Because Sometimes You Wake Up Saturday Morning & Decide to Go to Austria

There's a sentence I never thought I would write (and also probably a bit long for a title...).  But, hey, when you live in southern Germany, and are friends with people just as prone to spontaneity (or, arguably, just as lacking in common sense...), it is absolutely a thing that can be done.  And it was a great idea, just in case anyone was wondering.

Now, I should probably set a little context.  In actuality, this adventure wasn't entirely un-premedidated.  George and I had been toying with the idea of going somewhere over the weekend all week.  This was back in early March, and I think we were both starting to get a bit stir-crazy.  It had been awhile since the Christmas break, the weather wasn't great, and we just needed a change of scenery.  Plus, pretty much everyone else in our group was off doing something fun (Laura was in London, Sarah headed for Zurich, and Adrien up to Cologne for Carnival).  We couldn't possibly be the only ones without exciting stories come our next group gathering.

I must admit, however, that the original plan was much more conservative than what we actually ended up doing (truth be told, our actual itinerary was probably bordering on being TOO ambitious.  No regrets here, though).  The first plan was just to catch a train and spend the day exploring either Heidelberg or Tübingen.  Both cities are meant to be classically beautiful, perfect representations of the best that Germany has to offer, at least aesthetically speaking (this in comparison to Stuttgart, which, while a fantastic place to live, will not be winning any beauty contests in the near future).  It should also be noted that both cities are within an hour and a half of Stuttgart.

Somewhere during the discussion, one of us (I am going to blame this one on George, actually), suggested renting a car.  Having wheels opened up a whole new realm of possibilities, as Stuttgart is beautifully situated within a three hours' drive of the Swiss, French, Austrian, and Belgian border.  The world was our oyster.  We could check off a laundry list of places and be back in time for dinner.  I was sold.

Next, though, came the surprisingly complicated aspect of finding a car to rent.  We decided just to go to the main train station.  Surely there had to be plenty of cars available for random weekend trips.  And initially, it seemed too easy.  The first place we checked did have a car, for less than we were anticipating, AND we could keep it until Monday morning (Sunday was now fair game too...).  Then, we had our first hitch; they wouldn't accept my credit card without my passport (apparently an Illinois driver's license is only good for drinking...).

In an attempt to avoid a trip to Kornwestheim and back, we decided to check and see if the other car rental companies didn't have that policy.  We never got to find out (though I can now say it's a universal requirement...), as none of them had cars.  So, I rushed back to the house, grabbed my passport and phone charger, headed back into the city, we picked up the car, and were off!

I should also mention that, while I was completing my rat race to and from the house, Georg and I independently came to the decision that we should find somewhere to stay overnight (enablers..and we've only gotten worse about it, as you'll see when I describe our trip to Greece...).  It was already noon, and we didn't want to spend all our time commuting back and forth.

And so we finally set off at around one pm.  Not exactly the ideal time to begin a weekend road trip, but as it was so late in the day, we encountered virtually no traffic.  Our spirits rose as we drove further and further from the city.  George was delighted to have a car at his disposal, and I was ecstatic to discover that my iPhone's music could play through our little car's (surprisingly) decent speakers.  Poor George...he was a captive audience for my eclectiv & OCD deejaying skills (or lack thereof).

It took us just over an hour to reach our first stop, Baden-Baden.  We didn't really stop, though; just kind of drove through the center and saw the baths.  It's a pleasant little town, but I was too excited to see the Alps and the Black Forest to have the patience for a city.  It also was quite hilly, which gave George many opportunities to illustrate the "biting point" of a manual car.  That's a skill I still need to acquire; I've been quite lucky in that both the van and the SmartCar are automatics.  However, I've also been watching a lot of Top Gear lately, and I think a manual would be a lot more fun.  Something for a rainy day...

After our little detour, we went back on the open road and headed for the Black Forest.  It took us about 90 minutes to reach, and we drove along the main road for another half-hour before pulling off and stopping at a small lake (whose name now escapes me).  There, I proved I am a child at heart by unnecessarily climbing on rocks and slipping around while George walked like a normal adult would and made sure I didn't kill myself.  It's a good thing that he's so tolerant of my hi-jinks or he may have strangled me by the end of the weekend.  During our stroll around the lake, we decided our next stop would be Konstanz, which is just next to the Swiss border.  We wanted to see Lake Constance (or, "Boden See" in German), as the little taster we had just experience only made us want something more spectacular.  It took us about two hours to reach the city, then another forty-five minutes to get into and park near the city centre (on account of THE most congested round-about that I have ever seen, and some awful drivers).

Still lots of snow in March

The (only slightly) hazardous path

Looking out on the Black Forest

However, it was well-worth the effort.  Konstanz is beautiful, and we probably didn't do it justice with our brief stop for coffee, but while waiting in the roundabout, we decided to push through to Innsbruck, Austria.  Since George hadn't brought his passport, we had to take the long way around to get there (Swiss border control is much stricter than the non-existent Austrian one).  This meant we had at least four more hours of driving ahead of us.  It was already 6pm and dark at this point.  Probably if we'd had a third, rational person with us, we would have stopped for the night there.  Not with us, though.

