My Car and My Nerves Have Been Wrecked

I don't even know how long it's been since I wrote a blog post. I have two in draft that I haven't worked on in a while. Life has been crazy, but I think it's time for me to say something. It's going to be a therapeutic writing session, and I'm not going to go into too many details or the aftermath due to the on-going proceedings with insurance companies. I'll try to stick to basic facts.

Saturday, February 21, 2015, a little before 7:09pm I was rear-ended while stopped, waiting at a red light. I was hit with such force that all my airbags deployed, and my car went into the car in front of me. The car in front of me (Honda) went into the car in front of it (4Runner), so it was a total of four cars involved in the accident. I must have blacked-out or something, because all I remember is being stopped, looking up in my rear-view mirror, and thinking "That car is coming at me very fast." The next thing I remember is coughing from what I thought was smoke. I think it was the dust from my airbags, and it took me a bit of time to realize that's what it was or that my airbags had deployed. I called 911. I didn't talk with the girl, Nekeisha, who hit me at all. I remember thinking, "you have to take pictures. you have to take pictures." It was very hard because my hands were shaking.

You can see the deployed airbags in this picture, with some of the rear damage. There was frame damage.

My younger sister was in the accident with me. She told me that it's probably better to get off the road, because we were on the feeder of a tollway, after an event was getting out. We went into a parking lot. I started crying, shaking, and my body stopped functioning. Saryah sat next to me trying to calm me down. One of the ladies from the 4Runner got me water from one of the buildings whose parking lot we were in. One of the other ladies from the 4Runner was in front of me repeating ,"You're in shock. Just breath. Breathe. Concentrate on your breathing..."

To summarize the rest of the night: Saryah managed to get a hold of our parents. My mom came to help deal with the situation. Joshua was at a church meeting, and called as soon as he got the message that we were in an accident. He talked to Saryah and came up too. It was a crazy night, and I was taken to the hospital on a stretcher.

I was released that night and went home. The whole process of dealing with the aftermath, insurance companies, and details about my car, has been horrible. However, I would be one of the worst people if I wasn't able to look through the trauma, recognize, and be grateful for the people who have been so kind to me during this ordeal. I'm thankful for my mother, who had to put up with my crazy emotions as I yelled at her a lot that night. Joshua bought her I'm-Sorry-For-Yelling-At-You flowers on my behalf. I'm grateful for Saryah, who took care of me as I was unable to function after the accident. I'm grateful for Joshua, who came to be with me. He's been able to handle with my stress levels in the weeks since the accident, when many people cannot. I'm grateful for Greg and Steven, who showed up late at night to give me a blessing. I'm thankful for Jay, who has helped walk me through this process, and makes me feel like I'm in safe hands with him on my side. I'm grateful for Pam, who was okay with me going and looking at cars while she's supposed to be on vacation visiting me. I'm thankful for my awesome brother, who called Greg and Steven, and has helped me look at cars the past few weeks.

My car has been deemed a total loss. After much research and (literal) tears, I bought a new compact SUV, Mazda CX-5. Even though driving has become the most stress-inducing traumatic nightmare I must partake of daily, I'm glad replacing my car is over and done. One thing has been resolved, and many more are yet to come.

Boston Strong America!

Anyone who has talked to me this year knows, after my Europe trip earlier this year, I'm not making any more trips this year because I'm saving money. The problem is, saying and doing are very different things. Becca messaged me back in June. This is more or less what happened. I took out the extra stuff.

Becca: Do you have plans over labor day weekend this year?
Me: Not that I know of. What are you thinking? Britney in Vegas????
Becca: haha. That wasn't what I was thinking...
Me: What were *you* thinking?
Becca: I was just thinking that Labor Day weekend was fun last year, and it seems like a good vacation opportunity. I'll try and think of potential places.
Me: Boston?
Becca: Are you a mind reader?
Me: Yes, yes, and yes.

What can I say? It's very hard to convince me to travel...because saying and doing are two *very* different things. Funny story: we were looking at hostels, and the one we were originally looking at fell through. We waited a bit long to book rooms, and wanted to get it done before everything booked up. We were both away from our computers, so we ended up booking everything on our phones. #classylassies

I took a nice long Labor Day weekend vacation. I took of Thursday night, so we could have all of Friday together. Did I mention that Becca's parents were joining us on our trip? Because they did, and they are so funny! I was a little nervous because the only interaction I've ever had with Becca's parents, as Becca reminded me, was when her mom would transcribe my letter into an email to Becca, while I was on my mission, and Becca was teaching in China. I remember Becca telling me that her mom was having difficulties transcribing my smiley faces and other drawn expressions that I use in my letters. Anyways, Becca and her parents picked me up from the airport Thursday night, and we went to the hotel.

