Sara the Vagabond in Siena

I've heard Siena is really beautiful and it is my best friend's favorite Italian city so I set off to see what the fuss was about.

While trying to figure out how to get there online, everyone said the bus was better (faster and cheaper than the train), but any links to bus sites were broken. After much searching and searching I finally found what seemed to be a current schedule and information on where to take the bus from. I let myself sleep as late as I wanted since I was tired out from the previous day, so I ended up getting a bus to Siena at 11. 

If any of you are in Florence and wanting to go to Siena, do not take the bus if you are prone to motion-sickness. It is a windy and bumpy hour! Once we got to Siena I was not entirely sure what I wanted to do. I knew there were lots of churches and things to be climbed. But I am one who would prefer to walk around and stare and oggle and gander at lots of architecture from outside than wait in two-hour lines in the sun (not that waiting to gawk at architecture from the inside is bad, just not always my thing). So I stared and gawked and ogled various buildings, until I met up with another au pair I had talked to on facebook.

We walked around a little bit, then stopped in to have lunch somewhere. Although we were only getting pizza, it took forever and a day to come out. Not that I want pizza to come out right away, because that is suspicious, but it was forever and a day!

After this we went to get tickets to climb the Torre di Mangia and something else, but it was later in the day and they were all sold out. So instead we went inside the museum, which ended up also having breathtaking views of Tuscany.

In the basement there was an interesting exhibit where an artist had taking sheets of copper, then partically oxidized them to create images of statues. I liked this a little more than some of the paintings upstairs because (get ready for a pretentious statement) there are only so many paintings of Madonna and child that I can look at on a given day. 

After this we both headed back towards to bus stop, a little heat-beat. We said goodbye, then I was off on the bus headed back to Florence. On my way back to the hostel I stopped at the grocery store to get some fruit and cheese for dinner. There were about a million kinds of cheese (though still not quite as much as in Germany I think, or at least not as wide a variety), and finally I picked out a little wedge of camambert.

Not to get all Oh, well I've been to Europe you know so I know all about good food and bread and cheese and wine. But why have I been wasting my time with brie when there is camambert? WHY. I love brie, but camambert is a million times better!

After dinner I finished up a bit of planning for traveling around (As of writing this I still need to buy a bus ticket to Naples, and find a place to stay in Palermo, but I am not too worried). Then of course I ended the evening with a trip to get gelato (this time Oreo and coffee).

I tried getting my gelato in a cup this time, because it always melts so fast that in the cone you have to eat quickly and not enjoy as much or wear your gelato all over your hands. The cups at the place are quite challow though and thus it is piled high. So, getting the cup instead of cone didn't help much. Womp womp. 

Sara the Vagabond: SOS!!!

Today started early, though not terribly so. I had intended to leave the hostel with time to stop at the grocery store to grab some fruit for breakfast, but the grocery store was not open yet. Instead, I just caught an earlier bus into Venice.

Here I took a "People Mover" (a short-distance tram thing) from Piazza Roma to Tronchetto, a little island next to the city where long-distance buses and cruise ships stop for Venice. I was there with all of the time in the world to spare. The Megabus I was taking to Florence was sitting there with everyone crowded around it waiting to get in.

Finally, around ten minutes before we are about to depart the driver comes out and starts handing out luggage tags-some people are going as far as Naples! Florence, as it is the first big stop, is the last to be loaded into the hold.

The bus trip starts about ten minutes behind schedule, but having taken Greyhound buses that didn't leave the departure city until we should have arrived in the destination city, ten minutes was nothing. It starts off fine, I made "eye-contact and smile" friends with a girl. Mostly we were both traveling alone and sitting in the same area, but we didn't talk to each other, instead just made lots of eye contact as we blatantly stared in curiosity. 

About two hours into the four hour drive, there is a loud metallic bang, and the bus starts wobbling and hobbling. The driver pulls into the (very small) shoulder to see the problem. We've blown a tire. Whoops.

We make it to the nearest "SOS" stop. The driver says he has called for a repair guy and another bus, so we'll see who gets there first and what is faster-it will probably be an hour or hour and a half though. In Italian time this translates to between an hour and half and forever. At least it is relatively cool out, so we are not standing around in the beating sun.

Everyone rushes to the minimart/mini self-service restaurant. I'm not that hungry but I go along anyway because what else am I going to do? I wandered around the super marked-up shop, then go back outside and make more super awkward eye contact with this girl. I sit around for a bit, watching everyone. And sitting. And watching. And sitting. And watching.I finish the blog post from the day before. I text everyone and their mother a picture of the blown-out tire.

Finally, I'm hungry, so I go back to the shop and get some yogurt and peanuts (I've gotten really into peanuts lately, I don't know why). More awkward eye contact with this girl, unfortunately I've already gathered that she is Italian. And my Italian skills, though sufficient to order ice cream and get peanuts at a bar, are not enough to make friends. So.

After I finish the yogurt, I open the peanuts, and they are the saddest looking things I have ever seen! So dry, and chalky. WHAT IS EVEN THE POINT. I ate some anyway, so I guess they weren't that terrible. 

We wait some more.

And more.

ANNNNNND more.

I message the hostel on AirBnB and tell them I'll be late.

And wait some more.

I talk to a guy from Russia but fail to get him to say "Boris we must get Moose and Squirrel".

And then wait.

Finally, a little grey van (or "pullman") pulls up. The bus driver says a few things in Italian, but he is so far away I don't hear him well, even if I could have understood him. Everyone rushes over to see what the deal is, and the driver says he is going to unload our bus, because the other bus should be here soon. Once the bags are returned to their owners, the bus driver says eight people can go ahead with the little pullman. 

