Categories
Europe Italy Uncategorized Unesco World Heritage Sites

Love it or Hate it: Venice, Italy

After leaving my short-lived life as a Londoner, I did a week-long ultra touristy trek through Italy, hitting up Rome, Venice, Pompeii, and the Amalfi Coast. Everyone assured me I would absolutely love the romantic old-world charm of Venice. But after three days of exploring the maze-like canals and carless streets, I wasn’t impressed.

 

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To me, I could easily see how Venice could be like the Times Square of Italy—the overcrowded tourist trap where no local in their right mind would ever go. Maybe it was just the time of year (late April) or the places I’d visited, but it seemed as though every narrow walkway was jam-packed with groups of map-wielding, camera happy tourists.

 

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The antique architecture was enough to make me reach for my own camera at every turn. But after a while most of the streets (and my photographs) began to look the same. Okay, so maybe all of that weaving over and around canals led me in circles more times than I’d like to admit, but the narrow walkways crowded with storefronts, restaurants, and hotels really did become difficult to tell apart from one another.

Sometimes (particularly when I was hangry or had to pee) it was just downright annoying to look across the street and see where I wanted to go, only to have to go six blocks out of my way to the nearest bridge to do so—and then getting lost. Lazy/dumb I know, but I don’t like maps and well, this is what happens when you don’t use maps in Venice.

 

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Venice

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A lot of people talk about how romantic Venice is. I wasn’t there on a romantic getaway, but the sheer amount of people at every turn made me wonder how anyone could consider Venice a romantic destination. These must be the same kind of people who also think New Years in Times Square or Jumbotron marriage proposals are romantic as well.

And let’s not forgot the infamous gondola ride. I knew they would be expensive, but $80-$100 to ride down a crowded canal alongside noisy motorboats while sucking in exhaust fumes? No thanks, I’ll go stuff my face with a five course meal of carbs at an awesome restaurant for that kind of money. I saw gondola guides talking on their cell phones and shouting at one another when they got within earshot. Ooh yes, I’ll take my romance with a side of boat rage please! (Okay I’m sure they’re really not that bad, this is just my way of justifying the fact that I didn’t spend that insane amount of money).

I must say that all of the food I had was pretty delicious in Venice, even though I’m sure that I ate at more than my fair share of tourist traps. Fresh meats, milky cheeses, homemade pastas, and an abundance of wine made every mealtime my favorite time of day.

 

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Sadly, my absolute favorite day was the day we decided to grab a glass of wine (sometimes three) at each place we passed on our aimless walk through the maze-like streets. I usually prefer traveling to places where I don’t need to get drunk to enjoy myself, but the booze really helped to block out all of the tourists and notice the things that so many people love about Venice. Suddenly the city had a kind of rustic charm to it as wrinkled couples made their way through the streets while spouting off loud Italian. Loads of brightly colored laundry flapped against the peeling paint of centuries-old buildings. Kids ran through the car-free streets kicking soccer balls, and restaurants lured us in with their accordions and wine lists.

Wine was definitely a good choice in Venice.

Have you ever been to Venice? What do you think, love it or skip it?

Categories
Asia Europe Solo Travel

MY FIRST TASTE OF TURKEY

The first couple days after returning from vacation are always a struggle—even more so when you know you’ll be jetting off to another exotic location the following week. From jet lag and slowly coaxing yourself out of vacation mode, to gauging your answer to the infamous “how was your trip” questions. Of course it’s a courtesy to ask people how their vacation went, but not everyone really cares. And even then, what part do you tell them about while keeping it brief enough for the water cooler? The food? The sights? The people? The culture? I could talk about my travels all day, but instead I’ve tried to keep it brief amongst coworkers. For the rest who are curious, I’ll share it here.