Friday morning, I should have gone running, but I made excuses in my head to no go. It's even worse, because Becca's dad came back full of happy runny energy, because he had a great run along the bay. Shame on me. We had a nice breakfast before heading out for the day. There was a nice man who redirected us to the correct side of the train by saying "you only go that way if you want to get run over by a train". He was funny. We walked along the harbor and waited in line for our whale watching tour. Another reason I'm happy Becca's parents came along! I'm not to sure I could have convinced Becca to go on a whale watching tour without the added votes from her parents. We were warned before going on the boat, there were 3ft waves that day. I may be Boston strong...but it turns out my stomach is not. Several kids and myself had motion sickness...unlike the kids, I found a trashcan to vomit into. The kids will learn, but I felt pity for the workers who had to clean the deck of vomit. Gross. We saw whales. (If Marijn is reading this...it says: we saw whales. Whales were seen. We zagen walvissen) They were so big! It was magical! Everything I wanted and more (in both a good and bad way. lol)

We walked to see a graveyard, some parks, and the Cheers bar. That place was pretty cute. Then we went to the oldest restaurant in the United States! Union Oyster House. It was cool. The waitress had such a Bostonian accent, it was adorable. (spoiler...Becca and I walked by the waitress again the next day when we were going to our hostel) We ate so much, and it was so good!

 Saturday we said goodbye to Becca's parents and went to find our hostel. We took the train to the stop, and decided to walk to the hostel instead of calling the shuttle. This is when we saw our waitress again. We both weren't sure if we should say hi or not, so we stayed silent. As we were walking on the sidewalk, a van pulled over and asked if we were going to the hostel. It was the shuttle! He was driving back from dropping someone off. What a coincidence! We checked in and went back to the train stop before heading off to the Freedom Trail.

Freedom Trail notes:

• The best part about walking the freedom trail: me wearing my American shirt that I bough specifically for this trip.
• The worst part about the freedom trail: the wreckage it did to my legs that lasted for a week. I was literally limping for a week, and I felt it in my left hip. Personally, I blame the 294 stairs at the Bunker Hill monument.
• It made the black history trail seem terrible. I'm just going to take a moment for this. Dear Boston, If you are going to advertise you have a black history trail, put signs up to mark where you are supposed to be going and where you should stop! The Freedom Trail has a trail in the pavement! The Black History trail had nothing, but other tourists wandering around asking each other if they think they found one of the landmarks. This is embarrassing for you Boston. Just stop.
• Turns out the midnight ride of Paul Revere NEVER HAPPENED! American history is a dirty liar. He had someone else light the lanterns in the church...and we aren't even sure who!!!
• We stopped at Mike's Pastries. It was tastey...but not worth all the hype. 

Saturday night was fireworks in the Harbor. It was gorgeous. 

Sunday arrived with achy legs. We played too hard Saturday, and our bodies hated us on Sunday. We still went into town for a much slower-paced day that the day before. We started off with Sunday brunch at a bookstore/cafe. Trident Book Cafe. WHAAAAAAATTTT???? Books and food! Dreams do come true. The food was amazing too. Apple turkey sausage! I died and went to heaven. Seriously amazing. Then we went to go to the library. It was closed. Obviously we checked the time again and decided to come back when it was open. Instead we went to Harvard. Why? To say we went to Harvard.

Harvard is not as impressive as I once thought. There was no sign that said "Harvard" anywhere. Who does that! Every school has a sign that says their name. Nope. Not Harvard. Stupid Harvard. We went back to the library....it was still closed. Turns out, it' closed for Labor Day weekend, all weekend. bah. Then we couldn't find a public bathroom, and I'm like a child when I got to go.  We couldn't find a public bathroom anywhere for me. I was a hot mess. We wandered to a park to rest and FaceTime Marijn. It was a Labor Day reunion, because we were together in DC last year for Labor Day.

I had taken some Earl Grey tea from the hotel earlier this weekend and had been carrying it around in my purse for this very moment...I was going to throw tea in the harbor. Of course, I ripped the bag to get the tea out; I didn't want to liter. It was magical. I love how excited I look in my picture...because really, I was that maniacally happy about it.