Chaos erupts, everyone wants to get in the van, and the bus that was supposed to be here "soon" hasn't appeared. Everyone is raising their hand and yelling at each other and the bus driver. I went and sat on the curb a ways away, Florence has been around for a zillion years, I'm sure it will be around if I get there a little late.

Nothing happens, and we wait.

And wait.

I make friends with an Australian family from Melbourne. They're traveling around Europe, then going to Japan, then back to Australia. I was a little bit jealous. Lil bit.

Finally, a big green bus appears and pulls in next to the Megabus. We reload it with our luggage, then climb aboard, a little over two hours after we pulled in.

The hostel is theoretically a 15 minute walk from the train station. Unfortunately this does not factor in having a suitcase and Florence being literally wall to wall with tourists walking slowly, so it takes me considerably longer to get there. 

Once I do get there though, I meet the host/owner who shows me where everything is. I'm in a four bed room, and my other roommates are from France, Germany, and Brazil. My phone is almost dead at this point, so I try to find an outlet that fits the adapter I have-In Italy there are several types of outlets. Apparently you just have to hope you can find one that fits your device. I couldn't find one, so I head out to buy one (the adapter I have seems to be the least common one, so I had been meaning to do so anyway), and also to find a grocery store to collect dinner things.

What I find is not quite an adapter, but instead just a normal plug that you can stick your USB cable into. I buy it, mostly just hoping that this one will fit an outlet in the room because I have no idea really, then go to the grocery store to pick up some dinner and breakfast things.

At this point I had already asked my friend who studied abroad in Florence (whom I visited a few years ago) about where to find the sandwich shop we went to. She also told me where to go for gelato, so obviously I headed there in the evening. 

Now, I wasn't really sure when this place closed. And I was a little concerned, given that as I walked there (conveniently just a few minutes away) most places were closed or closing. I didn't have too much hope, but when I turned the corner I was extremely pleased to see that it was still open. Whew! 

That's when I saw them. There were maybe fifteen of them, twenty at most. Their leader was at the front, carrying a large stick and rattling off facts about the city as she herded them towards the gelateria. 

I had to get there first. I didn't want to get stuck behind a zillion people in line! So I picked up the pace, and made it there just in time. Whew.

What I noticed about gelaterias in Florence is that the larger the amount of ice cream you get, the longer the ice cream cone-as opposed to a wider mouth of the cone, the cones just get longer. Unless you are packing the ice cream into the bottom of the cone this just seems inefficient to me, though it is funny to watch people walk around with such long skinny ice cream cones.

Anyway, I got marscapone and santa trinita (chocolate and vanilla), then went and sat on the Santa Trinita bridge and enjoyed the view of the Ponte Vechio.

Did I spend longer than I would have liked at an SOS stop in who-knows-where, Bologna? Yes. But I can't complain about a day that ends with gelato in Florence.

        

   

Sara the Vagabond in Venice

Wow, so my two months as an au pair in Trieste flew by so fast. I mean, I knew they would sort of, because my 6 months in Germany flew by. But it was so fast. So. Fast. Now I get to travel around Italy, which is exciting!

Today (I use the word "today" very loosely. As of writing this I am already back in San Francisco) was my first day travelling. I ate breakfast with my host family in the morning-I've gotten pretty accustomed to biscotti and coffee for breakfast (#italy15 #letsbereal20). The kids came down the stairs and were super excited to show me shirts they had made with a picture of all of us on it, then they presented me with my very own! It was really so sweet.

 

Several tearful goodbyes and a short train ride later I found myself in Venice. Well, Mestre, really. I took the bus to my hostel (the Venice Lagoon House), in a little village outside Venice. The owner was super friendly and showed me all around the place and gave me all the information on how to get to Venice. The hostel itself was inside a house, and there were just a few rooms, which made it feel more like staying at someone's house than in a big hostel, which was really nice.

Once I got washed up I headed out into the city which was about half an hour away. On my way I bought a half-liter bottle of water and finished it in about two gulps. It was hot. Really. Really. Hot.

When I reached Venice I wasn't actually sure what I wanted to do. The bus dropped me off in Piazza Roma, an area I hadn't been to before. The neighborhood was quiet and pretty empty so I just wandered and wandered and wandered. For a while I was following signs to go to Piazza San Marco, until I stopped to ask myself why I was going there. I had already seen it a pretentious number of times, it would be packed with tourists and I was currently enjoying empty side streets, and it would be extremely hot due to lack of shaded areas.

   

Instead I went to the Ponte Rialto, which although I know is also touristy I still like it and think the bridge is really pretty. Unfortunately half of it is under construction now, but still. Once near the bridge I found a square I remembered being near the Pesce Campanella, which was near the apartment my family and I stayed in when I was a young warthog. This was my third time to Venice since then, and the other two times I had managed to stumble across the fish market (which apparently is just a fruit market on Sundays) but unable to find the place I stayed with my parents. So, I set out determined to find it. After a little bit of wandering, and trying to remember anything I could about they path we had taken to get there from the vaporetto stop, I stepped out of an alleyway and bam there it was! Whew. I stared at it for a little bit, then took a picture-but only after making sure there were no kids standing in the window and making faces.

                                         

At this point I was so thirsty. So when I passed a place advertising 1.5 liter bottles of water for a euro I stopped in for some. 

Sidenote 1: While in Germany I started to like carbonated water a little. Now I can't get enough of it, but everyone here assumes that because I'm American I want the flat water. Which is probably true for most people, but all I ever want in my life now is carbonated water!

SIdenote 2: I hate that I keep buying bottled water. I am not trying to kill the planet! The problem was previously that I had lost my water bottle, and that I really really like carbonated water. Anyway, I have just purchased a water bottle. So no more planet killing for me. Because also recycling bins are hard to find. So my carbonated water addiction is feeding a garbage patch in the Pacific Ocean, probably.

