tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-48876305147918812642023-11-15T22:31:12.026-08:00: zhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05219968572048478141noreply@blogger.comBlogger50125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4887630514791881264.post-58693306933947590112014-09-16T12:56:00.000-07:002014-12-01T16:09:22.895-08:00Chicken on Waffles, Hush Puppies, and a Med Student's Wife<span style="color: #20124d;">I'm finally going to attempt to give an update on the latest crazy adventure of ours: NC. Now, I wish this in some way referred to Natalie Cole, unforgettable Nat King Cole, or a run in with Nancy Carell (but really, who wouldn't want to be at a dinner party with Nancy and Steve). No, this NC adventure began with a car packed full of things, no space to spare, a trek through 6 states (Utah, Colorado, Kansas, Missouri, Kentucky, Tennessee), changes in scenery, and 3 days later, North Carolina.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #20124d;">10 things we learned while driving:</span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d;">1. 36 hours in a car is too long. I have never been happier to get out of a car in my life. And I have never not wanted to get in a car more in my life.</span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d;">2. Colorado and Kansas have a lot, and I mean a lot, of nothing. And free land.</span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d;">3. The I-70 is about 2,000 miles long.</span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d;">4. 80's music is making a come back. Or maybe it never left. In every state, a few 80's music stations could be found. Along with 100 country stations.</span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d;">5. Kentucky has a million frogs.</span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d;">6. Don't take for granted an Ikea close to home.</span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d;">7. A day in Nashville is not enough, but still pretty fantastic.</span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d;">8. Utah might have the most active highway patrol officers. Much to everyone's dismay.</span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d;">9. Hush puppies in the South are not stuffed animals or shoes but a version of cornbread. Fried cornbread. I don't recommend them, they are terrible. But maybe that's just me (Aside: after remembering Hush puppy stuffed animals I spent a good deal of time, much much more than I should have, reminiscing and looking at so called "vintage" toys on eBay. Polly Pockets, Littlest Pet Shop, Strawberry Shortcake, Rainbow Brite, Puppy Surprise. Can you believe these things are labeled "vintage" on eBay? I must be getting old).</span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d;">10. In a battle of trees versus mountains, I'd pick my Rockies every time.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #20124d;">You probably already know but if not, you're might be wondering, why North Carolina?? We moved here (to Durham) at the end of July for Michael to start medical school at Duke. It's been an adjustment to be sure and we're still trying to iron out the kinks of everything.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #20124d;">A few things about Durham so far:</span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d;">1. Dame's Chicken and Waffles. Chicken on a waffle? Sounded like an unlikely pair to me. Though skeptical, I tried it and it was incredibly delicious.</span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d;">2. The American Tobacco Campus. This old tobacco factory in Durham has been converted to a fun complex with restaurants, a theater, and live music.</span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d;">3. Nana Taco's spicy Mexican chocolate shake. When I tried this my heart stopped a minute. It's that good. It tastes exactly like the Mexican hot chocolate you can get at the Nordstrom ebar except it's a shake not hot chocolate. Which makes it that much more delicious.</span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d;">4. Dreyer's ice cream is Edy's in the South.</span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d;">5. I can't find Albers cornmeal. Anywhere. And it's very much a tragedy.</span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d;">6. Heat and humidity. You feel as if your face might melt off the moment you step outside. </span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d;">7. Trees, trees, and more trees. Everywhere you look.</span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d;">8. Cicadas that never stop. And incredibly large insects.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #20124d;">And there you have it. A short (somewhat) summary of the adventures in NC so far.</span><br />
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zhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05219968572048478141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4887630514791881264.post-50874234325344374782014-09-02T12:22:00.000-07:002014-09-15T13:46:59.098-07:00One More Paris Post<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">One last Paris post and then back to real life. Because, it's Paris.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Thursday, August 14th:</span></div>
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<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Louvre Day. And boy, was it insane. Utterly and completely. I had been to the Louvre once before. It was crowded but manageable. Today was packed! I have never seen so many people in one place before in my life. Good thing the Louvre is the largest museum in the Western Hemisphere. We may not have been able to fit everyone in. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was pretty excited when we discovered the audio guide was a Nintendo DS (Luke and Seth would have been thrilled). This excitement was short lived when Vati, Mutter, EP, and I found this younger generation's GameBoy was incredibly difficult to use. This dampened our spirits a little (well, a lot) as we scrambled around from room to room for the first half of the day. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After a much needed lunch break and a crucial Diet Coke, we worked out a better method for the audio guides and were on our way again. We stopped at the Mona Lisa where thousands of people were crowded around to see the very small painting. Don't get me wrong, I love the Mona Lisa and I love Da Vinci but, it just won't do for people to walk straight past paintings from Raphael and Caravaggio, simply to get a glimpse of the Mona Lisa. Ah well. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Several hours later, we made the walking trek back to Hotel de Nice, stopping at a delicious Crepe place along the way. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Friday, August 15th:</span></div>
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<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Versailles. Friday we took a lovely bike tour to Versailles. However, by this time my legs were about to give out from so much walking and biking already so it made for an interesting ride. A few times throughout the day I thought I might not survive. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Versailles was incredible. I had also visited here before when it was not so crowded. This time, it was as crowded as the Louvre. Or more so. And I have never seen so many Asian tour groups in my life. Ever. Fire safety must not be a priority for the French, as there were so many people in the palace we could not possibly have met any fire code. Anywhere. V, M, EP, and I thought we might be trampled a few times. After Versailles we went to see the Eiffel Tower and stayed till it lit up for the night. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Saturday, August 16th:</span></div>
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<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My last day in Paris! This was the day we toured the Montmartre neighborhood (Sacre Coeur, Van Gogh's house, Picasso's studio, Moulin Rouge, and more). We also went to the Orangerie last minute on a whim (side note, on Friday night I said we needed to go to the Orangerie if we had time. Saturday morning, Dad asks me, "why do you need to go do laundry?" Me: "I don't need to, I'm leaving tomorrow." Dad: "no, you said you have to do laundry. You said that yesterday." Me: "No, I don't think I said that." Dad: "You totally said that. Maddie, Lauren said she had to do laundry right?" EP: "I didn't hear about any laundry. Oh it must have been the Orangerie.")</span></div>
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<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Anyway. The Orangerie was yet another highlight of the trip. Everyone must go there at least once. The Orangerie houses Monet's Water Lilies (sigh). These paintings span the entire walls of a large oval room. They are massive. They say the water lilies were painted when Monet was going blind and thus, when looking at the paintings, you cannot tell which direction Monet was painting the lilies from. Some even look painted from an angle underwater. I wish I could describe these paintings. They are some of my favorite in the world. Positively magical. I chose to obey the no photos allowed rule and thus have to make do with rulebreakers' photos found on Google. The Orangerie also had an incredible collection of other paintings. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Lastly, we went to the Vaux le Vicomte. A small part of me thought we may have to buy a different kind of train ticket, but we headed onto the train anyway. An hour train ride later, off we went. In many stations in Paris you have to insert your train ticket in when you enter and when you exit. We inserted our tickets and viola! Nothing. We were stuck! And no one seemed to want to help us. After about a half hour of mouthing through the glass with crazy hand motions to the worker far away behind more glass, someone finally grudgingly came, muttered something frustratingly, and let us out. Tourist mishap. We finally made it to the mansion and, you guessed it, another highlight! I loved this place so much. The chateau was built and designed by Nicolas Fouquet, the head of finances for Louis XIV. Fouquet had a house warming (or rather chateau warming) party after finishing this masterpiece to which he invited King Louis. Long story short, the party was too lavish, too splendid, the house too luxurious, too sumptuous for King Louis to bear. Jealous Louis imprisoned Fouquet for life shortly after. Poor guy. Do not get on the king's bad side.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">All in all, Paris was a grand time for everyone!!!
