Dublin and Dutch; Ik ben Maeda, ik woon in Leuven

 Whoa, two posts in one day? I must be on fire! (Or the due-dates are rapidly approaching . . . )

Today a group of us got back from a three-day trip to Dublin, Ireland. No big deal, just went to Dublin for the weekend. I love being abroad! Instead of going to the Inner Harbor for the weekend, I get to fly to Ireland. (No offense Baltimore!) When I originally booked this trip, I had somewhat mixed feelings about it. My aunt got married in Ireland when I was 8, so I was hesitant to go to a country I had already visited. The wedding was in Adare, Ireland, so at least it wasn't the same place. And I figured traveling with my dysfunctional friends would be slightly different than traveling with my dysfunctional family, especially since I'm a few years older now. OH MY GOSHHHH what a difference! I was told to watch the movie PS I Love You before our trip, and between my large, alligator tears I managed to appreciate the accents and handsome, rugged Irishmen . . . uhhh, I mean the beautiful scenery and the culture. It got me much more pumped, but I still wasn't sure. Don't worry, I definitely changed my mind. Ireland was absolutely incredible.

First of all, our flight from Charleroi (Belgium) to Dublin was at 6:50am on Thursday morning, so we had to sleep in the airport on Wednesday night. That was an adventure all in itself, getting to the Leuven train station on time, biking like a maniac, my breath coming out in short spurts, my heart racing, trying to keep up with Nicole and Caroline, sprinting across the Brussels train station to try and catch the shuttle, and then a long, restless night attempting to sleep on the hard floor. It was like sleeping on a large, cold rock. A very uncomfortable rock. We sprawled out all over the floor, trying not to get in anyone’s way. I managed to get some shut eye, partially due to the large wool scarf I had covering my entire face, but most of the girls (and Steve and Dan, sorry for not mentioning you!) only got a half hour of sleep. It's all part of the experience right!

We arrived in Dublin around 10am, and, although we were exhausted, disgusting and grimy, we caught a free tour of Dublin and got to see the city. Our tour guide was hilarious (and not bad looking!) and his charisma and charm made the tour enjoyable. His beard was scruffy and orangy-red, while his hair was messy and light gray. He made gray handsome. He wore a jean shirt circa 1990, but somehow, it worked on him. His name was Ougen, pronounced Owen, and he started off his tour with jokes about his odd name. It was easy for him to laugh at himself, and he made others feel at ease. He had the carefree, I-just-woke-up-but-I-know-I’m-good-looking appeal going on. He had a different funny story for each place we stopped, and the three hours flew by. He was great. He knew tiny, seemingly insignificant facts about Dublin, and knew how to tell them in an amusing way. He was clever and charismatic, chatting about when Ireland’s poor contemplated eating babies and how a stuffed cat and mouse are more famous than the Vikings. I never knew that Dublin had so much rich history, and, although I’ve been on a zillion tours in the past month, none were as fun or interesting as this one.

We ended the tour at  O'Neils, a local pub that gave large discounts to tours. I was peer pressured into getting a HUGE helping of Irish beef stew (beef and Guinness, a surprisingly delicious combination) and getting a ticket for a pub crawl the next night. Aleska (Katie's Polish roommate) wasn't feeling very well, so Nicole and I went back to the hostel with her to freshen up (aka finally shower and become somewhat humanized) while the rest of the group went to the Guinness factory.