There will be more detailed posts to follow, but I just need to put it out there: Istanbul is a stunningly beautiful, almost magical city that’s really different from most places I’ve visited. In a very good way. Even though I stayed in ultra touristy Sultanahmet. It seemed like the perfect introduction to a Muslim country since they don’t seem to be very dismissive of Westerners. I don’t have any religious upbringing whatsoever so I’m fascinated by learning all about different faiths. I mean I certainly have my own beliefs, but I’ve actually managed to avoid sharing those with anyone pretty much ever. Well except for one of my exes, but that’s partially why he’s an ex.

Anyway, the city is MASSIVE. I had no idea how big it even was until I went up to Galata Tower and looked out over the city. Then I took a cruise up the Bosphorus to see it was even bigger. For fuck’s sake it spans two continents, of course it’s huge. From above it kind of reminded me of San Francisco times about 100, but with a way different culture and a lot more mosques.

Kebap. Lamb. Lahmacun. Borek. Meze. Baklava. The food was so delicious I’ve actually doubled in size upon returning to the States. Seriously though I’ve never eaten so well on a solo vacation. Usually I’m pretty frugal with what I eat, picking up yogurt and granola bars to get me through most of the day, then eating whatever random cheap dinner I come across in the evening. I usually save a ton of money doing that, but this time I just couldn’t stop myself from over-indulging every time I turned a corner. I never ate the same thing twice (except for baklava, but come on, baklava). The hotel had free buffet breakfast with a perfect rooftop view so I sampled everything they had to offer every morning. I stopped at dessert shops and street carts even when I wasn’t hungry. I splurged on dinner and I went back to the hotel full and happy (with more baklava in hand) every night.

Like most of my trips I went to Turkey alone, but I was rarely by myself this time around. In general the people in Istanbul were almost alarmingly friendly and hospitable. It threw me off a bit because I was always trying to figure out whether they were genuinely nice or if they just wanted to lure me into their family’s shop to buy something (or kill me in a back alley, you know, the standard worries). Waiters gave me free drinks and bar recommendations. Strangers on the street asked me to dinner. Others simply asked where I was from and started a conversation about the US or gave me directions. Yes, the tourist spots were loaded with hagglers and conniving salesmen, but rather than walking through the city ignoring everyone like I do in New York, I actually conversed with nearly everyone who spoke to me. Hell I even approached people myself and made a few friends. In fact I think this was the most “unplugged” solo trip I’ve ever taken, meaning I didn’t walk down the streets listening to my headphones so that strangers wouldn’t talk to me. I made small talk. I listened to everything. I met locals and I hung out with them. I went to Taksim at midnight, which some US news sources have recently portrayed as the “dangerous” part of the city. It wasn’t very dangerous at all. Probably because on this particular night at least, the protests had been replaced by a bunch of drunk kids partying. And a Shake Shack.


The call to prayer is a really beautiful thing to hear. One guy told me that Istanbul has over 2,000 mosques, so to hear these calls come over the loudspeakers and echo throughout the city during the day was absolutely surreal. My first day there I woke up sometime in the 4am hour to hear the first one of the day which completely blew my mind because it was still dark out. Another local later told me that the morning call to prayer has an additional line in it to say something about how God is more important than sleep. I’m guessing that prayer is for the truly faithful Muslims. And right in the middle of the day, seeing men shutting tourists out of their shops in the Grand Bazaar to pray was a sight to see. I mean I’m used to America where capitalism usually trumps religion, so to see people with such a devout religious culture is truly mesmerizing.

Sorting through my 1000+ photos is already leaving me with a serious case of wanderlust. How many days until I go back?

Luckily flights during the off-season are actually pretty cheap (under $500 RT!) to Istanbul, so the likelihood of me going back is actually pretty good. Except next time I’m stopping off in Cappadocia and Pamukkale. Who’s with me?

Categories
Europe Ireland

THE COAST AND COUNTRYSIDE OF NORTHERN IRELAND

Have you ever visited a place without any prior knowledge or expectations of what it’d be like, only to find yourself planning a disappearing act once you arrive, into this fictional world of happily-ever-after that’s the complete opposite of the life you actually live? That’s what happened to me in Northern Ireland.