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<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">[The paintings pictured are some of my very favorites from the Louvre and Monet's Nympheas from the Musee de l'Orangerie. Louvre paintings: </span><span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Da Vinci's Mona Lisa, </span><span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Raphael's La Belle Jardiniere, and Vermeer's Lacemaker]</span><br />
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<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Once upon a time B, E and I spent countless hours planning Mutter and Vati's trip to France. And once in a lifetime I did something crazy and bought a ticket to Paris one day before departing. As people always say, better late than never. So without further ado, here is a short (relatively) synopsis of a sporadic, fantastic week in Paris!</span><span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">MONDAY, August 11th, 2014</span><span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> -Arrived in Paris at 6:30 A.M. Waited in the airport for 6 hours!!!!! to meet up with Mutter, Vati and EP. Made an incredibly long trek to our hotel (I nearly thought we wouldn't find it). Dropped our bags at Hotel de Nice (very lovely, strange little place) and wandered over to Sainte Chapelle and Notre Dame.</span><span style="color: #20124d; font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
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<span style="color: #20124d; font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">TUESDAY, August 12th, 2014</span><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">-The day we walked and walked and walked and walked. Literally. About 10 miles. Decided to Walk to the Musee d'Orsay. Spent the morning immersed in impressionism (I say, I quite fancy that Monet). Decided to walk to the Rodin museum with directions from Google maps which had never failed me before (this was the first time and hopefully the only failure). Google's "10 minute" walk turned into 35. Eventually made it to Rodin's and saw the Thinker as well as many other masterpieces. Walked down the Champs Elysees and stopped at Laduree (the best macarons in the world, as well as the most expensive). Walked another few miles back to Hotel de Nice.</span><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #20124d;"> </span> </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">WEDNESDAY, August 13, 2014. {Email of the day's adventures}</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d; font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Today we had quite the day. Luckily, it turned out fabulously and not fatefully. We had planned to leave the hotel at 8:00 sharp to navigate our way through the metro maze to meet our Fat Bike Tour guide. I got up, got ready, and went and knocked on the parents door. No answer. I knocked again. No answer. I knocked for about 10 to 15 minutes. Finally, I heard some grumblings. "Whhhaatt?? What is going on?" Pause. "It's 8:00!!!!" "What??????" The door opens and everyone is in bed, scrambling to get out. Thankfully, we managed to get our wits together and out we went at 8:30. We even made it to the meeting spot with a half hour to spare :)</span><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Off we went on the train to Vernon. Before boarding our tour guide kept repeating, "now everyone just walk very calmly to the train." I can only imagine how many frenzied, frantic, tourists they have dashing wildly to the train. The ride was about 40 minutes; dad and I had an interesting time trying out the train toilet- imagine an airplane bathroom wiggling around (I nearly fell off). </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #20124d; font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We made it in one piece to Vernon and walked to get our bikes. They all had wild names- Earl was "Istanbul was Constantinople," Mom- Helga Hufflepuff, Dad-Mad Max, and me- Natural Balance. Fitting, they knew I needed to be naturally balanced today. First we went to gather items for our picnic. We went to a lovely boulangerie and got baguettes, a tarte, and an eclair Nutella. Then we headed over to the market and bought a lot of cheese. Also some cider which we later found was very alcoholic. We headed on our bikes with the tour in domination formation (covering the entire road) to our picnic spot.</span><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> After picnicing, we headed off to Giverny- which I kept getting confused with Givenchy. Not the same, at all. We road on a charming little bike path that at one point had been a rail road track. Claude took the very path when moving to Giverny. French Claude, the painter, not to be confused with mom's friend, Jean Claude, the chef. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #20124d;"> We arrived at the house and woah. Was it spectacular. We went straight to the Japanese gardens and stood on the water lilies bridge. We had a lovely time looking at all the many types of flowers in the gardens. Claude meticulously picked out flowers from all over the world and brought them to his garden.
We walked through Claude's home, which was also amazing. He had Japanese prints all over! Very cool. After the tour we saw Claude's grave- him and a dozen other Monets. In the same grave. We then biked back the way we came and stopped at a small grocery store to, as our tour guide said, "reward ourselves with a beer."</span></span><span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After the train ride home, we made the trek back to our eclectic hotel with Marie Antoinette 70's garb. We now have a four person room, the "family suite." It's sweeter than anything you ever did see for our little family. There is what appears to be maroon and white Asian wallpaper covering the room. And I mean covering, literally. Wall to wall, top to bottom, the whole ceiling is covered. We almost missed the wall paper covered dresser- two knobs gave it away. The bed spreads are also a nice maroon and white to match, with maroon carpet to finish it off.
I also have yet to figure out the shower. There is no curtain. I turned the head into the corner as far as it would go and slide into the corner, trying to only get the wall wet. Needless to say, when I finished, there was water everywhere.
I stayed in while M, D, and Earl went out to dinner. They brought me home a club sandwich. I was so excited to eat it, bit right in, and thought, this is so strange and slightly disturbing. I couldn't imagine what was wrong with it. It seemed spongy and soggy and, quite frankly, wrong. I opened it up and lo and behold, raw fish. So much raw fish. I wasn't very hungry after that.
Now I am in the napping house; people are snoring, so it appears it's time to be off to bed!</span></span><br />
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<br />zhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05219968572048478141noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4887630514791881264.post-34949519723577080202014-05-26T17:38:00.001-07:002014-09-10T19:40:28.799-07:00Fast Forward: Meet the Petersons<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Aside: I've severely slacked on blog writing duties and a lifetime of things have changed. So, here's to a fresh start, new beginnings, a blog transformation, and punctual life updates. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Meet the Petersons:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'm Lauren. He's Michael. March 2, 2012, we met on a blind date. Little did we know what adventures were in store for us. One thing led to another; we got to know each other. We danced, romanced, broke up, woke up, got rings, wedding things, connected the dots, and tied the knot. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Michael is getting ready to start medical school at Duke in August and I am in law school at BYU (for now). </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This blog is henceforth dedicated to the adventures of us. </span><br />
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zhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05219968572048478141noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4887630514791881264.post-54019189656866079302012-07-31T16:21:00.003-07:002014-05-25T20:06:17.480-07:00We Buy Kimonos. And One Gigantic Lint RollerAlright alright. So it has taken me 8 billion years to finish blogging about the Japan trip. And the joyous thing is that (or maybe not so joyous if you're tired of hearing about it) after this post I still have 4 days left to go. Maybe it's because a mini part of me doesn't want to be finished with it. Perhaps I will start combining the days. I am getting lazy in my old age. That's the depressing truth. But alas, I couldn't bring myself to combine this post with another. No, not Nara. Home of 1,200 little deer. Though it's tough to say, I might have to dub Nara as my favorite place in Japan. Mostly because little deer stood next to me and ate crackers right out of the palm of my hand. It was better than Disneyland. Almost.<br />
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Here's the quick and dirty (though not so dirty because Japan is impeccable in the cleanliness area). I wouldn't want to ruin the magic of Nara with a lengthly post.<br />
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-Isuien Garden: Lovely little garden that sparked a desire in me to get my very on Bonsai tree. One day.<br />
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-Todai-ji: Daibutsu, Japan's largest bronze Buddha which is housed inside the world's largest wooden structure. Each curl on the Buddha's head is as large as a human head.<br />
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-Kofuku-ji: A five story pagoda and many many deer.<br />
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-Totally Turtles: Hundreds of tiny turtles in a mini lake. I nearly jumped in 1. To catch one and bring it home 2. It was unbearably hot and I was sweating bullets.<br />
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-Tiny Old Japanese Men Riding Around Town: After walking for a million miles, I certainly envied them.<br />
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-Mr. Donut: These look incredibly delicious, do they not? I have never been more excited to have a donut. My heart fell the moment I bit into it. I thought I had crammed a handful of packing peanuts in my mouth by mistake.<br />
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-We Buy A Gigantic Lint Roller: We went crazy in the 100 yen store. Imagine the possibilities with this beauty. Next flight you go on, remember to pack one of these.<br />
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-Kimonos: After our Kimono renting experience, we couldn't leave Japan without purchasing three. Or rather, after being in the second hand Kimono store for over an hour, we couldn't leave without purchasing one. I'm still contemplating the perfect occasion to wear it.<br />
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<br />zhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05219968572048478141noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4887630514791881264.post-67540889537361648262012-06-16T22:10:00.004-07:002012-12-01T11:34:56.135-08:00Almost FamousWednesday, May 30th, 2012<br />
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When I was young (those were the days) I used to wish I was famous. I hoped that magically by pure chance, I would meet a famous movie star that look exactly like me and we'd switch places for a bit. Just like in the Disney channel original, Model Behavior. If you haven't seen it, it's a must watch. That, along with Brink and Alley Cats Strike.<br />
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Becoming famous in America is hard work (at least I assume it is, I haven't actually attempted it yet, that's a hurdle to jump next year) but if that is your life goal, do not be deterred. I have a simple solution for you: Move to Japan.<br />
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Day 2 in Kyoto was as lovely, fabulous, and as jam packed as all the rest.<br />
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Here are the highlights:<br />
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<li><u>My Love Amongst 1,001</u></li>
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Welcome to the Sanjusandgendo, the longest wooden building in Japan. Please forgive the poor picture quality, compliments of google bilder search. Inside the building are 1,001 statues (pictures not allowed, I think the above photo is a pic of a postcard. Possibly). Supposedly, hidden among the 1,001 is the face of your one true love. Did I find mine, you ask? Hard to say. </div>