Some random arch in Konstanz 

A church in Konstanz.  With nice lighting.

We became a bit turned around when we tried to get out of Konstanz (including nearly driving onto a ferry across the Lake...) but eventually found our way back onto the motorway.  After driving for roughly two more hours, we stopped in Bregenz, Austria.  It's just over the German border.  By this point, we were famished; George had only had a small breakfast and I stupidly hadn't eaten anything on account of how excited I was.  We went to the first restaurant we found.  I don't know if it really was spectacular or if I was just that hungry.  Regardless, I thoroughly enjoyed my apple curry and George said that his schnitzel was excellent as well (clearly, he has adapted to living in Germany...).  

And so we began the final leg of our journey, of which we grossly estimated the length of.  We had planned on it taking about 2.5-3 hours; it took a solid four, and we will forever remember it as the route with an ungodly number of tunnels.  And we aren't talking harmless, tiny, little, blink-and-you-missed-it tunnels.  These things were LONG.  The worst one was nearly 16 kilometers (that's ten miles, my fellow Americans).  George and I were on the verge of losing our minds.  We started betting on how high the temperature would rise in the middle of the tunnels to occupy ourselves.  

Oh, and also, when we weren't going stir-crazy in tunnels, there was a blizzard going on outside of them as we were now properly going through the Austrian Alps.  Thankfully, our little German car had snow tires on, and George is a good driver.  Had I been in the driver's seat, we may never have arrived in Innsbruck at all.

At around 1 am, we FINALLY reached Innsbruck.  We couldn't tell if it was worth it yet or not, but we had a more immediate issue to deal with: finding a hotel.  Again, this was another element (consequence?) of our spontaneity that we underestimated the difficulties of.  We drove around the city and ran in and out of various hotels for about an hour before giving up and paying more than we had hoped just so that we could finally get some sleep.  For the record, we ended up at a Best Western.  Ironically, it was the first place we inquired at, and, yes, we did return to that receptionist with our tails between our legs.

Sunday morning, we woke up (relatively) early (considering we didn't get to sleep until after 2 am) at around 9 am.  I was the first one awake, and I pretty much hustled George out of the room to make sure we didn't miss the free breakfast (because God forbid we not get our money's worth).  It was perfectly adequate.

After gorging ourselves (well, after I gorged myself...George showed a bit more restraint), we spent the morning exploring the old town city centre, and followed a path along the river.  It really was quite lovely; the Alps surround the city, and everything is green.  I was in seventh heaven; this was the first time I had seen proper mountains since leaving New Zealand almost two years ago.  Again, it is a good thing that George is so patient, because I am a lot to deal with when my spirits are that high.

The view from our walk along the river

Walking through Old Town.  George forgot he was with a real tourist.

Stunning, right?

Around 11:30 am, we hit the road again.  In an attempt to avoid all the tunnels (and another toll like the 10 euro one we paid the evening before...) we took a different, mountain road out of Austria.  It was incredible.  Spectacular views of the Alps, lots of hairpin turns for George, and a manageable number of tunnels (and the ones we did go through were of normal lengths).  

Admittedly, not the greatest photo, but take my word: it was awesome.

It only took us about 2.5 hours to reach our next stop: the famous "Cinderella" castle, Neuschwanstein, in Bavaria (which is a state in Germany in case anyone was confused...).  Upon our arrival, the first order of business was to locate a bathroom, as I was about ready to pee my pants (cosmit payback for me cackling at George the day before when he had been in the same dire straits upon us reaching Konstanz), then grabbed a coffee at a nearby cafe.

As it was already quite late in the day (and we still hadn't ruled out stopping by Tübingen on the way back to Stuttgart...), and George had already been to Neuschwanstein in the past, we decided to forego the tour (obviously those of you who know me well realize how heartbreaking that was...not) and just climb up and take photos around the outside.  

The walk up to the castle was (as George had warned) fairly long and entirely uphill.  We made it up in about twenty minutes (faster than most of our fellow walkers, who held us up, but slower than the horse-drawn carriages).  The weather wasn't really cooperating with us at this point, so we were both quite damp by this point, and the views weren't QUITE as spectacular as they can be.  It was still impressive though, and the gloomy, isty weather added some of its own spooky ambience.  Not exactly what you'd see with the copycat version in Orlando and California though.  

Neuschwanstein

Spooky

After taking photos around the castle, we headed back down and walked over to a nearby lake.  I am easily impressed by bodies of water, and this was no exception.  I pretty much just sighed with happiness the entire time, while George mocked me.  Really, this trip reminded me of New Zealand so much that I couldn't help but be delighted.

But really, how could you not like that?

We then hit the road one last time (we had, sensibly, at this point, finally decided that Tübingen was not going to happen on this particular trip) to get back to Stuttgart.  It was 5 pm at this point, and we had about three hours of driving left.  We stopped for food, then plowed through back to Stuttgart.