We then headed to dinner for lobster rolls. We wanted to go to this place with awesome reviews, but they had a two hour wait, and we were HUNGRY. We saw that the place next door had lobster rolls too, so we went there. Turns out, there is a reason this place isn't rated. It was SUPER overpriced and not that good. It also turns out, I don't like lobster that much. Surprise. We went and got sweets from a bakery down the road and went back to the hostel to read for the rest of the night. We were seriously knackered. I love that Becca and I can just go back to read in our rooms, and be 100% okay with it. Great travel buddy. We went to bed, and I flew out early the next morning.

I was driven to the airport by a taxi man that I wasn't 100% sure if he was really a taxi driver or a hippie homeless man driver who was going to kill me. It was a wee bit stressful. I still arrived home safely and in time to head over to Marcia's farewell family Labor Day BBQ party, which was super fun too.

Florida Fun in the Sun

Background points: 

1. I don't like using last names in my blog posts, because I like to give people some resemblance of privacy, and I hate when people use my first and last names in blogs. You know, do unto others as you would have others do to you, and all that jazz. Now that you know that, you must also know: writing this blog was really weird, because I call Zach by his last name, probably 90% of the time.

#tbt #iwasfat #CSRM #missionaries

2. I haven't seen Zach since the mission, so about 3 years or so. We've kept in contact, text, and chat on the phone occasionally. I think my favorite thing to ask him is "Why aren't you married?" because he just laughs it off. Either way, we got along really well on the mission, and we still get along fabulously post-mission.

Storytime:

Zach told me earlier this year that he was planning on going to Austin sometime this summer, which made me super excited all year. But like every other time there's a possibility of us running into each other, something happened where he couldn't go anymore. Like how he purposefully goes to whichever mission reunion I'm not attending. (I'm on to you!) We were chatting on the phone one night, and he was just "why don't you come here?" and I immediately say "I'm not flying to tampa to spend a weekend with you." He's saying, "why not" and I'm saying many reasons, "It's going to be expensive. I don't have any time before you go off to school again. You're not really serious." We talked, and I looked at flights, hypothetically of course. It turns out, Houston to Tampa isn't that expensive for a weekend, and since I would be staying with his family, I would just be paying for airfare and if we went out to eat. It also turned out, there was a great weekend that worked perfectly for my schedule. I made him go ask his mom, for real, if it would be okay if I came to visit and verify he wasn't offering as an impulse thing. Once that was okay, I just had to think about it....and the real concern surfaced. If I went to visit him and stay with his family, everyone is going to think we're dating. I told him this and he just said "who cares? people are always going to think what they're going to think". Valid. I booked my flight. 

The only plan I had for the weekend was spending some quality time with Zach, which is exactly what happened....everything else was extra. I flew in Friday night, and he's messages me to see if it's okay that his mom comes along to pick me up from the airport with him. I'm like, "uhhhh....sure." It was a great decision. His mom, is super awesome, and I adore her. We picked up his oldest (maybe?) brother and went to dinner near Clearwater Beach, where one of his younger sisters and her friends joined us. It was great. I think the best part is when we got back, and I met his youngest brother Matt, who was just waking up from a too-long nap around 10ish. I greeted him, and he just gave me one of those i-just-woke-up-and-nothing-makes-sense looks. I laughed. The next best part was that Zach's mom more awake and ready to stay up than I was. I felt so un-cool.

Saturday morning started off wonderfully. I did my 5-mile run on a trail down the road from their house (see pic above). It was my first 5-mile run; I was worried I would die from the distance, and Zach's family was worried I'd die from heat and humidity. Personally, I think Florida was less humid than Texas that week. I also had to tell Zach to make sure I didn't make up excuses to not run. The sad thing is, it was my last long-distance run. I've been making tons of excuses since. #fail

I went running, while Zach and Matt went to help someone move. Zach's mom made an epic breakfast when we all got back. We headed to the beach, where Zach and Matt did an indoor surf thing, while I hung out and shopped a bit with Zach's mom. Then it was beach time. The sand was so white and the water was nice, warm, wonderful, and clean.

On the way to the beach, I was having quite an interesting family drama morning, because everyone was convinced my older sister was dead. I thought she had been taken. It was very dramatic, and quite entertaining. Turns out she was just asleep. It was so anticlimactic. It did leave us very intrigued for the morning.