Sidenote 3: Italy has been super hot this summer. Record temperatures (although at least it isn't Syria) for record times. I have existed in a constant state of thirst, so much that I forgot what it felt like to be hydrated. But after downing 1.5 liters of water (a total of 2 now) I remembered! Wow, hydration is great.

Anyway, so I took my giant bottle of water and sat by the canal and watched boats for a really long time. Then I stood up again and started walking and wandering and walking and wandering. And also stopping in shops for a bit of AC.

Finally, I was hungry. So I went to the usual pizza place (Ae Oche Pizzeria or something along those lines) and got a pizza with brie and walnuts on top to go, then went and sat by a canal and had a picnic. Apparently it came with a free soft drink, so although I already bought my water bottle at that point, I got another half liter bottle of fizzy water. 2.5 littles for the day! I don't think I have been that hydrated ever.

                                    

Anyway, the pizza was interesting. It still had the tomato sauce/mozzarella base to it. If I were to make it I would definitely use pecans instead of walnuts, and I would maybe add arugula. I wouldn't use a tomato sauce, but I am not sure what alternative would be good. Still though, I enjoyed it and it was super filling.

When I got back to my hostel I was exhausted and pretty much ready to pass out. The owner was inviting everyone to have a glass of wine with him, which was so nice and sounded lovely, but I was too tired. So after catching up on emails, letting people know I was alive and in Venice, I fell asleep.

     

P.S. Apologies for any weird formatting or spelling errors. I'm writing this on the Blogger app and I can't control the formatting as much. And there is no spell check. So. Here's to hoping I can somewhat spell!

....And Here I Am

I've met a lot of new people lately. I can't even keep up with all of the names, if I am being honest. At some point or another, whether in Worcester or here I have ended up explaining what I'm doing there. Usually this story involves lots of shrugs and "I guess"es and "And then"s, and almost always ends with "So yeah. And here I am." It's not succinct, elegant, or well-put in any way.

A lot of the times people want to know why I am in Trieste, of all places in Italy. Another time I may write something in defense of Trieste. Usually though, I tell them I found a good family, or that I would be happy to be anywhere in Italy.

Sometimes the fact that I'm in Italy just hits me. It can hit me while I am sitting by the canal eating gelato. Or after I successfully struggle my way through ordering coffee. Or when it's 9pm and 90 degrees and whatevenisthatabout. Because really, how did I even get here?

As a wee little 4th grader, I was given a book called The Thief Lord. I tried reading it, and couldn't get through it. A while later, still a wee little 4th grader or possibly a big 5th grader, I picked up the book again and read it. Then I forgot about it.

Sometime in early middle school I picked it up and read it again. Then again. Then again.

The book takes place in a magical city called Venus. I asked my mom if we could go to Venus, because I was in love and obsessed with this place. She probably said something like "Sure, as soon as we get a rocket." 

Gosh, I thought to myself (my teenage years starting) moms don't know anything! "No, Mom" I told her, "the Venus in Italy." I mean, duh.

She told me it was replied vehn-iss.

I suppose they know some things, like how to pronounce cities like Venice or Worcester.

I was intent on moving to Venice, but I had heard it was an expensive city. However, I knew San Francisco was also expensive so I looked on the internet to see how the cities compared. 

San Francisco was more expensive than Venice, so it was settled and we could move there. In fact, we couldn't afford not to move to Venice! No one told me about visas, or jobs, or even language barriers.

Spoiler alert, I was unable to convince my parents to move. Apparently asking your parents to move to a foreign country on your whim is asking a bit too much. They told me I could move there when I was older.

However, I was still obsessed with Italy. When it came time to choose a high school, I was mostly going through the catalog looking at morning start times. I had my eyes set on Downtown High School where you could start anytime you wanted, based on your childcare and job situation.

My mom told me I would not be going to Downtown High School. She pointed out Lowell instead. I thought it was a school for nerds, but liked the idea of creating my own schedule (though with more guidelines than Downtown). When my mom told me they offered Italian, I was sold and happily began the application process. When I got my acceptance letter I was over the moon. Soon, I would be learning Italian. Now I look back at little Eighth Grade Sara and laugh at her naiveté in being excited to go to Lowell.  She had no idea what she was in for, I'm telling you.

Granted, I may have ended up at Lowell anyway, whether or not I wanted to. But maybe I would have put down Wallenberg or Lincoln as my first choice or looked at more charter schools, who even knows! But at least this way I was excited to put down Italian as my first choice for my language course, much to my father's dismay that I was flushing 9 years of Spanish down the drain. 

Sometime in high school, my parents wanted to go to Ireland. Then my mom wanted to see the Eiffel Tower. Then I said if we were in France we may as well go to Italy. Then my brother piped up from underneath a book that he wanted to find Nessie, and my parents said we could do England instead. 

I loved the whole trip with my parents, but I was most excited for Venice. Sometimes when you have such high expectations for something there is no way it can meet them. This was not the case with Venice and I could have spent weeks there. I even tried pesto for the first time here and liked it!

Somehow when choosing a college (finally) I forgot to check mine had a study abroad program in Italy. So while enjoying my time in Scotland I told myself I was much too close to Italy and may as well go, even if it meant eating rice and beans for months so that I could go. Although I didn't really have to eat rice and beans, it turns out, this was how much I wanted to go.

When thinking about what I wanted to do after graduating college, and eventually deciding I would like to au pair somewhere, Italy was of course where I wanted to go. Unfortunately due to visa regulations (although they are notoriously lax about enforcement), I wouldn't have been able to go for more than my tourist visa allowed. Instead, I went to Germany-an experience I loved and would repeat in a heartbeat.