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<li><u>Geishas In Kiyomizu-dera</u></li>
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As Lady Gaga says, Papa-paparazzi. Though, I'm not sure she was referring to elementary kids. Today, we dressed as Geishas for a few hours (any more, I'm not sure I could handle.) Barely able to breathe and a calf work out to boot, I got my wish from ages past. Famous. Almost. Never have I ever posed for so many pictures. Possibly over a hundred. In the space of an hour. Celebrities for a day. And it was exhausting.</div>
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<li>Yakisoba</li>
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A fab fav dish of the trip. </div>
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<li>Dance, Dance, Dance In Orange Pants</li>
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Fushimi Inari Shrine. Like pioneer children, we walked, and walked, and walked, and walked through hundreds of Torri up the mountain. Lucky for me, the Torri matched my pants. Let's not forget, speed walking. M has quite a talent for it. Who knew?<br />
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(PS: On this day, we moved to the Best Western, in hopes of receiving the free breakfast as advertised online. Though much lovelier than the Annex, our breakfast dreams were dashed upon arrival).<br />
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zhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05219968572048478141noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4887630514791881264.post-67518593140108442472012-06-15T23:04:00.001-07:002012-06-15T23:04:11.063-07:00Kyoto and KaoriTuesday, May 29: Off to Kyoto<br />
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Can I just say, Japan is amazingly spectacular. Every day I thought, "nothing can top this," yet the next day, it was even better.<br />
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Mad Dash Morning:<br />
B and I had to make a 7:35 train. We were feeling pretty good, weaving in and out of a million Asians at the Tokyo station. It didn't last long. We were at the wrong station. With 15 minutes till take off. In a crazed frenzy, we: jumped on a train, jumped off a train, ran up and down a million escalators, ran to the wrong train, ran the right way, ran up 5 dozen stairs at least, jumped onto the train. Success. We made it.<br />
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Kyoto:<br />
10:30, we arrived at Kyoto, met our guide Kaori, and off we went. Thank goodness Kaori helped us find our hotel. About a block from the train station, she says, "there it is." She points to a building with a huge green sign in Japanese. Apparently it says, Kyoto Hotel Annex. Alright then.<br />
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Off we go to see the sites. The weather is heavenly, the sun is shining. But wait, are those clouds I see in the distance? No, they can't be. Not when we've left both sets of ponchos at the Annex along with our umbrellas. Kaori: "Don't worry, my phone says it's sunny all day." One minute later:<br />
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Yes, that's about right. Little umbrella- Big rain. Even littler umbrella as there were two people under it (Me and B). It's safe for you to guess that, it started pouring. Just like in Nikko. We were too cheap to buy more ponchos and instead got an umbrella. It was broken after 10 minutes. I suppose we got what we paid for. </div>
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We waited out the rain in a mini shop, dashed to a strange lunch shop that used to be a public bath (creepo if you ask me), and finally were on our way. </div>
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What we saw: </div>
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The Golden Pavilion </div>
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Rock Gardens Galore. I think I may start one of these. I hear smoothing out patterns in gravel is soothing to the soul. </div>
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Legend has it: if a carp can swim up the waterfall and drink from the top, it'll turn into a prince. To Do List: Get a dozen carp for the backyard waterfall. 12 Swimming Princes, I think yes.</div>
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Finally: Nap at the hotel from 5:00-8:40 (jet lag really did us in), woke up (luckily) just in time to dash to the train station and search for M (collapsed on the group and everyone peered at us improper Americans), found M wandering the station, back to the Annex (I'm still puzzling over why the hotel was called the Annex. As far as I know, it was simply a creepy, mini, taupe/brown/burnt orange room with scary 70's, floral bed covers. We were lucky to even wake up the next morning.)</div>
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<br /></div>zhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05219968572048478141noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4887630514791881264.post-13885910962385919622012-06-08T21:15:00.000-07:002012-06-08T21:18:34.547-07:00Shoguns and Surrealism at it's BestMonday, May 28th: We go. To Nikko.<br />
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Our first day without M to fend off the paparazzi. Or mostly to speak Japanesa. His worries for us were unnecessary. In fact, we got around so well, people thought we were Japanese (well, besides the obvious appearance factor). I nearly fooled myself. I've heard it said that I have a knack for directions. And alright, I'll say it, I am pretty good. Everyone has their talents, and this is mine. Perhaps for the next family talent show we can all pile in the sub, blind fold me, go somewhere crazy, and I will tell you exactly where we are. At every turn. Just call me Shirley Holmes.<br />
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Stepping off the train at Nikko, I knew I'd made a mistake. Tokyo was hot hot heat but Nikko= frigid. Of course, B and I were in summer attire. We succumbed to the little Japanese lady selling Ponchos and bought two, just in case. And it's a good thing. One word: monsoon. Or is it typhoon? I'm not really sure. It may be something else entirely. All I know is that one second, things were chilly but dry. In the blink of an eye, it was a torrential downpour. I can safely say that I have never seen rain like this in my life. But when you're in Japan, there's no time to wait it out, so off we trekked to Tokugawa's house.<br />
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All y'all: put Nikko on your bucket list. Now. Everyone must go there. It may just be one of the most amazing places in the world. Nikko, home of the legendary shogun, Tokugawa. The 3 main sites are in a mountainous area. Perfectly picturesque. And though it may have been a pain, the crashing thunder and downpour contributed to the ambiance quite nicely.<br />
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After Nikko, we made the trek back to Tokyo. Then, it was off to Ginza, 5th Avenue of Tokyo. It was glorious, dazzling, classy, hands down one of grandest shopping streets I've ever set foot on.<br />
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You may be wondering about the surrealism factor of this post. Well, here's what happened. B and I went into one of the biggest department stores in Ginza- a bit like Harrod's with one slight difference. There were more workers than I could possibly count. And each of them stood at attention at their stations, bowing and saying "welcome (in Japanese)" as we passed. It was surreal and completely out of this world. I felt like the queen of England. 1. No one else was in the store. 2. B and I walked slowly through, Japanese workers lined the way, perfectly still except for a mini bow as we passed. 3. Let's not forget to mention the creepy, surreal elevator music playing in the background. It was fairly unnerving.<br />
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Last, but certainly not least: Fruit.<br />
Apparently, fruit is a nice gift in Japan. And I mean, very nice.<br />
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$126 Cherries. Taste-bud Tantalizers.</div>
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$270 Melons. Fit for a Queen. </div>
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<br />zhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05219968572048478141noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4887630514791881264.post-89966077332915793512012-06-07T19:47:00.000-07:002012-06-08T20:27:56.937-07:00私は日本語を話す. Hi Hi<br />
Sunday, May 27:<br />
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Our first Sunday in Japan was slightly more laid back than Saturday. But only slightly. Here's a brief, but certainly not bland, summary of the day.<br />
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1. Bemusing Bidets<br />
Never before have I desired to use a bidet. Yet, there is something strangely tempting about pushing one of a million buttons on a toilet. Yes, a toilet. In one of our hotel rooms the toilet even had a remote. Unfortunately, or rather fortunately, the remote was chained to the wall. You can only imagine the mounds of fun I would have had with that. A bidet spray is unexpected even when it's expected. Now off my life checklist: use a bidet. Not a very pleasant experience but that's culture shock for you.<br />
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2. の歌いましょう<br />
Hi hi. Yes, let's do it. Do you even know what that means? That makes two of us. Merrily on my way I went to church, so excited to be in a familiar environment and sing familiar songs. It hadn't even crossed my mind that the Japanese hymn book would be just like everything else in Japan. Foreign. Or as others might say for-hine. I could not sing. I couldn't even sound out the words. I didn't remember the English words so, I elected to attempt singing in Japanese. I can do a top notch impression, provided no Japanese speakers are in ear shot. PS- it's supposed to say, let's sing. Blind trust in google translator.<br />
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3. Monkeying Around<br />
Welcome to Asakusa- beer towers, temples, and pagodas. I spy with my little eye Japanese peeps snapping sneaky photos of us. If you want to be famous, go to Japan. You'll have paparazzi popping out at every turn. The most exotic thing here was the monkey show. Imagine, a little mini monkey dressed in mini clothes, walking on mini stilts, and doing incredible high jumps like they do in track.<br />
Things we saw: Senso-ji Temple, Nakamise Dori, Chingodo<br />
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4. Ueno Park and Back Comes Bruegel</div>
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Tokyo National Museum. I was surprised to find that I really no nothing about Asian art. Zlich. After Wien, I could spend days on end in any art museum like the Kunsthistoriches. This museum was different, but quite exciting, though in all honesty, my favorite part was going to the Western Art building. Here, I was overjoyed to find none other than my main man, Pieter Bruegel. For Pete's sake, take a minute and look him up. You won't be disappointed. I'll admit, I may have even shed a tear. Petey's that good.<br />
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5. Wasted<br />
Dinner of breaded chicken and curry then I was out cold. I slept from 7pm to 6:30 am. Jet lag zoombie is me.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 24px;"><span class=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #888888; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">の歌いましょう</span></span>の</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 24px;"><span class="">歌い</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 24px;"><span class="">ましょう</span></span></div>
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<object data="http://www.gstatic.com/translate/sound_player2.swf" height="18" id="tts" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="18"></object><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 24px;"><span class="">の</span><span class="">歌い</span><span class="">ましょう</span></span></div>zhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05219968572048478141noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4887630514791881264.post-82336584291588302082012-06-04T20:55:00.003-07:002012-06-04T20:57:05.903-07:00A Long, Long DayWelcome to the longest day of my life. Literally. None of that figurative mumbo jumbo. This morning, I woke up in Japan at 6 AM (aka 3 PM Sunday, June 3 Utah time). Now, I've made it back home, regrettably losing a lot of sleep along the way.
