Around The World In Katie Days

Happy last Koninginnedag for a while, Dutchies! Can’t wait...

blueberryypie — Tue, 30 Apr 2013 00:00:20 -0500

Happy last Koninginnedag for a while, Dutchies! Can’t wait to see what the new king will accomplish. Party hard for us, and embrace the oranje!

Love,

Kate ‘n’ Sash

Rue de Mouffetard, Paris

blueberryypie — Thu, 25 Apr 2013 10:00:50 -0500

Rue de Mouffetard, Paris

"Still, despite all this, traveling is the great true love of my life. I have always felt…that..."

blueberryypie — Sun, 21 Apr 2013 10:01:01 -0500

“Still, despite all this, traveling is the great true love of my life. I have always felt…that to travel is worth any cost or sacrifice. I am loyal and constant in my love for travel, as I have not always been loyal and constant in my other loves. I feel about travel the way a happy new mother feels about her impossible, colicky, restless newborn baby — I just don’t care what it puts me through. Because I adore it. Because it’s mine. Because it looks exactly like me. It can barf all over me if it wants to — I just don’t care.”

- Elizabeth Gilbert, Eat Pray Love

step one

blueberryypie — Thu, 18 Apr 2013 20:54:25 -0500

I hate inspirational posters.

I’m sure I’ve mentioned this before, but it bears repeating because they are JUST THE WORST. Ain’t nothin’ inspiring about bad fonts and stock photos. I also associate them with my seventh-grade English teacher, who turned out to be a pedophile, so there’s that as well.

I’m a product of the public school system, so I’ve been exposed to literally hundreds of inspirational posters in a misguided attempt to keep me from dropping out or something. And I must say, they have all been awful, but one stuck with me: a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.

As I blogged earlier, I currently have no idea what I want to do with my life, other than travel. I know that I don’t want to be a journalist, but I’m still trying to figure out where I’m meant to be.

Here’s another thing I know: since I made the decision to pursue travel after graduation instead of a career per se, my life has become a million times less stressful and a million times more full of hope. The thought of senior year no longer makes me break out (all these zits are from other stressors).

Because I’m Type-A and an incredible fan of plans, deciding to travel doesn’t mean I’m not thinking about post-grad. Not by a long shot. Instead, here’s what I’ve been thinking:

1) I plan to apply for a Mitchell Scholarship. These scholarships enable seven or so Americans each year to finish a master’s degree at a university in Ireland or Northern Ireland. I’m writing my honors thesis on pop culture representations of the Northern Irish Troubles, so this is definitely an intriguing option! Of course, the odds are pretty slim.

2) I may apply for a Fulbright Scholarship. I am less convinced that this is the right program for me at this point in my life.

3) If I don’t receive a scholarship to go abroad, I think I’ll apply to be an au pair. I love kids and am good with them, so this would be a really interesting way to see the world while being gainfully employed, which is what I’m all about.

Of course, it’s hard to research when you don’t know all the options. What’s your favorite way to go abroad after completing your undergraduate work? Do you have any experience with the options I’m considering?

Photo of the day: graffiti in Krakow, Poland

blueberryypie — Tue, 26 Mar 2013 10:00:50 -0500

Photo of the day: graffiti in Krakow, Poland

Photo of the day: a multilingual book market in Amsterdam.

blueberryypie — Fri, 22 Mar 2013 10:00:39 -0500

Photo of the day: a multilingual book market in Amsterdam.

laughing in galway

blueberryypie — Tue, 19 Mar 2013 22:23:01 -0500

I’ve spent the past semester-and-a-half staring at four words: live what you love. I found the canvas at Hobby Lobby for $30 and threw it up on the wall because I am really great at living what I love — when it’s easy.

For instance, I love hugging babies, so I work at a church. I do not like dealing with them when they are being crazy, so I do not work full-time at a church. I love brownies, so I eat brownies. I do not love shopping for jeans, so I do not eat brownies on the daily. I love writing, so I majored in journalism.

I do not love journalism, so I will not be a journalist.

It seems so easy when you lay it out like that. Don’t want to be a journalist? Don’t be a journalist. Don’t want to get fat? Don’t eat brownies. But in actuality, it’s the hardest thing I’ve had to deal with since the never-ending trauma of picking a college in a first place.