The next morning, we woke up early (I'm really not a morning person) for our Paddywagon Cliffs of Moher tour. Again, I had mixed feelings about this tour, but it was one of the best parts of Ireland. While I love Dublin, it was very American-ized, and not what I expected Ireland to look like. The tour was EXACTLY how I pictured Ireland, with the rolling hills and rock fences. When I finally woke up from my three hour snooze, I stared longingly out of the opaque window, completely and totally flabbergasted. A few miscellaneous raindrops trickled down, adding to the overall emotion of the scene. All of this is real. I’m actually in Ireland right now and the grass really is this vivid and intense. Our tour guide talked excitedly in his charming accent, but I'll admit, I wasn't really listening. All I could focus on was the endless hills of growth and life, mixed with the light slate of the rock walls. The tour guide explained that there was no cement or any other type of adhesive used in these fences, because it wasn't invented at the time. The harsh winds haven’t destroyed them, because there is just enough room between the rocks for the wind to whistle through. It was straight out of a movie. The Paddywagon tour bus stopped at our first stop, and I was more than eager to get off the humid, smelly bus. The scenery was even more beautiful in person, and I was immediately overwhelmed, taking pictures left and right. I couldn't get enough. In between camera clicks I felt raindrops. The rain started slowly, coming out of nowhere, but picked up quickly, large drops of liquid splashing on the ground. The countryside was breathtaking, and exactly what I needed. We got to see all the different parts of Ireland, from the city to the country to the pub scene that night.

The next day, Aleska, Nicole and I went to the Guinness factory to learn how to pour the perfect pint, and get our free pint of Guinness. I am now a certified pro, but I'm not a big fan of Guinness. It's too heavy for me, almost sludgy. I prefer Stella. (Mom, I can talk as much as I want to about drinking, because not only am I completely legal in all European countries, I am also legal in America.) We ended the night in another pub, and left around 11 for the airport. Our flight back to Brussels was 7:50am this morning, so we spent another wonderful night in the airport. Luckily, the Dublin airport was slightly more accommodating than the Charleroi airport in Belgium, so we got to sleep on the booths outside of McDonalds. It was definitely not 5-star, but it was decent.

Overall, Ireland was a huge success.

But that's not all for this post! I promised you some Dutch, so here it is. Better late than never, right?

I know I'm kinda going a little backwards here, but it makes sense in some crazy way, so just go with it. Now, I'm sure some of you noticed that part of my title is in Dutch. Lets just say that after a week of intensive Dutch class (5 hours a day) and four hours a week since then, I'm relatively fluent. Ik ben Maeda. Ik woon in Leuven. Ik ben geboren in Virginia. Ik ben student, en ik studeer communicatiewettenschappen. I'm not joking, that's Dutch. It means I am Maeda. I live in Leuven. I was born in Virginia. I am a student, and I study communications. If German and English had an awkward one-night stand resulting in an unwanted pregnancy that nobody loved, it would be Dutch. Dutch is the most ridiculous language, but as much as I rag on it, I can't say that I hate it. It's not too difficult, but I can't shake the feeling that some of it has to be made up. There's no way that dit, dat and dank u are real words. If that's true, then my 14 year old sister is fluent in Dutch.

OKTOBERFEST!

Imagine a world where drinking massive amounts of beer before 10am is not only accepted, but encouraged. Imagine a place where men and women, of all ages, some in t-shirts, some in heels, some in full-out lederhosen, can come together to enjoy the same activity. Imagine the most chaotic mess of people and beer and pretzels and laughter.

Imagine Oktoberfest, in Munich, Germany. It was completely different from what I expected, probably because I didn't really know what to expect. Unlike some of the other girls, I didn't do any research on Oktoberfest, and was semi-excited to go. This whole trip I've been very go-with-the flow, which is very unlike me. It's a new experience, and I'm definitely enjoying it. Anyway, back to Oktoberfest.

Oktoberfest is a month long celebration of binge drinking and crazy-good times. We planned our trip back in April; the only trip we planned so far in advance. It was extremely expensive, for both the flight and the hostel, but completely worth it. We arrived in Munich on Friday, September 30th around 2ish, and decided to check out Dachu, the first concentration camp in Germany. When I walked through the gates, my heart stopped. Obviously I had learned about the horrors of the Holocaust and the concentration camps in school, but it was completely different seeing it in real life. I believe in the good in everyone, that if you look hard enough, you can find that one good quality in all people. Seeing Dachu and how the Jews were treated made it hard for me to believe in that philosophy. Hitler was an evil man, and the way his men treated the people forced to live in the concentration camp makes me nauseous. They were treated like animals, humiliated and tortured on a daily basis. I'm struggling to find the words to accurately express how Dachu made me feel. It was a life-changing experience, and even though the trip was planned around Oktoberfest, I'm glad we stopped at Dachu.

