Turn on the telly...to the BBC!!!

After having spent September and October traveling through Eastern Europe at lightning speed, I arrived in London exhausted and physically and emotionally drained. My time in London was originally intended to be a precursor to my return to the states. A sort of two week readjustment phase if you will. However, about a week into my stay, and a week before my original return date, I received a call from the BBC regarding an application for their work placement program that I had submitted way back in August. I had all but forgotten about the application as I was certain that if I had been selected I would have heard long, long ago. Turns out that's not quite how the BBC works. In fact, most work experience placements aren't informed of their selection until 1 to 2 weeks before the start date.

By this time I was pretty committed to returning home. I missed the California sun and London was just starting to get chilly. I was tired of having to meet new people everywhere I went and just wanted to spend time with people who already knew and loved me. I dreamt of putting on something other than the 4 shirts and two pairs of pants I had been wearing for the last 6 weeks. And I really, really, really wanted a Chipotle chicken burrito (fresh tomato and roasted chili-corn salsa, no beans). But alas, this was not to be because when the BBC calls, you damn well better answer.

As it happens, I had been offered a placement on a program that couldn't have been better for me! Imagine, is an arts and culture documentary series that produces mini-documentaries on HUGE artists like film director Werner Herzog and photographer Annie Leibovitz, actress Juliette Binoche and rapstar Jay-Z. It's basically a dream come true.

So here I am. Grabbing the opportunity to explore London for another month, shivering through weather colder than anything I've experienced since I moved from Canada, searching out the best local pubs, hoping to get a jump start on a new career, and pretending I'm a legitimate Londoner as I ride the tube to work in the morning, all the while feeling the slightest tinge of homesickness and (secretly) counting down the days until my return. And, even though I'll be spending most of my time at the BBC offices in White City instead of strolling through unfamiliar streets, I'm sure there will be many everyday adventures to write about.

Une seule femme a Londres

There's something about London that is so familiar to me. Maybe it's because it's grey and rainy, just like my beloved and much missed San Francisco. Maybe it's because I was born in the UK and thus a love for London is built into my DNA. Or maybe it's because my dad's family is British on both sides, something that is evidenced by the fact that we sit down for tea four times a day, listen to the Queen's Christmas Day address every year, eat (and enjoy!) classic British food like Bangers & Mash, Shepard's Pie and Digestive Biscuits, and have large collections of British porcelain china like Royal Doulton and Wedgewood. Whatever it is, I felt immediately at home when I arrived in London last Tuesday (and no...not JUST because it's the first English speaking country I've been to in a month and a half. Although, I do have to admit, it almost seemed like a nice surprise to walk down the streets and not have to guess what people were saying...or wonder whether or not they were making fun of you for taking so many pictures of the same statue...)

For the first time in my travels I have an entire week to spend alone. I'll be meeting up with a few friends for a drink or a curry here and there, but for the most part it's going to be one-on-one, Kristen-on-Kristen time. I'm surprisingly excited about this whole idea, especially since I've never wanted to travel alone before. I've always felt like traveling isn't really traveling unless you have someone to share that "Oh my god, I can't believe I'm actually here!!" moment with. However, over the past month I have met so many WOMEN who are traveling alone. In fact, the number of solo female travelers I've met has outnumbered the solo men travelers by at least 10-1.

So I started to think that maybe this whole traveling alone thing is worth a shot. I mean, just thinking of having the freedom to determine my own itinerary everyday, wander at my own pace, get lost in a cool neighborhood for hours at a time, or stop in a park to write whenever I feel the urge was enough to get me excited for my lone London experience.

So, what does une femme seule do in London? A few things:

1) Walk, walk, walk everywhere
London is an amazingly walkable city. Sure, sometimes the streets get a little crowded, or it starts pouring rain out of seemingly nowhere, but there's so much going on all over the city that you'd miss if you didn't set out on foot.


For example, on my second day here (my first day was used almost entirely for sleeping and laundry purposes) I walked the path along the Thames from the apartment I'm staying at in a slightly stodgy Pimlico neighorhood, to the Tate Britain, and then on to the Victoria Tower Gardens, right beside the Houses of Parliament, bringing me to the first example of things you miss when you don't walk. No sooner had I entered the park than I noticed a fairly large group of people milling about, all of them with beautiful dogs in tow. That's right! Turns out the Westminster Dog Club was crowning "Dog of the Year" that day. I'm afraid I missed the crowning of the grand champion and runner-up, but I did manage to catch third place dog receiving his ribbon and obligatory time in the sun.