I have done all the right things. I’ve applied myself in school; I’ve worked for different publications through Student Media and worked with video and coding and radio. I have taken diverse classes and talked to interesting people and even networked (that dirty word!).

But that doesn’t change the fact that I am not passionate about truth-telling journalism the way my friend Amy is. I’m not passionate about contract work for non-profit PR firms the way my friend Sydney is. I’m not passionate about telling people’s stories the way my roommate Tegan is.

I’m passionate about travel.

But what do you do with that, hm? Travel is expensive, and my bank account is incredibly finite. Beyond that, how do you go from being Responsible Kate to dropping everything to travel? I am well aware that everyone but my parents expects me to have an incredible job, to have A journalism job, but I have come to terms with this fact:

At this point in my life, it’s not what I want.

I have thought long and hard about what I want, and the answer just keeps coming back to me: explore, explore, explore. I want to chart new paths; I want to get to know people the way I got to know people in Utrecht. I want to learn a city, to say “that’s the expensive grocery store! That’s the good bookstore!”

This is an incredibly scary prospect. The whole concept of graduating and being an adult and having to pay car insurance and phone bills and for groceries is actually terrifying. When you add in this total 180, it gets extremely overwhelming. Like, I-need-to-book-a-ticket-to-Canada-to-get-away-from-this overwhelming.

I have a mental list going right now of things I could possibly do. I plan to apply for as many scholarships as I am qualified for to study another year in Europe. I also plan to apply for many scholarships I am not qualified for. I’m looking into being an au pair. I will buy literally any book on Amazon about how to travel for free.

If I’m totally honest with myself, which I try very hard not to be, here’s where I see myself in two years: standing on a cobblestone street in Galway in the winter, laughing as the snow comes down.

(This is a very random dream — I’ve never been to Galway nor particularly obsessed over it — but I know it’s a dream because I look cute in it, which I never do in the snow.)

But, my friends, you don’t get to laugh in Galway just because you graduate. You laugh in Galway because sometimes, miracles just happen and your life works out.

Also, sometimes, you laugh in Norman, Oklahoma because sometimes, your life doesn’t work out and you need something to cut that beautiful Hallmark moment and remind yourself that really, you have no plans.

Maybe I should invest in a “reality check” painting.

allthingseurope: Haarlem, Netherlands (by Matthijs Liethof)

blueberryypie — Sat, 09 Mar 2013 09:54:48 -0600

allthingseurope:

Haarlem, Netherlands (by Matthijs Liethof)

Let’s go to there.

blueberryypie — Thu, 07 Mar 2013 14:53:22 -0600

Let’s go to there.

"Travel isn’t always pretty. It isn’t always comfortable. Sometimes it hurts, it even breaks your..."

blueberryypie — Thu, 21 Feb 2013 16:46:32 -0600

“Travel isn’t always pretty. It isn’t always comfortable. Sometimes it hurts, it even breaks your heart. But that’s okay. The journey changes you- it should change you. It leaves marks on your memory, on your consciousness, on your heart, and on your body. You take something with you… Hopefully, you leave something good behind.”

- Anthony Bourdain (via rainbowdevotchka)

Moving Forward

blueberryypie — Tue, 19 Feb 2013 22:49:00 -0600

You decide, “Hey! Let’s go to Italy this weekend!” You don’t care where you go. You don’t care how you get there. You compare Eurolines to Ryanair to EasyJet, refreshing every page constantly.

“Are the prices lower?! What about now? Is 18 hours on a bus worth it? Is 40 euro worth it?”

You pour a glass of wine to help make your choice clear. “I’M GOING FOR THE 30 EURO FLIGHT FOR MILAN,” you yell.

Study abroaders, you know what I’m talking about. This is your Vegas, your game of craps. The rush you get from frantically trying to remember your credit card number before someone buys that last seat is beyond compare.

It’s what I miss most about exchange.

But, instead of posting yet another whiny blog post about how much I miss everything and how wonderful travel is, I got proactive.

That’s right, y’all.

I’m going to SASHA.