After Dachu, we went to the hostel to check in. We booked with a company called Hostival, a traveling hostel company that specializes in large events like Oktoberfest. Again, I hadn't researched the place, but some of the girls had, and were very hesitant to spend the night there. They told me that people suggested bringing lots of layers, because it got really cold at night. It made sense when we saw Hostival, because the rooms were literally tarps placed over a platform. There were no real walls. Half the girls stopped dead when they saw the place, and refused to even walk inside to talk to the receptionist (a teenage girl dressed in a lowcut leopard-print dress, spike heels and scrubs). Katie and I were brave, and we checked in while the rest of the group frantically tried to contact the closes Marriott. Checking in was a hassle, because there were a bunch of drunk guests lounging around on the couch, yelling and stumbling around. I was a little taken aback when I realized the drunk idiots were part of the staff, but I kept thinking "it's all part of the experience". We decided to at least LOOK at our rooms before going to a hotel, and Katie and I managed to convince the other girls to try it out for the night. A good meal of authentic German food and a large pint of beer helped encourage everyone to try to be positive about our crappy situation, and we spent a restless and freezing cold night at the hostel. We slept two to a bed, partly for warmth, and partly for protection.

I woke up at 6 relatively well rested, ready to go get our spots at the beer tent. We waited in a line for about a half hour, and then literally flowed with the crowd inside the tent. It was a huge building crammed with benches, and we managed to snag one for our little group. Then the beers starting coming. It was 9:23am. Oktoberfest had officially begun. The rest of the morning was a blur of camera flashes and soft pretzels the size of my head, singing and chanting USA chants. It was an experience I'll never forget.

Ohhh yeahhh, France . . . Oops!

Okay, so it's been a few days since I've last written. Okay, so it's been like a few weeks. Okay okay, so it's been almost a month. Get over it, I'm a busy woman. There's a lot of Leuven-exploring and bar-hopping (sorry Mom) and Dublin-trip-planning and facebook-stalking to do. But I promised you the rest of France, and I'm sure you've all been waiting with baited breath, so here goes.

After Paris was Normandy. On our way there, we visited a church, and got a tour by the cutest old man tour guide in the world. We each had special headsets that were somehow magically connected to his microphone, so when he talked quietly, we could all hear it loudly in our ears. His English was rough, but he clearly loved the church, and kept making awkward jokes that only he would laugh at. And I don't think he understood the correct definition of "bitches", because he used it as a synonym for "prostitutes". Twice. I listened intently to his words, but I found out later that about 5 seconds into the recorded tour, Tissy found a way to switch channels to the Chinese tour, and spent her time changing everyone elses'. After the Cathedral of Chartres we left for Sant Malo, our first beach town. Unfortunately, it was like 50 degrees out, so swimming wasn't really an option. But the town was quaint, and we got some free time to walk the streets and do some shopping.

(Quick side note. While the Europeans have no problem staying out clubbing until 6am, apparently all the shopkeepers or winkliers have a strict, old-lady bedtime of 7:30, and close every store and restaurant at 7. It's quite inconvenient.)

Sant Malo was fun, but it definitely was not a bar town. That night we all decided to go out to this little Irish pub around the corner, but when we got there, it was dead. Our modest group of 17 outnumbered the patrons by 17 to 1. Including the bartender. So we walked up to the high wall surrounding the entire town, and looked out at the tide. The next day we went to le Mont-Saint-Michel, which is a (you guessed it, another church) that was pretty much built in the middle of a swamp. With quicksand. Dr. Hughes actually warned us against going out into the sand/swamp area, because people have gotten sucked up by quicksand. Hmm, cool.

