Back to the Future...

I've been home for 5 weeks now and I think the lag has finally worn off. It's always striking to me how bitter sweet the reunion with home becomes when you've moved every 3-5 days for 3 months. Part of you really likes coming back to the same places, with the same faces, the same smells, the same foods, the same social scenes, the same blanket comforts that so readily envelope you like you never left.

But then you hit the wall. The immediate assault of monotany is pontless to try to stop. The perceived loss of adventure and the return to everything that you remember with varying degrees of love and hate are almost as much of a shock as jumping into the freezing water of lake Geneva in early June. You welcome the adrenaline and the refreshing shock of having back the things you love, but somethings you could do without.

You would think that by this point in my life, there wouldn't be much of a change and these feelings would have disapated after having experienced them so many times. But no, they don't...and frankly, I like that they don't. Those feelings make you move in a different way. They are constant reminders about what else is out there. How many different people there are in the world and how they all move differently from you, yet you all seem to move in the same direction.

I remember when I was in college, I heard a man who I have the utmost respect for say that people are made for relationships. Not just in the romantic sense, but in all senses. Relationships with friends, co-workers, neighbors, random people you stand in line with at Bojangles or ride the bus/train with, everyone. At the base of everything, we are all after the same thing and that is the recognition and love of an other.

I think he was exactly right and that is probably the biggest lesson that these last few years have taught me. Whether it was bars in Paris, bonfires in Scotland, beaches in Nice, Chalets in Switzerland, getting to know amazing kids, trips in the US, or trains everywhere else, relationships were always formed and I've found over the years that some of those relationships, though formed in a few days or even hours, are stronger than some that I've had for years.

It's the combination of fatigue, anxiety about traveling, thrill of adventure, and, honestly, the fear of being alone that pushes you together so hard and with such force that a piece of them stays with you. A piece, which in my opinion, actually makes you change in a way you never expected or pushed you towards something that you were scared of, which in the end, turned out to be just what you needed.

Maybe the cure for all of this is to just keep traveling. Maybe the cure is to try to have the same perspective as when I'm on the road. Maybe if I can do that, then coming back can just be another adventure.

Here's to trying.

- pondhopper

Feet on the ground, Head on Skye....

Wow...Where to start!

Yesterday was quite possibly one of my best day's traveling I have ever had. The night before, I stayed up all night talking with some new kids I met from Italy and France. We started talking in the early afternoon, and then found out we were rooming with each other later that night. They were great guys and we had a great time talking about our travels and where we had been. Really great time.

The next morning, we all woke up around 7 said our goodbyes. Stefan and Matheo were headed to Inverness on the mainland and Samy and Agathe were headed out to find a better camp site on Skye. We all had breakfast and they headed out. After saying goodbye, I had to figure out how to get up to the north of Skye. Since it was Saturday, the normal 3 buses that run during the day were reduced to one bus that ran every 4 hours....awkward. So, I talked to Euan, the owner of the hostel and he suggested that I try to hitchhike up to Portree and then get to Staffin from there.

So, I ripped up a microwave box and wrote Broadford on one side, Staffin on the other and headed out to the main road. Ok mom, I know you are reading this and freaking out, but I was perfectly fine!!

After standing on the side of the road with my day pack and my sign, a blue Mitsubishi pulled up and waved me in. He said that he was headed to Portree and that he would drop me at the main square, so I hopped in. This guy's name was John and he was a farmer on the Island. He explained to me how the island worked and that there were only 10,000 people that live on the entire Island year round. He also said that the winters get down to -27*C....no thanks. John told me about some great beaches up around Staffin and that I needed to get up close and personal with a Highland cow. Hmmm...face time with a 1800 pound shaggy headed cow....done. John also introduced me to his daughter Rebecca who I'm pretty sure he was trying to hook me up with, but whatever...I wasn't fighting it.

After John dropped me at the square, I found out that there was a bus leaving for Staffin in 20 minutes and thought that this would be much better than hitching it because it would be faster. I hopped the bus and we drove past the Old Man of Storr, which is a huge natural rock column that sticks out of the side of a mountain. Incredible. Finally, I arrived at Staffin and hopped out of the bus into this town of about 25 people and 7 trillion SHEEP. I have never seen so many sheep in my life. Everywhere....Sheep. We had to stop the bus 5 times because of the sheep that were just laying in the road. Stupid animals, but kind of neat at the same time.