(When you write it like that, it sort of seems like I booked a ticket to some exotic nightclub in Victoria, which I suppose the Gronsdaddy Pad could be…questions to ask)

I redeemed my miles from my trip to Spain and my trip to Amsterdam and booked a trip to Canada. I am elated to be headed back to see my study abroad buddy, and I’m even more excited to travel again.

There’s something so exhilarating about going somewhere you’ve never been. I love the feeling you get when you think you’re about to be lost, you think you’re about to die or get taken or lose all your money, but you end up succeeding. I’m addicted to the new accents, landscapes, billboards, currencies — but most importantly, I’m addicted to new passport stamps.

And Canada, I’m gonna lay this out plain: if I don’t get a maple leaf passport stamp, I will be UP. SET.

Top Five Things I Miss About Utrecht

blueberryypie — Fri, 15 Feb 2013 12:23:00 -0600

1. My beautiful bike.

I miss you, bike! I miss the sensible bike lanes, the sensible bike locks, the sensible bike rules. I don’t bike in America because I WOULD DIE. Nothing is sensible here, y’all. We have drive-through Subways. NOTHING IS SENSIBLE.

2. Albert Heijn

The song doesn’t lie — but I do kind of miss biking with groceries on my back, trying to get my bike in the rack (IMPOSSIBLE), the surly cashiers, the idiot shelf-stackers, and cinnamon ice cream.

3. The Domtoren bein’ real loud at inconvenient times.

Enough said.

4. Kroketten

Once, in a controversial blog post, I talked about my extreme dislike of kroketten. I came around, and now I actually miss them. Bizarre.

5. Intercultural learning

((hanging out with my Swiss family)

I MISS IT, Y’ALL.

Thought of the day.

blueberryypie — Wed, 13 Feb 2013 22:31:26 -0600

Thought of the day.

You Will Survive: A Letter To Read Before You Study Abroad

blueberryypie — Mon, 11 Feb 2013 11:30:35 -0600

I wrote this letter to my beloved MadSteb, who is studying abroad in Bologna, Italy for Spring 2013. Her blog has the best name ever, and I’m not even saying that because I suggested the name.

My dearest, darlingest MadSteb,

Today (or tomorrow, if you cheated, which I kind of suspect will happen), you become a woman, which is to say you hop on a plane that will carry you far, far away from me. Though I am sad and will miss you terribly, I am SO excited for you and all of the wonderful things you are about to experience. I am 100 percent sure that studying abroad will be the best thing you do in college, even if it feels really scary and hard sometimes.

It will, by the way.

You’ll get lost somewhere where they don’t speak English, and they don’t write English, and they don’t understand English, but they do have greasy, pervy boys who will follow you and stare at your boobs (you’ll of course be in a bathing suit or a lowcut dress) or creepy pickpockets who will steal your money (right after you’ve gone to the ATM) or scary grandmas who will yell at you about goddamn America (even if you swear you’re Canadian). You’ll sit in your apartment and be really sad sometimes, just for no particular reason. You’ll cry so hard in the airport TGI Friday’s that the awkward waiter will bring you napkins, and you’ll not be able to finish your potato skins.

These things will happen. These things will suck.

But you know what? You shall overcome.

You are smart, talented, beautiful and generally awesome. You will kick the asses, proverbial or otherwise, of these problems, and you’ll probably look like a combination of Tina Fey and Amy Poehler while doing it, which is JUST NOT FAIR.

And most of the time, you won’t feel like this at all. You’ll have such a good time that you might feel guilty about it, thinking about us peons at home, slaving away for the next Mass Comm Law test.

You shouldn’t do that either. You should eat ALL the pasta, see ALL the museums, go in ALL the sketch kebab stores, meet ALL the people, buy ALL the things at H&M, take ALL the days off from the aforementioned activities that you feel like, and you should have a damn good time doing it.

Here is my best unsolicited advice: don’t come back with more than $30 in your bank account. Take a night train in Eastern Europe for the lols. Go somewhere no one you’ve heard of has ever gone (for me, it was Belfast) and become very pretentious about this fact. Take a million pictures, and put them up unabashedly on Facebook. Assume that everyone cares deeply about everything you do (we do). Trust yourself. If you’re going to do pot in Amsterdam, smoke it, don’t eat it in a brownie. Sleep in public places. Do things that you will never tell any of us about until you get drunk. Gain ten pounds eating whatever you want, just because you can. Skip class to travel; you learn more outside anyway. Don’t be an Ugly American. Avoid EuroShopper beer. Seek out 2 euro wine. Eat the local cuisine, but feel NO SHAME in eating American food every once in a while. Watchseries.eu or a similar site are totally fine. Think a lot about how much better Bologna is than Norman. Don’t feel bad if you aren’t super excited to go home. Don’t feel bad if you’re so happy to be home that you can hardly stand yourself. And come hang out with me when the reverse culture shock (IT IS SO REAL) gets bad.