After snapping a few sneaky pictures of the dogs and their owners I was just about to head out of the park when I saw a group of boys, all in grey uniforms, sitting on the lawn, pencils in hand, sketching the Parliament. I'd seen a couple of other groups doing the same thing, and in days to follow would see many more uniformed school children drawing the Houses of Parliament. But there was something about these children that was just a little odd. Then I noticed that they were sitting in a very particular formation, and that every so often, as they sat there sketching, a well dressed headmaster type would come by one particular group of boys and offer help. Stepping back a little bit I was able to finally figure out what was going on when I noticed the camera crew filming the scene. "Oops!" I thought, stumbling across their shot, and snapping more candids on my way out of the park.

Once back on the street I headed past Parliament, poked around the Westminster Abbey grounds, stopped to admire the sheer fortitude of the stoic troopers of the Household Cavalry stationed in front of the Horse Guards building, and continued down Whitehall, all the while passing large groups of people carrying flags with the Union Jack on one side and the Visa logo on the back. I had no idea exactly what was going on, but as soon as I got to Trafalgar Square I found out.

Turns out that, in celebration of Great Britain's record medal take at the Beijing Olympics, the city of London was throwing a giant celebration in Trafalgar Square, with the Olympic and Para-Olympic team in full attendance, "London Calling" on repeat, and a very special guest appearance by Mr. Boris Johnson, who is not only kind of funny looking, but also actually quite humorous.

Now, I never would have seen any of that if I hadn't been walking.

2) Museum hop
There are so many museums and galleries in London it's impossible to think I could ever get to see all of them. Or even a fraction of them. Maybe if I was here for a year I'd be able to make a dent. But, I am resolved to try to stop by a museum or gallery every day....or at least every other day. Even if I only wander through one wing I'll be happy ( I get museum head pretty quickly).

So far I feel like I've done fairly well, knocking out Tate Britain and the National Gallery (well, parts of it) over the last week. And, as luck would have it, the National Portrait Gallery is hosting the Annie Liebovitz exhibit that I had meant to catch in San Francisco a few months ago.

3) Drink as many lager and limes as I can manage (not at one time).
When my family and I visited London three years ago my mom introduced me to a drink that I've tried to re-create countless times since...lager and lime. I don't know what it is about a lager and lime that is so delicious, but I can't get enough. I've have been drinking them since I got here...and I don't plan on stopping anytime soon.

4) Spend my remaining few travel dollars on theatre tickets.
One of the best things about London, in my opinion, is the theatre scene. Last time I was here I was ASTOUNDED at the number of people who were in attendance at a show at the National on a Wednesday night. Last night when I went to see The Last Five Years I was once again impressed by the huge number of young people who had come out to see the show. And when you take into account that you can catch some of the world's best actors are onstage here, including Kenneth Branagh (my absolute favorite actor- ever!) and Dame Judi Dench, and a few big Hollywood stars like Josh Hartnett, it's basically a dream come true.

5) Shop
Aside from one of those cheesy open-roof bus tours, the last time I was in London I did very little actual sightseeing. I'm not exactly sure why this was, most likely because my family and I were exhausted from our previous two weeks of travel, stressed because of some family concerns back in Canada, and slightly on edge because of the London tube bombings only a few weeks earlier. Needless to say, all of us kind of reverted to a place of comfort; my dad and brother visited every war and military museum they could find, my mum and I shopped and drank tea.

Needless to say, on this visit I am determined not to spend all of my time shopping. However, there is just something about London that screams "Shop!" So much so that I just can't help it. I start my day off heading to a museum and end up in the crazy department store Pimark being crushed to death by frantic shoppers as they surge for the rack of recently restocked boots. It's crazy. I don't even have any money and yet I will hop on a train to Camden Town, spend all day wandering the markets and return with a pair of legwarmers. Don't ask me why I do it. This strange phenomenon has now happened on two separate trips and I'm not going to try to fight it...I'm just going to accept...and scout out another shopping destination for tomorrow.

London and Budapest!

End of Chapter One

Before I left on this trip my parents each gave me parting advice.

From my dad, "Don't take any wooden nickles. And don't drink and drive. And don't do drugs."

Okay, no problem Dad.

My mum's advice was a little more philosophical, "Keep an open heart and an open mind. And always, always, trust yourself."

This advice, especially the part about trusting, is a little more difficult for me. I'm the kind of person who, as a little girl, would skip to the end of a book to read the last chapter, just to make sure that everything turned out okay. I like being able to see the whole picture before I've even started drawing it.

Unfortunately, that's not in the cards when you travel. You can't foresee getting stuck in Zagreb for a day on your way to Italy, or that your travel partner will fall in love with a Greek man, thus extending your time on the islands. You have absolutely no way of knowing that you'll run out of money more quickly than you thought you would, or that it will be MUCH colder in Munich than you anticipated. You can't know. And that's alright.

So the moral of the story? The moral of this part of the story at least?