I noticed after I got off of the bus that two girls had gotten off with me, so we started talking and were headed in the same direction so we decided to stick together. Ironically, they were both named Charlotte and were from France. We made our way through the small town and then down to the rock beach. The beach was amazing. It was a boulder beach with grassy hills between the rocks. We hiked along the cliffs for about a mile and saw the mountain range called the Quarrang over the beaches and the bay in front of us. We sat down, had a picnic, and napped for about 3 hours and it was incredible.

After getting back on the bus, we drove up to the north of the Island and I saw TONS (just 1 really fat) highland cow. After the cow, we stopped at Duntulm to see the castle ruins and then on the Uig to see the port. I can't describe the incredible beauty that rests on the north side of Skye. It is mandatory that everyone go there and see it.

After getting back to Portree, I decided that it was time to hitch back home to the hostel so I started out on the road. I stood around for about an hour and was finally picked up by a nice lady who informed me that she could take me only 3 of the 25 miles I would need to go. I figured that this was better than nothing, so I went for it. She dropped me at her small town (10 people) and I started waiting again. About 25 minutes later, a construction worker who had passed me on his bike in Portree was on his way back to Kyle of Lochalsh with his car and he carried me back to Broadford. He told me that the locals are so used to having kids hitch-hike up on the Island, that they always them up and give them as much help as they need. I was incredibly grateful and we had a great conversation about the health system in England and motorcycles. I know.....weird combination.

Once I got back to the Hostel, I grabbed a 2L pizza from the co-op and had dinner. I sat around and watched "There Will Be Blood" with some german kids and then headed down to the bonfire with Camy, Euan and Eva, the owners of the hostel. These guys were amazing. We sat around for 6 hours talking, playing guitar, drinking beers, joking, laughing, loving everything about being on Skye. The stars were incredibly brilliant due to there being no light pollution and I couldn't take my eyes off of them. It was definitely one of the best Hostels and nights I have ever had travelling.

This morning I said a sad goodbye to Skye and made my way to Glasgow on a 7 hour bus ride. Glasgow is lame, boring, and industrial. However, I did go to a kilt shop and find out about my last name and what Tartan I get to wear. I have 3 so....I'll have to make up my mind. Later, I walked around Glasgow an realized that it is just malls and shops and 1 museum so I went and watched the A-Team at the 9 story cinema. There's a big part of me that wants to go back to Skye, but oh well. I needed to come see Glasgow, I guess.

Tomorrow, I am headed to Edinburgh in the morning, dropping off my stuff and taking a day trip up to St. Andrews. I think it will be a good day, and who knows, maybe I'll get a picture of some famous golfer sucking it up on the course! Here's to trying! Tuesday is Prague!!

- Pondhopper

PS: Everyone that reads this needs to add Eva Broadford Kosta as a fan on Facebook. They are the best hostel on the Isle of Skye and they are wonderful people!! DO IT!!

Dog eats owner's necrotic toe...

Thus my trip to Scotland commenced. Arriving in Edinburgh at 11h20 in the morning on Thursday, I had already been awake since 4, had a 2.5 hour bus ride, a 2 hour plane ride, and I was in desperate need of something hilarious. The Scottish newspaper did not disappoint. That was the headline on Page 1. Yes...page 1.

Once I arrived at my hostel, I sat down and had a delicious breakfast of pancakes and fresh bacon. Amazing. After breakfast, my friend Frederico and I started out to do some hiking around Edinburgh and see the various castles. Edinburgh was full of activity. Apparently there was an annual street festival going on, so we were bombarded with flyers for comedies, magicians, serious theatre, and a massive concert in the courtyard of the palace.

After fighting our way through tons of people, we made our way to the Castle only to find out that it was 24 pounds to get in. That was just a bit much, so we headed down the Royal mile to see what was on the street. We walked past St. Giles Kirk and the John Knox house to make our way slowly down to Holyrood Castle (the queens residence in Edinburgh)and the base of Authur's Seat.

Authur's Seat is a huge mountain in the middle of Edinburgh that used to be a strong point for the town. All that is left on the mountain of the old fort's are a wall of an abbey that used to be on the east side. After hiking all the way to the top of the hill, the two of us were exhausted. So we decided to head back to the hostel and relax before heading to dinner. For dinner, we went to a small restaurant called Mum's Great Comfort Food. It was Great comfort food. For 8 pounds (13 dollars) we were able to get 2 huge meals with mashed potatoes and vegetables followed by a Bailey's milkshake. It was incredible and incredibly delicious. Following dinner, we headed back to the hostel for a huge glass of Magner's Cider and as much sleep as we could get.