Now, with two NORMAL people, that would be the end of the anecdotes.  Not George and I.  We sometimes even managed to make turning in the car a project. I mean, returning a rental car should not be a difficult endeavor.  We managed to make it so.  First, we drove into what we thought was a parking garage, but was actually the basement of a big bank (don't ask me how we did that...I don't think we could do it again even if we wanted to).  We then found the right parking garage, but entered on the wrong level (George also knocked down some cones, resulting in a telling-off from some old German guy who we later had to ask for directions from).  Once we were told we were in the wrong spot, we had to pay to go out, then go back in on the right level, and ditch the car.

By the time all was said and done, it was 11 pm when I walked into the house.  I immediately passed out (without even considering taking a shower...I know, pretty gross).  And then it was an early start for both George and I the next day.  

However, I have no regrets.  It was an awesome weekend.  While we didn't exactly behave sensiblym we saw a lot, and all the driving at least gives us (well, mostly George) bragging rights.  Plus, while we were both physically tired at the end of the weekend, emotionally (at least for me), it was rejuvenating.  I had been in a bit of a rut, and getting out of Kornwestheim and Stuttgart and traveling somewhere new helped to remind me of all the reasons I did this in the first place.

The family is very nice, and being an au pair is not hard.  But that's half of the problem; I'm lacking a challenge and adequate stimulation.  Travel cures that.  Good thing I planned so many trips after that...this was the beginning of a domino effect.

I'll Be Home for Christmas; Or, How Parts of "Home Alone" Became My Life

Hello, everybody.  After a VERY long hiatus, I've finally sat down back at my computer to update this thing.  That's the great irony of blogging; when you have the most interesting topics to write on about life, there's the least amount of time to actually do it.  I am months behind at the moment, so my apologies if it takes me another few days (or weeks...) to catch up.

Anyway, as most of you know, I was unexpectedly able to come home to Chicago for Christmas.  That was not originally in the plans; my grandpa was meant to come visit just after Christmas and through the new year to do a tour of Italy with me.  However, he ran into some health issues; his carotid artery was 80% blocked, so he had surgery right away.  As it was a fairly substantial surgery, he couldn't fly immediately afterwards, so we rescheduled our trip for August.  And he offered to fly me home for Christmas, which I (of course) accepted.  I must not be quite as independent as I think I am (or perhaps I'm more sentimental than I realize...) because the thought of missing out on Christmas at home with my family was torturous.  No longer did I have to be insanely jealous of all my friends here when they talked about going home to see their people.

By the way, in case anyone was concerned, my grandfather is healthy as a horse.  He was a trooper through the surgery, and you'd never guess that he's seventy-years-old.  He thinks his scar makes him look like Frankenstein, but it's healing beautifully.  The spider bite/staph infection surgical scar on my chest is much more unsightly.  I do look like the bride of Frankenstein under bright lights.

My next quest was then to find a flight at Christmastime, with less than three weeks' notice, that was not going to cost the same as buying a new kidney on the black market.  The situation looked pretty grim initially; finding a flight that cost less than $2000 that involved less than fifty hours of travel seemed as likely as walking a block anywhere inGermany and not seeing someone (male or female) sporting a scarf (i.e. slim to none).

However, through some creative booking, I did manage to find a way.  Instead of flying from the Stuttgart airport, I booked a flight out of Frankfurt.  It's only about 90 minutes on the ICE from Stuttgart (and about 30 euros), and it's a much bigger airport, with a lot more flights.  So that alone knocked off about $500.  I also took advantage of the fact that I am still (for the moment...) under twenty-six, so I used a website called Student Universe.  While they don't always save you a substantial amount of money, it's always worth checking, and I found some good bargains in the past (my flight to Stuttgart from Chicago in the fall was an $1100 flight from SwissAir that I paid $400 for).  Ultimately, we ended up paying $1300 for a round-trip flight from Germany to Chicago at Christmas.  Not too shabby.

My biggest worry for this trip was taking the train from Stuttgart to Frankfurt.  As a child of suburbia, relying on public transportation is still worrying.  What if I went to the wrong platform?  Or got off at the wrong stop? Or if the train is running late?  Or breaks down? (this is where having an active imagination is crippling as you think of every possible scenario, regardless of if it's actually possible).

And it didn't help that I didn't exactly start off my journey in a prudent manner.  The night before I left, George and I met up for a farewell drink, lost track of time, and I missed the last S-Bahn back into Kornwestheim.  So, I slept on his couch, then woke up at 5 am to be back in time to finish packing and take care of my morning duties for Nicole and the kids.

As it turns out, my worries about the train were entirely and completely unfounded.  That was the smoothest (arguably, the ONLY smooth part...) part of the entire journey.  The ICE is quite a bit nicer than most planes I have been on, it was on time, and I even got in a little nap before arriving at the airport.

Which is where all the fun really began.  My flight was indirect and through AirCanada.  I was meant to fly from Frankfurt to Montreal, then Montreal to Chicago.  Upon check-in, I was informed that the flight to Montreal was delayed by two-and-a-half hours, so I would miss my connecting flight to Chicago and have to stay in Montreal overnight.  In a moment (some would argue that I have more than moments of this..) of being a stereotypical American, the thought of spending a substantial amount of time in Canada was unacceptable.  So, with the help of some contact rewetting drops, and Bon Iver on a loop, I convinced AirCanada to book me in on a new flight.  I now would fly from Frankfurt to Ottawa, then through to Chicago, and be home in time for dinner.  Or so I thought.