After falling in love with Dublin I was curious to see the North since it’s actually part of the UK. We drove through the rain, passing small town after small town before hitting Belfast. The downtown area was bustling, complete with a multi-level shopping center and giant outdoor TVs for passersby to watch soccer on the go. But after driving through some of the mural-covered back roads (which could easily be mistaken for a forgotten, semi-active war zone…or maybe even downtown Detroit) I didn’t have very high hopes for the rest of the day. But holy hell was I wrong.

Belfast

 This was the first time I can remember ever being out in the country and not only enjoying it, but never wanting to leave.

Maybe it’s my love for the friendly/crazy/drunk Irish people and their charming accents, or their flawless alcoholic contributions to the world. Or maybe it was because I was touring the countryside with one of the most fascinating, hilarious people I’d met while living in Europe. Or maybe it was simply because Northern Ireland was truly whimsical and beautiful. Whatever the reasons, this day trip made me feel right at home, longing for a time before cell phones and Facebook.

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 I kept imagining myself sneaking away at our next pit stop, roaming through the hills with a few meandering sheep before coming across a cute little farmhouse. A burly Irish man with a perfect manly beard and dirty working-man hands would answer the door of course, and invite me in for a pint of Guinness and a glass of Jameson with his seductive accent. Then he’d take me out back to show me the farm and all of the fresh cheese he makes, you know, as a hobby. And just like that, I’d forget all of my concerns for the world I used to know, and I’d live happily ever after on that farm.

Sadly that didn’t happen. But I did have one of the best guided tours of my life on the Extreme Ireland Day Tours of Giant’s Causeway.

Causway Fisher

 Our guide was hilarious, and he knew so much about The Troubles in Northern Ireland. He gave us a brief history in Belfast that could’ve easily spanned an entire middle school semester in History class, including the fact that the Europa Hotel was considered the most-bombed hotel in all of Europe—and the world. For once I actually enjoyed sitting on a bus, looking out the window and listening to his commentary.

Europa

 On our way to the Carrick-a-Rede Rope Bridge near Ballintoy, our guide got on the speaker and said that he had some bad news. I could tell by the way the bus occasionally jerked over into the other lane that it was something weather and wind related. Then I heard the only words that could’ve ruined that perfect day: the bridge was closed due to gale force winds making it unsafe to cross.

Upon hearing this news I went through a whole myriad of emotions, followed by cursing at the voices in my head, anger-eating chocolate, and praying to the Irish Gods. It all must’ve worked because next thing you know, the winds let up enough for us to safely cross just a couple of hours later. I got some awesome video of the walk across the 66-foot bridge, so more on that later.

The path to the Carrick-a-Rede Bridge

Northern Ireland

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Northern Ireland

The entire area surrounding the Carrick-a-Rede Bridge was nothing but natural beauty. I could see Scotland, and though I knew there were farmhouses just beyond the hills, there were no visible signs of civilization as far as the eye could see. And for a city-dweller, that was awesome.

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After my glorious walk across the bridge, we continued on to Giant’s Causeway, a more touristy spot just up the road. Giant’s Causeway is a group of about 40,000 polygonal basalt columns caused by a volcanic eruption. Or as legend explains it, a causeway built by the Irish giant Fionn mac Cumhaill to get over to Scotland to fight the Scottish giant Benandonner.

Clearly the Irish have been hitting the bottle for as long as they’ve been telling stories.

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Giant's Causeway

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Northern Ireland

After leaving Giant’s Causeway we drove out to see what’s left of the 13th Century Dunluce Castle.

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You wouldn’t even guess from these photos that it was absolutely freezing on that cold March day. The wind was relentless, blasting us like one of those reporters you see standing in the middle of a hurricane while you secretly hope he gets pegged by a cow or a stop sign for his stupidity.

But damn was the scenery beautiful, and totally worth it.