This morning, I said goodbye to Edinburgh until monday and headed for the Isle of Skye. The trip by bus was incredibly beautiful. The Scottish Highlands are some of the most beautiful mountains I have ever seen. They are huge mountains covered in fields of grass and waterfalls and everything is a deep color of green. The enormous Lochs go right up against the base of the mountains and are surrounded by large manor houses and old castles. It's incredibly beautiful. So far in Skye, I have found my hostel and am planning on going to get some great seafood tonight. Skye is right on the sea and the whole place smells of salt water. Tomorrow, I'm planning to do some hiking and have my first solid sleep in 2 days. Right now, it is raining pretty steadily and the BBC is on TV.

Cheers :)

-Pondhopper

The do not eat list...

When you go to France, do not eat Andouillette de Troyes.

The end.

- Pondhopper

The woman at the Wall....

Several weeks ago, I took a group of students on a walking tour of a section of Paris known as the Marais. Since the Marais is the third oldest section of Paris, it follows that it would also have a wealth of history. This tour started out like all other walking tours that I do in the Marais: Quick discussion about the Marais and how it was changed from a swamp into a living area by the Knights Templar, a discussion about Space Invaders, a history about the strong Jewish population, and a walk past the Memorial de Shoah (the holocaust museum).

Upon arrival at Shoah, I noticed that there was a very old woman sitting on the stoop of the Boy’s school just across from the memorial. At first, I didn’t think anything of it since the Marais is filled with the homeless and infirm. However, after a few minutes of talking about Shoah, I started to translate a placard located on the wall of the school just above the woman. The placard marks the history of the Boy’s and Girl’s schools of the Marais where, in 2 days, 400 children were deported to various camps in the east and exterminated. During my translation, the old woman started to speak very loudly at me. It was not as if she was yelling at me, but as older people with hearing problems sometimes do. Naturally, I stopped explaining the placard and tried to understand what she was saying, but it was very, very, difficult to understand.

At this point, the kids had a very confused look on their face and I was struggling to find the words to explain what was going on. As I was turning to explain to the kids that this lady was most likely homeless and a little crazy, a woman in her mid forties ran up to us saying, “Mom! Mom! Let the man do his job he is teaching these kids!” Then it all made since. This lady was just waiting for her daughter at the step because she could not make it down the alley to the bakery. Most likely, she lived around the area and was just out for a walk to get her daily bread.

After the younger woman reached us, she apologized profusely for her mother’s actions and asked me what I was doing. I explained that I was taking the kids on a walking tour of the Marais and that they were American students spending some time in France. As soon as I said “American students”, the mother exploded into cries of “Thank you, Thank you, my children!” Now I was extremely confused and convinced that this lady was a little unstable. Her daughter, most likely seeing the confusion painted across our faces calmly explained that this lady was a resistance fighter during the war.

Jackpot!

This usually benign tour had immediately become ten thousand times more interesting and a huge opportunity for the kids to talk to one of the only surviving French resistance fighters in the world. But that wasn’t all.

After I got the ridiculous grin of surprise off of my face, I turned to the woman and started asking her questions. This was like turning of a flood gate of memories for the lady. It was very difficult for me to understand what she said at first, but after I got past the aged accent it made sense. Her story was this:

In 1940, she was a 21 year old Jewess living in the Marais quarter of Paris. Initially, when the Nazi’s began to occupy Paris, the Jews in the quarter were content with obeying the ever growing restrictions on their rights and believed fully that the Vichy Government would not let them be deported because, after all, they were French.

Finally, when it was declared that the Jews had to wear the Star of David and were unable to leave there various quarters, it was too late. Early one morning, she awoke to the sounds of children yelling in the street beneath her apartment. She said that she was used to hearing these sounds because the schools for the elementary age children were just beneath her window. However, this morning the cries were different. When she got up to see what was happening, she said that the police and German officers were loading the young children into the backs of large trucks and taking them away. The officers were telling the children that they were going to join their parents in a new home outside of Paris. These children were being deported to the concentration camps in the east and she informed us that their parents were arrested later that afternoon when they came to pick up their children from school.