As you already know, I took a mini sojourn to the land of Anime. Due to the lack of Wi-Fi, the blogging of my trip had to be delayed. Thus, without further adieu, I will begin the ever so daunting task of describing each and every one of my Japanese adventures.<br />
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Day 1:
About 18 hours after leaving the SLC airport, we arrived in Japan! To be honest, my first thought upon entering the airport went something like, "This is crazy. What am I doing here?" And then upon entering the bathroom, "I could sleep in here." Because, little did I know, Japan is the cleanest place in the world. Probably. The airport was immaculate. As was everywhere else we went. And the funniest thing is, there isn't a garbage can in sight. It's still a mystery to me what people do with their garbage. They must slyly slide it in their bags and dispose of it in the privacy of their own homes. Anyway, B and I got to the airport and began our search for M. Luckily, we found M and his friend J right as we walked out of the baggage claim area. Naturlich, I was terrified we wouldn't find him. That would have caused not a headache, but a migraine. We dropped our bags off at J's host man's home and then as M would say, "made like trees and leafed" off to Kamakura.
Kamakura, along with every other site in Japan it seems, is a UNESCO site. It was the first Japanese capital to be organized by the samurai, or Shogunate.<br />
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Kamakura is the home of the Daibutsu (Great Buddha), the second largest in Japan. Also in Kamakura are the Tsurugaoka Hachimangu Shrine and the Hase-dera Temple.<br />
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Before I go any further, I need to mention the free guides. Before going to Japan, Kathy B. told us all about how she had free tour guides for each city there. So, I emailed a boat load of people and set up a guide for every day. In Kamakura, our guides were Fumi and Mai. They took us around to the sites (extremely helpful as we could not read anything there, everything is written in the Chinese Kanji characters) and we also went to lunch with them.
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Lunch:
After eating my first meal in Japan, I now know why the Japanese stay so thin. The secret: chopsticks. My first meal with them was a disaster. We ate soba noddles (pretty much spaghetti dipped in soy sauce) and I could barely grab onto any of those slippery things.<br />
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To finish off a grand first day in Japan, we took a stroll around Tokyo Tower (which strangely enough, looks identical to the Eiffel Tower), went to MacDonald's (there's just something delicious about an American hamburger in a foreign place. I hate to admit it but, B and I went there 4 times in 10 days), then B and I crashed in our miniature hotel room (I could nearly touch all the walls in it at the same time).<br />
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Next up: Bidets, church, monkeys, marionettes, and museums.zhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05219968572048478141noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4887630514791881264.post-33999599730737988472012-05-03T19:37:00.001-07:002012-05-03T19:41:33.729-07:00Das groBe JahrBe kind, please rewind, to several weeks ago, February 27th to be exact. My B-Day. I realized I never published my birthday post (no wonder I never received blog birthday wishes). I decided to tweak it a bit and show my post to the world. Here's a disclaimer for you. The majority of it is from the February 27th, 2012 me, scout's honor. You can never be too careful these days. After all, I have progressed leaps and bounds since then (Miss College Grad, I think yes). So without further adieu, happy belated birthday to Moi! Und dann bin ich alt geworden. 23. I'm old. I'm ancient. At least B. seems to think so. You can imagine my surprise when, upon looking in the mirror my birthday morning, I saw this...
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But only for a split second. I'm sure that is just how I'll look when I'm riding a unicycle in the Body Worlds exhibit. I tried to google a picture of that as a teaser but alas, I guess no one has thought of that idea yet. Though, I did come across a Body Worlds picture of poker players. If they can't set me up on a unicycle, I suppose this is the next best thing.
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Forgive me, I don't mean to spook you. In all honesty, I was rather taken aback by this photo. Poker playing cadavors. Who da thought? <br />
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Oh 2012, the year of being 23. I know this year's destined to be a great one. I can feel it. It's going to be a big year. Just like the movie. For someone who has yet to see it, I've rather taken that movie to heart. 23 is a lucky one, as Michael Jordan would say. A year for adventures and doing great stuff. A year of fun, where you can never be crazy enough. First things first, big adventure=Check. In a few weeks time, B and I are going to have a Japanese experience. It's crazy. It's wild. But life's too short to not take opportunities as they come, no matter how insane they seem. As for the rest of my year, I'm optimistic. There are fabulous things in store, I know it. I'll keep you posted. And on my birthday next year, I will say with satisfaction, that I had a big year.zhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05219968572048478141noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4887630514791881264.post-66760228422494015912012-04-29T22:34:00.002-07:002012-04-29T22:36:54.130-07:00Graduation StationWhoever invented the cap and gown must have had a distressingly sad sense of fashion. That, or an impossibly quizzical sense of humor. The truth of it is, though I love being old fashioned, adorning oneself in what appears to be a king sized bed sheet is not really my cup of tea (or milk rather, since tea, I do not drink). But the occasion of graduation calls for following certain long standing traditions that cannot be broken. At the very least, I can happily say that the tradition of GC originated in classy establishments, Oxford and Cambridge. If you can't beat them, join them, so they say.
At long last, I am rather ecstatic to say that I have finally been dubbed, Miss College Grad. Looking around BYU campus, I feel a bit like JC, "I came, I saw, I conquered." Though to be honest I'm not sure I'm ready to throw myself aboard the moving train called life. So for now, I'm beginning a mini sojourn into reality whilst looking for as many direct routes as possible back to the safe haven called School. You can hardly blame me, I think I thrive on the stress of it. Me + School = a symbiotic relationship, perhaps commensalism at its best (if you know me well, you're probably thinking, "Has L lost her mind???) Ok, I admit, school, stress, and a quest for success was unpleasant at times, to say the least. But over the past year, I've become as laid back as a lemur. And don't try to deny it. Here's proof, this cartoon didn't even phase me.
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Well, maybe that's a little bit of an exaggeration. Anyway, while deciding what comes next, I'll begin my quest of changing the world, one step at a time (it's what college grads do best) and remember the wise words of Nora, "You may not know everything, but you can learn anything."zhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05219968572048478141noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4887630514791881264.post-85691048010800022822012-04-14T08:31:00.001-07:002012-04-15T09:34:45.837-07:00The Earl<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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-Photo courtesy of B.zhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05219968572048478141noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4887630514791881264.post-51237456745299113792012-04-01T11:17:00.000-07:002012-04-01T12:49:44.442-07:00Meet the OlsensI came across a few priceless jewels and thought I'd share them with you all. Might as well divulge all the family secrets.
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-Sisterly Posing
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-We Three Kings
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-Vati's Renaissance Days
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-"My Kingdom for a hearse"
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-"My name is Inigo Montoya"
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-"Party rockin' in the house tonight."