When I got back to Worcester, I was a little bit less than thrilled about being back in the city. To keep myself going, I kept thinking about what I should do next. Move to another city? Au pair again? Stay in Worcester and save money while having dirt-cheap rent? Sit on a beach and watch Netflix and cry? (if anyone knows of a beach with free wifi where I can do this, please let me know! It's the one thing that's missing in this plan, but I am otherwise more than read to do this.)

I wanted another adventure rather than staying in Worcester, although this would have been the easiest of the plans. I missed my German family, and I missed being an au pair. I also went to bed thinking about, and woke up thinking about, Italy.

I decided I had put off going to/temporarily living in Italy long enough (we're talking ten years here). So I logged back into au-pair world and started searching for a family again, this time just for the summer.

And when it came down to deciding between families, although there were many factors, it would be a lie to say that proximity to Venice was not something I thought about.

So of course when I took my first trip to Venice this weekend (more on that later), I was so excited. And I definitely nerded out and bought a copy of this book, in Italian, in Venice. Then I read the first few chapters in a piazza. Like I said, I was nerding out pretty hard.

 

                                                             NERRRRRRDDD

But now I am sitting here, thinking about how much I have done due to my love for Italy and Venice, which is due to this book. And it's a little bit crazy. I mean, I picked a high school. I picked courses. I quit my jobs and jumped on a plane to Italy (Could I have put that more dramatically? Probably not. But I will try harder next time.)

What if I hadn't even read that book, or my mom's friend hadn't given it to me? What language would I have taken in high school?? More Spanish? French (Yikes!)? German?  Would I have preferred a different high school altogether (which at some point would have influenced my college application process so let's not even go down that road)? Would I still be in Worcester, melting through another New England summer with my hair doing some kind of Hermione Granger style? What would I have eaten in Scotland besides rice and beans since I was not concerned with going to Italy? (more empire biscuits, probably). Most importantly, would I have ever tried and liked pesto? Probably not. So then what pizza would my boyfriend and I even get at Volturno?  Would I even go to Volturno? Because pistachio pesto pizza is kind of the point if we are being honest.

So basically, I read a book once. And ten years later here I am in Trieste, sitting in my room plotting how to scare the pasta out of the boys next time they ding-dong-ditch my door. 

Austrian Audventure: Salzburg

I heard from a lot of people that Salzburg is really pretty. And I love how Vienna sounds. So last weekend I embarked on an alliteration adventure in Austria (pronounce the As similarly, please). I took the bus to Munich Thursday night, in order to get an early train to Salzburg Friday morning.

Shortly before I left, the adventure began when Deutsche Bahn announced a strike to last from Thursday to Monday. Woooooo!

Not Wooooo. I got real nervous until I did more research and realized that my trains were operated by the Austrian bahn company, which meant everything should run smoothly (if be a bit crowded).

So, with a heart attack checked off my to-do list, I set off to Munich. I slept at a hostel, one which I would recommend to people wanting to be social and make friends, buuuut I mostly I wanted to sleep, which was a bit hard. A very sleepy Sara(h) boarded a train early Friday morning, but on the upside the train was (weirdly) super empty and I had a whole compartment to myself!

The train ride was short, and I got into Salzburg around 10am. I was greeted by bahn employees handing out free gingerbread to everybody, so you know, off to a good start.After I figured out the luggage storage situation I found myself kind of just standing in the middle of the station, unsure what to do next. Or how to get to any of the places I had thought about going. Picking up a map seemed like a good idea, so I did that, then walked to Mirabell Gardens.

Given that when you google image search Mirabell Gardens most of the pictures that come up portray sunny days, frolicking children, and Julie Andrews, there was a huge difference between what I had in my head and what I saw in real life. However, the gardens were still beautiful.

The gardens were complete with someone dressed up as Mozart.
I think this freaked me out more than any silver person ever has (and those of you who know me know there are very few things I can't stand more than silver people). He just gave me the heebee jeebees! And, being Salzburg this was by far not the last "Mozart" I saw. Aye.

After this, I wandered my way to the old town, and found a place to eat Salzburger Nockerl.

So here's the thing. Before going to Austria I googled tasty Austrian foods to eat while I was in Austria. I came across Nockerl, and then looked into restaurants that served it. The fact that more than a few menus added in the food's description that is was for two or more people should have warned me.

Buuutttt, the place I picked out didn't have that in the description (one reason I picked it), and it was less expensive than the places with this note (another reason). So I thought I was in the clear, until this arrived at my table:

I should also add that as I first came in, I was the only one in the restaurant. As I waited for the small planet to arrive to my table (it's a 25 minute wait), more people filtered in. All of the English speaking customers happened to sit in my section, and we started chatting. More so even when the Nockerl arrived, and no one could hold back looks and comments of shock and awe.

Now I love sweet things. And raspberries. And I hate wasting food. But as soon as I saw this thing I knew I would not in a million years be able to finish it. I even wondered if the employees in the back were taking bets on how much I would be able to get through.Seriously this thing was just so big. I thought I would be able to get through two mountains, and was satisfied with this settlement. Afterall, how filling can egg whites be?

Very filling, it turns out. I finished half the dish (1 1/2 mountains). Which, I still think is pretty impressive.

At this point I was friends with everybody in the restaurant. I perpetuated the stereotype of loud American as I talked to an american couple from Ohio two tables away (to be fair they started the conversation, normally I wouldn't do this!). And I was invited to a drinking festival by the couple sitting at a table behind me (which I had to decline due to a late afternoon train to Vienna). 

Luigi in tow, I left the restaurant to wander the Getreidgasse-a cobblestone shopping street in Salzburg where all the shops have iron signs hanging out front, even McDonald's and little souvenir shops looks fancy. 

