Three Days of Sunny Serenity

Strasbourg is unbelievably gorgeous at the moment. For the past three days, the weather has been 70s, sunny, and sprinting the border between spring and summer. If the forecasts are correct, all next week will be the same. 

I didn't plan anything for this weekend. A waste of a good weekend in Europe? Well, some people might say that--especially seeing how militant my fellow Americans become when they land on this continent, trying to discover all of Europe in an endless series of three-day weekends. 

I, on the other hand, was perfectly content to whittle away my lazy days with "nothing." Friday I spent outside, reading in the park at Place de la Republique with Kat. I bought a carton of sweet red strawberries at the market and ate them while reading, it was perfect. That night, I introduced Laetitia and Sandrine to Le Tarbouche, my favorite Lebanese restaurant -- hummus, rice, salad, lamb kebabs, and chicken kebabs! 

Saturday was spent in much the same manner; reading outside on the grassy banks of the river while watching the tour boats glide by. After dinner on Saturday, Kat and I grabbed casual drinks at Acadamie de la Biere, then walked around Strasbourg's center city to admire the Cathedral all lit up in the unusually warm night. 

Today was spent, once again, reading outdoors in a park with Kat for a long, three-hour stretch, followed by a half-hour catnap in the grass. We also bought ice creams from Amorino. Wildflowers are rampant at the moment, and birdsong is only muted when the trams rattle by. I didn't spend the weekend island hopping in Greece or hitting the Ice Bar in London, but it was absolutely lovely all the same. I hope this weather continues for the next two months: my last two months! 

No More English

For Lent, my friend Kat gave up speaking English with all those who know French.

So basically, she gave up speaking English with me, seeing as all her family and friends back home can't speak French... and admittedly, I am the person who she speaks with in English the most here in Strasbourg. Kat really wants to become fluent (although she's basically fluent in my opinion) and I understand that speaking English with me all the time halters her progress. When she first suggested the idea back in January, I was quite nervous. It's been a slight refuge, being able to communicate in my mother tongue with Kat when I can't quite work out the right words in French; however, on the other hand I knew that the No-English rule would help my own language progress.

To feel proactive, I gave up speaking English with Kat specifically, since nearly everyone else I converse with here has a limited knowledge of English anyway. 

So, nearly four weeks into Lent, how is the No-English thing going?

Well, it's crumbled a bit, to be honest. We both started off so strong. Two days after Lent started, we took that spontaneous overnight trip to Luxembourg and it was a full 24+ hours of French-only. For me, that was hard. I was so used to conversing with Kat in English that sometimes I would forget the rule and just spit something out in my excitement, which earned me an amused glare and some silence from Kat until I repeated the phrase in French. After our trip to Luxembourg, the rule continued (even in our text conversations) and I gradually got a little better at speaking. 

Now, though... we take some meals off. I usually follow Kat's lead: if she's speaking in English when I meet her for lunch, than that is the language I speak as well. Sometimes halfway through our meal we switch to French, and sometimes not. We're doing the best we can, but it's unbelievably difficult to sit there, struggling to find the correct vocabulary and grammar to express each and every one of your thoughts, to a person who you know speaks your native tongue fluently. 

I've actually gotten into the bad habit of saying phrases or questions that are composed of mostly French along with one or two English words whose translations I don't know. I'm a somewhat-proud (and somewhat-embarrassed) speaker of Franglais over here in France!

Another Opera

With my second opera experience, the novelty of it all had worn off a bit and I saw the opera for what it really was: completely bizarre. 

A week ago, I went to the Strasbourg Opera with Malou, Ariana, Kat, and Kat's mom (who was visiting for the week). And honestly, Kat and I were highly amused by the performance. I'm sure the story of King Arthur was meant to be tragic, but I couldn't stop laughing. (Trust me, I received a lot of glares for my chuckling). 

We saw Le Roi Arthur, which was luckily performed in French. The title characters were obviously Lancelot, King Arthur, and Guinevere, but the director of the opera seems to have taken a lot of creative license because there were a lot of changes made to the original story. First of all, instead of taking place in sixth-century England, the opera was set in France. The time period must have been changed to modern times, as well, for unless I'm mistaken, there were no nuclear weapons in the sixth century. And the singing of the entire second act took place on a stage full of nukes and guns, something that Kat and I found hilarious as well as historically inaccurate.