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-Back by popular demand, "I'm a Disney Princess."zhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05219968572048478141noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4887630514791881264.post-20939250405227219782012-03-27T08:49:00.012-07:002014-09-10T10:31:51.301-07:00Why We Love EP (Qstieveh)I dedicate this post to EP. Which is really something, seeing as it's not even her birthday. As I was contemplating what my next post should be about, try as I might, I just could not resist the urge to share a few of the many hysterical moments of EP's life. I sincerely hope she doesn't mind, it's best that we document these momentous occasions anyway. <br />
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To begin, I will tell the story of how M came to be called EP. Many of you know the facts already, though you may not have realized that EP is indeed her tried and true nickname. Hence forth, feel free to call her the Earl of Pleasure. Once upon a time, us girls were on our annual trip to Las Vegas. We stayed in the Planet Hollywood, formerly known as the Aladdin, and were quite surprised upon seeing the changes that awaited us at the casino. The Aladdin had been fun loving, festive, and friendly- I mean really, though Las Vegas style, it's still Disney. Planet Hollywood, on the other hand, was a complete 180. One of the most interesting attractions that couldn't be bypassed was of course, the pleasure pit (I will leave it up to your imagination to puzzle out that one. On second thought, that might not be so wise. Not too worry, it is simply a box like area where people (mainly pervy men) go to play cards and happen to be surrounded by scantily clad girls and poles (Side note, I have always wanted to take pole dancing lessons, I hear it's becoming all the rage. Reputable and appropriate only of course. That or belly dancing). Needless to say, we avoided the pleasure pit at all costs. Also in Planet Hollywood is a lunch place called the Earl of Sandwich. One day, we were sitting in the dressing room of Barney's. Of course, we'd been shopping since dawn and everyone was starving. People threw out suggestions as to where we might go and eat lunch. EP (I think she was in Jr. High at the time) says as if she had an epiphany, "I know (index finger up), let's go to the Earl of Pleasure!!!" Little EP had mixed up the pleasure pit and the earl of sandwich. And that was the beginning. <br />
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Quite possibly the best sacrament meeting I have ever experienced was once, long ago, before B was married, when B was dating O, around the time EP was reading Eragon, and when I was still in high school. B, EP, and I used to write notes on the sacrament programs. Little witty remarks that, more than not, got EP fuming. This occasion was no exception. I started asking EP about the book she was reading (ask aka wrote on the program). After a long train of comments, we somehow managed to get on the topic of her and her love for dwarves. I recall mentioning that she was probably going to marry a dwarf-one similar to Gimli from LOTR or Orrik from Eragon. EP got all huffy and miffed. I asked, "I wonder what your children will look like." EP: "They will be huma-dwarves." That word was the crucial turning point in the note passing conversation. The H looks scarily like an N so naturally, I changed things up a bit to make it look like nudewarves. ME: "Nudewarves? What are those? Your children are going to be nude?" EP: "No, you stupid. I wrote HUMADWARVES like HUMAN Dwarf. ME: "No, that definitely says nudewarves. Creepy. Maybe they will be bearded like Gimli. Bearded nudewarves. EP: "No, stupid. The only one that will be bearded is YOU." On and on things went, just like this, for the remainder of the meeting. I even kept all of the programs as prove. They are currently in the glove box in the Blue Honda. In the end, it was determined that EP would indeed have her own little nude, bearded children running around. <br />
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[Drawing omitted]<br />
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Last but not least, is the story of Qstieveh. If you've met EP, you might know that she writes books with her friend Bella Meister. Usually, these books are written via email or googledocs and no one ever has an opportunity to read them. Though once, EP decided to share some facts about her book with us. She told us a wonderful fantasy story about a princess, a boy, and an evil king. This evil king's name, I saw, happened to be written as Qstieveh. Me: "Qstieveh (trying as best as I could to sound it out). That's difficult to say. EP: "Duh, it's pronounced Steve." Of course, Qstieveh= Steve, the most logical way to pronounce such a word. <br />
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These are just a few EP moments. She's quite a gem. EP, I only wish I were half as hysterical as you.<br />
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PS: I will never forget last April fool's day when EP texted me and said (direct quote), "You have ass burgers?" Funnily enough, we just happened to be going through Mickey D's drive through. O, B, and I got a kick out of nearly ordering those.zhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05219968572048478141noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4887630514791881264.post-36675044951962398112012-03-12T21:32:00.006-07:002012-03-13T14:24:49.507-07:00I Wore a Turban on a BikeIdaho, fall 2011.<br /><br />We all know how Mutter and Vati adore going to Idaho. And I'll admit, we've had some pretty memorable times there. One of these times relates to Vati's favorite passtime, cycling. First, to preface. We have about a million cruisers at the Idaho house. Literally. Every time I go up, a new one appears. And every time I go up, we stop at the bike store to look at more. But, as they always say, the more the merrier, right? And it turns out, we really do need a plethora of them. I feel as if I have people coming out of my ears when we're all together there (in a good way). The cruisers have been a huge hit among us Idaho goers. Maybe two reasons are because now EP and I can work on our trick that will hopefully one day give us entrance into the circus (as part of the cast). We have gotten fairly good at holding hands while cruising down the street, a nearly impossible feat. Also, B and I often cruise down to the snow cone shop and have an extremely difficult yet enjoyable time trying to get back to the house (yes, we ride one bike, me, hanging off the edge of the seat, clutching B desperately with one hand and a snow cone with the other while B pedals strenuously. Or the time when we all went to the Deli to eat those strangely addicting burnt ends and no one knew where EP had gone. After about 20 min, B decided to go look for her. It turned out that EP had gone all the way home and was cruising around town for ages looking for everyone.<br /><br />One day, E, B, EP, Vati, and I decided to take a bike ride. As you may know, I usually take one outfit to Idaho. After all, no one knows me and it is farm country. This time it was my famous frog shorts from the Rainforest cafe (I still enjoy wearing these around my apartment, lucky for me I'm not at home anymore, I am leery of leaving them anywhere near Mutter as she tries to throw them in the garbage every time I turn around) and I had on a white tee with a tank underneath. Also, my hair was in my Asian topnot and I was going for the all natural (pronounced "naturaaaal") look in the makeup department. So, there we are, all cycling along like one big happy family. I should mention that my cruiser was the only one without gears. This becomes slightly problematic when you encounter large hills. On we cruised past horses and of course, we had to make a pass by the house with the outhouse. The strange things that you find in Idaho. We probably passed the tractor house as well, I forget. It was getting unbearably hot, and I was working harder than everyone else. Of course, this is to be expected with a no gear bike. I did the most natural thing I could think of (keeping with my theme of the day) and took off my shirt and wrapped it around my head in a sort of turban fashion (yes I still had on a tank top, must clarify for the P's out there). Alright, I couldn't very well hold it and bike at the same time. I guess I'm not good at all types of multi-tasking. And on we rode. Vati and I were up ahead and E, B, and EP were slightly behind us. Just then, I heard some boys calling out. I turned around as best as I could to see a pickup truck of a few shirtless high school boys. They awarded my sisters with some cat calls, understandably and then inched their pickup slowly forward. Their cat calls were abruptly cut short upon seeing a crazy with a shirt wrapped around her head and a hard core intense cyclist. I think they drove off rather alarmed. <br /><br />Contrary to what E, B, and EP may have thought, this experience did in no way hurt my self esteem. High schoolers, what do they know? I'm worlds above them in maturity. If I want to wear a turban around my head and frog shorts, I will do just that.zhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05219968572048478141noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4887630514791881264.post-37121959198328511662012-03-06T21:27:00.010-08:002012-03-08T11:36:42.887-08:00A Day Along The Appian WayI was thinking today, though my life may be slightly commonplace now, it's certainly not lacking in past adventures. So I'm going to share some of these epic happens. Let's begin with the day I walked along the Appian Way. It goes something like this:<br /><br />August 2007. Roma, Italy. <br />Perfect summer day. Trees line the stone path. Rays of sunshine glinting through the trees. A light breeze. Gelato in hand. Not a care in the world. Bliss, happiness...and I'm awakened with a jolt. Wishful thinking that my time on the Appian Way somehow resembled Audrey Hepburn in Roman Holiday or Kristin Bell in When in Rome. The real story is much more exciting.