I had an embarrassing moment when I tried to buy stamps to send my friends and host family postcards. I asked the woman for a stamp for "Ausland" and one for "Deutschland", to which she reminded me that Deutschland is ausland. So, awkward. I also found out that postage costs almost twice as much in Austria as in Germany. So those of you waiting for a Viennese postcard, they are coming! I waited to come back to send them. And those of you that got postcards from Salzburg, count yourself among the lucky few, or side effects of Sara(h)'s naivete. 

While I was walking around all day, I kept seeing this large castle on a hill in the distance. Finally, I decided that I was going to walk up to it and see what the deal was. I couldn't figure out where it was on my map, because nothing in the direction it was was labeled a castle of sorts.

Turns out, it was a fortress (The Festung Hohensalzburg). Thus why I couldn't locate it on the map as a castle. Anyway, I decided to take a look inside, and wandered through the catapult gate, around the vulture tower, and through the cannon gallery. 

Then, I saw it.

A sign to go into the torture chamber.

Not that I am a crazy person. Or sadistic. Or masochistic. Or that I experience more schadenfreude than the normal human. But I was real curious about this and wanted to see a torture chamber.I had high expectations, yo!

I waited excitedly to get a little headset to walk around this section of the fortress. Finally, we were let in.

I

Was

So

SO

Disappointed.

Why was I disappointed, you ask? What could possibly go wrong with a torture chamber?

It was called a torture chamber because they used to store the tools for torturing there. 

What.

Even.

I was so excited over a storage closet.

-_-

I did my best to recover from this disappointment by drowning my self in some nice views. For the most part, this did the trick.

After this, I rushed down the hill to make my way back to the station to catch my train to Vienna :)

Sara Eats a Brezel the Size of a Small Planet

So, ya'll know I can't make a fast decision to save my life (which would be very unfortunate should this type of situation arise). So -ahem- abouttwomonthsago -ahem- when I went shopping for a dirndl to wear to Oktoberfest, I certainly had my work cut out for me.

A dirndl is a traditional Bavarian (yes, I realize I'm not actually in Bavaria, but still) dress type deal. I had seen them in a few clothing stores, and enough people who knew I would be around during Oktoberfest told me I should get one, that I knew eventually I should take a look at them. So, when I told my host mom I was going to go to Munich for the day about two weeks before Oktoberfest, she suggested I buy a dirndl while I was there, since there would be many more options than here.

Silly me asked, "So......can you get them at any store? Or are there shops specifically for dirndls?" I assumed that the answer would be the first, but it turns out there are stores (open all year, I think, not like pop up Halloween stores) where you can buy just dirndln and lederhosen. That Saturday, armed with lots of information on where to go for a dirndl, I wandered into Munich (I use "wander" loosely here, really I just took a bus.)

But, firstly, I wanted to go the the Viktualienmarkt for lunch. After getting lost on may way there, turning what is normally a 30 minute walk into 45 minutes of wandering down empty streets trying to figure out exactly where I was, I found the place. The market was packed of course, since it was Saturday. I wasn't really sure what I felt like eating, until a woman walked by me with a bretzel the size of planet Pluto. Then I knew. I waited in line for what felt like forever until I was finally able to ask for a grosse breze.

It was well worth the wait, and the salt-to-brezel ratio was perfect. That being said, it was still a lot of salt and I forgot to bring water (don't tell my host mom, she thinks (and is right) that I should drink more water just generally).

My pal Luigi was of course then present as I embarked on dirndl shopping,. However, considering how much I like German food, and how much of it is present at Oktoberfest, I thought having a food baby would make for a more accurate dress size when dirndl shopping.

Not that I thought it would be easy. I don't love love to shop (although I don't hate it so much anymore), and I am really indecisive, but I did not anticipate being so overwhelmed when I wandered into Tracht & Mehr to look for a dirndl. All along the walls were dirndls in every size, material, color, and length. Then there were aisles of blouses, aprons, and petticoats. I had no idea where to start. I wasn't even sure about my European size. I just stared at the dirndls. I looked to see what other people were doing. I walked out to take a deep breath. Then walked back in. A smiling woman in a dirndl asked if she could help me. Really, I should have just said yes. But, too embarrassed about my German and limited communication skills I said not yet. I stared at the dirndls some more. Then, still real overwhelmed at all of the choices, left to take a walk around the block (or more accurately, to the Milka Chocolate World).

When I returned, I had convinced myself that my German was not so terrible I wouldn't be able to understand simple questions, and that since it was a big city and the women working there were around my age, they probably spoke some English. It could work. I wandered back in to the shop. I didn't really know how to ask for help, so I waited until another smiling dirndl woman came over and asked if I needed help. I did, I told her, but also explained my German was not so great. She said it was no problem and switched to English. .

Mostly, I didn't know if I was supposed to try on a million blouse/apron/dirndl/petticoat sets, or pick things one at a time, or what. Turns out the process was pretty much try on dirndls and a blouse until you find one you like, then figure out the apron and petticoat situation. After trying on a million dirndln, then deciding that a different size was better and starting the process over, then trying to figure out the apron color, I ended up with this:

After an umburrassin' number of hours. That I won't mention here. Mostly because I don't remember exactly. Maybe three hours. 

It was a real long day. Good thing Luigi was still hanging around, because I had just a short amount of time afterward to get to the bus!

My Name is Sara and I Come from the U.S.A. and I speak....Speutalianish?

(Insert the usual apologies for not writing sooner here)

So let's be real, this language thing is a Struggle Bus.

I came here knowing close to zero of the Deutsch. I used Duolingo a bit, and flipped through a textbook, but I was not prepared to communicate with anyone unless I was saying "I eat bread. I drink water. I like chocolate.". I think I maybe almost didn't get my Visa (you have to know German for a visa here), because the woman had no idea what I was saying , so she just kept repeating the question over and over, which made me think I had understood wrong. But that's behind me, whew!