To summarize: Lancelot falls in love with Guinevere (who's married to King Arthur); they promise to love each other; Lancelot almost murders a guy; everyone goes off to war, Guinevere has abandonment issues (and sings about them for a good 30 minutes straight); King Arthur begs Merlin to help him defeat the French (?) Saxons; an upside-down tree descends from the roof of the stage; Merlin (in a lime green suit), throws an apple at King Arthur, tell him that he's going to die soon, and disappears; Guinevere--still singing about being abandoned--hangs herself from the French flag; Lancelot (who looks a little like Jesus) returns from war gravely wounded; he begs King Arthur to forgive him for the fling with Guinevere and dies; King Arthur has the nurses remove his uniform and dress him in armor; ....and the opera ends with this shiny-armored Arthur walking through a graveyard with flower petals falling down onto the stage. 

All of this lasted three-and-a-half hours. And despite how hilarious Le Roi Arthur turned out to be, I've decided that operas aren't my favorite form of entertainment. 

Switzerland II: Snowshoeing

Contrary to my prior silly belief, snowshoes are a little more sophisticated than tennis rackets strapped to your shoes. That, however, is a revelation that comes into play a little later.

Picking up from where I left off... Saturday morning, my mother and I were met by my mom's fellow chemistry friends--Phan and Raphael--in Aigle. The four of us went to Lausanne for the afternoon to walk around the harbor, stopping for a delicious lunch of crêpes. Saturday was the cloudiest day of the weekend, meaning that even standing at the edge of the water with the lake nearly lapping our shoes, none of us could see the mighty mountains that rose up from the opposite shore just 8 miles away. Honestly, it was the best day for the clouds to roll in, and they happily rolled right back out of sight for Sunday's snowshoeing. 

Phan, Raphy, my mom, and I also walked around Vevey's shores for a while before and after dinner. I've been to Vevey twice (since Phan and Raphy live there, and my family has visited), and it is a truly beautiful place. In fact, Vevey and its surrounding countryside is what I associate (quite fondly) with the word "Switzerland." Apparently, though, my previous visits to the city have missed an important landmark: the giant metal fork! Yes, there is a 26-foot steel fork stuck just off of Vevey's shores, and my mom and I couldn't stop chuckling about it. This bizarre piece of Swiss artwork is actually meant to be "advertising" of sorts for Vevey's Alimentarium Museum, which features exhibits about food, cooking, and the history of Nestle (whose headquarters are located in Vevey). 

Isn't that giant fork ridiculous? My mom and I loved it. Anyway, Sunday dawned much sunnier, and after a slightly strange breakfast of bread, cheese, and dried sausage, the Phan and Raphy drove us up a local mountain to go snowshoeing. My mom and I rented snowshoes (brightly colored plastic with buckles: no tennis rackets here!) and the four of us started off! 

Revelations during the experience: snowshoeing is a pretty good workout, especially when going uphill! Uneven terrain can make you fall sideways into the snow, so it's a balancing act as well. And my favorite thought: snowshoeing is just like taking a walk with bigger, clumsier feet. 

Since Europe has had a global-warming winter, there were quite a few patches of the walk where the four of us had to snowshoe through the mud or take them off. The guy at the snowshoe rental told us that Sunday was the last day of the season due to the warm weather. Phan and Raphy, who had snowshoed the very same route two weeks prior, said that they had never seen so little snow so early in the year. Granted, there were many shaded parts of the route where the snow was still pretty deep; I found this out for certain when I removed my showshoes a little too early, causing me to sink almost knee-deep into the snow with every snowshoe-less step. 

After about two hours of snowshoeing, the four of us returned to Phan and Raphy's house in Vevey, where we were joined by another couple that my mom knew from her post-doc years in Switzerland: Christiane and Reinhart. Seeing as both Swiss couples are fluent in French and that both my mom and I can communicate somewhat effectively in the language, it was decided that French was the official language during the time we spent at Phan and Raphy's.The six of us had a wonderful Raclette lunch (toasted cheese slices over boiled potatoes), made with the best cheese I have ever tasted in my life. A couple of bottles of wine later, the six of us were sitting out in the warm afternoon sun on Phan's patio, admiring the absolutely unbelievable view of Lake Geneva and the mountains and chatting along in French. I couldn't imagine a sweeter Sunday in Switzerland. 