My mom is right, of course. This experience has taught me to trust myself, and not only in everyday travel decisions like, "Should I visit the castle or see the opera?" , but also on a much bigger life decisions scale. This trip is something I've been planning in my head and seeing in my dreams for longer than I can remember. But, even though I've known that I've needed to go off and do something like this, I've never had the courage to actually trust myself to do it. I've always felt like there were so many other things I should be doing and that I couldn't step out of my well-planned life for one moment. I couldn't trust that maybe THIS is part of the plan.

Last night as Elissa, Michael and I were wandering the streets of Budapest with our new friend/local tour guide Adam, we thought how amazing it would be to one day have a reunion of all of the people we've met on this trip. Looking back, it's actually astounding to me not only how many locals we've befriended, but also how many fellow travelers we've adopted or were adopted by as we've gone along. We've been creating a little makeshift family of friends and kindred spirits.

Today is the last day that the three of us will be traveling together. Tomorrow Elissa will fly home to San Francisco, and Michael will go to Berlin. I'm on my way to London and after that, I have no idea. That's right, the girl that always has a plan does not have a plan, or really even the smallest semblance of a plan. My heart is pulling me in so many different directions right now and for once I'm just going to trust it and know that whatever happens, no matter how scary, it will be right.

Germany, Austria and Czech!

Hullo...Welcome to Prague!

Someone who knows me very well told me recently, after I had just finished gushing about how much I LOVED Croatia, "Kristen, you leave your heart everywhere you go."

Okay, I admit, it doesn't take much for me to fall in love with a place. I have a soft spot for things that are new and different and beautiful.

So of course it makes sense that I enjoyed spending the last few days in Prague, a city so beautiful that it's almost overwhelming.

Prague managed to emerge from WWII with very little damage. In fact, the city itself was barely bombed at all, leaving it one of the most well preserved cities in Europe. Walking through Old Town today you feel as if you've been transported back in time serveral hundred years. It's easy to imagine what Prague looked like in the time of Maria Theresa, Franz Kafka and Alfons Mucha because, aside from the souvenir shops and corner Starbucks, much of the city is virtually the same now as it was back then.

But, aside from the general splendor of the city, Prague earned its piece of my heart for several other reasons.

1) HOT WINE!
As my dear friend Alex will attest, I adore mulled wine. As soon as there's a chill in the air I whip out the mulling spices and merlot. In Prague they sell mulled wine on the street! For only 40 kc you can keep cozy as you meander the cobbled streets of Old Town with a fragrant mug of holiday cheer.

2) FALL
It's been many, many years since I've witnessed leaves changing colour as summer turns to fall. In Alberta the change is dramatic and sudden, with deep shades of purple, red, orange and yellow on every tree seemingly overnight. When we arrived in Prague, one of the first things I noticed was the colourful groves of trees along the Vltata River, a sight that made me instantly homesick but also instantly at home.

3) Czech Food!
Dominated by hearty dishes like goulash, dumplings, potato pancakes and sauerkraut, eating traditional Czech food turned out to be a surprising delight. Maybe it's because everything we ate reminded me of the Polish food my grandma makes, but every meal we ate in Prague tasted like it was homecooked.

4) Hidden Treasures
Prague is full of all kinds of hidden gems just waiting to be discovered around one dark alley or another. Two of my favorites were:

Dobra Cajovna- a vibrant Asian style teahouse that is a sanctuary of peace and quiet amidst the bustling and touristy Wenceslas Square. All of the teas have wonderfully poetic names like Scent of Kashmir and Memories of Jerusalem. We managed to try about six different teas over the course of a few hours and emerged from the teahouse relaxed and rejuvenated.

Bar & Books- a smokey little cigar bar, styled like a private library and complete with a librarian hostess. We spent an entire evening sipping cocktails and whiskey, eating all types of delicious European cheese and pate, and puffing away on Cuban cigars. We happened upon this place purely by accident, but it turned out to be one of our most enjoyable adventures in Prague.

And then there were three!

"You Americans. Everything is always 'amazing this' and 'amazing that.' Everything is sooooo ammmaaazzzinnggg all the time."

Like most young travelers, we've spent most of our trip is a state of constant amazement over everything we've seen. Christiane, a German student who, along with her boyfriend Flo, adopted us during our stay in Munich, was quick to point out that this overuse of superlatives (i.e. describing everything as amazing, wonderful, beautiful, etc.) is strictly a North American tendency.

I'd never realized my overuse of superlatives until that moment. I mean, how many times on this trip have Elissa and I met people who we enjoyed spending time with and, immediately after waving goodbye, turned to each other and said, "Oh my gosh. I LOVED them!" The answer is many, many times.