In order to get to the cathedral, we had to climb 10 zillion stairs and hike up an uncomfortably narrow path. The cathedral was beautiful and the tour itself was interesting, but our dragon-lady tour guide was the best part. She warned us in the very beginning "If you speak, you die" in a very thick French accent. She looked right at our group when she said it, even though there were other people on her tour. After that warning, Tissy made it a point to stay in the back of the group and talked the entire time. After Mont-Saint-Michel we went back to Sant Malo, where we did more shopping and exploring of the town. It was nice to have a lot of free time, but it was frustrating because we got back so late in the afternoon that everything was closed.

The next day was our last day in France, and we woke up at the crack of dawn for breakfast and left for Bayaux. (Another side note: free breakfasts are awesome. Great perk, especially for someone, like me, who doesn't normally eat breakfast. When it's free, I'll eat it. Plus France always has croissants for breakfast. Heavenly.) Bayaux is home to the Bayaux Tapestry, a 70 meter long tapestry portraying the Norman invasion. I really liked this part, and I thought it was amazing that someone was able to stitch every little detail in the tapestry. The tour was good too, because it was individual headsets telling the story in the tapestry piece by piece. I could go at my own pace, and pause the recording when I wanted to spend time just looking. Sometimes I feel rushed on these tours, and I don't get the chance to just stop and look. I understand that we want to see a lot in a short amount of time, but sometimes I just want to walk at my own pace, and see things my way.

After the Bayaux Tapestry we went to Arromanches, where the D-Day Invasion Beach and Museum was. We started at Pointe du Hoc, a high cliff, where German soldiers set up base during World War II. shooting down at the Army's 2nd Ranger Battalion landed at a beach below. A few weeks before I left for Belgium, I had been flipping channels, and landed on the History Channel. They were doing a story about Pointe du Hoc, and I was sucked in. It was a fascinating story. The Germans thought that they were safe up on the cliff, because it was so high that it seemed impossible to climb. But the Americans were determined and a little crazy, because they charged the cliffs anyway, even while enemy fire rained down on them. American ships helped a little, by bombing the top of the cliff. We saw the huge craters that the bombs left. It was incredible. We got to walk inside a German bunker, and saw what was left of the guns. I was walking on history.

After Pointe du Hoc we went to Omaha Beach and saw the American Cemetery there. The cemetery went on for days, just rows and rows of white crosses. Although I don't know of any relatives that fought in World War II, my heart went out to the thousands of soldiers who lost their lives fighting for freedom.

The Normandy American Cemetery and Memorial in France is located on the site of the temporary    American St. Laurent Cemetery, established by the U.S. First Army on June 8, 1944 and the first American cemetery on European soil in World War II. The cemetery site, at the north end of its ½ mile access road, covers 172.5 acres and contains the graves of 9,387 of our military dead, most of whom lost their lives in the D-Day landings and ensuing operations. On the Walls of the Missing in a semicircular garden on the east side of the memorial are inscribed 1,557 names. Rosettes mark the names of those since recovered and identified.
 
The memorial consists of a semicircular colonnade with a loggia at each end containing large maps and narratives of the military operations; at the center is the bronze statue, "Spirit of American Youth." An orientation table overlooking the beach depicts the landings in Normandy. Facing west at the memorial, one sees in the foreground the reflecting pool; beyond is the burial area with a circular chapel and, at the far end, granite statues representing the U.S. and France.

The cemetery is open to the public daily except on December 25 and January 1. Hours of operation are 9 a.m. to 6 p.m. from April 15 to September 15, and 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. the rest of the year. It is open on host country holidays. When the cemetery is open to the public, staff members are on duty in the Visitor Center to answer questions and escort relatives to grave and memorial sites.

That night we had our second dinner paid for by Loyola, and the food was fantastic. I had salad and fish and an apple pastry for dessert. And all the wine we could drink. It was nice to be able to relax with good food and great company, and it was the perfect ending to our France trip. The next morning we packed up our belongings and headed home to Belgium.

That awkward moment when . . .