  Northern Ireland

Northern Ireland

Should you go?

Hell yes. Even if you’re not up for renting a car and making the trek on your own, the day tour I did from Dublin was about 65 Euros, and it helped launch Ireland to the top of my Favorite Places in Europe list. Traveling the coast is nearly orgasmic. Plus the company offers tons of other day trips and adventure courses, so if the rest of their staff is anything like our guide you’ll definitely enjoy yourself.

I want to go back and do an extended hike and a trip to the Cliffs of Moher, so if you need a travel buddy, let’s go!

Categories
Adventure Europe Switzerland

VIDEO: PARAGLIDING OVER THE ALPS IN INTERLAKEN

Okay. I’m going to have one last “poor me moment” about that time I flew all the way to Zurich and took a train to Interlaken with the sole intention of skydiving over the Alps, but was unable to do so when Mother Nature decided I wasn’t worthy of such fun. There, done. Now I can tell you all about how I tried to make up for it by paragliding.

On my last afternoon there, I walked into Balmers and started whining to the chick at the front desk about how I needed some excitement because I certainly couldn’t afford to sit around and eat in Interlaken (seriously my last ditch effort to save money by eating at McDonald’s cost me about $34). Since it was already pushing noon, the only option I really had was paragliding. It sounded promising, so I jumped in a car with an older, silent man before being dumped off at the wide open landing field a few blocks away. I was a little confused, but I followed some random guy whose accent I could barely understand, and before long I was quickly rushed into an unmarked van along with a few other confused Swedish and Chinese tourists, lead by four jacked-up European men.

Our van zig-zagged up the mountain, the green grass disappearing and the snow and cloudy haze getting thicker. I changed out of my mesh running shoes and strapped on some heavy hiking boots that, based on the warm, sweaty insides, someone else had just taken off. They dumped us off to walk the rest of the way uphill which is where I realized how pathetic my body was. I desperately tried to hide my heavy breathing while trekking up the slippery incline in my oversized boots. All the while my tandem gliding partner was walking full speed like he was in the mall walking olympics and holding conversation without missing a beat, even with his gigantic loveseat-sized pack strapped to his back.

After we set up and laid out our canopies, we waited. And waited. There was a stick in the ground with a red and white ribbon blowing in the nearly nonexistent breeze. Apparently this was their way of determining which way the wind was blowing and how hard so that we didn’t float off the edge of the cliff and right into the side of another.

Paragliding in Interlaken

After I got bored of standing around playing guessing games as to when we’d finally make a run for it, my tandem gliding buddy hooked himself onto me and got all intense again.

“Now this is the important part. We have to go at exactly the right moment, or else it could be bad. So when I say run, you run, got it? And I don’t mean just a light jog or a brisk walk, you run faster than you’ve ever run in your entire life until we take off from the ground. K?”

I didn’t know if he completely missed seeing that I was only 5’2″ or what, but here I was with a grown ass man strapped to my back along with what felt like a small sofa attached to him, wearing clunky man boots that were about three sizes too big, and this guy wants me to run down a slippery, icy hill without falling on my face. Right.

We continued to wait. And wait. Then out of nowhere we heard “baaaaa!” Right in our running path a herd of sheep had broken through a hole in the fence and started making their way uphill curiously towards us. At first it was cute watching them dig in the snow to try and eat the grass below, but all of a sudden baby sheep were running all over the fucking place. The guides were nearly pissing themselves with laughter, saying this has never happened before as they started baaaing back at them. But that only attracted the sheep more and they continued to make their way up towards us. And they were hungry. Finally one of the guys had to unhook himself and run down to scare them off. But of course this was also the exact moment the wind changed directions and I was told to run, NOW.

I ran like Usain Bolt. Actually no, I pitter-pattered down the hill rather pathetically until a gust of wind grabbed ahold and threw me down in the snow. Just as quickly that same gust lifted us up slightly, dragging my legs long enough to scoop up two boots full of snow, then launched us off the cliff.