I'm not sure if I should share this story, but I'm going to anyway, because I don't have many boundaries. Zach's brother, Matt is a teenagers. One of the teenager things I heard from him was him complaining that his parents "cared too much" and "believed in him too much". I laughed so hard. Fast forward a few weeks. I'm in the car with my mom and sister, and my mom is driving me insane about something. I'm about to open my mouth and say "STOP CARING SO MUCH", but instead I think of Matt and start laughing. It was a great moment. I'm such an adult.

Dang. My face looks nice and tan. Go me...Zach looks tan too.

After the beach, we went back to the house. Zach and I went shopping for groceries for dinner, which was great, because we were very inefficient and kept backtracking trying to find things on our shopping list. I got to request spaghetti with meatballs for dinner. Victory! To make dinner even better, the sister missionaries showed up. I LOVE MISSIONARIES! It was a great night. The evening ended with a stroll and lots of sweets from the Sponge Docks. Then I introduced them to The Mindy Project. There were a few moments where I questioned my decision, but I LOVE THE MINDY PROJECT! NO REGRETS!

Sunset at the Sponge Docks. Isn't it BEAUTIFUL!?!?!?!

Sunday Funday! Sunday was great. I wore my pretty new flower dress and had to borrow a safety pin to keep it appropriate. Clothing these days. geeze. Church was amazing. I was so uplifted. There were some great speakers, but my fav was a 15-year-old boy, who converted recently. The sunday school teacher was deaf, and had great insights into the book of Job. The Relief Society was full of women with wisdom. It was great. I didn't realize how much their words would impact me later the week. Seriously. There were a number of ladies battling cancer in the room, and they were talking about dealing with trials and cancer. I loved one older lady telling about when she got the call that she had cancer. She said something along the lines of, "When you get bad news like that, you take a moment to be miserable/upset/angry. No more than 24-hours. Then you have to get back and face it" She said she called her doctor back and said "ok. what are we going to do about it?" I'm not saying that everyone should deal with cancer or bad news this way, but I really liked the spirit behind her words.

We made sushi for lunch. Homemade sushi. I've never made homemade sushi before, and I felt super posh. It was awesome, and fun. After lunch, the only way to end a great weekend is with a great dessert! So I made Sister Bunker's birthday cookies (aka homemade oreos). They were a hit. Of course. You can't go wrong with those cookies. 

Overall, it was a great weekend. I needed it. I needed to relax, and spend some time with a friend. I had a great time. Maybe it won't take years before we see each other next. His mom asked me over the weekend what I thought about Zach, or if he's what I expected, or something like that. I've told him, and I told her: Zach is not what I thought he would be like outside of the mission. That may sound bad, but I mean it in the nicest way. You get to know and love fellow missionaries on your mission, and they just stay that way, in missionary-mode, in your mind forever. Zach just got more awesome since the mission, and I love it. 

We Are All Malala

http://ideas.time.com/2012/10/22/the-problem-with-the-we-are-all-trope/

I remember first hearing about Malala Yusufzai back in October 2012 when she was shot by the Taliban. I remember being horrified that the Taliban attempted to assassinate a 14-year-old girl, and I remember being very curious about why she would be targeted. I started reading articles about her. She was a voice standing up for girl's education in Pakistan, while the Taliban was forbidding girls from any education. She wrote under an alias for the BBC of what it was like to live under Taliban rule, and I read several of the articles. She was a modern day Anne Frank, with the words of a little girl living in horrific conditions, reaching out to speak to the world about the conditions in which she was living. The girl was inspiring, as was the catchphrase that caught my attention and my heart, "We are ALL Malala".

Words cannot express how much I enjoyed reading her book I Am Malala: The Girl Who Stood Up for Education and Was Shot by the Taliban.

I loved her story of her life, and I enjoyed the background that was given of the region. While she tells her story, she explains the history of her people, the Pashtuns (a people who helped save the life of Marcus Luttrell who wrote Lone Survivor), Swat, and Pakistan itself. I'm pretty sure most of the Western world does not know the history of how Pakistan was created or the tumultuous history they have experienced. It put the book into perspective of how the Taliban could come to power. She tells of events, which many heard in the news, but we see it from a Pakistani perspective.

Her story is inspiring and eye-opening. It makes you think, and take a look at yourself. It makes you grateful for the education you have, and the ability to open your mouth and speak your mind without fear. It amazes me that a 16 year-old girl has done more to inspire the world than I could hope. She makes me believe that it is possible to educate every boy and girl. Her whole book is quotable, and I wish everyone could read it.