Now, don't get me wrong. I love a good superlative. But, I could see Christiane's point. How can you apply the same word you use with someone for whom you have deep affection to a group of strangers with whom you enjoyed sharing a beer?

So, as a personal challenge I'm going to attempt to describe some of the experiences from the last week without drifting into a superlative slump.

LONG LOST FRIENDS
Stephanie and I go way back. Before there was a California Kristen there was Stephanie, Lindsay and Kristen, three goofy 12 year olds who became best of friends over one week at summer camp. Over the years, Steph and I drifted apart a little. I moved to California. She lives in Calgary. Still, we've always been the kind of friends that, no matter how much time has passed, we always start each conversation as if it has only been a few days since we last talked, instead of a few years.

When I found out that Steph and her husband, Matt, were living in Bologna for a few months I made plans for a day trip during our stop in Padova.

As I waited for Steph and Matt is the town center, I couldn't help but wonder what our day would be like. It's been at least three years since we've seen each other and, even though we're the same age, our lives seem so different. She's been working full time for ages, is married and has even owned a home. That's pretty much as far away from my unemployed, unattached, uncommitted life as it gets.

Still, the moment I saw Steph all of those concerns disappeared. We were back to that place we always ended up at. It was like nothing had changed except, instead of giggling around a campfire at Lake Chestermere, we were sipping espresso in Bologna.

As it turns out Steph, despite living a life that seems so foreign to me, is in very much the same place that I've found myself over the past year, questioning everything, looking for answers, seeking adventure, creating new experiences and opening herself up to all kinds of possibilities. It almost felt as if our lives had kind of aligned for a minute in Bologna, as a reminder that we're both on the right path, heading in the right direction.

We talked all afternoon. About everything. And when all had been said I waved goodbye and left for the train station, wondering when the universe would see fit for our lives to align again, and what kind of adventures we would find ourselves on in between.

PROST!
"Viva Cologne!"

It's been four hours and this is the only Oktoberfest song we know, mostly because it doesn't really have any other words. Okay, that's a lie. We also know the song that has "la la la" as its only lyrics and when the live band in the middle of the beer tent plays American classic rock songs like "Proud Mary" and "I Will Survive" you can bet we sing our hearts out with the 3000 Germans around us, all of whom are dancing on tables in lederhosen and dirndls and shouting "prost!"

I'm going to use a superlative here and say that this is the best party I've ever been to.

Our German friends, Christiane, Flo and Blade have somehow managed to snag us a table in the Spaten tent, something that is usually virtually impossible without a reservation, and within minutes we have half a dozen new German friends. There's the two medical students from Cologne who have spent the last year studying in Norway and so spend most of the evening speaking to me in Norwegian (which I kindly ask them to translate to English because the only Norwegian word I know is "skol") , the pair of middle aged men who do dead on impressions of Arnold Schwarzenegger, and a few lively dance partners who spin me around the wobbly wooden benches, precariously dipping me to within inches of the floor.

"What are we doing here!!!??" Elissa, Michael and I yell to each other over our beer steins.

The three of us had arrived in Munich early that morning, Elissa and I via our last (!) overnight train from Padova and Michael from New York. We were absolutely exhausted, but after a power nap at Christiane and Flo's apartment we were ready to hit the tents.

I'm not quite sure what I expected Oktoberfest to be like. Outdoor beer tents in the middle of grassy fields, where people leisurely sip their beer while listening to lively Bavarian music was the picture I had in my head. Turns out Oktoberfest is NOTHING like that.

First of all, everyone is in traditional Bavarian garb. The U Bahn and S Bahn were packed with men and women in lederhosen and dirndl. I felt so out of place that I had to go try on a dirndl the next day to make myself feel better.

Second, Oktoberfest does not take place in the middle of a green pasture. It takes place in the middle of a gigantic Disneyland-esque midway, full of puke-tastic rides, that has been constructed just for the event.

Among the midway rides there is every kind of food you could want, from GIANT pretzels to chocolate covered fruit, every kind of wurst you can imagine, and endless mounds of candy and nuts. I'm pretty sure we had a healthy sampling of just about everything.

And finally, finally, there are the beer tents. Twelve in all, each with a different and very specific theme and packed to the rafters with raucous Oktoberfesters and thousands of gallons of the world's best beer.

What could be better?

Looking back over pictures I took that night I'm not sure that I was able to capture the sheer joy that was on our three faces that evening. We had a hard time leaving Munich, not only because we ended up making wonderful friends and really felt at home in home in the city, but because the spirit of Munich, amidst all of the festivities, had gotten inside of us and we didn't want to see it go.

I'm still here.....

Spent the last week in Munich and Salzburg! Much Oktoberfest madness was enjoyed....I'll update as soon as I get all of the beer out of my system!