It wasn’t even a windy day but the guide kept saying that due to our “excellent running speed takeoff” (hell yeah, way to go little legs!) we were able to get more speed than most people. I got a well deserved pat on the back.

At first it was pretty cool when you suddenly realize that you’re floating and gliding through the air. But then it became oddly comfortable and a little…boring. The wind was chilly, drying out my lips and making my eyes water, and the view didn’t really change much during the whole 15 minute flight. Plus it was much more secure feeling than I thought it would be. I wanted to feel like I was falling or flying, something comparable to what I’d imagine skydiving would be like. But instead I felt safe, in a heavy box propelling through the sky almost with as much control as if there were an engine. And the whole dude on my back thing wasn’t a particularly liberating experience.

So while it was definitely awesome and I’d definitely do it again in a heartbeat, I had the same problem with paragliding as I do with most things I do. It left me wanting to go faster and higher, and I wanted to do it alone. I felt like a brat, but I asked my instructor guy to go a little crazy, so he started spiraling us closer to Earth towards the end.

Enough of my babbling, I’ll let this little video montage do the job. But beware, the last few seconds can be a bit dizzying!

(PS click through the link below the video to watch it in HD.)

Interlaken Paragliding by Just Visiting, Music: “Option” by Crosses.

Categories
Europe Living Abroad

I’m Back From Europe: A Brief Recap

It’s been a week since I’ve landed back on US soil. And it’s taken me this long to sit down and start writing about it. Mostly because I don’t know where to start. It’s daunting to summarize what I saw, what I did, and what I’ve learned during those 97 days abroad. So let me begin by breaking it down by numbers (disclaimer: numbers are totally not my strong point).

97 days
14 airports
14,027 miles flown
42 hours on airplanes
26 hours on trains
10 trains
2 buses
1 ferry
2 Airbnb’s (3 if you count the one that I stayed at twice)
2 friend’s houses
8 hotels
8,500+ photos

Places visited:
Reykjavik, Iceland
London, England
Amsterdam, Netherlands
Bristol, England
Dublin, Ireland
Dublin, Ireland again
Belfast, Ireland
Northern Ireland Coast (Carrick-a-Rede Bridge, Giant’s Causeway)
Newbury, England
Paris, France
Barcelona, Spain
Interlaken, Switzerland
Jungfrau, Bernese Oberland, Switzerland
Venice, Italy
Rome, Italy
Pompeii, Italy
Amalfi Coast, Italy : Positano, Amalfi
Athens, Greece
Crete, Greece

And yet, here I sit in my New York apartment once again, feeling almost as though I never left. But I know I’ve come back wiser, re-energized, and obviously a wee bit older with a slightly more damaged liver and a new view on living abroad. And on the United States.

To sum it up, that was the quickest 97 days of my life. I didn’t sleep much but I saw more than I ever imagined I could pull off in three months while still working a full-time job and not going into debt. I saw natural phenomenons, snow-covered mountains, and ancient cities that are nearly twelve times older than the United States. I tasted some of the most amazing food I never knew existed, met some incredibly hospitable people while spending time with friends both old and new, and drank enough Guinness to safely assume my body could snap into relapse any day now. I walked across a rope bridge in gale force winds, showed my mom her first international experience, and participated in the chaos that is St Patrick’s Day in Dublin. Of the 14 total weekends I was gone, I spent just four in London and ten traveling around Europe. I quickly adapted to waking up at 3am nearly every Monday morning to catch a flight back to London and straight in to work a full shift. It was a whirlwind of three months, but the best experience of my life.

I’ve learned a lot on this trip. I’ve learned that exploring without a cell phone is not nearly as difficult as it sounds. Turning off the GPS and disconnecting from Twitter and Facebook let me get lost in the city and the moment and enjoy wherever I was with no interruptions.

I’ve also learned that Europe is ridiculously expensive and living there while still getting paid in US dollars is NOT recommended. I spent a shit ton of money, but every penny was absolutely worth it.