Naturally, the fun didn't end there.  While the flight to Ottawa boarded on time, we sat on the runway for over an hour before actually taking off.  This was punctuated by repeated assurances from the flight crew that it would "just be another fifteen minutes." (yes, that is a real thing that they do.)

The flight itself went off without incident (though I will say that the food and quality of economy seating in Air Canada does not hold a candle to either SwissAir or especially AirNewZealand.  However, as a result of our late departure, myself and about ten other passengers had only about forty minutes to collect our bags, get through Canadian and US customs before catching the connecting flight to Chicago.  As you'd probably expect, none of us made it on the flight.  I was the closest to accomplishing that miracle, as my suitcase did somehow manage to make it on the plane to Chicago.

And so then began the delightful process of trying to get back.  The group of us first dealt with a very surly United agent, who refused to do anything.  She essentially said that we were AirCanada's problem, as it was their flight's late arrival, not their flight's (early...) departure that caused the issue.

We all angrily commiserated for a bit before an Air Canada agent finally came to sort us out.  What it came down to was that they had to put us in a motel for the night (no more flights that evening...the Ottawa airport is small), and then fly us all out in the morning.  To which my response (which I accidentally did say out loud...I blame sleep deprivation and travel exhaustion) was, "A night in Canada?  This is my nightmare!".  Which rather shocked the (very nice) Canadian girl in line behind me.  Barney Stinson doesn't have anything on my feelings toward Canada, which were only enforced by this entire experience.

Next came the thirty minute cab ride from the airport to the motel, which I would assume is on the outskirts of Ottawa.  Air Canada also gave us a $14 voucher for food at the hotel restaurant (note: no entré on that menu is less than $16...).  I had soup and bruschetta, in case anyone was curious.

The room they gave me was actually kind of nice; a giant suite which could have comfortably fit a family of five.  However, the toilet wouldn't stop running, so I had to dismember it a bit before showering and collapsing on the bed.  The fact that I didn't have my suitcase also became bothersome, as I had no toiletries, and had now been wearing the same clothes for 36 hours (smelled like a daisy, in case anyone was wondering...).  So, I slept naked on the king-sized bed (probably lucky that I didn't catch a disease or shine a black light around).  I was up again at 4 am, put back on my smelly clothes, and took another cab back to the airport.

I checked in and made it through security for the first flight without issue (Ottawa to Toronto), then used my other $10 meal voucher toward breakfast.  Coffee and a breakfast sandwich came to $10.26.  I gave then a $10 in USD to cover the difference, and got change back in Canadians dollars.  Just what I'd always wanted.  I'm just glad I didn't pay the difference in Euros.

This flight also left the airport late, but luckily my flight to Chicago was also delayed so it all worked out okay, even with me getting extra attention at security.  Because, apparently, the name "Meghann Marie Gallimore" sets off red flags.

Thankfully, this final flight went off smoothly, and I began the break by hip-checking my sister out of the front seat when she hopped out to help me with my bags and hug me (that position in the car is my birthright as the eldest child).  I don't know how anyone could stand to get close to me at that point, but, hey, that's what family is for right.

As much of a pain as getting home was, my bitterness quickly subsided once I put things into perspective.  This entire trip was on borrowed time, so to speak.  I was not supposed to come home at all, so even losing a day in travel was okay.  This entire time was a precious gift.

Plus, if this is the worst travel experience I ever had, I should count myself lucky.  My luggage turned up, I made it there alive, and (aside from the $2.26 on food) it didn't cost me a thing.

Also, five months later, I just find the entire situation to be a hilarious comedy of errors.  It's amazing how much perspective time gives you.

And here are some photos of the Stuttgart Christmas market. Just to keep this post from being ENTIRELY an angry rant of text.

Schlossplatz. Looking lovely

Some truly delicious looking desserts. I used up all my willpower not eating any of it. 

A very small, but rather attractive Ferris wheel. 

Another shot of Schlossplatz. Notice the (in George's words) "Meg-sized" child's train set. You actually can ride it, but we never did. Should have borrowed Maja one day for that. 

Christmas in Germany

Germany, as a whole, gets really into Christmas.  "Weinachtsmarkts" or "Christkindl" markets are in nearly every city, in varying sizes.  Even little Kornwestheim, which is a branch of Ludwigsburg, which is 15 minutes away from Stuttgart and it's massive Christmas market, puts together their own tiny version for a weekend.  Even the Grinch himself would have a hard time getting into the Christmas spirit in this country.  You would have to work very hard to stay grumpy at this time of year.

Especially considering the fact that the "Gluhwein", which is essentially a warm spiced wine (I guess we would call it mead?) is served about every ten paces, regardless of the size of the Christmas market.  It's good (the apple version is my favorite), but it also packs a punch (which, if you're like me, you may not realize until it's too late...).  They also serve something that could maybe go in the same family as eggnog, but it's pretty gross.  Egg liquor is not a thing that should exist.  However, it's almost pure alcohol, so if a fast drunk is what you're looking for, or if you have an exceptional tolerance, that may be just the thing to order.