I tried to pick up the language as fast as I could, but when I would try to speaking with the kids I would start speaking Spanish when I didn't know the word in German. This helps no one- not only because I am supposed to help with their English but they also don't speak Spanish. For the most part I have stopped doing this, but every so often a word slips in when I am speaking too fast. Also I often just say pobrecito to my youngest.

I (Yes, three paragraphs starting with I. Clearly I'm not an English major.) should also mention the region I'm in has a really strong dialect. My host mom has said that she's had au pairs who come here already speaking German, but due to the dialect and accent they still had trouble understanding what people are saying. In this sense it was helpful to not know German beforehand, because I was somewhat of a blank slate when picking it up.

Let's fast forward three months. When I leave the area (whether it's to Hamburg, Berlin, or Switzerland), I have more trouble understanding people. This is mutual, as I'm sure that between my American/Swabian/toddler accent and grammar, I am not the easiest to understand either. Usually, if they can, people (sometimes in annoyance) switch to English to speak to me.

An interaction I had in Hamburg:
Me: Ein Milchkaffee bitte
Barista: Ein Filterkafee?
Me: Nein, ein Milchkafee.
Barista: Was?
Me: Ein Milchkaffee?
Barista: (really annoyed) What do you want? A filter coffee?
Me: Milchkaffee (poiting to menu board)
Barista: What?
Me: Yes, okay, a filter coffee.

People have given me mixed responses to the German abilities I have acquired. Sometimes they're impressed at what I have picked up in the time I've been here, and sometimes they tell me I need to learn German because I'm in Germany, or more blatantly that my German is simply not good (to be fair this was said to me by a kid, who maybe are not always the most tactful of creatures). So really, I have no idea how well I'm doing.

However, I have become frustrated with the people who tell me to learn German, or think my host mom shouldn't speak English with me.

I try to be understanding when someone says something like this, because I think this belief or type of statement comes from feelings of isolation or being left out of the conversation when they don't understand everything, rather than from maliciousness. The problem with trying to be understanding about it is that I really do empathize with the situation/feeling, but I assume I experience it much more often than the person and thus sometimes get annoyed and can't always help thinking "Actually, this is my life every day. I think you can handle just a minute of it."

On the one hand I know I signed up for a language barrier in coming to Germany. And I know the people who say things like this to me did not sign up for a language barrier in just coming to lunch/going out for the evening/etc, but on the other hand that is still no excuse to be rude or to make someone feel like lesser of a person because they have not mastered a language in three months. Actually, I can think of no excuse for doing this.

It's also just hurtful and frustrating when someone says this because I'm really picking up as much German as I can as fast as I can. It isn't that I'm not trying. Or that I have no desire to learn the language. In fact, I really resent the whole "You don't need to speak German/Italian/French/whatever language, everyone there speaks English!" notion I heard a lot of before I left for here.  This is not actually true. And it's disrespectful. Also why would you choose to live in a country with another language with the goal of experiencing a new culture and not bother to give the language a try?

It is just that becoming fluent in a new language is really hard. And I would like to see any one of these people who have said these things to me go to a foreign country with a foreign language in which they have no background and simply learn it. With no formal instruction. And largely from a toddler. And then, to not be relieved when someone speaks their native language to them. Because sometimes it is just nice to have a break from struggling to make yourself understood and to understand what is being said.

Lastly, I think the point of an Au Pair (or one of the points, really) is a cultural exchange- not just a one way street of absorption. Which means sometimes speaking German. And sometimes English. And sometimes minion babble. Which means it is totally fine if my host mom wants to practice her (already very good) English. And it is really no one's concern!

Finally though, I started my language class last week. Since I have been here for three months, it's pretty easy so far (We spent two days learning how to say our name, where we are from, and what we speak). Although now I am having the reverse of the trouble I had when I first got here, in that I've tried speaking Spanish to some people in my class, and it comes out German. So basically I don't know what I speak anymore.

Minion babble. That's what I speak. Bananas!

Basically, the language barrier is a daily ride on the Struggle Bus to Struggle Town where I eat Struggle Pudding. But, I know how to order ice cream and coffee to-go, which makes up about 90% of my interactions outside playing with the kids. So that's good!

What I Learned in School Today

1. Minion babble is the same in German and English. Which I guess makes sense as it is another language.

2. The German title for Despicable Me literally translates as "I am simply incorrigible"

3. "It's so fluffy I'm going to die!" in German translates as "It's so fluffy I'm going insane!"

4. Mike Wasowski is Mike Glotzkowski (Gluts-kah-ski) in German

5. Baking soda is hard to find, but check the American section of the grocery.

6. Nutella is wonderful on a fresh soft bretzel.

7. It can be cheaper to buy a BMW (I think this was the car brand mentioned to me, otherwise just insert another fancy German car company of your choice here) online from America and having it shipped, than to actually buy it in Germany. Even accounting for switching some things over(like the speedometer to km/h instead of mph). However, it won't come with any sort of warranty this way.

8. Even I can get tired of Despicable Me and minions.

9. Human statues/silver men are just as scary here as they are in America.

10. There are Dunkin Donuts here. A lot of Dunkin Donuts.

11. "Cookies" refers specifically to chocolate chip cookies, while "keks" (pronounced cakes) refers to any type of cookie.

12. "Eis" means ice cream, which can cause disappointment if you ask a child if they want ice after they hit their head.

13. Children (and sometimes adults) swear in English because it isn't as bad as swearing in German. This makes for interesting dinners.