I’ve also rekindled my love for New York City, and I’ve got a newfound respect for the United States.

So stay tuned for tons of stories, tips, babblings, and pictures. But in the mean time, here are just a few highlights.

Sunset in Crete
Yes, I took pictures and GoPro’ed the sunset in Crete. Two nights in a row.

 

This would be so much cooler with about 50 less tourists in the photo.
This would be so much cooler with about 50 less tourists in the photo.

 

Feta and honey saganaki and pan-fried cheese in Athens. OH. MY. GOD. AMAZING.
Feta and honey saganaki and pan-fried cheese in Athens. OH. MY. GOD. AMAZING.

 

Showing off my awesome sunburn in the hot tub. Oh, and that's just the Parthenon in the background, no big deal.
Showing off my awesome sunburn in the hot tub. Oh, and that’s just the Parthenon in the background, no big deal.

 

The mind-blowing beauty of the Northern Lights in Iceland.
The mind-blowing beauty of the Northern Lights in Iceland.

 

These were the people who inspired my own jumping spree all over Europe.
These were the people who inspired my own jumping spree all over Europe.

 

I drank so. Much. Guinness. And learned how to pour the perfect pint at the Guinness Academy.
I drank so. Much. Guinness. And learned how to pour the perfect pint at the Guinness Academy.

 

The beautifully lit Colosseum.
The beautifully lit Colosseum.

 

Westminster Abbey on a cold, rainy evening. So like, every evening in London.
Westminster Abbey on a cold, rainy evening. So like, every evening in London.

 

What good is a vacation without a few days in a Greek paradise?
What good is a vacation without a few days in a Greek paradise?

 

 

Categories
Europe

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways

The Eiffel Tower. One of the most iconic structures in the world. To some it’s a symbol of romance, to others a structural eyesore. To me, well, I’d been waiting for longer than I can remember to see the iron beauty. I’ve had a longstanding fascination with bridges so Eiffel’s bridge-building influence in creating this glorious tower is the kind of design I love. I could stare at the thing all day long. And I did.

For years I’d tried planning my first international trip to Paris. But as life goes, things kept happening and the trip never happened. So I promised myself that as soon as I got my first real job the first place I was going on vacation would be Paris. So for years I’ve had these reoccurring dreams where I’d travel to Paris but right when I’d turn a corner to get a peak at the Eiffel Tower, something would happen. Either I’d wake up, the helicopter I was in would crash, the city would blow up, someone continuously averted my attention in some other direction, or I just couldn’t find it. I never once got to see the Eiffel Tower in my dreams. I always took this as a sign that I may never see the Eiffel Tower in real life.

On September 6th I took a morning train into Gare du Nord from London. I was determined to keep my eyes glued to the scenery of the French countryside until the Eiffel Tower appeared in the distance. That way just in case I was murdered or “taken” (cue Liam Neeson) on the way to the place I was staying, or a nuclear bomb was dropped on the city, I would have at least died after seeing the Eiffel Tower. I couldn’t bare the thought that I would have traveled all the way to Paris only to have it end just like my dreams. But since I’m like an infant aboard any moving vehicle, I fell asleep on the train and missed the entire ride.

I woke up at Gare du Nord and made my way to the metro, jumping on for a short ride to the place I was staying on Rue de Grenelle. It was only about 4pm so I dropped my bags off and immediately set out for an evening with one simple yet daunting goal in mind: see the Eiffel Tower.

I walked down Rue de Grenelle and up Rue Des Saints-Pères before running into the oh-so-romantic Seine River. With no GPS and too excited to plan ahead, I wasn’t entirely positive where I was going, but I took an educated guess and started walking E/NE. About 20 minutes later I was freaking out. Why could I not see the Eiffel Tower standing out above the rest of the city? Had it spontaneously combusted while I was on my journey? Was I much further away from it than I thought?