Her eyes were filled with tears after telling this part of the story and she had to take a minute to steady herself in order to continue. After 70 years the wounds were obviously still fresh.

Immediately that afternoon, she began conversing with various people in the Marais that were known to be in touch with the French resistance in “Free France” in the south, and with de Gaulle in England. She became a courier for the resistance and managed to survive the mass deportations from the Marais by, and this shocked me, befriending German officers and hiding in their basement.

Apparently, two German officers who had fought in the first World War hid her in their basement and aided in her sending messages because they were fiercely opposed to the Nazi’s. In fact, their names were enshrined on the Wall of the Righteous (a list of people who sheltered and saved Jews in France), just behind where this lady was telling me this story. Finally, she ended the story by telling us how she lived in the basement of an apartment for 4 years, risking death every day until Paris was liberated. She then went on to marry a fellow fighter and have 9 children, 21 grandchildren and 6 great grandchildren.

I’m sure I had this ridiculous look on my face and then tried in vain to transmit to the kids how I was feeling and how important this woman was. I’m not sure if I got it across substantially because of my own shock, but I hope I did. It’s amazing to hear those stories and they are getting rarer every day. Its times like these that remind me how much I love this job and remind me how blessed I am to hear these stories.

- Pondhopper.

The last few weeks...

Sitting in airports is always an interesting way to pass some time. Currently, my “home” on the go is the Frankfurt Main airport in the wonderful, candy gumdrop filled world of Deutschland or “Germany” for those of you who don’t sprechen the Deutsch. This particular visit to “Germany” was very interesting for a number of reasons that I will choose not to delve into at this juncture but will hold until the end of the post so that you, the cherished reader, can tensely wait with baited breathe my musings on the subject. But for the moment, I will fill you in on the last several weeks of shenanigans, tomfoolery, and bally-hoo.

Immediately after my last post, I met my group of kids from the U.S. who had decided to embark on the Paris and Paris Language trips. Earlier, I had talked with my friend/coworker Phil about what we needed to tackle with this group of kids. First and foremost on our minds was a 13 year old boy named Jerry who, by all accounts, was small, intelligent, and most importantly, very young. A young child poses their own unique questions when it comes to international travel. Some of these questions are easily dealt with and others can become incredibly difficult. This young man was no problem to us whatsoever and in fact, we learned more from him than he learned from us.

After the kids arrived, we spent time around Paris, seeing the museums, parks, street festivals, and boat cruises. This trip was especially good for me because it gave me some time to spend with my friends Taylor and Phil and catch up a bit on what had been going on. Taylor, a student at NYU, was in the process of trying to manage her move to Paris and Phil was just being Phil. We spent the majority of the two weeks trying to figure out where the cleaning ladies were from and why they kept asking us when we were going to leave (Tu Pawww Kaww!!). Either that was the only question that the poor dears could formulate in French or they didn’t like us. I personally lean towards the language answer because they helped themselves to plenty of our stuff.
Following these great several days, we said goodbye to these kids and Taylor and it was just Phil, Jerry, and I. Since we had a day to ourselves, we decided that it might be a good idea to catch a movie. Initially, we tried to go see Fatal, a French movie making fun of American rap stars, but then we decided that it might be best to go see Twilight.

Ok, stop the shocked, amazed face. Yes, I went to see a Twilight film in a theatre. In my defense we had a 13 year old with us and it had French subtitles, so there was an educational language element involved. But I digress.
That was most definitely the worst movie I have ever seen. One phrase sums up its incredible nullity.

Lame shirtless werewolf guy to cold vampire bag of douche while cuddling next to said bag of douche’s pathetic, insecure, social pariah of a girlfriend: “You are just mad because I am hotter than you.”

French Subtitle: “Je suis plus chaud que toi”

English translation of French subtitle: “I’m hornier than you.”

Et voila! Behold the beauty of translator/Google error and another reason that Twilight will never be taken seriously by “yours truly”.
After this debacle and waste of my carefully saved euros, we headed off to dinner and then back to the hotel to get some sleep. The next morning, I awoke and went to Charles de Gaulle in order to find some of our campers for the next trip. After spending about 6 hours in the Airport, we had everyone and headed towards Paris. Sadly, one of our campers was not feeling well, but after some rest, she was back to 100 percent. Over the next few days we hit everything again. The Louvre, Eifel Tower, D’Orsay, Montmartre, etc. It was a great few days ended by watching the 14th of July fireworks at Concorde and meeting my friend Stani whom I hope to see again in Amsterdam.