My mom and I left Vevey early on Monday morning: I was headed back to Strasbourg, and she was on to visit friends in Neuchatel. I absolutely loved seeing my mom, and I'm so glad that she was able to visit me once more while I was in Europe! And as she reminded me, my study abroad experience will be over in less than three months, and I'll be back home in the US! 

Switzerland I: Six Trains and a Taxi to Ski

Although it was the worst luck that I've had with public transportation so far, the seven hours of switching trains was totally worth it. Because after all that maddening time on public transportation, I was in Switzerland, of course!

So my mom and I have been talking about skiing in Switzerland for years now, and it finally finally happened! One of her Swiss friends suggested the tiny town of Champéry as a destination, and everything fell into place. 

I set off last Wednesday afternoon, following my last class. Unfortunately, train #1 (from Strasbourg to Basel, Switzerland) started the afternoon's bad luck when it decided to break down in Colmar. Everyone was ushered off to wait on the platform for the next train heading to Basel to arrive (train #2)... and it showed up an hour later. So of course, I missed my connecting train in Basel, and had to take a completely different route. Train #3 was from Basel to Bern, and it arrived a full seven minutes late, giving me only one minute to run to my connecting train. Train #4 (from Bern to Lausanne) was so full that after walking through 8 different train cars without finding a single empty seat, I just gave up and sat on the floor near the exit doors. Train #5 (from Lausanne to Aigle) was also late, and I almost missed it. Then I had a 40 minute wait in Aigle for the tiny mountain train that was to take me to Champéry. Unfortunately, this little two-car train decided to stop for 10 or 15 minute "breaks" several times throughout the trip--making it almost an hour late--and, finally, it broke down for good about 4 towns away from Champéry. The conductor apologized and called a taxi for us -- me and four other cheerfully confused passengers. 

The taxi dropped me right off at the hotel (Le National) at 9:30 Wednesday night, where I met my mom nearly eight hours after I had left Strasbourg. She had arrived in Champéry much earlier on Wednesday, and had already picked out a restaurant for us to eat at... less than a minute's walk from our hotel! We had a fantastic dinner: salad (with a tiny cherry tomato rabbit), mushroom risotto, and wine. 

Thursday morning was when we hit the slopes, but not very early. First came a long, leisurely breakfast, an hour of figuring out what to wear, and a ski rental. Although it's quite a small village, the best part about Champéry is that it is located in the heart of what is known as Les Portes du Soleil, the second-largest ski area in the world, encompassing 14 valleys, 400 miles of slopes, and 200 ski lifts and spreading across two countries--France and Switzerland. There was a cable car onto the slopes just a three-minute bus ride away from our hotel, bringing us up 2,000 meters into the mountains for immediate access to the slopes. 

And the views from every slope were absolutely incredible.

I've been skiing before (in Vermont and Pennsylvania), but neither can even begin to compare to skiing in Switzerland. The views were jaw-dropping--I took over 100 photos the first day of skiing alone--and the trails were long, sometimes 20 minutes to get back to the chair lift! And the weather... it wasn't even remotely cold! Seriously, my mom and I were dressed way too warmly for skiing: we were both sweating! I saw people skiing in snow pants and long-sleeved shirts, and that's it! I didn't wear my gloves once, there was honestly no need to do so. How different that is from Vermont skiing, where I remember icy biting winds, freezing on every chairlift despite wearing six layers, and sucking all the warmth from my hand warmers within minutes! In fact, the threat of becoming sun-burnt was a much more realistic worry than being cold!

What's more is that my mom and I ate outside for every lunch! We were on top of mountains, 6,000+ feet up, surrounded by snow and eating on the outside decks of all the cafes, not even a bit chilly! Totally normal occurance in Swiss skiing, apparently. For goodness' sake, everyone else was eating outside as well, splitting bottles of their favorite red wine (of course) and eating fancy cheese plates or fondues! That was my favorite part, the eating outside. 

Snow quality was icy in the mornings and a little mushy by mid-afternoon, especially near the bottom of every slope, but for the most part, it was lovely. However, les Portes du Soleil were definitely not created for beginners! I've been skiing since I was 5 years old, and I had trouble on some of the blue slopes (the easiest ones!). Granted, I haven't skied at all in the past 3 or 4 years, so I was a little shaky in the beginning and my form was atrocious, but by the second day I was a little easier on my skis and the slopes were still difficult. We did try some icier red slopes with slushy moguls near the bottom, and I didn't fall once during the two days, but it was still hard! 

