be social.”

As we sat there eating our toast, we did your typical small talk. Where are you from? Where were you last? Where are you headed next? She was hungover from the night before. I had no idea what in the world to do in this rain. Blah. Blah. She was off to lie back down and I was going to head to Cannes though the sky was threatening.

“Have a good day,” I told her. And we were off in separate directions.

After waiting in a 45 minute line at the train station to purchase my ticket to Cannes because the ticket machines didn’t have an English option, I was on my way. I spent less time on the train actually getting there. However, the further west we went, the harder the rain started to fall. By the time I got off the train in Cannes, it was absolutely pouring. Not your average pouring, but like tropical weather monsoon pouring. As I watched the lightening streak through the sky approximately 10 feet in front of the train station and listened to thunder so loud it made me jump every time, I determined that even my hot pink duck umbrella wasn’t going to keep me safe from this weather. So it was back on the train I went. Literally, never even stepped out of the station. No Cannes do.

While this may have seemed like a waste of a day, I think it all came together like that on purpose. You see, as I sat on the train I thought about what Kaya said about being social, thought about how at breakfast I was going to ask her if she wanted to join me but then decided not to. Sometimes it’s scary to put yourself out there because you don’t know what the response will be. Sometimes the response is extremely positive leaving you happily uplifted and sometimes the response is shockingly negative with a damaging effect. I know both feelings well. Upon arriving back at the hostel, I got my second chance. There she was sitting at the computers in the common area. I immediately took the opportunity to check my ego and fix my wrongs. I sat down next to her and we got to talking, and computering, simultaneously, for hours. As we chatted I came to find out that Kaya is only 18 years old. She graduated high school in Missoula, Montana and took a year off to travel and work on different farms. She started in Ghana with a group from school and then continued on to Morocco for a month on her own. If I wasn’t already impressed that she was 18 and sitting in a hostel in the south of France alone, now I really was. I spent a weekend in Morocco and couldn’t imagine being there by myself. After Morocco, Kaya was in Paris and then Nice. Alone. Are you kidding me? I was blown away by this girl. I’ve always been a self-aware, confident person but I know for a fact I would have never had the guts or wherewithal to navigate Europe and Africa on my own at 18. When we had sufficiently facebooked and both bemoaned the fact that not enough people email us when they know we’re lacking travel companions (cough, cough), I did what I should have done the first time. I was going to head to Monaco, Cap d’Ail, Antibes, and back to Cannes the next day, and I asked her if she wanted to join. She happily accepted and I was further reminded of the fact that it never hurts to ask.

That night we also met an Aussie named Merv who was on his own as well. And what didKaya do, she asked. So the next day the three of us, total strangers, but all on a similar mission in life, set out together. I have to tell you it was kind of a beautiful thing. I had about 2 and a half days worth of places to see due to the rain limitations and was afraid these two would never hang and would potentially hold me back. How wrong I was. Ego check. They added something to my day that I would have never had had I been too afraid to ask. They added company, they added laughter, they shared stories. I wasn’t just with two people. I learned about two people. I had a life experience with two people. Because of them, I was reminded of what can come to you if you approach people openly, be yourself, ask the question, and put yourself out there. And most importantly, whenever I’m feeling lonely or unsure of myself while I’m on my own, all I have to think is… if Kaya can do it, I can do it.



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Blind Boat Date on the River Wye

At 5 minutes after 6:00AM, my alarm rings nearly giving me a heart attack. I get up to get ready for the camping trip extravaganza, look out the window, and it’s raining. Now this of course is what I had come to expect from dear old England, however, on the morning of a trip where you will spend all day rowing a boat and then sleeping in a tent, you can’t help but hope for a little bit of sunshine. Mandy and I got in the car with Huw’s sister, Lucy and her boyfriend, James and we were off like a heard of turtles. If you’ve never heard this expression, I’m sure you’ll understand that we were moving, but not moving fast. After stopping multiple times to gather more group members, there were 18 of us in total, and then stopping at McDonald’s to feed everyone, oh and then getting lost in the Welsh countryside (I blame it on Sue, Lucy’s navigation system), we finally managed to get to our campsite in Whitney-on-Wye. It was tents up quickly and then off to pick up our boats as we were only about 2 and a half hours behind schedule.

The night before, Mandy had told me that I would be sharing a boat with their friend Joe. Had it been a leisurely canoe trip I’m sure Mandy and I could have handled it ourselves but upon discovering that the first day would be 10 miles and the second day, 13, we both thought it best that we had a man on board with bigger arm muscles. Generally, I’m all up for this “I am woman, here me roar” thing but lets not kid ourselves, my arm muscles are fairly non-existent (as I’m sure Joe can now attest to) and I assure you, Mandy and I would have spun that thing in circles for 2 days and gotten absolutely nowhere. Now I have to tell you, I was a bit nervous about this boat sharing thing with a stranger. I mean if we’re being honest it’s basically like a blind date on a boat where you can’t really escape it unless you choose to abandon ship, float in freezing water and bump along the rocks down the river. The idea of that was clearly not appealing so I just had to hope for the best.