Then came my favorite part of the summer, Nice! I love Nice. The people, the water, the food, the atmosphere….the girls…uh hem. It is a beautiful city. The first day, we spent 3 hours at the beach and had a delicious dinner at L’abbaye in Old Nice. I got to see my friend Patya again which is always wonderful, and then we gave the kids freetime to walk around the city. The next few days were spent seeing Monaco, VilleFrance, St. Paul de Vince, Eze, and the beach. It was so relaxing and the food was amazing. If anyone ever goes to Nice, please let me know so that I can give you delicious restaurants and the names of wonderful people.

Then came the part that I hate the most: saying goodbye to the kids. It is really difficult sometimes to say goodbye to kids. I know I haven’t brought it up really in any earlier posts, but it is the one part of this job that I find the most difficult. It is wonderful teaching kids about all of the things that are great about Europe and seeing them soak it up like a sponge. But then comes that day in the airport where you are all sitting around talking about how much fun it all was and knowing that in a few minutes they will be gone. That was yesterday and I would be completely lying if I said that saying goodbye to them was not extremely difficult, especially Jerry. However, there is also a good feeling involved because you know that you have given them a new perspective and that will stay with them forever.

And now for the part that you have all been waiting for.

After making sure that my kids were on the plane, I headed for my hotel in Frankfurt. As many of you know, I am not the biggest fan of Germany, so I was headed into this with more than a little apprehension. Upon arriving at my hotel, I immediately turned on the Tour de France and took a 4 hour nap. My coworker Lucien and I then headed out to Frankfurt and had a delicious meal and started up a conversation with a group of people next to us. As it turns out, one of the people had just arrived in Germany that morning and was trying to get into school. The whole reason that he was in Germany to begin with was because of a girl and he was doing everything he could to make sure that he could stay there.

Following a great conversation revolving around the downfalls and victories of the capitalist system when it comes to healthcare in the US, we said goodnight to our new friends and headed for an Irish bar down the street. I must say, that the few hours that I spent at this bar completely changed my view of Germany. Though it was an Irish bar, many of the people in the bar were German and were some of the nicest people I have ever met in my life. We exchanged stories and talked until about midnight when we had to leave. It was a great evening and we met some amazing people. Once we got back to the hotel, we crashed and then I got up and came to the airport, where I am currently writing this blog.

This two day stent in Germany has been great. I got to practice my German which has become more than a little rusty and I had a complete perspective change. Both of which, I feel, are very good and one was perhaps more than a little needed. So, Here’s to Germany and Irish bars and Magners Irish Cider and Guiness and nice people. Thanks for the good times and hopefully I’ll see you again soon.
To the rest of you, thanks for reading and I’ll talk to you soon!

- Pondhopper.

It might be....lol!

I think that there are certain times in your life where everything just seems to come together in a perfect moment. It happens in different ways to different people, but I think that everyone has that one particular moment that they can look back on and just be happy that they were there.

Right now, I am sitting in a hostel with the windows open, my friends (not so quietly) sleeping, and memories of the last couple of weeks going through my head. The last weeks have been a rush full of new experiences and old, wonderful, familiar ones.

I arrived in France about three weeks ago after a nice flight next to an old French lady who was on her way to Cherbourg to visit her family. We talked lightly on the plane, but by the end of dinner, her very quiet and unassuming personality was heavily sleeping in a position that, almost assuredly, left her great discomfort once we landed. After landing and be berated by the customs in Paris for wearing my Olympique Marseille jersey, I quickly found my luggage and met my friend Sebastien and his father outside the airport. It was amazing to see them. Sebastien was in the process of finding an internship for the next few months and had refused to shave until said internship was found, therefore he had a very thick matting of facial hair, that his mother was much less fond of than he. After reaching the car and saying goodbye to Dominic (Seb’s dad) we headed off to the house. This adventure was incredibly ridiculous because what usually takes only 20 minutes took us just shy of 2 hours thanks to rain, silly French drivers, moto’s, and roads that are almost as old as the Louvre. Once we arrived at the house, it was great to get back into “my” room and settle in. Seb and I then ate some lunch and watched the warm-up for the world cup. Over the next week, I spent the majority of my days eating, sleeping, having picnics in the park, and watching exorbitant amounts of the World Cup. (Insert random joke about the pathetic showing of the French team here….). Christoff, Seb’s brother, and I also saw Supergrass’ last show ever at Cigalle. That was an amazing concert and my love for Supergrass has tripled since that amazing concert.