Something I really liked about her book was how important her family is to her, and she shows how her parents have impacted her life.  As I have read about Malala, one of my favorite things was how it is explained that she was once her father's daughter, but now he is "Malala's father". He stepped out of cultural norms to do what he believed is right, and his actions have molded a daughter who has inspired the world.  He taught her the importance of women. 

A man goes out to work, he earns a wage, he comes back home, he eats, he sleeps. That's what he does. Our men think earning money and ordering around others is where power lies. They don't think power is in the hands of the women who takes care of everyone all day long, and gives birth to their children. In our house my mother managed everything because my father was so busy (Yousafzai 116). 

When I read those words, it gave me such joy to see that other people notice the power that women have to influence and change things. Sometimes, people see stay-at-home-mothers as less, but I see them as more. They are the ones that can make the biggest differences. Teach their children correct principles that will impact generations to come. In the book you see this, but you also see how women who are illiterate and without education can be easily manipulated. When people are educated, they can read, think, and draw their own conclusions rather than have someone tell them their own interpretations of things.

http://instagramquotes.blogspot.com/2013/12/malala-yousafzai-quotes-for-facebook.html

She speaks of the fear she lived through, with suicide bombers and the Taliban's reign, and the comfort her father's words gave her:"'At night our fear is strong...but in the morning, in the light, we find our courage again'"(Yousafzai 138).

She's speaking about writing for the BBC under the pen name Gul Makai, which means 'grief-stricken': "I began to see that the pen and the words that come from it can be much more powerful than machine guns, tanks, or helicopters. Awe were learning how to struggle. And we were learning how powerful we are when we speak" (Yousafzai 157).

She speaks of the importance of education and how the Taliban forbid girls from going to school. "'Education is education. We should learn everything and then choose which path to follow.' Education is neither Eastern nor Western, it is human"(Yousafzai 162).

http://abcworldnews.tumblr.com/post/64023487908/i-dont-mind-if-i-have-to-sit-on-the-floor-at

Under the Taliban's reign, I was reminded of Nazi Germany, where people would turn on their fellow human beings. They were ruled by terror, and people's lives were governed by feelings of self-preservation instead of love for others. Malala said, "some people are afraid of ghosts, some of spiders or snakes --- in those days we were afraid of our fellow human beings" (Yousafzai 166). 

Her father's dream his whole life was to run a school. He believed in education and accountability. He said, "My only ambition...is to educate my children and my nation as much as I am able. But when half of your leaders tell lies and the other half is negotiating with the Taliban, there is nowhere to go. One has to speak out" (Yousafzai 216).

http://paulinemaria.blogspot.com/2013/10/malala-pride-of-britain-another-global.html

Even with all the terrible things in the world around her and being shot, Malala is unwavering in her faith and lives with an attitude of gratitude. "We human beings don't realize how great God is. He has given us an extraordinary brain and a sensitive loving heart. He has blessed us with two lips to talk and express our feelings, two eyes which see a world of colors and beauty, two feet which walk on the road of life, two hands to work for us, a nose which smells the beauty of fragrance, and two ears to hear the words of love. As I found with my ear, no one knows how much power they have in their each and every organ until they lose one"(Yousafzai 300-1).

Her words are so powerful and inspiring. "Don't be afraid --- if you are afraid, you cannot move forward" (Yousafzai 308). 

In the past few years of my life, it has amazed me how many girls I have met that are younger than me and have inspired me. I have been so blessed to meet girls who dream big and remind me to do the same. The Taliban thought they could stop Malala, but they created a stronger voice. We must take the challenges that come our way, and become stronger. We learn from each challenge, to become better, stronger, and wiser. "I want to learn and be trained well with the weapon of knowledge. Then I will be able to fight more effectively for my cause" (Yousafzai 311). We all have a cause, that we can fight for with love and the weapon of knowledge. 

The Luck of the Irish #notdeadyet

The five things I think of when I think of Ireland:
     1. Potato famine of 1845
     2. IRA: aka terrorists & terrorism
     3. PIIGS: one of the five worst economies in the EU. (Portugal, Ireland, Italy, Greece, & Spain)
     4. green hills
     5. Irish accents
What can I say? I'm overflowing with Irish wisdom. It turns out I actually have an Irish great-great-great grandmother who snuck into my proud Scottish lineage, so I was pretty excited to see something she might have experienced.