<br /><br />B, E, and I took a trip to the Roman Catacombs. And got lost along the way. They say the understand Italian, but somehow we got off the bus a little too early. And by a little, I mean a lot. We may have walked a good half hour on the Appian Way- a road that has no sidewalk. Just a itsy bitsy strip on the side, next to a very tall stone wall. Basically the road we were on was a highway with barely enough room for two cars to whiz past each other in opposite directions. Certainly not enough room for me to feel comfortable walking 30 minutes. I feared for my life. Quite literally. It was like in the movies where the main character has to shimmy against the wall to keep from falling off the edge of a building. Except for I was inching against the wall to keep from getting taken out by incredibly fast, zooming vehicles. Not to mention it was hot. If you haven't been to Rome in August, you don't know what hot is. Well, eventually, we made it to the catacombs. I can't begin to express my joy upon spotting the sign. Now all we had to do was cross the street. Did I mention the bus let us off on the opposite side of the rode? Well, as it so happens, the catacombs were fantastic and slightly creepy. Thousands of skeletons lining the walls. <br /><br />But the real fun continued as we left the catacombs. We jumped on the bus and were off to see more of Rome! <br />Just as soon as we sat down, an Italian nun in front of us says, in fairly good English, "You're going back to the city? You're on the wrong bus!!" And she proceeds to tell us that, the bus we are on is going in the opposite direction. So, naturlich, we get confused and I'm sure I had a nervy b. We decide to get off at the next stop, cross the street, and wait for a bus coming from the other direction (I think it may have been B who decided this). As we got off the bus, the Italian bus driver says many things to us in Italian, of which I'm sure, "This is the right bus!!" must have been in there. <br /><br />Thinking we're very clever, we get off and look around for the bus stop. I hoped my eyes were deceiving me, there wasn't a bus stop in sight. By this time, we are on a very real highway. But, with no other options, we walked and walked and walked and walked. Until finally, a stop was spotted. Now, this bus stop was like no other I've ever seen before. It was as if a bus stop sign had been placed on the side of the freeway, in a mound of dirt. Immediately, I felt my stomach drop. This was not promising. Nevertheless, the three of us stood on the dirt mound and waited. I can attest to the fact that time passes slow as molasses on a boiling summer day, waiting for a bus. We waited. And waited. And waited. I cannot count the number of Italians that zoomed past us and yelled out their windows. I had sweat dripping down my face, back, and the underside of my knees ( I never even knew people could sweat there). So, needless to say, them Italians must not be very picky. Or maybe they were yelling that I needed a shower. I guess I'll never know.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8ODGJCT0RqN6LggupcBbZKFMNUYB_VlGWWnNKkixR8PbjglG-YVAQLuNaJXPDm32x8-jB80uYoXDcjafibxmKkybuw30uEPJFjt_O0cul_xhCIkUNxNb9LWAb1-GEl-S5lT8TK-XW-cw/s1600/images.jpeg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 91px; height: 142px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8ODGJCT0RqN6LggupcBbZKFMNUYB_VlGWWnNKkixR8PbjglG-YVAQLuNaJXPDm32x8-jB80uYoXDcjafibxmKkybuw30uEPJFjt_O0cul_xhCIkUNxNb9LWAb1-GEl-S5lT8TK-XW-cw/s320/images.jpeg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5717612196798397698" /></a><br /><br /> One thing I do know is this, after about an hour and a half, one Italian said something like, "c'mon, I'll give you a ride" and I very nearly took this offer. But, lucky for us, the bus rounded the corner. Ah finally! Though it would most certainly be hotter inside the bus, at least we wouldn't be stuck in the middle of nowhere. The bus comes to a stop in front of three sadly bedraggled girls and to make matters worse, as I climb up the stairs, I hear someone chuckling at me. I look up to see our bus driver from before. The very same. Apparently, his was the only bus that day. His route went to the end, then circled back. <br /><br /><br />So the moral of this story is, don't trust nuns? Or maybe don't trust B.? Who knows. Next up is The Doodle Bug Cries War.zhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05219968572048478141noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4887630514791881264.post-38448165098410938242012-02-11T11:48:00.000-08:002012-02-11T13:02:02.831-08:00Anime AddictionI'm turning Japanese, I think I'm turning Japanese, I really think so.<br /><br />The Vapors had it right. Why else would everyone know the chorus to this classic one hit wonder? You can imagine my surprise when I discovered that this song has absolutely nothing to do with turning Japanese or, for that matter, the orient. Though upon reflection, I noted that this tactic is employed by nearly all lyricists; writing nonsensical songs with a catchy beat. The reward: straight to the "top ten" charts. Take these examples: <br /><br />"Wiggle wiggle wiggle wiggle wiggle yeeah. I'm sexy and I know it."<br /><br />"What she order, fish fillet?"<br /><br />Entire song: "I, I love you like a love song baby."<br /><br />"She woke me up daily, don't need no Starbucks"<br /><br />These are just a few gems. But enough about song lyrics. I'm turning Japanese. I really think so. Or maybe Asia is just the next place I need to visit. The signs are abounding. First, "my" hair bun, which K never fails to comment on. Then the growing love for mochi, boba passion fruit balls, Hi-Chews, panda express, fortune cookies, and video games. Not to mention, JASON WU. <br />But most importantly and perhaps the most significant sign is my love for anime. I asked someone the other day if they had ever watched any anime. Their response: To look at me as if I were completely insane and a total nerd. I mean, c'mon, it's not as if I meant Dragon Ball-Z or some strange cartoon. Real anime, Studio Ghibli, is fantastic. If people gave it a chance, I'm sure they'd be instantly addicted. <br /><br /><br />All in all, though it may be nerdy to enjoy anime, that's certainly not going to stop me from seeing this movie. The Borrowers + Studio Ghibli = an epic anime adventure. The Secret World of Arrietty. <br /><br /><iframe width="480" height="270" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/VlMe7PavaRQ?fs=1" frameborder="0" allowFullScreen=""></iframe><br /><br />PS- Notice the music?? The one and only Jonsi.zhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05219968572048478141noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4887630514791881264.post-19101213262843126042011-11-05T21:50:00.000-07:002012-01-30T21:17:49.088-08:00I Think I Wanna Marry YouThank you, Bruno Mars, for being the inspiration for my new blog post.<br /><br />So I've been sitting for the past hour with my left arm palm face up, stiff as a board. I happen to have an incredibly intricate Henna tattoo on my forearm. I'm still waiting anxiously for the paint to dry. Currently, I'm typing away in my "Lean like a Cholo" position- one shoulder lowered and one raised real high. I have to keep the tattoo straight and keep the paint away from the keyboard. It's surprisingly quite a workout. I may end up sore tomorrow. Bad news, considering I have yet to recover from last week's aerobics (relief society, I'll tell that story another day). <br /><br />But, let's cut to the chase. Henna tattoos and a red dot on my forehead. Why? DIWALI, India's Festival of Lights. As we all know, I'm a avid fan of Bollywood so naturally, I went to the Indian festival to see what it was all about. It was an epic, entrancing escapade and I did not want to "escapay" as Mutter would say. I desperately wanted to bust out my Dhoom 2 moves (perhaps Bollywood's greatest movie ever made), or my Bollywood moves learned from none other than Mumbai's own, Terence Lewis. But, being on a date, I refrained myself- for which B and O would be proud ( while families share what families share, dates most certainly do not). Though in all honesty, if they had played Jai Ho, I would not have been able to contain myself.<br /><br />And now for the blog title. I'm sure your heart stopped beating when you saw the blog title. Marry who??? You were probably wondering. Well, you won't be disappointed. I have determined I need to find an Indian man (this may be a slightly improbable goal but if I'm to aim somewhere, why not aim for the stars? or is it shoot for the stars? Either way, you get the idea). Wouldn't I have the most fantastically fun wedding if I succeeded? I can see it now, 10 hour Lagaan playing in lieu of a wedding video, catering by India Palace, Bollywood style dancing, and the best part, Henna tattoos for all!