Then, on Wednesday the 16th, the work started. At about 5 in the afternoon I met my friend Fritz at a train station outside of Paris and we then headed into town to get him situated in an apartment. After dropping off all of his bags, we headed into town and had some great dinner and watched some great soccer. After spending the night wandering around Paris, we agreed to meet up the next day and get some work done. We grabbed breakfast at a small café and spent the entire day working on reservations, housing, trains, planes, etc. Then early on Friday morning, I headed out to Charles de Gaulle Airporte to meet the first group of students.

In a word…awesome. That is probably the best way to describe the first trip. Our kids were great and we had such an amazing time. We walked around Paris and saw all of the great things to see and do including Versailles, Montmartre, Le Louvre, Palais Royal, Luxembourg, Tour Eiffel, etc. Then last Monday, we headed to Switzerland.

It had been about 3 years since I had been to Switzerland before last weekend. In my memory, I remembered a bit about what it was like, the natural beauty, the lakes, the temperature, everything. However, I was not prepared for what I saw when I got there. The lakes were blue, I mean the deep clear blue with a greenish tent that you see on postcards from Aruba. The sky was perfectly clear and the towering Swiss Alps were still covered in snow at the very top with waterfalls cascading down their faces from the snow that had already melted. I love Switzerland. After arriving in Geneva and meeting our guide Robert, we headed off to Anzere, where we would be spending the next couple of days. Fritz was stoked to be going back to Anzere and frankly, I was just as stoked as he was. When we arrived in Anzere, our hotel was right on the edge of town so we had a perfect view of Dome Blanche and the mountains surrounding it. The town had one bar called the Peter Pan which was owned by a guy named Ughi and had the best Heineken that I had tasted in a while.

The next day, we spent at the Chateau de Chillon which was a medieval castle situated on the banks of lake Geneva. Following the visit to the Chateau, we headed down next to the water to have lunch. During lunch, Kent, decided that he had had enough just sitting around and he decided that he was going to jump into the water. Since we had told the kids to bring their bathing suits, this was no problem, however, once he hit the water he immediately regretted that decision. Then, of course, everyone had to jump in and experience the incredible feeling of 40 degree water all over you. I’ve got to tell you…if you ever get the chance to jump into water that cold…do it. It only hurts for a second. 

The following day was filled with mountain biking down the mountain from Anzere and then hiking around the top of the peak. The biking was great and the hike was incredible. The vistas from 15,000 feet are incredible in Switzerland and when you are that high, you are past the tree line, so there is nothing that can get in the way of your view. Our guide, Laura, showed us all around the mountain and we got to taste some amazing cheese from a small farm near the peak. Cheese is everywhere in Switzerland and it is always incredible, no matter which town it is from.

Thursday was by far, for me, the best day of the trip. We awoke very early around 6:30 and headed off to breakfast. After eating, we hopped on the bus and headed off to Chamonix for some Canyoning. If you are not familiar with Canyoning, let me explain it to you. You head off into the woods in Switzerland wearing a wet suit, a neoprene jacket, booties, shoes, an oversuit, a life-vest, and a harness, you find a huge freaking cliff with a glacial waterfall that goes into a large pool, then you jump off of it. Awesome. It was one of the biggest rushes I have ever had. I jumped off of a 40 foot cliff, a 30 foot cliff and ziplined down a 150 foot cliff. It was incredible. All the while being knee deep in freezing water that has just melted off of a glacier. The rest of the day was spent at a high ropes course swinging from tree to tree and enjoying being outside.

That night was when it all came together into one of those perfect moments. All the kids were outside and were talking about how much fun we had on the trip. Some were tired, some wanted to play soccer, and some (myself included) wanted to find a way to stay as long as possible. It was after that meeting, sitting in the Peter Pan with Fritz, Laura, and Robert, watching the Swiss team play when I realized how incredible the experience was and how thankful I was that I could have been a part of it. I miss those kids and the times we had, but I know that at some point it had to end. I can only hope that they will come back and do it again.