I had seen Joe from the car window but it wasn’t until he walked up to me in the rental place, blue plaid shirt topped with a khaki fur lined coat, unseasonable board shorts adorned with Hawaiian flowers, and to really knock it home, dark green rain boots (or wellies as they call them) with yellow socks sticking out the top that I knew this was going to be a match made in ridiculously clothed heaven. As I stood there in my light blue V-neck, green lululemon jacket, gray zip up hoodie, coral-colored anorak, black leggings, orange tube socks, and a white and orange winter hat with ear flaps and an orange ball on top, I couldn’t help but think this was absolutely a man after my own heart and we were about to fashionably attack the River Wye like it had never seen. Best dressed boat in my opinion, no question. Now that the suspense I’m sure has just about killed you, I did not have to abandon ship and float down the river freezing and alone of my own will. However, Joe nearly managed to send me to that water-logged fate a few times while practicing his Venetian gondolier skills and then sitting back down a bit too quickly and rather ungracefully. I tried to warn him about the damp grumpiness that threatened his future but I tell you, that did not deter him. Luckily for my canoe companion, due to my cat like reflexes and superb balance, we stayed afloat. Is that about accurate, Joe?

Sidenote: I’m currently sitting on a bus from Bristol back to London where I will be staying with my friend Stephen for a few days and I am cooking on this thing like I’ve just taken up residence in an Easy Bake Oven, painfully slowly. It is a constant medium heat that has only just now started to make me boil and I have about 30 minutes left. If I pass out and die before I get this posted, will someone please do it for me, as the story of the now legendary best-dressed canoe team MUST make it’s way to internet daylight. Thank you.

2 hours in and it was finally time to take a much needed rest. We docked our canoes at a little town called Hay-On-Wye and wandered into town to find some lunch and get beers….because obviously what goes better with canoes than beers. The two are practically synonymous. As I’m standing in a fish and chips shop in my aforementioned ensemble which by this time also included a stylish red life vest, guess who walks in…no really, you aren’t going to guess….


Rob Lowe.


What in the shit!? Who runs into the older man of their dreams at a fish and chips shop in a tiny town in Wales of all places. Of course I freaked out and stared and of course none of my other canoeing compatriots understood the gravity of this situation. I mean, it’s Rob Lowe. I LOVE him. Jacki and I spent countless Sunday evenings watching him on BROTHERS AND SISTERS and fantasizing about him as our hot Congressman husband. This was a serious situation. Somehow, though I was clearly looking wildly attractive, I’m sorry to report that he did not immediately spot me and then decide to leave his wife of 20 years to marry yours truly. Eh, his loss right? You missed your chance Rob! (He’ll clearly spend the rest of his life in regret.) That definitely goes down as the most random celebrity encounter of my lifetime. Just a shame Rob didn’t get to ride shotgun with Joe and I in our classy aquatic ride. I have no doubts he would have thoroughly enjoyed it.

After my brush with destiny, we boarded our canoes and paddled the rest of the way back to our campsite. Following showers and some moderate drinking, we all sat down to dinner together. I’d like to take this point in the blog to discuss something very politically incorrect that occurred during this meal. It was a menu item. An item I even have a hard time typing… homemade, delicious faggots. I would not make this up. Not only was it an option but one of our group members ordered it and the waitress comes over to the table shouting FAGGOTS! Who had the FAGGOTS?! I suppose I’m sensitized by living in America but I sat there absolutely horrified, mouth agape while no one else seemed to even bat an eyelash at this. I can’t even imagine the to-do that would cause in The States, the land of all things politically correct. I will say that in England they are actually a food item, little sausages or something, but I just couldn’t help thinking how poorly that one would go over elsewhere.

That night as I settled into my tent next to Mandy, all snuggled in my sleeping bag listening to multi-talented Joe play the guitar and sing us to sleep, I noticed that amidst the darkness, I was wearing the biggest smile. No one could see it, but I could feel it. After a day of new friends, amazing landscapes, and some much needed one on one time with the outdoors, my heart was happy. I was at peace.

Except for the occasional shenanigan, Joe turned out to be the perfect blind boat date. He was personable, inquisitive, had spent time in the States for commonality sake, and most importantly he was open to me. Though I’m sure he’d have much rather spent his weekend with friends, actually in a boat with one of his friends, he never showed it. I’m grateful for that. I can safely say though that next time he and I share a canoe together, I will in fact, fall under that category. Joe, if you’re listening, I feel so lucky to have crossed your path, or river as it were, and one last time from the bottom of my joy-filled heart, I thank you.