Anyway, the best part of all the booths at these Christmas markets is to look up at the roofs.  They're decorated so extravagantly, and most of them are extremely creative.  It's quite clear that a lot of the vendors spend a great deal of time thinking through their decorations during the year (or maybe they just reuse the same ideas over and over again...I have no context for comparison).  They are mostly selling knick-knack type items, winter gear, food, and alcohol.  I haven't bought anything other than Gluhwein, but everything smells amazing so I would assume the food is also decent.  I'm sure I'll find out eventually about that element, but probably won't buy anything that can't immediately be ingested.  I'm not one for scarves or ornaments, and I would question my ability to pack or ship anything home from here in such a manner that it would arrive in one piece.

Speaking of home, I am actually ecstatic about the fact that I will be going home for the holidays.  My grandfather was meant to visit, and then we were going to travel through Italy, and while I am disappointed that that has had to be postponed for health reasons, it is actually a huge relief to be headed home for a bit.  I really thought I could handle being away for Christmas...I've never had issues with homesickness in the past, but there's just something about being gone for this time of year that was really, really bumming me out.  My family is pretty close, and we've always made Christmas special, and I think missing out on that for the first time in 23 years is just something I am not ready for yet.  It also would have been pretty lonely once all my friends left for their homes.  And I'm sure Nicole and the kids would have been really nice and mostly willing to include me, but I wouldn't have wanted to intrude on their Christmas.  It will be so good to see my family and friends and dogs and cats and just be back in the states for a bit.  I do like a lot of elements to life in Germany, but it still hasn't succeeded in passing by New Zealand or home.

Although, as far as Christmas at home goes, I could be playing off nostalgia a bit.  My parents, siblings and I may want to kill each other after thirty-six hours together.  Though in this case, I severely doubt it.  We weren't expecting to all be together again for another seven to nine months, so this two weeks is an unexpected gift, and I think we will take full advantage of it.  Plus, it means I'll get to visit the lovely Chicago Christkindl market and compare it to a real German one.  I'll try to be unbiased, but that's unlikely.  So I'll take photos and then you can compare them yourselves.

So, here follows a few photos from the various Christmas markets.  I'll probably keep adding onto them...I've been forgetting to take pictures a lot lately, and as a result, my photography skills are not quite as good as they once were.

One of the Christmas trees for the Stuttgart market

The Nutcracker in Stuttgart.  I'll let the photo speak for itself.

The Ludwigsburg market.  It's the favorite of my family.  But as an American, I must admit to being impressed by the sheer size and gaudiness of the Stuttgart one.

Ludwigsburg does have its own charm though...

This is What Happens When You're Living Rather than Traveling

Let me apologize for taking AGES to update this.  The problem with traveling all the time is that I usually have more to say than I can fit into one post.  And also that there's not usually any free time (or I'm just too lazy to make time...) for me to go into as great of detail as I could.  But, hey, there has to be some elements left for me to bore you all with once I return to the states.

Anyway, the GOOD thing about traveling all the time (besides, the obvious of, well, traveling all the time), is that it creates very natural, narrative-type entries for this.

Which means that while spending the past month and a half staying put in Stuttgart has been at least as enjoyable as traveling (and sometimes more so), it doesn't necessarily lend itself to neat, tidy, ordered, or even particularly fascinating posts.  I guess it's time for me to recruit those writing skills that I spent four years and thousands of dollars honing.  

But, enough rambling! (see, I'm already losing out on order).  As a result of me spending all my money for the months (and then some...I can only justify so many trips to the ATM pulling money from my American accounts...) in Paris and Strasbourg, I've spent the past month or so exploring Stuttgart.  And by exploring, I mostly mean going out to eat, for coffee, and drinking(this is Germany, after all).  And, to be honest, that stability has been nice.  It's also been great to have finally established a couple of different groups of friends to spend time with.  I adore the family I am living and working for, but, as I've said before, having a group of peers is essential to maintaining sanity.  Especially in the beginning, being here made me long for college, when there was always someone who you could find to give you attention at any time of day (except from between 6-8 am...and sometimes even then).  

But, getting back to business, it's just been lovely to have friends.  There are two groups which I tend to circulate between.  One I've met through Laura, as she's been kind enough to include me in outings with her friends.  They're mostly all other Americans who are also in Germans as au pairs (they all also mostly have, or have had, German boyfriends.  Must have missed the memo on that one...).  And then the other group I also met through a girl named Laura (not confusing at all...).  She's a grad student from the UK, and somehow managed to build up a group of "misfits" (as I so kindly like to describe it...).  There's her, me, a British guy named George, a Croatian girl named Sara, a French guy named Adrien, and a German girl named Martina.  They're all students, aside from George, who teaches English.