Trust me on this.

Lots and lots of love,

Kate

My triumphant return

blueberryypie — Sun, 10 Feb 2013 18:06:00 -0600

I lied.

You remember back in August when I said I was done?

Yeah, so that didn’t happen.

Every fiber of my being misses my experiences studying abroad. If you start a conversation with me, I will find a way to work in an exchange anecdote. I spend all my time creepin’ my friends who are studying abroad — I almost started crying when an OU student studying in Utrecht started posting pictures of the Dom.

Basically, I’ve got a case of what Sash (remember her?) calls PESD — post-European sadness disorder.

So, you see, blogging is something that NEEDS to happen because otherwise, people are going to punch me in the face. True story.

I’m happy to give new life to this blog; you may not care one whit about what I’m posting now — though it will all be study-abroad related. That’s fine. You can unfollow until my next big trip, whenever that may be.

However, I hope you enjoy the site redesign and the new content. I’m excited about the eight million directions I’m planning to take Around The World In Katie Days in. You should be, too.

xoxo,

Kate

From the bottom of my heart (and all the other places in my heart, too!)

blueberryypie — Mon, 06 Aug 2012 13:05:29 -0500

The time has come, the walrus said, to talk of ending this blog. As most of you know—and if this shocks you, go back a few entries—I’m back in America now. And, as most of you know, America is not Europe or The Netherlands or particularly exotic to an American.

I think I’ve said all I want to on the subject of returning home (it’s really hard! America has flags!), but now I have two more things I want to say.

1. I have a new blog now! New blogs are cool. This blog is called The Classy Lassie, and I would be so pleased if you wanted to check it out. I don’t know what I’m writing about, but I promise to make fun of myself often. I head back to school next week to move into my first apartment and have my first paying journalism job, so I’m sure there’ll be lots to mock.

2. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Thank you for the letters, cards, Facebook messages, and tweets.

Thank you for the AMAZING care packages.

Thank you for the travel money.

Thank you for paying for my broke self to eat (Mom and Dad).

Thank you for the Skype sessions.

Thank you for traveling with me.

Thank you for not forgetting who I am.

Thank you for picking me up at the airport.

Thank you for answering my stupid questions.

Thank you for helping me solve all my transcript problems.

Thank you for letting me interview you.

Thank you for letting me whine to you.

And, most importantly, thank you.

Thank you for reading.

Thank you for the 3,658 pageviews I had in six months, for the 69 countries you come from, and for the 48 US states you came from (help me out, Alaska and Wyoming!).

Thanks for reading every entry religiously or reading every once in a while.

Thanks for passing me along to your friends and coworkers.

Thanks for commenting on the entries and putting them on your Facebooks.

Thanks for being my teachers—because apparently, there’s a large contingent from Woodrow Wilson Elementary School reading, and that’s so cool. Thanks for teaching me how to write and for nagging my mom to get me to post!

It’s been really humbling to hear people I know talk about reading my blog, and it’s even more humbling to see that people in places I’ve never been, who speak languages I’ve never heard, have been reading. I started this blog in the hopes that my parents and grandparents would appreciate seeing pictures, and I figured my school friends would tune in occasionally. For me, at least, it’s been a lot more and grown in ways I hadn’t anticipated.

I mean, not like I’m Dooce or anything, but still. People from Okmulgee, Oklahoma and the Sudan have read this. So that’s pretty awesome.

(Plot twist: the person from Okmulgee traveled to the Sudan and read it in both places.)

Anyway, thanks a million thousand for reading. I hope you’ve enjoyed reading as much as I’ve enjoyed writing, and I’ll see you at The Classy Lassie!