On the Friday morning, my mom and I discovered a nice long blue slope that was absolutely lovely--definitely my favorite. It took us at least three miles through gently sloping mountain passes encrusted with pine tree forests, and we ended up in Morgins, a little Swiss village located very far away from both the cable car and from Champéry. My mom and I spent the rest of the morning (and well into the afternoon) zig-zagging our way up and down slopes to get back to the slopes near Champéry. On the plus side, we were able to ski a whole new area of the Portes du Soleil that we hadn't even touched on Thursday. Unfortunately, these slopes were in full sunlight, which meant that the snow was very wet and heavy, and it tired both of us out. As soon as we had made it back to our starting point, we ate lunch, took that very same long blue slope down (arriving 20 minutes later back in Morgins), then hopped on a bus back to  Champéry. 

I haven't even mentioned the village of Champéry, but it was gorgeous. It's a tiny, cute little town, filled with ski chalets and restaurants serving fondues and racklettes. It's also nestled deep in a mountain valley, which means that we were constantly surrounded by towering snow capped mountains. So it all boils down to be my type of town. My mom and I took long strolls through the village after skiing every night, and I don't know how many times I exclaimed to her, "I love it here! Look at these mountains! It's all so beautiful!" 

From our hotel, we had a balcony that faced the town and the church's bell tower, which rang on the hour at all hours of the day and night. Luckily, my mom and I are sound sleepers, so it didn't bother us at all -- instead, it made the little village even more picturesque! 

Friday night, after our walk, we dined at the hotel (delicious raviolis and wine, followed by tarte tatin for me!). And Saturday morning, following another leisurely breakfast, we packed up all our bags and headed for the train station. It was a short little ski holiday, it's true, by my long weekend in Switzerland didn't end there! Next, my mother and I headed to Vevey, but that is for another blog post.

Did I Mention Luxembourg?

Yeah, it was really that beautiful in Luxembourg.

Two weeks ago, my only Thursday class was cancelled in advance, so Kat and I decided to profit from the unexpected four-day weekend and we immediately booked a trip to Luxembourg. It was all a bit spontaneous, and that was one heck of a crazy three-day week: I had two stressful exams and an EPITECH lesson, followed by Thursday and Friday in Luxembourg, then a meeting with my boss, then a dinner with the three Holy Cross girls who studied in Strasbourg last year...

Luxembourg is actually pretty close to Strasbourg--only about three hours away by train--which made it an ideal location for an overnight destination. Unfortunately, there isn't too much to actually do in the capitol (which is conveniently named Luxembourg City). However, the city makes up for the lack of activities by being quite beautiful. It's a perfect place for a short and sweet visit.

So what did Kat and I do for the Thursday and Friday that we spent there? We walked miles around the city, and we ate a lot of good food. Basically the same things we do in Strasbourg. 

Ladurée macaroons

We did stumble upon the Grand Ducal Palace right before sunset on Thursday, which was quite pretty. Luckily I had done a little research on the city beforehand and recognized it as the Palace, because otherwise we would have just walked right past it! There really wasn't anything to distinguish the Palace from another really fancy building, aside from the solitary ceremonial guard who occasionally takes a stiff march around the door. The palace is only open for tours in the summer months, so it didn't take us much time to visit it. 

One of the best things about the city is that it is built atop the cliffs of a deep gorge cut in the soft sandstone by the lazy Alzette River. This means that the city is multi-level and extremely picturesque. Our hostel was actually in the gorge on the lowest level, which took a bit of searching to find (because for a while, we thought it should have been right beside us, where in fact we were standing on the bridge a few hundred feet above our hostel). 

Kat and I walked around for hours and hours (in between pauses to eat) just exploring the city. The weather was perfect for strolling around--Luxembourg has been hit with the unusually warm winter/early spring as the rest of central Europe. As there really isn't too much more to actually say about our trip, the following is just going to be a short reel of pictures from the trip. 

One place that we did make sure to visit, though, is the Chocolate House, a cafe just opposite the Grand Ducal Palace. It has over 40 different types of hot chocolate to choose from (you should have seen the wall of "Choco-Spoons" to choose from), as well as a wide variety of cakes. Kat and I went there Friday morning for a very sugary "breakfast." My hot chocolate choice was simplified when I spotted the hot chocolate with Bailey's in it, and Kat chose the same. The Chocolate House was the last major stop on our little tour of Luxembourg City, and after another long stroll around the city, we headed back to Strasbourg in the early afternoon. 