<br /><br /><br />Here is just a taste of what it could be like. You're intrigued. Don't even try to deny it. <br /><br /><iframe width="480" height="270" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/PoLtHqS_LhA?fs=1" frameborder="0" allowFullScreen=""></iframe><br /><br />-I'll make it happen. And if not, I'll not settle for less than Prince Albert.zhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05219968572048478141noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4887630514791881264.post-29641081617779499592011-10-11T21:41:00.001-07:002011-10-17T21:38:38.347-07:00Favorite ThingsI was rereading some of my posts today, truthfully to see how boring they were, and of course, I was instantly Burrow sick. Burrow sick? sounds like mad cow disease or ring worm and with me, you never know. But in reality I mean burrow sick as in home sick for my home away from home. WIEN.<br /><br /> Oh wunderbar, ausgezeichnet, Wien. I miss the Prater, the Opera, my Kunsthistoriches museum. Zanoni and Zanoni, the Rathaus. I'm perturbed that I would even make this next statement but, I miss Sisi. For goodness sakes. I thought I'd never see the day when I missed her. I especially miss marillen knodel. And lovely breakfast by Geraldine each day. But, that's enough reminiscing. In honor of Wien, I have written a poem.<br /><br /><br />My Favorite Things (Sung like Maria Maria)<br /><br />Nutrition, Nintendo, Nikita, new novels<br />Music, old movies, and ice cream on waffels<br />Traveling and shorts from Rainforest cafe<br />These things I love at the end of the day<br /><br />Rodeos, carnis, parade candy stashes<br />Theme parties and dressing up in false lashes<br />Jcrew, Sephora and jewelry that blings<br />These are a few of my favorite things<br /><br />Snowflakes, full moons, rain, and crashes of thunder<br />Fireworks, HP, Disney Land full of wonder<br />Dance Parties, musicals, left-handedness<br />These things I just love above all the rest<br /><br />When school stress strikes<br />When sickness sets in<br />When I'm feeling down<br />I simply remember my favorite things<br />And completely turn things around!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4FXqB-JMCTFMhyphenhyphenH9Sd3pYt_yL5AqsM6UoKH3EKRFSoyafhHPvpSjdkHYgqWuwEnbTVPVWjD3LDLGAUysjhwW3OGyMHWztG-3LxU9m2tUtDk9bkFqA-M7G3zHIGUI8_yIn4gB9AcBBUSA/s1600/despicableme2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 237px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4FXqB-JMCTFMhyphenhyphenH9Sd3pYt_yL5AqsM6UoKH3EKRFSoyafhHPvpSjdkHYgqWuwEnbTVPVWjD3LDLGAUysjhwW3OGyMHWztG-3LxU9m2tUtDk9bkFqA-M7G3zHIGUI8_yIn4gB9AcBBUSA/s320/despicableme2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664686913440359378" /></a>zhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05219968572048478141noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4887630514791881264.post-62180411124027644132011-10-11T18:14:00.000-07:002011-10-11T20:07:04.174-07:00Death Comes to the Arch-Enemy<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6cx77p9x5gaFh0AaCcITiwSge-GPO8C1mpvy9K9Q6JBZIbooGUX_A3LtFx3STswGN6H3EB_5_9QbJAstsEGrWndEakJDwPk1FK2liGIB0MezNQrALUd-DsBh__EqOjVYzeH6cj5rItss/s1600/cracking-the-new-gre-with-dvd-2012-edition-graduate-school-test-preparation-paperback-princeton-review-author.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6cx77p9x5gaFh0AaCcITiwSge-GPO8C1mpvy9K9Q6JBZIbooGUX_A3LtFx3STswGN6H3EB_5_9QbJAstsEGrWndEakJDwPk1FK2liGIB0MezNQrALUd-DsBh__EqOjVYzeH6cj5rItss/s320/cracking-the-new-gre-with-dvd-2012-edition-graduate-school-test-preparation-paperback-princeton-review-author.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5662410850131452466" /></a><br />Got ya! I bet you wondered exactly what was inside this book, didn't you? And I bet you really wished you could open it. Well, enough of being facetious. Let's get straight to the point. <br /><br />Oh Willa Cather, I can rest assured, if you had taken this class, your book would have taken an entirely different turn. Today, I successfully completed the GRE prep class. Notice, I just said prep class. Taking the actual GRE will be an entirely separate feat. I am expecting adulation and accolades from all after that accomplishment. <br /><br /><br />Though ephemeral, this class has been anything but emollient. If you don't believe me, try sitting for four hours of lecture after a long day of other classes. Sitting, gazing around the room at 30 other vacuous expressions is anything but stimulating for my brain. After the first hour, I enter a comatose state. And this is supposed to assuage my GRE fears??? What is this chicanery?? <br /><br />This is what I feel like in there. And it's possible I look like this too. I pinch myself every so often to make sure I don't slip off into nothingness. <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4rVhclMdSwQj2LWsegtanOcPFtzUKMgwTwCN7O_aX1h4J4oMXbHURaiXi1E7xwgnDTdshoQ3EQVm8KHWvTPa18norz1NNpSTJjwYL63xOL7U3QLm_2SsAZVhuz9_51s8EDWKqwKZQLeo/s1600/2377_TP_INTL_00011.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4rVhclMdSwQj2LWsegtanOcPFtzUKMgwTwCN7O_aX1h4J4oMXbHURaiXi1E7xwgnDTdshoQ3EQVm8KHWvTPa18norz1NNpSTJjwYL63xOL7U3QLm_2SsAZVhuz9_51s8EDWKqwKZQLeo/s320/2377_TP_INTL_00011.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5662434643686001266" /></a><br /><br /><br />Little did you know, GRE actually stands for Arduous, onerous, and odious. But despite my qualms, it has made me urbane. And no, urbane is not synonymous with cyclops. Though after all I've been through with GRE prep course, I'm quite surprised I'm still in one piece, both eyes still intact.zhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05219968572048478141noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4887630514791881264.post-68036448290746325982011-09-07T15:26:00.000-07:002011-09-08T22:07:21.060-07:00Congratulations! I did it.Did what? Tell me pleeease? Whaaat?<br /><br />I can just hear you screaming with anticipation. What could possibly warrant a "congratulations, I did it"?? Well, besides the fact that the Dean put me on his list, it IS senior year of BYU and ALL my life I've been trying to figure out what to do with myself. These past few years I've morphed into a tumble weed, blowing here, there, a bit of everywhere. But at long last, I've figured out my calling in life. My path paved in gold. It's a wonder I never noticed it before. And now, the moment we've all been waiting for. Lights, camera, drum roll.<br /><br /><br />Designated Dish Washer. <br /> (Imagine the words flashing across the screen, with fireworks exploding in the background. Glitzy, gaudy, glamourous.)<br /><br />I prefer the title, Dazzling, Debonair, Dangerously, Delicious, Dishwashing Damsel. However, I can see how that might be a tongue twister for some people so I'll settle for D. D. <br /><br /> I brush, I scrub. Then polish and shine. It's an art, a talent and I've got the flair. The glassware and me, there's chemistry there. <br />Let's not forget, my on the job cronies. I wouldn't even have a job if they didn't keep my sinks full. <br />First there's Kenny who was quite the casanova before settling down. He's got a passion for fashion and video games too. <br />Next comes Zed, the go to guy. The lab's very own Sage of Ochem. And comical to boot.<br />Link is the Lady Gaga Lover, Al has more helpers than he knows what to do with, Mary is marvelous and the others are too. Life in the lab is never a bore, each day is full of surprises. Who knows, maybe even a scandal or two. <br /><br />Here I am in my spiffy lab coat and pricy eyeware. Fancy dishwashing gloves make the outfit complete!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDtsGezqQZ04jXrcRMh778NC3RBtjhroSz3nEb4xOc2RiqeZIzDt4ms9j4mRCG9jRO5qyR5Xk5m2XUV1S5_S2lyp6hixF_Y4WUV8fyt6BX6G_fGwYvzu3gllzP1n9sMg4bFU3xK66cp8w/s1600/dexters-laboratory-005.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 303px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDtsGezqQZ04jXrcRMh778NC3RBtjhroSz3nEb4xOc2RiqeZIzDt4ms9j4mRCG9jRO5qyR5Xk5m2XUV1S5_S2lyp6hixF_Y4WUV8fyt6BX6G_fGwYvzu3gllzP1n9sMg4bFU3xK66cp8w/s320/dexters-laboratory-005.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5649749913442309202" /></a><br /><br /> Give me a beaker, you'll get back a diamond. No really, I'm that good.zhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05219968572048478141noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4887630514791881264.post-5110617622415660132011-08-26T21:09:00.000-07:002011-08-27T07:12:35.903-07:00Sterdam, the Dutch BabySterdam who??
<br />This and posters like it can be seen all over the city. I just couldn't get past the fact that this made no sense. Clever idea, but who is Sterdam? Of course, we know it's supposed to be short for I am Amsterdam but why couldn't they have just said that? Or, I'm Amsterdam. Instead, they leave us all puzzling over the possibilities for who Sterdam could be.
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<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvogYIPLXlNzG8Ov6NcLTbdWBcnC5bMh5Dc18DkyfDKZDzB70Hlpe9IEMzarwV_ekpIzCi1eU5uU-KDA2ahWVgTbGxDnYMSCr8jvvhE4VpCD4PpUdtNfzT213s7aZ_Yy0LLhgQdGG-moo/s1600/Amsterdam.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 131px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvogYIPLXlNzG8Ov6NcLTbdWBcnC5bMh5Dc18DkyfDKZDzB70Hlpe9IEMzarwV_ekpIzCi1eU5uU-KDA2ahWVgTbGxDnYMSCr8jvvhE4VpCD4PpUdtNfzT213s7aZ_Yy0LLhgQdGG-moo/s320/Amsterdam.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5645384644133401618" /></a>
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<br />So, for the entire two days I was in Amsterdam, I had one song stuck in my head. Guess which one. Metallica’s Enter Sandman. Weird, I know. And just one line. “We’re off to never-never land,” except in my mind it was off to Nether Netherlands. And on that note, here's a bit about Amsterdam.