Kate

My new old country

blueberryypie — Sat, 04 Aug 2012 00:11:51 -0500

Thoughts on arriving in America after six months away:

1. There are flags everywhere. Everywhere. Five houses on my street have flags. Maybe more. Every reputable business has an American flag. Why?? What does this prove? After spending six months in a country where national flags are few and far between, this is really tripping me up. So much patriotism.

2. Are people really this stupid? I sort of gave up on following the news while I was in Holland. I’m a journalism major and a major news junkie, but I quit cold turkey (see what I did there?) while I was in Europe. It was too complicated to balance time zones and traveling constantly. When I did get news, it was from the BBC.

Cue me returning home to this Chick-Fil-A firestorm, in addition to a million campaign ads on TV and the DRAMA of local news and small-town newspaper coverage.

I cannot handle this partisan bickering anymore. I do not care if you’re a liberal or a conservative, Democrat or Republican, Obama supporter or Romney fan girl. You should just ALL GET ALONG AND ACTUALLY SOLVE PROBLEMS. It is everyone’s fault—can we agree on that? No, we’re Americans; we can’t agree on anything—and I just want everyone to deal with it and stop being so stupid. Or at least stop being so stupid on my airwaves.

However, despite this overabundance of fluff “hard” news, I will say that I thoroughly enjoy being able to have up-to-the-minute updates on Snooki’s fetus.

It’s a boy, y’all.

3.Ranch dressing is crack cocaine. I don’t even eat salad, guys. I just dip EVERYTHING in it. And I prefer the kind of ranch dressing that has all the preservatives in it that allow it to sit out forever. Warm ranch is the bomb.

Yes, I’m going to die before I’m 30, but these last ten years are going to be filled with joy.

4.Ryan Seacrest is a scourge on the earth. I apologize on behalf of my country. Also: how did he get hired to be an Olympic commentator?

5.People complain about everything. I noticed on exchange that I am exceptionally whiny, particularly when compared to Canadians and Australians. I thought this was a personality flaw. It may still be, but my word, Americans LOVE to complain.

For instance, I am taking a lot of pleasure out of complaining about my fellow Americans.

Anyway, I went to renew my car registration, and I was just sort of doing the Dutch thing, stoically waiting in line until it was my turn. I spent four weeks in the UK; I am boss at queues. Everyone was so cranky and rude to each other and the people working.

It’s car registration, not the state fair. It’s not supposed to be fun.

6.Bureaucracy is a challenge. Okay, okay. They had bureaucracy in Europe, and I dealt with it, and it was annoying. But somehow, it is more annoying here. I feel like I am constantly waiting in line for governmental things. My sister just went to get her learner’s driving permit, and she had to drive three towns over to get to a department that didn’t have lines out the door. No joke.

Also, it took me more than an hour to clear American customs. They did not open my passport or stamp it. Nope, I was just in line.

I was a complaining American in line, too!

7.World Market is the greatest store ever. They sell really expensive home goods and imported foods. I’m delighted to spend all my paychecks on stroopwafels and Jammie Dodgers.

8.Religion is a thing here. I’m a religious person, so I’ve never really noticed what a presence churches—and in my part of the country, it is churches and not synagogues/mosques/etc—have in towns. They pretty well run Denton. The church closest to me is bigger than the biggest train station in Holland.

But they don’t let cops sit in their parking lots, so God bless!!!

9.It’s hot. IT HAS BEEN OVER 100 F (40 C) SINCE I ARRIVED IN THIS STATE. It was maybe 80 F (27 C) on the hottest day in The Netherlands. Though I have lived in Texas for my whole life (except for this semester and the year my family spent living basically on the Equator), I am no longer acclimated to the heat and go outside maybe once a day.

Yeah, I’m dying by age 30.

10.It’s almost state fair time!!I go to school in Oklahoma, and yet I get a day off of school to attend the Texas State Fair. I suppose it’s actually to spend $39085105912 watching OU play the University of Texas at the fair, but obviously, I never do that.

The state fair in in late September through mid-October in Dallas, and it is magical. There are midway games, rides, livestock, petting zoos, pig races, musicals, magic shows, dog shows, sheep shows, butter sculptures, art galleries, museums, parades, concerts (Hanson came last year!), and of course, Big Tex and fried foods.

Big Tex is a freaky, giant talking mannequin. I love him.