Erica and I arrived in Ireland super late, and our luggage was very delayed in the unloading process. There was also a little girl with an Elsa from Frozen doll she bought at Disneyland Paris, which became annoying very quickly. We were surprised the car rental places were still opened, so we rented a car. We went out to the garage to find the car and after searching 3 flights of the car park, we went back to the counter for help. I momentarily panicked because there was no one there, but it turns out they were hiding behind the desk. The girl had to walk us out and point us the the area where the rental car was hiding. We hopped in the car and said a very earnest pray for safety so we would arrive to the hostel alive as I attempt to drive in the dark, on the narrow roads of Ireland, on the opposite side of the road, in a stick shift. No bid deal, right?

We arrived to the hostel around 1am, and I sent Erica in to figure out where to park the car. This is not a good idea when Erica is tired, as she gets very sleep-drunk. She came back not really knowing what was going on and confused....she may or  may not have been slurring her words too. lol. I had her wait in the car, while I went in to find out what was going on. Confession: it may have taken longer than it should have because they guy at the desk and I were flirting. Sorry Erica! It started with him commenting that I was British with an American accent (travelling with my uk passport), and I said something about "growing up in America with enough sass to prove I'm British." It just spiraled from there. Looking back, I could have had some more fun with that, but I'm not thinking clearly at 1am. I parked the car and wandered through this crazy path to get back to the hostel and had to tell them that it is the creepiest thing ever to make a girl walk that in the middle of the night alone. #wherearethegentlemen

Day 1: After minimal sleep, we had some breakfast. There were some guys sitting behind us, and I thought, "dang, they have think accents. I can't understand them at all" Only then did I realize they were speaking German. #iloveGermans We took to the town and went to one of the most beautiful things in the world: a library. We went to the Trinity College Library, and it felt like the end of a pilgrimage I didn't know I was taking. It was a bibliophile's dream. Beautiful.

We went to old churches, where I discovered that Dublin keeps the strangest things in their churches. I made a collage. I think the best is the mummified cat and mouse that they found behind an organ and then decided to frame them. We also had lunch at a pub, where I gave into their tricky marketing of Irish food. I have a theory that people will buy food, thinking it's authentic, just as long as it has the name in it. I had the "Irish Salmon Sampler".

I know, a day in Dublin? But it's it's really not that big. Erica was sickly, and I saw everything I wanted. We hopped in the car to go meet up with James in Belfast. It took about an hour of traffic to get out of Dublin. The cross over from Ireland into Northern Ireland was anticlimactic. There was just a sign announcing the speed would now be posted in miles. This was fine and dandy....except the rental did not have miles on the speedometer; it only had kilometers. I had Erica use the calculator on her phone to calculate how fast we should be driving, and with all the speed cameras on the highways, I was scared I would be getting tickets mailed to me back in America. After the traffic, a few hours of driving, my muscles cramping from shifting with my left arm, James not being where I told him, and intense hanger (that was not a mispelling), we arrived in Belfast and found James at a gas station. I bought some Lilt and McVitie's to up my blood sugar to normal levels, and then we went to "The Searcher" statue, which is a monument to C.S. Lewis' The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe. It is in front of the Holywood Arches Library. Nerdy-ness ensued.

Then they fed me...a kebab. I was going to post the picture of me and the kebab, but decided that's way to personal. It's a passionate love that I have for kebabs. We grabbed out GIANT kebabs and ate them in McDonald's. The kebab shop didn't provide napkins, and anyone who's seen me eat a kebab knows how much I need napkins. Omg. It was great and amazing. Everything I remember and more. Yum yum yum.

Next stop: The Dark Hedges. 

After lots of pictures at The Dark Hedges, we went onto Giant's Causeway. We parked at the hotel that was next to the entrance, and acted very nonchalant as we wandered down their path to Giant's Causeway. We took beautiful photos at sunset before leaving to try and find the hostel. We drove the street, not really seeing anything. I accidently started driving on the right side of the road before Erica corrected me. We stopped at this little B&B to ask where we were supposed to go, and it turned out that it was the hostel. The guy had these thick glasses and was completely adorable and sweet. 

Day 2: The next morning, we walked from our hostel to Giant's Causeway to get some lovely pictures. We then drove to the "rope bridge" nearby. We drove past sheep that were dyed pink, which was awesome. I should have pulled over, but the roads were so narrow, I didn't want to die.