I like spending time with both groups, but at the risk of sounding snooty, it can sometimes be a bit more refreshing to not spend all my free time with au pairs.  Because when you get a group of au pairs together, the conversation tends to gravitate toward talk (i.e. complaints) about the family and the hazards of being an au pair.  It devolves into a complaint fest, where everyone tries to one-up the other on who has it worse.  It's really great conversation, and I always come off as snotty since I don't have a reason to complain.  As far as being an au pair goes, I have nothing to complain about.  I am in as ideal of a situation as I possibly could be, and have nothing negative to say about my family.  But that being said, it can be nice to just be silly and hang out with a bunch of girls my own age who are from my country.  No one makes fun of my accent (as George and Laura like to do...because obviously Brits say things "correctly" and Americans are just wrong...), and when I say particularly American things ("This Christmas market isn't as good, it's too small."  "I can't believe they made me give exact change, I'm paying THEM for something."), it doesn't come off as weird.  Though I'm definitely also not on the same page as most of them when it comes to German men.  I will admit that they do tend to be quite nice-looking, but, at the risk of fulfilling stereotypes(but there is some truth in all of them...I frequently am the loud American, particularly once alcohol is involved...), I find their humor to be lacking.  Sarcasm is not a German trait.  Not that ALL of them are not funny; just I personally haven't met a German guy who had me in fits of laughter.

With the other group, the conversation tends to be a bit more varied.  I think between the six of us, we've been to nearly every major city on the globe.  As usual, I tend to bring up the rear when it comes to travel experience, but that's not an issue in my mind.  It gives me an even bigger pool of people from whom I can get insider advice on where to travel, and what to see and do once I'm there.  Plus, Chicago, LA, and New Zealand are usually flashy enough to keep me above water as far as street cred is concerned.

Anyway, I've been having a lot of fun getting to know my way around the city (I probably only get lost every other time now) and checking out the cafes and nightlife.  I still think French coffee is better, but it's also more expensive, so it may balance out.  I've yet to find a club that I enjoy in Stuttgart (but it's hard to find a club I enjoy period...), but the bars are a lot of fun.  My personal favorite is called "Tequila Bar."  You get a free shot of tequila with every beer you order.  It's such a good deal (there's the recent college graduate showing again). 

I hope I didn't bore you all too much!  Here's a few photos of day-to-day life just so you all have some visuals to what has been going on.  I'll be writing another post shortly about the "Weinachtmarkts" that are EVERYWHERE in Germany.  Basically, it looks like Santa Claus vomited all over most of Germany at this time of year.  

This is Lina.  She is a Cocker Spaniel mix.  We go on lots of walks.

One of the randomly pretty spots we go through in Kornwestheim.

And another.

Schlossplatz.  It's the most beautiful spot in Stuttgart.  It's all decked out in Christmas now.

The group out on a Friday night.  

Hedgehogs are all over the place in Germany.  They call them "Eagles".  Which is particularly bizarre considering what an eagle is in English.

German 'spaghetti' ice cream.  It is delicious.  Though strawberry sauce in Germany is more like jam than the syrupy version that we have in the states.

Somehow, I Keep Ending Up in France

I've now officially been living in Germany for over a month.  But I think I've seen more of France than of the country which I am currently inhabiting.  I still haven't properly explored Stuttgart (actually, haven't explored it at all, let alone properly.  I don't think one coffee at a nice café and repeated trips through the main station really counts...), but, hey, I have eleven more months to do that, right?  Although, this is coming from the girl who lived in Dunedin for six months and never made it to the Otago Peninsula, which is a mere 20-minute drive away from campus, so anything is possible.  BUT, my excuse for the moment is that I should do my traveling while the weather is nice.  Because one the weather turns, all I will want to do is hibernate, and it will be much easier to summon the energy for a twelve minute train ride to Stuttgart than it will for an extended commute elsewhere.

With the forecast for this past Saturday demanding a day spent outdoors, Laura and I decided it would be the perfect day for a trip to Strasbourg.  I should probably say a bit more about Laura; she is also working as an au pair near Stuttgart, but has been here since November.  She was an architecture major, she's from Austin, Texas, and we became good friends quite quickly.  On account of her longer time here in Germany, she speaks German pretty well, has mastered public transportation, and actually possesses a sense of direction.  I don't actually know what I bring to the table during our trips, but she keeps traveling with me so I won't bring attention to that just yet.

Laura and I on the train.  Look, the sun was out.

Strasbourg (as the title of this post suggests) is in France, just over the German border.  On the slow trains (much cheaper tickets prices...) it takes about three hours to get there from Stuttgart. That is about as far as I would be willing to go for a day trip; any longer than that and you're wasting too much time getting to and from your location to justify the time and expense.  In this case, the travel time was absolutely worth it, as Strasbourg is lovely.  It was everything that I thought Paris should be: quaint, clean, beautiful, and so obviously European that it almost seemed an exaggeration.  Bridges, cobblestone streets, flower boxes, street side cafés, cathedrals...you name it, this city has it.