A Very Gray Geneva

Geneva happened to be the cheapest flight from Marrakech that landed me closest to Strasbourg, which explains why I flew there instead of Paris or Lyon. I arrived quite late Thursday night, so I booked a bed in a hostel close to the train station and decided to spend all of Friday re-discovering the beautiful Swiss city.

My parents both lived in Geneva as post-docs so I've visited once before, although it was during the sunny summer a few years ago. Like my mom warned me, winter in Geneva tends to be gray, cold, rainy, and a little miserable. That reputation did not disappoint, of course, and I found myself missing Morocco even more... oh, those sunny 70-degree February afternoons sipping fresh-squeezed orange juice under palm trees! 

Geneva is still beautiful, though. I was lucky to have about an hour of sunlight, so I made straight for the old town. The above photo is of the famous Jet d'Eau (huge fountain), one of the main sights in the city. After snapping a few photos of the Jet d'Eau, I basically retraced my family's steps back to the cathedral in the old town (St. Pierre) and climbed the tower for a beautiful panoramic view. 

As soon as I left the cathedral, though, the sun disappeared for good. Dark clouds rolled in and it started raining... and it didn't stop. A bitter winter wind picked up too, completing the miserable weather. So I did what every sensible bookworm does in such circumstances: I walked to the old town's huge bookstore and spent over an hour browsing and reading (all in French, I'll add!). 

After feeling as if I had slightly overstayed my welcome in the bookshop, I visited the flower clock (another famous Geneva attraction) but it looked kinda sad in the rain and I couldn't get a good picture anyway, so I'll not show those photos. Then I searched for a good half-hour for a cheaper restaurant in the old town--in vain--until I found a place called "The Spaghetti Factory." I figured that any place named such couldn't be too expensive--I mean, that's not a very classy name, is it?--so I walked in and was seated. Opening the menu was a bit of a shock, though, as there was almost nothing under 20 Swiss francs! I felt too awkward to leave, though, so I picked the cheapest pasta dish I could find and just accepted that I was treating myself. It was delicious, by the way. 

I walked around in the rain for a while longer after lunch until I got too cold, whereas I then wandered through multiple chocolate shops until finding a cool little cafe to chill in. I sat down with a whole pot of tea and a huge chocolate macaroon dipped in chocolate, and I just watched the world go by for a long time.

This is what the Flower Clock looked like three years ago, in sunnier times

Even though I had pretty miserable weather, Geneva was still a lovely place to spend Friday. It was also really cool to visit a city that I'd already been to before, because it felt so familiar. I could find my way through the city easily--never getting lost!--and with every moment I spent there, happy memories of my time there with my family three years ago rose unbidden to my mind. 

All too soon, I had to leave, and by 9:30 that night I was back in Strasbourg. My adventure was over, and I was back home. It was a little sad for vacation to end, as it meant preparing for my week of midterm exams, EPITECH lessons, and other everyday nuicences. No matter how much I love vacation, though, it's always so nice to return home. You never realize how much you miss your own bed until you spend 6 nights sharing hostel rooms with complete strangers and the constant fear of getting lice or bedbugs!

MOROCCO Part III: Getting Lost in the Souks

By our fourth day in Morocco, you would think that Bridget and I could successfully navigate the maze-like souks... and frankly, there were many times throughout our trip where we thought "Yes! We've got this! We know exactly where we are!" Naturally, those were often the times where we either hit dead ends or found ourselves somewhere completely new. 

Let me start from where I left off last time, though: it was Wednesday evening, and we had just arrived back from our two-day desert tour. We made a beeline for our hostel and re-checked in, dropped off our bags in our new room, and showered to wash off the desert. Then Bridget and I decided to eat at the Kabash Cafe, one of the restaurants that comes highly recommended. It sounded perfect, especially because it was meant to be pretty close to the hostel. However, it was hidden somewhere in the souks, in a direction that we had never been before, so to be safe, we asked the concierge at the hostel for directions. He told us that it couldn't be easier to find the Kabash Cafe--just "take the first left, then the first right, then go straight no matter what way the road goes for ten minutes." 

