Lots of Love

I just wanted to say thanks for religiously leaving me comments. It totally helps me feel like Im not alon but rather sharing this trip with the whole family. However I know your busy so if you miss one artical, or dont have anything to say dont feel bad. Im doing ok. I miss you of course, and its nice to hear from you. Also if the pictures are making it too slow just tell me and I can leave them out. I just hate books with out pictures myself. he he he. I love you all very much.

xxxx

Paris Day two

Today was really cool, and only a few minor mishaps. I started by giving in to the metro today mostly because I was going several miles away and I had a headach. I was riding down to the Arch de triomphe at the start of the Chambs elysees. I noticed something cool while on the train, there are parts of me that are distinctly New York and those parts are tough, confident, and they dont take crap from any one. Every one in the hostel seems frightened of the metro and its one of the only places I found so far that I actually relax. I am not afraid to try my french to say "Hold the doors", or to sit right next to someone. Although unlike in NY the French get very concerened when you sit in their personal space. I just remember thinking "Im a New Yorker and I will catch that train, and then sit if I want to, cause we New Yorkers know how its meant to be done." I wish I was a New Yorker in every thing I did, I would be such a bad ass then.

Another thing I have noticed is that there does not seem to be many folk with headphones here, shocking but true I have seen two people listening to music in 3 days. So when I start having a wee boogie to myself on the platform suddenly people give you a 100m clearence. They all looked at me like I was crazy or even dangerous. I thought it was a bit funny, but it didnt bother me in the slightest. This also struck me as odd cause I usually care a lot about what people think. So now I know, traveling by metro and dancing on platforms are two things I do with out fear, wierd huh?

Well I finally arrived by train to the Top of the Champs Elysees and the Arch. The Arch de triomphe is definately a ominous but yet graceful type of monument. It is made of a stunning white stone and the masonry work is incredible. They also have a tomb for the unknown soldier were a little flame is kept lit above it. Very tasteful.

The Champs Elysees is much like Hollywood Bullivard. Expensive, wide, glitzy, and full of itself. I past the windows of high paris fashion, diamond, crystal, overpriced sunglasses, leather, and shoes. The look on the street was either "I shop here," or "I would give anything to shop here." The Well Ta Do didnt sneer at my jeans and old boots, they didnt see me, as if I wasnt even there at all. I felt the need to break the mold, anti-conform as it were. So I did the only thing I could. I clicked my MP3 player to the punked out version of "Oh Champs Elysees" and started to skip. I had a great skip down the pavement, but eventually had to stop and have a laugh because it was as if the entire street froze with their mouths gapping wide and their jaws on the floor. I dont even get that kind of reaction on princess street.

On my way to the Rodin Musee, I accidently stumbled past the Le Musse de armoury. It was this really cool old building full of suits of armor, cannons, and all things to do with the army. I skimmed through most of the rooms but found two really cool things. One was a room with hundreds of flags that the French had captured from various battles. Including french crusaders, flags of pirates, and during the French/British wars over the colonies. There were ornate ones from the East, tatty ones from ships and plane old boring ones too. The point is that the French kept them all. The second place I absolutely loved was the church. It use to be law that the king could not worship with his subjects because he was above them and therefore closer to God. So in the 1600's the General of War asked for this architect to build a church were his solders can worship with the king they die to protect. The architect built two sperate entrances and buildings joined by an ornate glass wall. Next to this glass wall was the alter so the King could sit on one building and the army in the other and mass could be said to both of them at the same time. The church was unbelievably stunning and ornate, I think the time period lent itself to a high formal catholic design sparing no pennies on the gold accents. I sat down on a large padded leather pew and wrote in my journal for a bit. It was so warm and quiet. After almost an hour of resting I had to pry myself way. I think the thing I was most pleased with was that I was the only one there for the entire hour. Just myself, heating, a seat, gold decorations, carved stone, chandallers, and lovely harp music. It was extremely relaxing. I was also very proud because I was determined to read about the unique church divided by a large glass wall splitting the alter in two, so I focused and found a fair bit of my French comming back to me.