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(You'll notice an absence of pictures in the post because the boys kept flipping their canoes and I was too scared to have my camera in ours. Thus, very little photographic evidence. Lucy has pictures though and once I get them you will get a better visual of this trip.)

Lucky to be With The Loughers

The day Jenny left to go back to the States, I boarded my National Express bus to Bristol, England. It was so strange to be by myself after 3 and a half weeks together. However, the strangeness didn’t last for long as I was greeted at the bus stop by my next round of company, Mandy and Huw. Mandy and I worked together in Sydney and when I told her I’d be in England, she and her now fiance’ (woohoo!) graciously allowed me to stay with them. Mandy and I didn’t know eachother that well so I hardly knew what to expect however, I have to tell you, it was one of the best 5 days I’ve had in a long time.

Upon arriving in Bristol, Mandy’s hostess-with-the-mostest skills kicked in. We went back to their flat, she made me lunch, and then the two of us set out to go to her wedding dress fitting. I was a bit nervous about this because I’ve never been to a wedding dress fitting and I had fears that her taste would be horribly off from mine and I’d have to sit there and try to pretend to like something. This of course was a huge moment for her, I couldn’t let any disapproval read on my face! After about 2 minutes my fears were calmed, she stepped out in her dress and was absolutely stunning. That Huw is one lucky guy, though I’m sure no one needs to tell him that. We spent the rest of the afternoon running errands and preparing for our camping/canoeing trip in Wales that was to begin bright and early the next morning. I’ll get to that, but first and foremost I need to do a big thank you to Mandy and Huw. So here it is…

Mandy and Huw,

I just wanted to take a moment to express how truly grateful I am for the two of you and your hospitality. You took me in, fed me, did my laundry, let me sleep in your room, introduced me to your friends, included me on an amazing weekend in Wales, and most importantly, spent your time with a crazy American. You will never know how much it meant to me to see you and spend time with you. I did some serious laughing with the two of you. Whether it was practicing how to criticize people in British slang (F@*King WANKAS!), seeing the look on Mandy’s face on that canoe, having the weirdest and most amazing car ride home from Wales with Huw, harassing the bridal store sales lady, being introduced to Bruno, or just sitting around your flat, my smile was endless. I thank you for that. I feel so privileged to have worked with you in Sydney, Mandy, even if it turned out to be a nightmare. You see there’s a good end to that story, I got you out of it. You two make such a beautiful couple, something to really aspire to. Your synchronicity with one another is imperfect in the most perfect way. I can only hope to be so lucky one day. I realized upon leaving England that it definitely has a place in my heart and I was sad to have to go. However, it wasn’t the bustling streets of London, the scenic beauty of Wales, or the hominess of Bristol that made it hard to leave. It was the people. It was you. I hope to see you again next spring, as after exerting my pushy American ways with the sales lady at the bridal store, I must see the finished product. Until next time, take care of yourselves and know that you’ve got a friend who thinks the world of you both.

All my love,

Alex

And NowEuropeToDate…

Just Touched Down in Londontown

London. The final leg of our journey together. We were greeted surprisingly by sunshine. You Londoners may not realize but essentially Americans’ view of England is just gray. Ok, I probably shouldn’t speak for an entire country but I’d have to say I’d be correct on many accounts. What I’m trying to say here is that blue sky was a great bonus. Jenny and I did the most Londony thing we could in that sunshine and rode a double decker bus around the city. What I found so interesting about London was that it’s such a bustling city but looks as if it’s stuck in a time warp. The old black taxis, the telephone booths, Parliament, Buckingham Palace….there is just nothing modern or American looking about this city. And for that, I loved it. I believe we crammed more sightseeing in in London than anywhere we had previously traveled and I suppose that’s because London does indeed (how British do I sound!?) have sooo many sights.
One sight I wasn’t expecting was the motorcade of Barack and Michelle Obama. There we are minding our business, walking down Downing Street and all of a sudden no one is allowed to pass because oh wait….here comes Barack. Interesting that I had to go all the way to England to see our President. The closest I had come before was when he graced IU with his presence by drinking a beer at Nick’s in Bloomington. What a guy.

A truly memorable stop for me was Westminster Abbey. I’m sure this is more to do with the fact that the Royal Wedding was just held there and I along with about a billion other people of course tuned into it, than it was about the Abbey itself. Naturally, I did what any normal female would do…I walked down Kate’s aisle to Prince William….in my orange tube socks. So I didn’t feel quite as glamorous as Kate must have felt but at least I was making some sort of statement. (Note to myself on future London visits: People there do not understand tube socks over leggings and they will in fact look at you like you are a whackadoo…..Maybe you are.)