This picture was inspired by Becca. I told her I did a bridge at The Dark Hedges, and she asked if I had done it in front of the bridge. GENIUS! This is my bridge over a bridge. I did not walk across the bridge because bridges freak me out. Rope bridges are too scary.

This is Erica and me at the Cliffs of INSANITY! We were driving and saw the visitor's area, and pulled over. The guy said there was free parking further onward and gave us directions like "turn right at the rock shop" and keep going. We drove for about 15 minutes on one lane pictures not really sure if we were going the correct way. We eventually ended up in front of a house with a sign saying you could park there. Then you walk this pathway between cow pastures, climbing over gates, to get to the cliffs.

'Twas sunset time. It was super windy, and I was so scared to be by the edge of the cliff, but we took some amazing photos.

We put the address of the hostel in our GPS, and found our way out of the windy streets faster than we got into them. We found a little restaurant to have dinner. We were so tired that we went to the hostel and went straight to bed.
Day 3: We woke up early to go see the Rock of Cashel, which is an old church/building/house of kings from the 12th century. It was pretty cool, and very cold. We drove onto Dublin for lunch, dropped James off, and then went to catch our flight back to England. Overall, I only stalled six times. I drove on the wrong side of the road once. There were times I had my foot on the gas 100% and watched the speedometer arrow decrease as we were going up hills. The road signs do not always translate too well...if Becca and I hadn't asked Lukas last year about most European road signs, I would have probably gotten us killed. Some of the roads were so winding that I had to go so slow to not die. The roads were so narrow at times, that I thought we run into the car on the opposite side of the road.  I will say, if you road-trip Ireland, you're going to need a GPS or you will die. Literally die. Even with a GPS, you may die. But you know what? I'm not dead yet!

We landed, caught the train, and walked to Kate's house. We knocked on the door, and Ben says, "what are you doing here?" He then tells us the Kate and Rachel went to meet us at the train station, and we must have just missed them. Oops. Kate made us a great dinner, because Kate is great. We had a great evening. I think the retelling to my mom of this evening is the best version. I told her that Ben and I were beating each other up and that Ben waterboarded me (you can see that I have water on my top in the post-attack photo). Mom just looks a little confused and says "Where was Kate?" I say "Oh, she was at the table playing on her iPad." She says, "Where was Rachel?" I say, "She was just chatting with Erica." My mom responded by shaking her head at me. hahaha. Ben also stole one of my shoes and hid it, promising to text me that night to tell me where it was. I forgot about  it until the morning, when we're about to leave for the airport. I cannot find my shoe. I have to FaceTime Ben at 5-something-a.m. and when I find the shoe, I accidentally knock it over into this space between the wall and the wood paneling. No one is as tall as Ben the Giant, so I gave up hope of getting my shoe back and start to pull out my sandals. Once again, proving her powers of being the coolest person ever, Kate retrieves my shoe, and we leave to the airport. Kate is kind and loving and took drove us to the airport ridiculously early in the morning. Thank you Kate!

The only other story I have to tell is that I ran into my high school friend, Adrian, in the airport train taking us to our terminal. He was with his wife and the end of their honeymoon, and we were on the same flight home. This is the second time I ran into Adrian this year with his wife. This is also the second time I ran into them looking more-or-less like a hobo. Seriously. If it was just Adrian, I would probably be okay with it, but his wife is absolutely gorgeous, and I feel like I should at least look presentable when she doesn't know me well. #awkwardstoryofmylife

To Paris, With (a Positive Feeling That is Not) Love

Anyone who knows me, knows I have a severe lovelike/hate relationship with France. One of the worst problems with France is so many people go there with high expectations. However, France isn't as great, romantic, or wonderful as people think, especially since most people's experience of France boils down to one city: Paris. This will be my third time in Paris, and I have corrected my previous errors and have come with very negative expectations. When things went wrong, it was to be expected. When something was nice, it was nicer than I anticipated, so I was quite happy. Don't get me wrong, Paris does two things amazingly that I love.