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<br />After wandering in and out of the airport in between train ticket booths and airport shutttles, Mutter, Vati and I finally jumped on a train and then it was a taxi to the hotel. Conveniently, Mutter met a friend that then shared our taxi with us. He was a nice old man, a world traveler, and seemingly very excited to be in Amsterdam. Busy looking out at the new landscape, I wasn't much of a conversationalist. However, I did tune in in time to hear him say he was going "window shopping" that night. In his words, "just because you're on a diet doesn't mean you can't have a taste of the pastry." Suffice it to say, if I don't live up to my nickname, he certainly will.
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<br />Amsterdam. From the moment I saw it, I feel in love. Charming, unique, friendly, and let's not forget the pancakes. Oh Dutch pancakes are heavenly. And the waffles are unlike any you'll ever taste! After dropping our bags in the hotel, we headed straight to lunch and the Van Gogh museum. This museum was amazing. I developed a new found love for Vincent after listening to my lengthy, informative audio guide. You can imagine my surprise when, in the introduction, they kept talking about Van Hoff. Van Hoff this, Van Hoff that. Vati and I were at a loss. Who was this Van Hoff man? All I could picture was, "Don't hassle the Hoff." For some reason, Baywatch boy and Van Gogh didn't seem to match. We listened to the introduction about ten times each and finally discovered they meant Van Gogh. Accents and language barriers. What can I say.
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<br /> Sunday, we were off to the Rijks Museum where it was like a bottomless pit of treasures. Vermeer, Rembrandt and many more. The most interesting things were these massive, ornate dollhouses. Apparently, weathly Dutch women had dollhouses as part of their home decor. While they were really incredible, I can't imagine how strange it would be if Mutter had a large dollhouse in the living room. For my sake, I hope they don't appear in Better Homes and Gardens. But, as it turned out, Vati was quite taken with them. I think he wants one for his office.
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<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtFVZDWpBjubNPYbwPS578q2xFVkV46QXJbCo7KoExwgfyjkIAP_xK4TKkm6DpA3pwJkQfG8HFaAgp227K9UP80TDWcKfMXtX0RRDmIirWqnHN2sXvuZmj8jKP3YagBWt8q4Gtv7w2WNM/s1600/bk-nm-1010.z.jpeg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 292px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtFVZDWpBjubNPYbwPS578q2xFVkV46QXJbCo7KoExwgfyjkIAP_xK4TKkm6DpA3pwJkQfG8HFaAgp227K9UP80TDWcKfMXtX0RRDmIirWqnHN2sXvuZmj8jKP3YagBWt8q4Gtv7w2WNM/s320/bk-nm-1010.z.jpeg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5645530107553824738" /></a>
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<br /> While B & O hit the museums, Mutter, Vati, and I walked for ages in attempt to find Rick Steve's eating recommendation. At last we arrived, only to find it closed for lunch. Next stop only took cash so after drinking our glasses of water, which were 2.30 EUROS, we paid the bill and were off again. We then decided on The Pancake Bakery, which wasn't in Rick's book. My clothes went out of style as I waited for my food. I'll never forget the menu here said, "We don't serve tap water. Don't ask." Charging for water is absurd and totally pants. I started thinking, what if I were dehydrated?? Would they make me pay 2.30 for a measly glass then? That is one thing I don't miss about Europe. I now have the luxury of FREE WATER!! and refills too.
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<br /> Next, we all went to the Anne Frank house. This needs another blog post altogether. An amazing opportunity to see but of course sad, depressing, and disheartening. Dinner was at yet another pancake house (if you couldn't tell how much I loved them already, I ate them for nearly ever meal). I decided I could definitely reproduce these pancakes at home when, upon arriving at the restaurant, there were only two 15 year old boys running the show. The next morning it was Doe-Doei (bye bye) Netherlands and homeward bound!
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<br />We’ve now reached the end of my traveling blog. Next chapter- Senior year. I know what you’re thinking, school is nothing compared to Vienna. You’re probably right, but check back here occasionally, you might be surprised. To the reader: there are two types, entertained or bored. To the entertained: Thanks for letting me share my summer escapades. I hope you've enjoyed living vicariously through me this summer! To the bored: I guess I wasn’t born a people pleaser. I’ll forgo singing of “I know that you like my style” by Black Eyed Peas next time we meet.
<br />zhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05219968572048478141noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4887630514791881264.post-41522289167326257262011-08-19T08:45:00.000-07:002011-08-23T20:56:21.722-07:00Auf Wiedersehen Wien!Ja, Ja, it's hard to believe it but it's true. My Viennese summer has come to an end. I'll miss this schon stadt.
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<br />Before this study abroad, for me, Vienna was completely under the radar. I'd never wanted to visit. I'd hardly even thought about it at all. I mean, it's not London, Paris, or Rome. But now, I have a second home. Ich liebe Wien. With marvelous music, abundant art, artsy architecture, and fantastisch food, Wien is one of a kind.
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<br />After seeing this video, there is no doubt about it. Vienna is the place to be.
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<br />Falco. The Austrian Elvis. Ausgezeichnet.
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<br />I may be a new found fan of Falco but I'm still faithful to Billy. And not just because he happens to share the namesake of Billy Gilman. Or because BJ is Justin Bieber backwards. So with that, remember his song. Vienna Waits for You!zhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05219968572048478141noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4887630514791881264.post-22241750762861763882011-08-17T00:31:00.000-07:002011-08-18T09:40:13.494-07:00Czech It OutGuten Tag! I'm back in Wien for just two more days. Two days! Verruckt. Ich bin traurig aber Ich bin bereit fur mein Haus. So, here's a quick version of the past week. For more details check B's blog, though be warned, sometimes she exaggerates. For example, she may tell you I use Bidets, which sadly, I have never tried. I'll admit, the thought has crossed my mind on several occasions. Or, B will bring up this one- how I believed her when she told me Drew Barrymore was a man. Which I didn't. Schwestern. Here goes.
<br />The past week has been fabulous, though rather exhausting. Bets, Owen, Mutter, and Vati arrived last Wednesday. The moment I met up with them, it was off to the races. A week has past and the race is still going. I suppose you have to do that on any European vaca. There are just too many ausgezeichnet things to see. OB-1 only had two days in Wien so it was a crazy crash course on everything there is here. We dashed around to as many sites as possible-Rathaus, Belvedere, Schonbrunn, Stephansdome, Karlsplatz, Kunsthistorishes, Naschtmarkt, and let's not forget the Goulash Museum or Zanoni and Zanoni. After two months of living here, I'm quite certain my taste buds are out of wack. No one raved quite like I did after a lick of Z&Z or a mouthful of Wiener Schnitzel. This was further confirmed in Praha when I fell in love with these BeBe bisquits. Truly, they were delicious, tasted just like a chocolate chip cookie. When I tried to share, B made a face and Mutter said they tasted organic (that's never a good sign). Perhaps it's for the best, I've weaned myself off sweets without even meaning to.
<br />After trekking through Wien, Hallstatt, and Salzburg, we crossed the border into the land of Czech. Here are a few places we saw-
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<br />Cesky Krumlov
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<br />Church in Ceske Budejovice and a traditional Czech lunch of Halusky and brownies. The brownies, though delicious, had a slightly different taste to them. I paid no mind, we were in the CR after all. Turns out, they were healthy beet brownies.
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<br />Praha- I suppose my one caveat to my future travelers is, resign yourself to the fact that we might have to share a room. I promise I'm an amiable roommate. I'm still rather puzzled but there was a small debate about who had to share a room with me. As far as I know I don't snore, shriek, or speak in my sleep. Mandy and EP have never complained.
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<br />Prague at night- see that strange tiny white spot in the sky above the castle? You won't believe what it is. A floating lantern! Just like on Tangled. They sent up a few but I was only able to capture that one (honestly, I didn't even capture the moment, photos are never adequate). I started singing the Tangled song in my head when I saw it and nearly cried. Luckily I stopped the tear ducts. That would've made for an uncomfortable, embarrassing scene, not to mention potential blog post by B.
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<br />Brno-Owen's old mission territory. Quite lovely if I say so myself.
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<br />All in all, I enjoyed the Czech Republic immensely. Fried cheese and svickova. What's not to love? I'm looking forward to another Czech night of reverie by OB-1. My only request is dessert of BeBe bisquits or Tatranky wafers.
<br />zhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05219968572048478141noreply@blogger.com3