To add to the enjoyment I then went across the street to see the garden of the Mussee de Rodin. I had a picnic lunch in the garden under the Thinker, and strolled pleasantly around beautiful statues. Even Henry enjoyed himself.

I passed the Ecole de Millitaire on my way to the Eiffel tower. The tower itself is tall and impressive but I did not opt to climb to the top and see the towering views. Mostly I wondered around the base trying to avoid the men selling key chains rather persistantly.

All in all Im having a good day. Pleasent sight seeing, fairly relaxing, and I finished it with a chat to Andrew so that makes this day in Paris the best yet. What I have learned about home is that it can change who you are, or how you behave on a metro, and it is a place associated with safety or whats familliliar, also heating plays a large part in my life.

Tomorrow Versaille... SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!

Missing you all desperately, I love you.
xxxxx

My spelling

Im so sorry for all of the spelling on my posts while I travel. Google the smart little thing that it is knows Im in France. So all of my buttons are in French, my search engines are comming up entirely french, and the spell check is hylighting every single word and trying to offer me french options. So I have given up and they are all being posted "As Is".

I know its terrible but bear with me.

xxx

Paris a much better afternoon.

I finally made it to the touristy bits of Paris and I was feeling much better. Lovely historical buildings, up market shops, and clean public toilets. I headed for Notre Dame first. So here is a little quiz... Which on is Notre Dame?

EXACTLY!!! Its Impossible to tell. So Why did I walk for nearly 8 miles in the rain then had to que to see the inside of a church that was busier than Jenners department store on the first day of January sales, when there were two other stunning churches just around the corner? Im not sure why Notre Dame is famous but it wasnt worth it. The towers dont seem that tall, the inside is far to busy to be peacful or feel like a church. Also the vending machine at the door that turns your penny into a copper suviner totally kills the vibe. However I did see some pretty windows. Then this loud booming voice of God comes over the tanoid and says "SHHHHHHHH! Silence Sill Vous Plait, Be Quiet Please." Much to my horrified suprise it then felt like a church, I did feel like it was a bit sad to have to ask and I was supprised that it made such a difference.

After leaving Notre Dame, I walked along the Sienne. It was cold but very peacfull. I had a wee dance on the shore then wondered through two other stunning churches in the neigborhood. I love the way they paint the walls in churches here, I thought that was just an Italian thing. One of them even had a massive floor heater under a seat in a chappel. So I took some time to pay my respects and warm up a bit. I meandored throught the hisotrical district falling in love with all the iron work balconys on the bulidings, and eventually to the Louve and the Jardin of tullips (non of which are in bloom yet). I did not go in yet, that is on Sunday, but I actually have to admit the entrance is impressive.

So I finally felt like I found the Paris I was expecting. The people arent rude and the nice parts do seem wonderfully historic. My bigest frustration other than map reading, wine drinking, is that I cant read any of the plaques or informational boards found around the city. I feel like Im missing a lot of hisotrical detail not reading French. However the stories I make up in my head are often cool too. Stay tuned for more tomorrow, as for now Im heading to bed!
Love to you all, xxxxx

Paris my first morning

Well the day started off all wrong. I got lost, wondered around for two hours and realized that paris is very expansive. It started to rain, I was under dressed and growing hungry. Determaned to walk and not give in to the metro I saw some interesting parts of town. I didnt know that I was in the dodgy bit untill I found the not so dodgy parts of Paris. It was not unlike Canal street in NY, lots of cheep stores and sidwalk stalls selling things for pennys. There is a strange past time of some men who hang around the entrances to the metro station and shout things to the women going in or comming out. They seem like questions by their gestures and intonation but the women walk past them as if they were ghosts. So I stare past them too and wonder what it is they are asking, or wanting? Also I discovered that I must have an international face that says "I am a Sucker" because I got stoped by a guy on the pavment with a clip board. When I explained that I didnt speak French he tried his hardest in pigion english to get me to sign up a monthly payment to save the children. Are you kidding me? I dont even live here, I couldnt belive that he was still trying, and I couldnt belive that I was still listening to him, because I couldnt remember how to say no thank you.