14. In German, there are separate words to differentiate a human eating from an animal eating.

15. The concept of a food baby crosses language barriers. Next we will see if the concept of naming your food baby does.

16. According to my youngest at least, babies are delicious. (I SWEAR I NEVER SAID ANYTHING LIKE THIS AROUND HIM! In German, at least)

17. "Muesli" refers to all granola, cereal, and muesli type products.

18. Mimicking German you learned from a 2.5 year old just leads to confused stares.

19. Figuring out German sentence structure became a lot easier when I started copying the sentence structure my host family uses (mistakenly) in English.

20. Jam comes in all flavors. All. Flavors. Mango, strawberry, pineapple, cherry, ginger, plum, grape, blueberry, raspberry, lime, kiwi, apricot, peach, rhubarb, lemon, apple, and any (I do mean any) combination thereof.

21. Some things are just hard to explain, period. Whether it's the issues within the American educational system or the point of marshmallow fluff.

Hamburg: Sara Eats Blue Food and is Introduced to the Cruel World of Claw Machines

My Sunday in Hamburg started bright and early at 6am. My friend and I really wanted to go the Hamburg Fischmarkt, but it goes from 5am-9:30am, so we had to get an early start.

We decided to take a longer route there, so that we could ride the ferry in. The ferry we took was decorated as an advertisement for the Lion King, so you know, that was worth getting up early for in itself.

Awkward angle for a panorama

I know what you are thinking when I say that I went to a fischmarkt. "But Sara, you are a vegetarian (A world's most awkward award winning one, at that), why on earth would you get up at that ungodly hour to smell some fish?"

The Fishmarkt did have a lot of fish, yes. But there were fruit auctions where you could get large baskets of fruit (I am talking needing two people to carry it back kind of big) for ten euros. As well as pasta auctions. And live music. And bakery and coffee stalls (where I got a franzbröchten the size of my head). And little tents to buy trinkets. Despite our exhaustion, it was a lot of fun. 

Most importantly I found and purchased a blue cupcake.

I saw the little truck the first time we wandered around the market. The man asked if I wanted to take a picture, I am guessing I was staring at the blue cupcake and smiling a little too much. Buuuuut, I was embarrassed and said no thanks and kept going.

Then we passed it a second time. I wanted the blue cupcake SO BAD! My friend said that I could get one and save it for later (I like blue. I like sugar. But even I have limits- it was too early in the morning!). Again, he asked if I wanted one, so I asked what was in the blue one.

To be honest I don't remember. I was just so happy (the company's slogan is "It's a happy thing" for a reason). Something about raspberry. Or wildberry. I do remember that it was a vanilla cupcake and a surprise (or special) filling (this tasted like a blueberry muffin-in the best possible way). We chatted for a bit (it turns out he opened the first cupcake place in Germany), then I walked away with my happy little cupcake.

I was *real* excited to eat it. I wasn't sure how long I would be able to hold off. 

Let's go back to my previous post where I A. talked about choosing directions from a human instead of a smart phone and B. talked about not planning too much when I go to a place. 

Well, before going to Hamburg I told myself that it was a very long journey to plan zero things for, and I decided to give the whole going from A to B to C type of travelling and sightseeing a shot. I found a walking tour that goes around to different attractions in Hamburg and thought I would give it a try. What else was I going to do with my day, after all?

My friend told me how to get to the nearest subway station so that I could get to the center. As I was walking, I mostly forgot exactly which turns to take and how to get there. So, I looked up how to get to the city center (or rather, the exact meeting point of the Rathaus) from where I was. The transit app gave me different directions than my friend had, but I thought I would give them a try.

I am never trusting a smartphone again. Rather than sending me to the Hamburg Rathaus, it sent me to one (I think Rathaus just means town/city hall or something similar) a ways outside the city. Which I didn't realize until we passed a stop that I remembered was near a museum I was mildly interested in a bit outside the city.

Least to say, I missed the tour. But, this was also maybe for the better, and I instead walked to the lake where I consumed my MOST DELICIOUS CUPCAKE EVER. Seriously. It was so good. I have never liked a bought-cupcake so much. I should have bought two. Or five. Or ten.

After this I went on the ferry, and took in a loop so that I could look at the city. It was really beautiful, but I was also maybe falling asleep-the inside of the ferry was so warm and I was so tired!

I then decided that I should maybe consume something green. Not neon green. Vegetable green. Although Hamburg is a city, it was still a Sunday so my options were pretty limited outside the Starbucks and McDonald's realm (I was hungry, but not desperate). I did manage to find a sandwich with green things on it, and to drink an "iced" (I use "iced" because it was more just not-hot than actually cold) macchiato. 

After this I decided it was time for one last stop at the Sommerdom. I was exhasuted, and really just wanted to sleep. But, I am not one to turn down a ferris wheel, so I headed in that direction (after looking at a real life map. No more of this smartphone business!)

It was just as fantastic the second time around.After walking the full loop, I rode the ferris wheel, and got a
nutella filled doughnut.

Then I got it in my head that claw machines can't be that difficult. They are just hard for kids. And, after walking around the dom many times I had seen my fair share of claw machines. Many of which had minions in them. I kept thinking, how hard could it possibly be to just aim and push a button?

So, I decided to give it a go. And let me tell you, those things are awful! There was nothing wrong with my aim, but the claw always dropped my minion! I decided that maybe the minions were too heavy for the claw. I found a machine with smaller minions (albeit they were the minions with little outfits, and I am not about that life). Only to see that they came with a smaller claw. WHAT EVEN IS THIS. All. I. Wanted. Was. A. Minion!

And thus, I was introduced to the cruel world of claw machines.

Like this. But giant.

As a thank you to my hosts, I wanted to bring them doughnuts back from the dom (the kids are too little to go yet). I went back to one of the doughnut stalls where you could see them being made in front of you. While I was there, I saw these things that looked like giant doughnut holes with chocolate sprinkles. Obviously, I wanted one. I decided to save it for the ride back the next day though. I was completely sugared out.