Bridget and I followed the first two directions perfectly, but the last step was somewhat abstract and threw us off. Needless to say, we headed the wrong way and got lost once again. Then, the street we were walking down actually blacked out on us--the whole street for a good kilometer went dark, and it was a bit chaotic at first. Bikes--both motorized and the average pedal variety--were still zooming past us in the dark, so I illuminated my cell phone and held it in front of us to alert people that we were there. Finally, we walked far enough that the black-out had ended, but we still couldn't find the Kabash Cafe. We ended up sitting down in a different restaurant and playing three games of chess throughout our meal, which was a lot of fun. 

Thursday was our last day in Marrakech, and we came up with a large itinerary of things to see that we ended up running out of time. First, we ate a leisurely breakfast at our hostel's rooftop terrace--more fresh-squeezed orange juice and cornbread with apricot preserves! The hostel (Equity Point Marrakech) was set up like a traditional Moroccan riad with two beautiful inner courtyards, which were really fun to explore. 

Once breakfast was finished, we headed outside of the medina (the old city) for the first time and started off towards the Jardin Majorelle, which is a beautiful botanical garden created in the city by the French artist Louis Majorelle. Of course, we got lost (it seems to be a trend) but it wasn't totally our fault! One weird thing about Marrakech is that there are NO STREET SIGNS outside of the medina. Seriously, Bridget and I searched to see street signs as we were heading towards the Jardin, since the map named all the streets, but it was in vain. We couldn't even find street signs written in Arabic--literally, there were none! The streets were all unmarked (even at major intersections and round-a-bouts) so we just ended up guessing. We did find a great Italian gelato place, though, so we actually sat down to huge ice creams at just after half past 10 in the morning before continuing on our quest to find the garden. I love vacation.

Eventually we sneakily followed two other tourist couples who looked like they were heading towards the Jardin Majorelle, and we found it! It's been owned by Yves Saint Laurent and his partner Pierre Berge since 1980, and the designer's ashes were scattered in the garden after his death in 2008. It's been called the oasis of Marrakech, and that's exactly what it is: so much vibrant green and blue in such a small space. 

After about an hour exploring the garden, Bridget and I realized that we were running out of time. It was early afternoon and we only had about two hours before we needed to catch the bus to the airport--unfortunately not enough time to find and walk through the Bahia Palace that I had wanted to see. So instead, we took a taxi back to Djemma el-Fnaa (where we saw several snake charmers and a guy with monkeys!), then lost ourselves in the souks on purpose. We wandered down little side streets that I didn't know existed, successfully honed our haggling skills, and just walked. 

The souks are one of the most colorful places in Marrakech: there are people selling everything from silk shoes in every hue and tiny magic lamps bedazzled with jewels to silver tea pots and tagine pottery and baskets of spices or olives. It's a maze of scents and colors and sounds, which was very disorienting when we first arrived in Marrakech, and which was hard to imagine leaving by the end. I almost bought a beautiful little magic lamp for myself as a souvenir (and I had haggled it down from 120 dirham to 70 dirham), but I was running low on local currency and I didn't want to withdraw any more money, so I ended up not buying it. Now that I'm back, though, I regret not purchasing anything other than a few postcards. Next time I'm in Morocco, I will buy myself a little magic lamp! Or something like that, at least. 

Bridget and I accidentally found our way back to the hostel a little earlier than we had meant to, because that's what happens when you are purposefully lost: you always find yourself when you don't want to. Anyways, we grabbed our bags and ate lunch at the hostel's roof terrace restaurant (a fantastic last hurrah of Moroccan cuisine: a spicy soup, couscous with steamed carrots and zucchini, and a sweet vanilla yogurt that I'm hoping was not made with camel's milk). Following that, we ran through the souks back to Djemma el-Fnaa to catch the bus to the airport, which was much cheaper than taking a taxi. Funnily enough, all the vendors who saw us running through the souks with our bags called out to us, saying different variations of "Bon voyage, les filles!"  

At the airport, Bridget and I parted ways: she had a later flight to London, and I was heading off to Geneva. It was sad to leave Morocco, and I honestly hope that I'll have the chance to visit again for a longer period of time! It was truly the perfect destination for an adventure, and I'm so happy that I was brave enough to step out my front door and head off into the unknown. 

"Man cannot discover new oceans unless he has the courage to lose sight of the shore." -- Andre Gide