1. Crepes (and other pastries)
2. Versailles

Please note: Anytime you see this type of sign...it doesn't mean they will actually speak to you in English. It is more of a general statement that they understand English and will willingly communicate back to you, but not necessarily in English. Parisians generally like to pretend they don't speak English, and will *not* speak to you in English. What happens is you point, attempt words in French, and try to interpret what they are saying back to you in French. Maybe since I'm older or I now speak a second language, I feel like I was able to understand a lot more French that before. Go me! I also learned how to properly ask where the toilet is, instead of just saying "Toilet?" and trying to look confused.  #pointofpride

Day 1: We took the (super early) high-speed train from London to Paris, and I quite enjoyed it! No surprise, as I always prefer a train against a plane if the timing makes sense.We checked into our hostel, which was right around the corner to the train station, and went out for crepes before our tour. Now, I've been on a number of the Sandemans Free Tours throughout Europe, and I would highly recommend them. However, this may be the first time I've been genuinely bored during a tour. This is surprising because I'm a huge nerd, and I always stand at the front of the group to soak in as much learning as possible. France and Paris have such rich and crazy histories, but we didn't hear much about it. Towards the end of the tour, it started getting cold and rainy. Plus, the tour guide was a Londoner who openly admitted to preferring Paris, so there was obviously something wrong with her in the first place.

We bought umbrellas from a street vendor. Erica's lasted about an hour before she broke it when she was swinging it around. #badluck There was a weird ball being hung in the middle of the Eiffel Tower, which is really distracting. The guy who took the picture was a construction worker, hence the Eiffel Tower being decapitated at the top. #guillotine

I'm not even sure what's going on here, but I love it. 

Day 2: After Sacre Coeur, Saryah wanted to check out a cemetery. This led to an epic journey of trying to find a toilet, eating yummy pizza, and eating even yummier pastries. I will dream of that raspberry tartelette for the rest of my life. We found the cemetery, but there was only this bridge over it. We were about to begin a search for the entrance, but Saryah said "nah. This is good. I'm happy." I made her take a photo as proof we were there.

We were trying to find the metro and accidentally wandered through the red light district #oops

We decided to separate for a few hours because Erica wanted to see the Louvre, Saryah wanted to see the impressionist paintings at Musee de Orsay, and I wanted to go see an old church. Personally, I think I made the best choice, because I love old buildings more than art. However, I found this awesome painting at Saint-Sulpice. I have seen many old churches. Seriously. I've seen A LOT; I really love them. I have never seen them have a painting depicting Jesus Christ and God as two separate and distinct beings. I believe God, Jesus Christ, and the Holy Spirit are three separate and distinct beings with one shared purpose, to help us return to live with God and Christ again. I was so happy to see that in the church!!! 

This is the view I found walking out the east side of Saint-Sulpice, and it was BEAUTIFUL! I did filter, because I wanted to make sure this photo came alive as much as the real view did for me.  I made it back to the hostel about half an hour later than we planned, but so did we all. We all arrived within 10 minutes of each other being late. #greatmindsthinkalike

Later that day we were walking around trying to find some food, and it started pouring rain. I think the best part was while we pulled out our umbrellas from our bags, the Frenchmen scattered like little ants. It was pure panic and chaos for the next few minutes. #giggles

Day 3: We debated this thoroughly last night. One of the most beautiful things about Versailles is walking the gardens and seeing Marie Antoinette's little cottage. We checked the weather last night and the forecast said 20% chance of rain in the low 70's. Saryah and I put our umbrellas and jackets in our purses for the next day, while Erica put her jacket and umbrella in her backpack...the same backpack she checked into luggage storage for the day. #badluck We hopped on the train and as we were travelling, we saw that we were travelling towards dark and ominous rain clouds. As soon as we walked off the train, it started to rain. Erica was wearing a white shirt. #badluck We decided to look for an open shop, but nothing was open so early. Instead we popped into a bakery to get some yummy food to bring and hide in Starbucks. We stayed in Starbucks for about an hour before we decided that we didn't want to go to Versailles in cold rainy weather, but I insisted we at least go and take pictures in front of Versailles. The picture above is a representation of Erica's bad luck for the day.

Since Versailles was a bust, we went back to downtown Paris with plans to eat lots of pastries. When we arrived, the sun came out and it became a beautiful day! We decided to stand in line for Sainte Chapelle, which was highly recommended to Erica. Evil Saryah with her student + EU status let her in for free. (This also happened at other museums where she was allowed to bypass the lines and just walk through). I had to pay. The stain-glass was EXQUISITE! But it was a little pricey just to walk into one room of stain-glass. We wandered around, played in a park, and saw the Statue of Liberty.

mini Statue of Liberty!

We then went our separate ways, as Erica and I headed to Ireland, and Saryah went on to Italy. But first we ate more pastries! But seriously. Our diet during out three days in Paris consisted of crepes and French pastries. #noregrets