As usual, the highlight of my day was the food.  We chose another adorable French café, and sat outside enjoying the gorgeous fall day and a lovely view of the river.  Laura ordered tea and a salmon sauerkraut dish; I had quiche and espresso (shocking, I know.  I must also say that France has Germany beat so far as coffee quality is concerned).  Everything was amazing, as usual, and served with a side of French bread, as usual.  I'm pretty sure that I am indeed ruined for bread when I return to the states (which is a GOOD thing...assuming that I don't have to be rolled off of the plane once it lands in Chicago).  

Yeah, I've become one of those people who takes photos of their food.  I would maybe feel bad if I wasn't too busy remembering how delicious it was.

We also went back to the fancy French tea store, Kusmi.  I bought more tea, even though I rationed what I bought in Paris so much that I only drank one cup of it in between Paris and Strasbourg (God forbid I should run out).  I am also now officially a tea snob in addition to my previously established coffee snobbery as I bought looseleaf instead of the bags.  Hot beverages are my weakness, apparently.

After that, we were all set to explore when we happened to stumble (literally...I tripped down the steps) upon this tiny, hole-in-the-wall gelato place.  Naturally, once we were inside, we had to get some (it would have been rude not to, and it was super cheap...less than 2 EUROS).  Laura chose cherry, I chose mint chocolate chip.  It was divine, and I am not ashamed to admit that I nearly wept when it was finished (I did refrain from licking out the cup though, as we were in public and I didn't want to embarrass Laura.  I'm regretting that in hindsight though...).  

Once I recovered my composure, we wandered about the city.  We saw the impressive Strasbourg Notre Dame, resisted the smells of a lot of bakeries, and window shopped at the many expensive stores littered throughout.  

The Notre Dame of Strasbourg

Such a shame that autumn comes at the price of a winter.

It rained all day on Sunday, so we binged on Netflix and tried to make quiche.  It was good, but we accidentally bought pizza crust (didn't I say that Laura knows German?...) instead of the flakier pie/pastry crust that quiche is meant to have.  Laura was a bit dismayed; I actually really liked it that way (must be missing my Giordano's back in Chicago.  I renamed it "quizza" and it will go on the menu of my future restaurant (along with the "squawking taco"...everything on the menu has to have a lame name that I find hilarious).

So, there's my most recent weekend!  I cannot believe how quickly time is passing by...I'll be checking out the Christmas markets before I can blink, and then the next thing I know, it will be summer and then I'll be packing my bags home to Chicago and trying to find another adventure.

Midnight in Paris

I don't know how it happened that me, a girl who frequently had to be bodily removed from the house on a Saturday night (as all my Plum house roommates can attest to), managed to schedule two jam-packed weekends of traveling in a row, but I did.  And am so happy I did.  It woul have been such a sin to miss either Oktoberfest or Nuit Blanche.  A year may sound like a long time initially, but with one month gone already, I know it will go much too fast!

Anyway, this time, I was not lucky enough to find a ride share for the way to Paris.  I had to suck it up and pay the exorbitant cost for the train.  However, that worked out for the best because Laura, another au pair working near Stuttgart, and I ended up chatting the entire time and I'm pretty sure we would have annoyed other people in a car with our incessant talk of boys (apparently, there is absolutely no difference in bonding with a fifteen or twenty-four-year-old girl...).

It was also good for me that I ended up traveling with her, as I STILL don't know my way around the Stuttgart train station.  Laura has been in Stuttgart since last November, so she has a pretty good grasp of German and also how public transportation works in Europe.  Our tickets for the train actually weren't next to each other (not even in the same car, or wagon as the Germans say), but I just illegally sat next to her and never was kicked out.  I know, I'm a daredevil (there are some benefits to being an American...my out was just going to be that I read the ticket wrong if it came to that).

We arrived in Paris without incident, though we did have some issues finding the hostel as our cabbie had no idea where the place we were staying was, and just dropped us off in the middle of the street that it was on.  So, from about 10:30-11pm, we wandered about the streets of Paris trying to find someone who spoke enough English (and was sober enough) to direct us toward while we were staying.  It was actually kind of terrifying; Paris is a different city at night, and not necessarily in a good way.  There was an unsettling contrast between the people enjoying a nice meal outside while 50 yards away there were a group of drunk men lying in puddles of their own urine and vomit.  Welcome to Paris, the most refined of all cities and fashion capital of the world.

Anyway, we did eventually find the hostel and once there, had another unexpected surprise.  Since we had booked so late, we had to get a private room (which actually was fine because then there's no worry about theft or who else is going to be in the room with you).  We THOUGHT it would have two twin beds, but we walked in and just started laughing because it was actually just one queen.  If the train ride didn't already make us pals, then two nights in the same bed would do it.  Also worth noting: the shower was SOOOO tiny.  Swear on my life, it was roughly coffin-sized.  But, and least you wouldn't have to wear flip-flops in it, or wait in line behind five hundred other girls trying to make themselves beautiful in the morning.

Once settled in, we decided to just go to bed straight away and then get an early start in the morning.  So, we were out the door at 8 am after taking advantage of the free breakfast in the hostel (the food was edible...the coffee was disgusting).  And then, by 11 AM we had already seen half of the tourist attractions that you are supposed to see the first time you go to Paris.  All thanks to Laura...she was the one figuring out the metro and reading the maps and taking charge.  I was just along for the ride and waiting to have some real coffee.