 . . . you realize you probably should've taken French instead of Spanish in High School. We just returned from a week long trip to Paris, Brittany, and Normandy France, and, even with the slight language barrier, it was an amazing trip. The trip started off great; we had to be downstairs, ready to leave by 8:10, and my alarm decides to not go off. So I jolt awake at 7:59, and run around like a madwoman gathering last minute things and trying to look somewhat presentable. After a zillion hour bus ride, (I think it was only about 6 hours, but we were told it would be 4) we finally made it to Paris. And then everything was worth it.

We started off strong, by walking/taking the Metro (awful experience, more details later) to Napoleon's Tomb, and then this gorgeous fountain (with small children actually swimming in it!) and then to the Eiffel Tower. It didn't quite hit me until I saw the famous monument that we were in Paris. Paris. Like, Paris, Paris. It was unreal. The Eiffel Tower took my breath away, it was so gorgeous. I couldn't take enough pictures of it, and we started off far away, all snapping pics like crazy, even though our director Dr. Hughes reassured us that we would eventually be getting closer. We were acting like it would disappear if we didn't take half a million pics every two feet. After a long day of walking, we stopped by the hotel (which had wi-fi! Yay wi-fi!) and then left for dinner. We had reservations at this charming little restaurant just up the street from our hotel (which was in Paris) and we had a limited menu to order from. I ordered escargot for my appetizer. While in France right? It didn't taste too bad actually, nice and garlicky, but a little too chewy for my taste. After about the third one, I remembered that I was eating snails, and got a little freaked out.

Our second day started super early again, with us all gathering in the lobby for an 8:30 mass at Notre Dame. Which, if you didn't know, is in Paris. The mass was boring (sorry God) and all in French, but the church was beautiful, so I entertained myself by looking at the details in the stained glass and watching the people around me. Afterwards we visited the Archeological Crypte, Ste Chapelle, Musée de Cluny and Musée d'Orsay. The Crypte was a little dull, but the chapel was beautiful, with huge stained glass windows. The only downside about the museums was that I felt a little rushed. I understand that we were on a tight schedule and the museums were very large, but it would have been nice to be able to wander a little bit. Two of my favorite pieces of artwork were in both Musée de Cluny and Musée d'Orsay. In Musée de Cluny there was an entire room filled with large tapestries of unicorns and lions and queens. It's much more beautiful then it sounds, almost child-like. It was pretty cool. In Musée d'Orsay there was a collection of Monet paintings, and my favorite was a painting of a woman with a parasol standing in a field. Its simplicity made it beautiful.

After our museum tours we had some free time, and a bunch of us went to this adorable little Greek restaurant for dinner. It was delicious. Then we met up with the rest of the group for a boat tour on the Seine. We saw the Eiffel Tower and Notre Dame all lit up and beautiful. It was absolutely amazing.

On Monday we got to sleep in a little bit, and met with our group at 9:45. We took the metro (again) and headed for the Louvre. In Paris. Alright, let me explain why I hate the metro. First of all, it's dirty. Our director gave us tickets, but they were so complicated! Half the time they didn't work in the ticket booth, so someone would have to awkwardly crawl under the booth or sneak in with someone else, and you had to have them when you got off the train too. That was stressful, trying to remember where I put my nine thousandth metro ticket and which one was valid and which ones were used. And that was just the process of getting on and off the train! Once we got on to the metro it wasn't bad, except when it got crowded. I swear, one man chose MY pole to hold on to, even though there were plenty of other poles. He touched me. I was silently freaking out for the entire five minute journey. It was traumatizing. Anyway, Louvre.

There was a common phrase repeated throughout our group for the whole day we went to the Louvre; if you went to the Louvre and spent three seconds looking at every piece of artwork, it would take you three months, night and day. The Louvre was huge! We were rushed through to look at select pieces, including Venus de Milo and, my girl, Mona. We had been warned that the Mona Lisa picture was actually pretty small, and it was enclosed in thick bulletproof glass and surrounded by tourists. It wasn't very hard for us to sneak up to the front of the line, but it was a very small, plain-looking picture. We took our pictures and then were shoved out of the way by really mean tourists. (You all know the kind I mean . . . ) This was a common occurrence throughout our visit to France. There were many of these certain types of tourists huddling in groups, taking obnoxious pictures with certain poses, blocking everyone else from seeing the sights . . .