I was growing even more discruntled with Paris, increasingly wet in the rain and very hungry so I started to look for a cafe with Wifi were I could sit, dry off and maybe catch up with people. That alone took an hour, Wifi is not very prolific in the dodgy neighborhoods. So I enter this lovely little cafe and there are a thousand free tables but the waitress sits me down next to two guys who were sitting at a booth for 4. Eh? I was mortified joining there table soaking wet, and with a bag full of things. However they seemed nice, they greated me in english, moved the bread basket over to me, and poored me a glass of wine from their bottle. Oh Joy! So I was a bit confused are we sharing a bill? However I was polite and accepted the bread to wash down the vile taste of the wine I now felt obligated to drink. The waitor then brought me my own bread and wine. So I guess we have our own check but what do I do with all this wine? Well when in Rome...So I used my bottle of wine to top up both of their glasses, right to the top! I had forgoten more French than I had wanted to admit, the only 3 or 4 things I could read on the menue were 16 Euros. So I took a plunge and ordered the mystery dish that was 8 Euros. Turns out it was large flat bread with 3 types of dried raw meat, melted blue cheese, and fete cheese sprinkled on top. So I was in hell. I was litteraly dripping wet, sitting next to two very friendly French men drinking wine, and eating raw smelly food. Neither here nor there I survived. They were very helpful in translating to the waiting staff for me, and helping me get the bill.

So I left determaned to have a better day from there on out.

My first young persons Hostel

Arriving at my hostel I was horrified to find a loby covered in Chilli ferry lights and a foozball table in the middle. There were lots of younger folk milling around and most of them had strange hair cuts. Although one man looked like he had never had a hair cut in his life, or a brush for that matter. I specificaly booked a tiny hostel in the middle of no where cause it said it was peacefull, quiet, has a very very early curfew, and the little old lady who ran it would never shut up about Paris history. What were all these crazy bohimiens doing in my peacfull new home? Never mind, after an agonizing climb up 6 floors I found my little rickety and slightly dusty door at the back corner. In the room were two of Korea's most silent people. Bliss! They are very tidy, extremely shy, and bow at me constantly. So I can ignore the crazy lobby and head straite for my silent, sterilized room, where I can pretend that they think Im royalty. Sadly I have not run into the crazy lady yet but so far the hostel will do. A totally French breakfast is included (pastries, crossants, fruit, and lots and lots of Nutella) so I was a happy camper this morning. Very late in the middle of the night a Brazillian from San Paulo arrived. Gabriela and I talked alot about Brazil over breakfast and she is rather lovely. Also a worried traveler, terribly homesick, and about my age so we are getting along and she ofsets any errie silences from the two Koreans so over all Home is nice. Henry is traveling with me and approves of the top bunk as he says "its cool", I am surrviving it.
xxx

The Train to Paris

Ok the beginning of my epic adventure was not nearly as cool as I would have hoped. I have such a fascination with Fairy Tales that I thought my travels would begin with curiosity, or a sense that something great was about to happen. Not with the picture of reality that was myself clinging to Andrew, and vocally bawling like a child. I was shaking from the knees down not unlike my childhood dog CookiesandCream when she really really needed out to pee, or was freezing cold. Riddled with fear of the unknown and the horrors of my imagination I began to beg. I pleaded to stay, to have Andrew come with me, I professed my fear, several profanities, all before I started to barter things I knew would be tempting to others in exchange for a way out of this trip. There is an odd sort of selfishness that comforts you when you give up preconceived notions of acceptable adult behavior and allow yourself to make a scene at the train station. First of all you may not get exactly what you want but you do get a whole bunch of attention, that should keep your energy levels up. That and there was a sense of release and careless abandon in my behavior that ironically mirrored some of the character aspects I am hoping to develop on my journey. So in retrospect I am mortified at my spineless actions this morning but learning to be a little more selfish is not nesisarily a bad thing on my part. Whats done is done, and we are moving forward.