The most meaningful London stop by far though was Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre. This trip was an homage to our grandfather, Pawpaw.A Shakespeare lover like I’ve never seen, my Pawpaw taught me a verse from TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA, 22 years ago as a 5 year old. He never thought I’d remember it at the time and little did he know that I will never, ever forget it. This Shakespearean verse known simply to my family as, “Crab, My Dog,” is still rehearsed at nearly every holiday dinner table and I’m sure will be until the end of time. Though our stop to the Globe wasn’t extremely long (we were trying to catch the Changing of the Guard at Buckingham Palace), it’s one place I will absolutely never forget going. My only regret is that he wasn’t there with us. He would have loved that, and so would we. So Pawpaw, because I know you must have the capabilities of reading blogs in heaven, this one is for you…

Crab, my dog be the sourest-natured dog that lived. My mother weeping, my father wailing, my sister crying, our made howling, the cat wringing its hands and all our house in a great perplexity. Yet did not this cruel-hearted cur shed one tear. He is a stone, a very pebble stone, and has no more pity in him than a dog.

I think I’ll just leave it at that.

And NowEuropeToDate…

Ahoy Avanti and Hallo Amsterdam!

“How do you feel about staying on a houseboat?”

While planning for this trip I spent many a night up perusing my new favorite site, hostelworld.com. When it was time to book lodging for Amsterdam I began to notice a trend, houseboats. That would be sort of hilarious and a good way to mix up what we’re used to accommodation wise, I thought to myself. So after Jenny gave her consent, I booked it. Stepping off that train at Amsterdam Central, we made the trek to the Oosterdok, where our new home would be well, floating. There she was, looking a bit like the ship out of CAPTAIN RON, before its makeover, The Avanti. We climbed on board and were welcomed by British Jesse who showed us to our room. Now, I absolutely love houseboats and have been going on them for years down on Lake Cumberland in Kentucky. In fact, it is my favorite vacation. I’ve done this a million times. It will be great I thought! What I forgot about those trips was that my friends’ and my bags always slept in our designated rooms, but we did not. We were always sleeping in the middle of the living room or in tents on the roof. I didn’t realize how little space there would be to have all of our belongings and ourselves holed up in one room on The Avanti. To give you a better idea this room was probably 6.5 feet by 4 feet complete with a set of built in bunk beds that were the narrowest beds I’ve ever slumbered in. Seriously, if I’d eaten one more croissant or that crepe baby would have had even a day more development, I would have hung right off that thing. Jenny’s bed on the bottom, not so bad. Mine on the other hand had a sloping roof right above it so really only half of the smallest bed ever was even usable. Needless to say I would try to wedge myself under the roof slant but woke up many a morning by banging my arm on the roof or my head on the porthole window that was conveniently placed right at head height. The comical part about the room was that we couldn’t both get ready at the same time because you just spent all morning bumping into one another and getting frustrated so one person had to sit in their bed until the other was ready. I thought we had a hard time getting out the door before but this just about doubled it. While it sounds as if I’ve done a lot of griping here I actually sort of enjoyed waking up on the water. It was a nice change and once my body stopped rocking on land it was no big deal.

I have to say I had absolutely no idea what to expect from Amsterdam. All I can tell you is that I imagined half naked women in windows in the Red Light District (true story) and the smell of weed permeating from every crevice (also, a true story). What I didn’t realize was just how many canals make up Amsterdam. Our first day Jenny and I took a canal cruise and I was just blown away. All the locals were out on boats eating and drinking and cruising the waterways or people were out on deckchairs on their houseboats that were parked in the canal. It really felt like my kind of lifestyle. Furthermore, people ride their bikes everywhere in Amsterdam.Of course to fit in Jenny and I did the same. Now, I had been used to the cushiness of the seat on my beach cruiser in California…this was not that. I have never had my butt be so uncomfortable in my life, but the important part, as always, is that I couldn’t have felt any cuter if I tried.

The second day Jenny and I set out for the Anne Frank House. Let me tell you, that was an experience. I actually found myself getting kind of emotional when I really let the reality of the whole story and the place sink in. How horrifying that she died but one month before the end of the war. To be in her room and see the decorations she hung up to cheer herself up just felt a bit surreal. A really depressing experience but I’m very glad I went. Of course afterwards to lighten the mood of the day, Jenny and I headed to the Heineken Brewery.
For the small price of 15 Euro you get to tour the brewery, see some 4D show where you “get brewed” and then of course, sample much of the product. Not a bad way to spend the day. Overall, Amsterdam was just so much more than I expected and I sort of can’t wait to go back. Only this time, I’ll bring an inflatable cushion for my ass.

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