After the Louvre we went to the Arc de Triomphe and climbed 284 steps to the very top. There we saw a birds-eye view of Paris, and it took my breath away. You could see for miles, and I became mesmerized by the beauty of Paris. I was jerked out of my daydream by an extremely rude woman who said "Move!" and then literally pushed me away. I was so shocked that someone had actually just pushed me out of the way that I didn't have time to react, I just slowly moved to the side. After I told all my friends and we all agreed that she was a cranky old woman and I did nothing wrong and I was just perfect, we walked down the
Champs-Elysées to see all of the fashionable yet ridiculously expensive Parisian stores. We had a few disagreements along the way, but that was only because we were tired and cranky and starving. We sat out in a little park and drank wine and champagne and just talked. It was really relaxing and definitely needed.

Afterwards I was dragged against my will to yet another church with yet another beautiful view of Paris. I know you think I'm being sarcastic (and you'd be half right) but I was so hungry and when I get hungry I get really cranky. Later, whenever I would mention being hungry, people would rush to give me food. I didn't think I was THAT bad . . .

The day after was a free day, and we decided to take advantage of Paris and check out the Catacombs and Versailles. The Catacombs were really cool, but really scary at the same time. I was glad I saw them, but the low ceilings and dimly lit environment, plus the walls and walls of bones and skulls were definitely freaking me out a little bit. Versailles was incredible, and we separated into smaller groups and went on our own little tour. This was where I narrowly escaped being crushed to death as a huge swarm of "certain tourists" came rushing towards me, eager to see up close and personal the Queen's bed. I barely made it out alive. I don't want to talk about that tragic experience.

 

That day concluded our last day in Paris, and we left for Brittany the next morning. I don't want to overwhelm everyone with this super long blog post, so I'll save our last three days in France for another post. Plus, I'm just really tired of writing.

Ciao for now!

Belgium Birthday

Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me, happy birthday dear Maedaaaa, happy birthday to me! Yesterday (August 30th) I celebrated my 21st birthday half on a plane, half in Belgium, completely zombie-like jet lagged. The plane ride was looonnnggggg, and we arrived in Brussels at 7:15 am. That's only 1:15 am back home, so it was really weird to be think about the fact that our day was just getting started. It passed as a blur of loud-speaking Dutch and bikes whizzing by. I swear, by the end of the week I'm going to get nailed by a biker. There are bells for a reason folks!!

We're still wondering around the city, getting used to things and checking out our surroundings. Yesterday we got registered at the University and got our official KU Leuven ID card. I look real cute, don't worry. Today we ventured to the grocery store, where I bought a gigantic loaf of bread. For some reason, people don't eat around here?? We didn't get a chance to eat lunch in between our two tours, and we don't have dinner arrangements. That's okay. I can easily live off bread.

I met my roommate Virginia  yesterday. She scared the crap out of me by popping out from behind the door, but her overly-enthusiastic attitude and puppy-dog eyes totally make up for it. Plus, she got me a little plant as a birthday present. How cute! I haven't attempted Spanish with her yet, (to be honest, I'm a little nervous!) but I plan on trying whenever I see her next.

I've been in Belgium for a little over 24 hours, and I've learned a few things:

1. Belgium loves deposits. (Bike deposit, key deposit, grocery cart rental deposit)

2. Bikes take priority over everything. If you're in the way, move. Use your spidy-senses to tell that there is a bike coming. You should always just know.

3. Wi-fi is an unknown concept here. 

4. Dutch is hard. And some of the words are totally made-up.

and finally 5. Leuven is absolutely wonderful! The buildings and architecture are out of this world beautiful, and all of the people I've met are really nice. Things are like home but different, enough to feel comfortable, but different enough for me to realize I'm in a different country. I really love it here, and I'm excited to get to know the city more, and be able to, one day, call it home.