Spoiler alert: It was not a giant doughnut hole. It was rum cake. Sara's naiveté and desire for chocolate get the best of her again!

The next day, I had a short bit of time in the city, which I spent with a chocolate franzbröchten by the lake. Not a bad end to the weekend!

Hamburg: Sara Wins the Award for World's Most Awkward Vegetarian and Goes Carnival Crazy

First, it has come to my attention that it appears I am not working-that I just traipse about eating blue things and looking at pretty landscapes. Although I do a whole lot of the latter, I promise I am working! I just changed a little boy's diaper. And yesterday we played with train tracks. I am also engaged in an ongoing war of "Got your nose!", and I am involved in the saga that is "Papa Hund und Baby Hund" (Papa dog and baby dog). So. I am working. And I'll write about that soon! But for now, Hamburg :)

Last Friday I took the train to Hamburg (about 8 1/2 hours), getting in the late afternoon. I was immediately overwhelmed by the humidity and number of people I was surrounded by. Seriously. The train station and streets were just packed. It was a very weird, slightly disconcerting feeling to feel overwhelmed by this aspect of a city. I had not realized until now how accustomed I had become to living in the countryside. I would not venture to say I have never been overwhelmed by a city, just that normally this overwhelmed feeling usually comes from "wow this place is so beautiful" , not "oh my god there are so many people."

Another thing-normally before this I would have looked up directions to where I was going from the train station. But the night before I was tired and said to myself "Sara, that is what a smartphone is for. Just look it up once you are there. Or if you must, on the train." So, I plugged in the address of where I was going (I couch surfed just outside the city) into the tranist app I had downloaded. The directions had me making all sorts of transfers. I remembered that my host said they were a short walk from a subway station, so I looked that up on the map instead, and made the executive decision to trust a human over an app.

I couch surfed with a family (which I realize is uncommon, normally it is hip/hippie/hipster youngins with an extra couch). They invited me to eat dinner with them, which was nice. I had never couch surfed before and hadn't expected they would feed me.

The problem is that I forget I am vegetarian. Or rather, I forget I must tell or remind people. Because at this point most of the people I interact with (at least over food) know.

So, we sat down to eat, and that is when I realized I should have asked what we were eating beforehand. The dad had made a very tasty-smelling casserole, and I couldn't quite tell what was in it. I told myself that since I wrote on my couch surfing profile I'm vegetarian, they must know. I told myself that ignorance is bliss and not to look to closely at the food or ask. I decided I could pick around any meat parts I noticed. I sat there feeling real awkward and not knowing when or even if to mention it. Before I had taken a bite, it came up that there was mince in the casserole.

Well, there went my blissful ignorance.

I was fine picking around the meat bits. But I knew this would look weird without explanation. I thought I could make it look like I just didn't finish all my food-although this would require taking substantially more food so that it wasn't just meat left on the plate. I realized there was now no non-awkward way to mention it. I couldn't decided if it was weirder to say it after I had picked around the meat, hoping they wouldn't notice or say anything, or to mention it before (Meat eaters, please weigh in! I will take note for further awkward situations). I decided to mention it. Lots of awkwardness and apologies ensued, and I insisted I could eat around it (it was quite easy, actually). Whew.

The family had another couch surfer that weekend, and we spent Saturday exploring the city together. It was so nice to spend time with someone my age. I have lately been wishing I had a friend or someone to explore the area with, but I also know that I like walking a lot. And biking a lot. And am not a fan of cabs or running from attraction A to attraction B "because I am in ______ so obviously I have to see ______". This is not to say I don't like touristy things (I like Boudin's, cable cars, and Chinatown as much as the next person). I just want to see them if they are inherently interesting to me, not because that is what I am ":supposed to" or "have to" see when I am in a city.

So when I have found myself wanting a friend, I have reminded myself of this-that even if I had a friend here, it would not be likely that they like to explore places similarly. Well as it turns out, the girl and I were on the same page about all of this, so we spent the day walking around, utilizing the transit system, and going to a few nice places.

First, there was a walking tour I had heard about which, rather than going to five churches and ten monuments and talking about King something and King something the second, walks around a few neighborhoods to talk about street art, gentrification, and political movements in the city.

WWII Bunker, now a climbing wall

Churchin' about

After this, we went to St. Micheal's church, which has a very nice view of the city. After sitting in the pews for a bit, admiring the architecture (and also cooling off), we climbed up the tower.

Wow.

Just wow.

It was so beautiful. You could see everything (including the Sommerdom, which although I had been excited for before, made me even more excited).

After this we went to the Planten un Blumen park and walked around for a while. It was quite beautiful, and a nice break from the city and concrete (which is not something I often want a break from #ihavebeeninthecountrysolong #whatevenisthisfeeling).

Japanese Tea Garden

Then we decided to go to the Hamburger Sommerdom, which for those of you who don't know is basically a HUGE CARNIVAL.

As in a 3 kilometer (1.86 miles) long carnival.

It was amazing.

There were so many things I wanted to consume. Most of them blue and sugary. My friend did a very good job at helping me pace myself so I did not just eat the first thing in sight. Instead we walked around the whole thing, scoping out the best places to eat. After a "dinner" of french fries (Insert my mom scolding me here "Sara"), I got something called a quarkbällen-it was made with quark cheese, but not in a quark-filling kind of way. It was a doughnut, basically, but very light and fluffy and covered in cinnamon sugar. The Dom had about a million doughnut stalls, but we found the one where you can see them making them on site. So tasty!

Quarkbällen

Typical American

After that we were so beat though, so we headed back to our hosts' home to get ready for an early morning at the Fischmarkt... Which I will continue about später!