Thanks for reading.

-Pondhopper

Plans....lol.

Travel for me is an adventure. There is nothing better than filling a bag with clothes for a few days, hopping on a train and then darting off into the great unknown and basically, this was the travel method of choice for me the last few times I've been to Europe. Sure, I mean it provided some great adventures and I met some great people, but as I've gotten older, I've begun to realize that this might not be the best way to do my hopping about, given the risk of kidnapping, anti-Americanism, and the occasional rabid European girl. So, I've decided to plan.

Now, this thing called "planning" is a new thing for me and as with all new things, there is a certain amount of trial and error involved in it. Sunday night, I began planning a trip to Scotland and Prague in August. Seeing as that most of my time, and by "most" I mean "all", has been spent on Continental Europe, I have been able to use the wonderful, marvelous train system to get basically anywhere I wanted to go. However, Scotland presents a new problem. Air travel. I don't particularly like flying 100 miles or less, but when there aren't any roads or inexpensive trains to get to a particular area, the highways of the sky are my only option. Thus, I started to search for tickets. Of course I immediately went to my old favorite EasyJet only to find that they do not service Scotland from Paris. So, plan B....Ryan Air! Now, don't get me wrong. Ryan Air is incredibly cheap, usually on time, and if you are a student...a perfect fit. I've used them before and have always been pleased. However, the trick is getting to the obscure airport they use to serve Paris.

In order to get to Beauvais, you have to take a 2 hour bus ride to the north of Paris to a small airport. When I say small, I mean small. It is basically 10 check-in counters and a large holding room where people wait to walk out to there plane. Yes...walk out to the plane, rain or snow, sleet or hail, Germans or not. You walk. Personally, I love it! It gives me a chance to sit and listen to who is complaining the most so I don't have to sit next to them on the plane. Knowing all of this, I bought a ticket to Edinburgh from Paris which leaves at 10am and arrives around 11h30. Awesome. Except now I have to find a place to stay. Still haven't accomplished that. I'm thinking couchsurfers or a hostel. I'll make up my mind soon....maybe.

So, Now what to do once I get there. Fitting in should not be a problem given that my name is Graham Renfro...basically you couldn't get more Scottish if you showed up with a bowl of Haggis and a kilt. Both of which I intend to invest in while in Edinburgh. Following Edinburgh, the plan for right now is to hit up the Isle of Skye for a few days of hiking, then down to Renfrewshire to figure out where the heck my namesake comes from. Yes...it's called Renfrewshire. All hobbit jokes aside, according to Wikipedia (now all wikipedia jokes aside) its a town of about 20,000 people that is right outside of Glasgow. Hmm...a small town outside of a larger city...doesn't sound much different from my current situation.

Following Scotland, the plan is to meet up with my friend in Prague and then head back to Paris. Prague should be cool. The only thing I know about it is that they have moving saunas in buses and the Charles Bridge. Though I'm sure I can find SOMETHING else that would be interesting. Perhaps a not-so-rabid European girl.....perhaps. :)

Thanks for reading,

-Graham

Love it...

In my life, I have been blessed with the opportunity to do lots of things. I've had a lot of crazy, interesting, dangerous, and cool experiences and I don't think I would get rid of a single one. But after all of these, the opportunities I've had to lead kids have, most definitely, been the best. Last weekend was one of those chances.

At 4h30 on Friday I loaded up a bus full of youth from my church and drove them to Asheville. The following morning, 12 kids and 3 adults from all over western NC made 2000 meals in 2.5 hours that will go to feed kids on free and reduced lunch during the weekends. The kids that receive free and reduced lunch in our schools are on this program because they cannot afford lunch money. The more insidious problem is that if they cannot afford food at school during the week, then they will not be able to afford food during the weekend. Therefore, Manna Food Bank in Asheville creates these meals for kids to take home on the weekend so that they do not go from Friday to Monday without eating.

In order to make 2000 meals in 2.5 hours, you would need to prepare 13.3 meals A MINUTE! Which means 1 meal every 4.5 seconds. That means that we were feeding a child that otherwise would have gone hungry every 4.5 seconds!