Laura and I in front of Notre Dame

Saint Chappelle

Inside Notre Dame. There was mass going on and it felt kind of weird to take photos during it. 

After seeing Notre Dame, Saint Chappelle, and the Louvre (just the outside), we did the only thing I really felt that I had to do in Paris, which was stopping by one of the five hundred million cafes that are every ten feet on the streets (you'd think we would have found one sooner, but when you have that many options to choose from it becomes difficult to just pick one).    We ordered "Madame croque's," which are basically a kind of grilled cheese sandwich with bacon and a fried egg on top, and then I had my long-awaited double-shot of espresso and Laura had tea.  I don't know how I keep hanging out with non-coffee drinkers; guess I should have appreciated having constant coffee buddies in Julia and Mike more.  But it was so delicious, and I truly can call myself a coffee connoisseur now. 

It was worth the wait. 

Following our leisurely lunch, we set off to see a few more sights.  Along the way, we went into this AMAZING french tea shop (called Kusmi, I believe) where I was suckered into buying a box of expensive, but absurdly delicious grapefruit-something-green tea (hey now...tea and coffee are more acceptable addictions than drugs and alcohol, at least, though not much cheaper with how particular I have become).  We also made our way to the Eiffel tower.  It cool to see (I know, such a boring way to describe it, "cool"), and the park around it was lovely, if quite crowded and featuring too many couples groping each other in a public space.

By this point in the afternoon, we were pretty wiped, so we decided to stop by the hostel and drop off our tea before heading out for round two in the evening.  En route, we stopped and bought some macaroons.  They were okay (nothing compared to German chocolate), I wished I had just gotten another coffee (so I did).

Almost as soon as we were back in our room, I received a text from Reillie, saying that her and her friend Matthieu were in the city as well, so we then headed back out and met up with them.  And the Nuit Blanche part of the night was underway.

Nuit Blanche is essentially and all-night art exhibition held across the city.  Museums are free all night, in addition to the street performers, galleries, and exhibits that are set up at various spots around Paris.  It's quite a unique event, and Paris (which never seems to sleep) is the perfect host.

A book describing the exhibits that is of no use to me since I don't know French. 

The first exhibit we went to was "fog art."  Calling it art is a generous term, because all it seemed to be was fake fog all around a square in the downtown area.  It was kind of a cool novelty at first, but we kept losing each other and it was uncomfortable to inhale so we did last there too long.  So then we found the cheapest cafe we could (which was reflected in the quality of the food; though at least you can't really ruin an omelette), and then started walking around looking at other exhibits.

Laura and I in the fog "art"

 

Unfortunately, by this time, it was becoming quite apparent that Laura and I had not really ideally planned our day, at least for this particular weekend in Paris.  While we saw SO much of the city during the day, our energy was waning and feet were killing us from spending 15+ hours walking all around the city.  Reillie and Matthieu, on the other hand, were fresh and ready to go.  So we ended up parting ways at around 11pm, and Laura and I headed back to the hostel.  I fell asleep almost immediately.

A very freaky ghost exhibit. There was music accompanying it.  It was unsettling. 

I don't know what this exhibit was going for but I liked it. 

The Louvre. At night. Kind of spectacular.

The next morning, we moved a bit slower (also decided that showering wasn't worth it), but were still out and about by around 9:30 am (if at a much slower pace).  The only really big touristy attraction that we saw was the Arc de Triomphe (Laura is an architecture major so I think it was more fascinating to her than me, though still quite impressive).  We then searched for a crepe place; a harder job than you would expect since it was Sunday and a lot of places were closed (although a lot more places are open in Paris on Sundays than in Germany).  But we were eventually successful, found a place near Versailles where the coffee was even nicer than the day before.  I had crepes; she had quiche, we basically were French for the hour we were there.

The Arc de Triomphe

Some delicious French food. Note all the bread everywhere. Can't escape it. 

And then it was time to head back to Stuttgart.  We were able to get a ride share on the way back with some dude named Fabian (he wasn't nearly as fun as Lourdes and Chris).  We saved a lot of money, but it took us six hours compared to the four on the train.  Still was worth it though, especially considering that I was hemorrhaging money the entire weekend.

So, that was Paris!  I'm glad that I was able to go and see it, but it wouldn't break my heart if I was never able to go back again.  It's beautiful, and there's a lot to see and do, but historical buildings are not as impressive to me as mountains.  The Notre Dame and Saint Chappelle are gorgeous, but it wasn't the heart-stopping, jaw-dropping, take-your-breath-away awe and beauty that traveling around New Zealand left me with.  Also, Paris really does smell.  Especially at night.  However, one myth I would dispel is that the people are unfriendly, and don't speak much English.  In our experience, you were fine with just English, and while people won't usually go out of their way to be extremely helpful (we did have one waiter who took a fancy to us and was a bit TOO friendly), they weren't rude by any means either.

So, until next time, au revoir!  I think I did a better job taking photos this time and will try to keep it that way.