First of all I would like to say a big Thank You to my love Andrew for supporting my legless crying, helping me on to the train so that I could move forward with my travels, and especially finding my seat so that I was facing forward cause this train is making me nautious as it is, I cant even imagine if I was going the wrong way. To all my fans out there in the world take note that the bacon roll may be the Scots breakfast of choice but its never good when combined with adreneline caused by fear, a high speed train, and attempts to read.

So I find myself on the train to Paris, due to terminate in an entirely different country, one that doesn't speak my languadge, where I should be in time for tea. I have been reading, sleeping and trying to remember why I decided to put myself through this. I will try to re-cap for those of you who never knew why, or for those of you who may have forgotten the reasons for my resolve after this morning It all started when I watched the movie Stardust on the big screen and thought once again "I wish I was in love like that!" I have this type of thought rather frequently as I mentioned earlier I have a bit of a thing for fairy tales and true love. So I began to think about all my favorite stories and what were the elements they had in common, travel, frightining or occasionally near death experiences, transformation, and a redefinition of what home is. I have always been a bit of a scaredy cat so the realization that blissful success would only come to those whom faced some fears, grew as a person, and redefined the very place that is the safest and most familiar was exteremly depressing. However as I am 27 and tiered of letting my fears dictate where and how I shall live so I decided to go Backpacking. It was the most terrifying thing I could think of that will ensure growth and some courage on my part. There is so much more to my desision than just my fears, but that seems to be the one rearing up today so its the one that got the press time. Stay tuned with this blog and you may see other themes develop later.

So here I am ready to go. Getting ready was an adventure in itself. Packing enough for 6 weeks, and remaining mobile takes a special kind of skill. I wanted to be surrounded by items (or for the sake of the story, weapons of power) that would help me fight my way through this emotional transformation. I have lucky tallismans, books for inspiration, and journals to record my epic path. I wanted to bring a copy of Alice and Wonderland with me as it is my all time favorite book, and one about a young girl having a rather unusual exploration herself. However on sale there was also Ann of Green Gables another strong willed young woman comming of age. If you bought 2 books the 3rd was free so I grabbed a copy of Aesops Fables as well. With a novel of tips and tricks for traveling gifted to me by my older brother and the family whom are vastly experienced in the art of travel. After adding Arestotol poetry, Lonely planets guide to Europe and a few other books for fluff I found my little day bag is actually heavier than my large backpack full of clothes. I even had to take out some pajamas, and my favorite pair of black and white 1940's heels so I had room for all the books. I did pause for a moment bemused that, I, of all people were sacrificing room for books, something must be different already, cause I hate reading. More strength from the women in my life came along in the form of my bookmark made by my sister who traveled right along side my brother, and never once made an embaressing display of her fears in the train station. I have a little pillow sachet from my GrandMary that tells me dreams do come true. A bag full of photos of my family and moms mint tea bags cause the smell reminds me of home. I have the little rainbow coloured ribbon of one of my brothers traveling bags, a stunning bracelet in blue made with secrete powers from Camelot by my wee nephew Avery. My music player is full of my fathers jazz. From Andrew I constantly wear my Thistle necklace with a secret sapphire in it, and now a small silver celtic knot work ring to keep Scotland with me no matter where I am. Then of course I have Henry, the ever loyal and fearless Henry. He will be by my side through the entire trip and has enough excitement to fill a world cup stadium so I'm glad for his love and friendship.

Well I think I am as ready as I could have been, the rest is going to have to be a surprise. Thank you so much to all those who helped support me to get me here. I'm on the train to Paris, and so the journey begins. I love you, xxxx