Although we were doing an incredible thing by providing aid to kids and families throughout Appalachia, I think the impact of our activity was felt among our group just as much as it would eventually be felt by the people receiving the meals. As we worked, these kids were sweating furiously trying to move box after box of meals onto huge pallets. They were organizing themselves without saying a word, in order that the assembly lines could move faster and faster and produce more and more. They were laughing and singing MGMT, and doing all of this for people that they most likely, will never meet.

These kids blew my mind. I wish I could have as much, for lack of a better word, lust for helping others as these kids have. The energy these kids emmitted while trying to get these meals done was viral. It made you want to move faster and it made you want to do more. One of the other adults on the trip noted that when it came time for us to stop working, he was almost shocked because it hadn't felt like we were working at all. It was almost as if time had no bearing because the only thing anyone cared about was packing as many meals as possible for these kids. It was incredible and is definitely an experience I will not soon forget.

Thanks for reading,

- Graham

Allergies and such...

There are some things that I think need explanation before people do them. The affects of using dynamite, rat poison, and the ever so rare gasoline fight all have a certain inherent element of danger that, to the average person, would merit a certain amount of explanation. Until last night, I did not consider the eating of a walnut to be anything meriting a casual off-handed remark, much less 3 hours of research on how you could potentially die from them. However, after having an allergic reaction in front of a large group of friends, I felt that I needed a little background.

In order to understand my current predicament, I feel that there must be some explanation as to how I first came in contact with this vicious fruit. On Wednesday nights, I trapes over to the International House of Charlotte for the French Conversation Hour. Usually the hour involves lots of jokes and carrousing typical of francophones with the occasional sexual joke covered up by the wonderful use of double entendre and horrible accents. Personally, I think that these situations more than make up for the pain of learning a second language and I would urge everyone who reads this to do just that....but I digress. The best part of the hour is that every week, someone from the group bakes a cake/cookies and brings it to the bar where we eat after the meeting. This week, the cake was dressed with Walnuts. Now, if you have never seen a walnut, it looks like a white and bumpy pecan or maybe a small hard piece of popcorn. Apparently God did not see it fit to include devil horns and a tail which, I feel, would be truth in advertising....however, again, I digress. Upon seeing this delicious cake, I immediately felt the need to express my pleasure with having it so close and thusly took one of the walnuts and ate it. It was delicious....for about a minute. After which point my stomach felt that my mouth needed to have a second visit from the walnut and my throat decided that breathing was too much of an inconvenience for it at that particular point in time. Immediately, I left the table and talked to the waitress, who was graciously offered me a benadryl and then promptly informed me that she had none.....typical. Having exhausted this option, I walked briskly across the street to the pharmacy and bought my own benadryl and immediately downed the recommended dose (this is the part where I say don't do drugs). After a few minutes my throat relaxed and I was able to sit down calmly and take the usual amount of shenanigans inflicted upon those of us counted fortunate enough to sit next to the very boisterous and flamboyant Manu. All in all, it was a quality night.

Of course now my interest in this offensive little fruit is at its peak. So, I started researching and it seems that the history of the walnut is quite interesting. Apparently, the earliest known walnuts have been found in Persia or what is now modern day Iran and Iraq. Early references to the walnut have been found in boastings about the Hanging Gardens of Babylon which allegedly had "groves of walnut trees". Further, the walnut became highly prized in both the Greek and Roman societies and in fact, Walnuts were among the foods found preserved in the City of Pompeii after the eruption of Vesuvius. Further, during the Middle Ages, the walnut was so highly prized that the Church accepted tithes using walnuts. In the current era, Walnuts are found all over the world and in the US, California is responsible for practically all Walnut production.

Thus, in synopsis, the Walnut comes from a section of the world known for its ruthless empire building (see 300), is responsible for the destruction of Pompeii and Hurculaneum and the down fall of the Californian economy, AND tried to kill me. In fact, I would venture to say that the majority of the worlds problems can be somehow tied to the existance of the walnut.

The civil war? - Plantations grew walnuts.
The First World War? - Walnuts were first mass produced in England around 1910.
The stock market crash? - Europe had a shortage of walnuts after the first world war.
The Second World War? - See previous answer.
The presidency of George W. Bush? What do you think "W" stood for!!!!????!!!!

All of the ills of human history can be traced back to this offensive fruit. But of course, I am in no way biased. In fact, I should probably be thankful. The walnut DID inform me through a mild reaction that I am, in fact, allergic to them and that I should avoid them from here on out. I think that I will definitely take the advice.

Thanks for reading.

-Graham