And the Texas State Fair is famous for its fried foods. We don’t just fry normal things, like chicken, corn dogs, and Twinkies. We fry awesome stuff, like butter, banana pudding, Pop Tarts, beer, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and chicken fried bacon.

‘Tis marvelous, I promise.

It is probably the best part of being Texan, ~~discounting getting to hang out with Rick Perry~~ constantly the entire city of Austin.

It reminds me that really, despite my countrymen, we are all rednecks at heart, and I really, truly am happy to be home.

(Also, it reminded me that my family owns a deep fryer, and we deep fry tater tots wrapped in bacon, covered in cheese. We now also own a smoker. We are SO REDNECK.)

now nothing feels the way it was before

blueberryypie — Tue, 31 Jul 2012 14:58:00 -0500

I’ve been waiting on this post.

I’ve wanted to have a welcome-home post full of sunshine and daisies and all the happiness that I feel I should be feeling.

Now I’ve waited so long that you’ve probably forgotten I have a blog (“I think I know someone who lived in Europe for a semester…like Denmark or something…”). Oh well.

I am home. I am happy to be home.

Sort of.

I missed a lot of things from home: my family, my friends, my demon-possessed dog, Mexican food. I’ve been creeping on my Twitter feed, and it’s very clear that I missed these things desperately. Mostly because my tweets are I MISS MY FAMILY FRIENDS DEMON POSSESSED DOG AND MEXICAN FOOD DESPERATELY #sad.

And then suddenly I got those things, and I didn’t want them at all.

Even in my pre-exchange life, I’d have to psych myself up to hanging out with people. It’s not that I don’t love my friends. Not at all. I just really, really like myself.

And I mean, honestly, who doesn’t?

(I like to explain being an introvert as being inordinately fond of my own company because I think I’m cute.)

Now that I’m back, I really have to psych myself up to go anywhere. It’s very disconcerting to have to convince yourself that no, really, I do want to go deposit my tax refund check and go buy my textbooks. Because I do want these things. I do.

But I want Europe more.

I think I left my heart in the Schipol airport at 6 a.m. on a Tuesday morning earlier this month, and I don’t know how to get it back. It’s been hopping planes all around Europe, and correspondingly, I have been doubled over dreaming of where I’ve been and where I want to go next.

I wake up, and I think, why would I go buy a scrapbook when I could actually be here?

Why would I figure out what my precinct is and go vote when I could be pondering nature? I’ve never missed an election before, but then again, I’ve never missed Northern Ireland before.

Why I would think about internships and tour guiding and working at the yearbook and tutoring and editing video and class and coding and everything else I used to panic about when I’ve already sat at the Good Morning Cymru desk?

Why would I figure out how to use my new crock pot when I already know I can’t make pancakes?

Logically, I know that there is no point dwelling on these things. I have a sweet life back here in the states, I have memories, I have technology to keep in touch with my friends from exchange.

I also logically know I’m experiencing reverse culture shock, and that this is completely normal. I’ve read the blogs and the State Department literature; I know what’s happening.

But just because I know doesn’t mean my heart does, and it doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck.

I feel life would be much simpler if I were a Vulcan and therefore had no concept of anything but logic.

Like, I could be Mrs. Spock. Except not married to Spock, and I suppose that wouldn’t actually make me Vulcan, and I cannot believe I am actually discussing Star Trek on my blog, what is wrong with me?

Half of me is home, and half of me is away, and this limbo is hard to navigate and manage. It’s irritating to me that I am not instantly perky and happy and just SO GLAD to be back. It’s irritating to me that I can’t buy paprika chips or edible Orange Fanta here. It’s irritating to me that it’s so hot. It’s irritating to me that people don’t consider that these things might be irritating to me.

On a side note, it is also irritating to me to be back in this time zone because if I was back in The Netherlands, NO ONE WOULD BE SPOILING THE OLYMPICS FOR ME, DO YOU HEAR ME NBC AND PEOPLE WHO POST RESULTS ON FACEBOOK?

But on the flip side, I’m struggling to understand why I’m not more upset that life has moved on here in Denton. I hate change and am usually the first person to be ENRAGED that a new restaurant has taken over an old. Obviously, change happened in Denton over the past six months. But I don’t care, and so I don’t know who I am anymore.