Then, it appeared. The tip of the Eiffel Tower. It was unreal. That moment of seeing it for the first time and just walking towards it as more and more of it emerged, until finally I was at the base, staring up.

So here’s my ode to the Eiffel Tower. A series of photographs I took of the beauty herself. No more words are necessary.

And switching it up a bit, the gorgeous view from the tower.


Categories
Europe

My First Football Match: Ghana v Brazil in London

Who would’ve thought that my favorite part of London would have absolutely nothing to do with the city itself? On my last night in town we went to a Ghana and Brazil football match at the Fulham Football Club.

I’ve been to my fair share of concerts. That’s pretty much all I did from age 14-19. I’ve been in the mosh pits trying to prove that girls are just as tough as guys. I’ve spent sizzling afternoons squished against the front row barricades and sweaty, overweight, BO-reaking men in the 100+ degree heat at Ozzfest in the middle of July. I’ve been pushed to my knees and had my face squeezed against a barricade through an entire four-minute song. I’ve been squeezed into the crowd at a Rage Against The Machine reunion tour so tight that you think you actually start to feel your ribs cracking one by one (which is weird consideirng there’s no room to take a proper breath large enough to expand your lungs and snap your ribs in the first place). Well the crowd OUTSIDE of the arena waiting to get in for this Ghana vs. Brazil match was even worse. I was 5’2” in a sea of 6’+ men stemming from Africa (I’d assume since we were on the Ghana side).

The game was intense. That’s a huge reason why I love football, the passion. The fans were constantly roaring and stomping their feet to the point where I started to question how sturdy the seats were.

We had pretty good seats, I just wish I had a better lens. That’s something I need to invest in soon. Right after I take [another] photography class to learn how to use my camera a little bit better.

The view from our seats
I should’ve gone streaking

In the end Brazil took the 1-0 win, making me wish I were on the other side with all the celebrating fans and Latin men. The overall experience was comparable to a hockey game, and only solidified my feelings that I need to move to a country that appreciates football a bit more than the USofA.

Brazil!

Categories
Europe

The Quest for the Abbey Road Photo

The only thing on my London must-do list was going out to Abbey Road for the ultra cliche Beatles pic. I woke up excited but pretty bummed that it was raining. I debated not going at all but I knew I’d regret it later. Besides, it was a light rain. It’d clear up, right?

When we got off the train at St. John’s Wood it was like a monsoon walking up Grove End Road. The grey skies had been sprinkling all morning but this was just cruel. There was me, at a vertically challenged 5’2” tall, walking with my friend Jonathan who is over 6’ tall. I was the only one with an umbrella and of course my “I’m way too nice for my own good” self felt bad, so I let him carry it so he could stay dry as well. Note to all other short people: never let someone who is a foot taller than you carry the umbrella because it will do you absolutely no good. I was soaked.

We reached the intersection that we may have otherwise passed up had we not seen other tourists dodging across the street in between traffic. There’s no light at this intersection. And if you wait for traffic to completely let up you’ll never get your shot. You just kind of have to go when you get a sort of chance and hope that the cars slow down and let you take your dorky picture. Every time this happens a line of people gather on either side, and just when there’s a break in traffic the designated photographers run out into the street and the line of walkers begin walking across the street. Stopping, posing, and then onward. But common sense would tell you that you can’t go too close to the person ahead of you otherwise you’ll ruin their shot. Like some chick did to me on my first walk.

Then of course once I felt we had enough shots, I had to re-do it once again with my shoes off like Paul.

Greg was standing around watching from under his umbrella and I kept making Jonathan run out between cars and snap more photos. I wish it hadn’t been such a shitty day so we could’ve gotten some better shots, but if I made him take any more pics I would’ve had to start paying him. I did what I could to horribly Photoshop together this little gem:

Maybe one day I’ll get the chance to go back out there and take some better photos. Until then, I’m happy knowing that I’ve walked in John, Paul, George and Ringo’s footsteps.