It’s sort of like David After Dentist in my head. Is this real life?!

I wanted to end this post with WISDOM because I have found that ending posts with WISDOM makes people like the blog more. It also keeps them from writing the CHEER UP! comments that I tend to find depressing. But the longer I waited for WISDOM, the more elusive it proved.

So instead, I’m waiting for my head to get straightened out because nothing I’ve done has made it easier.

I’m also waiting for Sonic Happy Hour to start because you guys, I just really need a Rt. 44 strawberry limeade.

Some things are easier than others.

Okay, okay. I’ll post a real blog later. But in my humble...

blueberryypie — Fri, 27 Jul 2012 23:40:35 -0500

Okay, okay. I’ll post a real blog later. But in my humble opinion, the Dutch were the best dressed at tonight’s opening ceremony. I am afraid the Americans dressed up as flight attendants…

My old stomping grounds

blueberryypie — Wed, 25 Jul 2012 21:53:48 -0500

Ireland was the last new place I discovered. Sort of. From Dublin, we headed to Brussels. You (my faithful readers) might remember that I went to Brussels on my very first trip. I had just met Sasha. We took selfies like this:

and not like this:

Personal space is for suckers. We’re NORTH AMERICANS.

In short, my first trip to Brussels feels like half a lifetime ago. I “guided” my family on the streets of Brussels, which is a polite way of saying people refused to speak Dutch to me and we got lost and looked at a lot of maps.

That I got for us. For free. Just sayin’.

Anyway, the family went back to the fabled Mannekin Pis and the much beloved Parliamentarium. I didn’t take a single picture because y’all. I was so old hat.

Mom did score this solid picture of me and my waffle. And my sister eating. And me wearing socks with shoes that ought not to have socks with them.

After our day in Brussels, we took the train to Amsterdam, where we stayed in the Hotel Hoksbergen apartments. This is a canal house that’s been turned into apartments, and it was super fun to be able to spread out and stay up later than my parents’ 9 p.m. bedtime.

I mean, what?

The first day in Amsterdam, we went to Anne Frank’s House. Now, this is my third time to go, and I’ve not paid once. I bought a museumkaart for 40 euro at the beginning of the semester, and this gives me free admission into basically every museum in the country. If you’re going to be in the Netherlands for an extended period of time, I highly recommend it.

Anyway, so to get into museums, they just scan your museumkaart. Generally, they don’t look at anything on it. Dad took Sasha’s museumkaart, I took my own, and I bought Mom one half price from a leaving exchange student. Unfortunately, I decided to edit the birth date on Mom’s with a different color pen. The following exchange happened:

Anne Frank Guy: Is this your card?

Mom: No.

AFG: Are you taking advantage of the system?

M: Yes, I am!

AFG: *scans Mom’s card, lets her in free*

I love Dutch people.

We also took a day to see Utrecht. It was really fun for me to point out where I live, drink coffee, and go to school. We climbed the Domtoren, which is one of those things that I’ve kept meaning to do but never got around to.

These are the bells that I could hear at random times in my apartment (and at school, and while shopping, and everywhere else). I lived about ten minutes walking from the Domtoren.

We climbed all the way to the top for some spectacular views of Utrecht.

The Oudegracht (Old canal) where I did all my shopping. The yellow building is called Winkel van Sinkel, and it’s a nightclub/cafe.

The big glass building is called the Stadschowburg, and it’s a theatre. My apartment is catty-corner from it.

(Is catty-corner used anywhere but Texas?)

My sister turned 15 while we were in Holland, and her only request was that we find a beach. I found one!

It’s called Texel Island, and it’s the first island off the Dutch coast. Weeeell, sort of.

We took a train to Den Helder, a bus to the ferry, and a ferry to Texel.

We accidentally ate at THE WORST CHINESE RESTAURANT IN THE WORLD!.

We got a little lost, but finally, we made it to De Koog.

More importantly, we made it to the beach.

It was a good day.

We spent our last day in Amsterdam paddling on the canals. It went…predictably.

Ten minutes later, it started pouring and didn’t stop until the next day.

Of course, this happened just in time for us to walk the twenty minutes with our suitcases to the train station to get to the next hotel…