Do Not Try To Shrink Me, Gypsy!

This is long, long overdue.  I will take any complaints, criticisms or death threats that anyone has to offer, either for not posting in two months, or getting your hopes up that I was finished and then surprising you with this garbage.

However, as relayed to me by my mother, my Aunt Cynthia (recently married, congrats!) said not to be one of those people who start a blog and then just leaves it.

So here I am, not being one of those people.

It is probably well known that I am currently living and studying in England, but before I can talk about how things are going here, I have to go back... to Spain.

We're driving to Spain from Portugal with Steven.  I have already been forewarned that it's about a 10 hour drive, so I have come mentally prepared for whatever hardships this trip entails.  It just so happens that this trip entails hardships such as flies attacking my grilled cheese sandwich, gypsies trying to sell us melons on the side of the street, creepy little rest stops, gypsy music and oh, yes, gypsies feeling the need to fit their entire family in a single-person bathroom.

I cannot explain the urgency in which I have to relieve myself after hours of driving and drinking Pepsi.  I practically sprint into that creepy little rest stop, where I find what I can only assume is a creepy little restroom.  I knock politely on the door and when I receive no response, I try the door handle. It's unlocked so, naturally, I open to door.  I open the door to see two young girls standing next to a sink and one calls out "Ma!" So I quickly shut the door, walk over to the drink area and try to look nonchalantly at what size Pepsi I want for the remainder of the trip.  After a few minutes, I see the two girls and an older woman (all what Steven explained as Moroccan gypsies) come out of the restroom.  So there. I'm going back in. Another little polite knock and no response after, I try the door and open it again.  What do I find? MORE GYPSIES! At least 3 more! How many of them are in that bathroom built for one? At this point, I'm pissed, because I have to use the bathroom and those gypsies are taking it over!  I honestly think I might pee my pants, so I buy my drink and have to run over to another restroom next door.  Right as we're about to leave I see about 8 gypsies (including the ones from the bathroom) pile into a car that's probably made for 5, tops, INCLUDING what looks like all of their possessions!

Those gypsies....

Our first two nights are spent in a hostel (to which most people reply "Hopefully it's not like the movie!" I've never seen it, so please quit freaking me out with your horror movie references) that I can only classify as slightly below satisfactory.  Though, I manage to keep myself feeling slightly at home by watching some Disney Channel dubbed in Spanish!  Luckily, I've seen every Hannah Montana episode and know what's being said anyway.

The Barcelona Zoo and Aquarium are highlights for me. I'm really a sucker for animals.  The rest of the trip is filled with late night dinners of tapas (a Spanish meal of lots of little appetizers), Steven's wonderful, Russian friends Andre and Igor, and plenty of Gaudi buildings to go around.  Before I know it, it's time to go back to Belgium.

Such a foreign place but such a wonderful time.

é possivel seis pessoas?

The morning of our flight to Portugal we take our packed things, that do not include my hair dryer or straightener, because apparently the voltage here is tons stronger than the voltage in the States (twice the power, if you were curious).  I found this out when I innocently tried to use my hair dryer only to have it start up sounding like one of the electric air mattress pumps (the insanely loud ones, you know what I'm talking about), start smoking and smelling like burnt plastic and then shut off completely.

So a little side note: if you want to travel to Europe, either buy those sorts of things there, or make sure you have a transformer.  It could get dangerous.

The flight is fairly easy and we arrive in Portugal in no time. We are picked up by Wesley's older brother, Steven (very charming and single, ladies) and his cousin Daniel (also very single and happens to be a model).  The country club that everyone stays in is wonderful and the villa is beautiful.  The family is so sweet to me and the cousins are a ton of fun!  Of course, that night, we go out.

I can drink legally in Portugal, though I tell myself I need to be careful, because I don't want to make a fool of myself in front of his cousins.  We go to a few bars, have a few drinks (where I received a free shot from a wonderful man named Miguel) and then end up sitting around in a fantastic lounge called Amore, where we all got a free shot.  Soon enough, though, the night starts to wind down and Wesley and I are ready for bed (as were four others from our group).  Our next task is to find a taxi that can take six people.  Kindly, Wesley's cousin Alex (not single, sorry) takes charge.  In drunken Portuguese he says, "Disculpe, è possivel seis pessoas?" Which literally means "Sorry, is it possible to six people?"  The taxi driver starts answering in speedy Portuguese to which Alex says "I'm sorry. I tried, but I don't know what you're saying."

We can't take that taxi.  Only a few minutes later we hear Alex, again, go  "Disculpe, è possivel seis pessoas?"   and have the same exact outcome.  After quite a while of trying to round up a taxi, we manage to find a taxi for six people and head back to our villas, miraculously, alive.  This driver was so fast, and had the sharpest turns that I had to sit in the back with Alex and have a conversation with him as to why this man can't crash us (i.e. his job depends on it, "I mean, he has to feed his family, right? He can't just go crashing into things! He'd lose his job!")

We get home safely, though, and I crawl into bed, willing the hangover to leave me alone this time.  I was not so lucky, but my first night in Portugal was definitely worth it.

All these foreign places are.....well, so foreign to me.

Looks Like There's Some Kinda FYER!

Somehow, I’ve always managed to find myself in situations that I’ve always thought were beyond my reach, usually financially.  I think to myself  “Oh, there’s no way I can afford that!” and suddenly, I can afford it.  I also have this way of just pretending things are going to work out and then somehow, they do.  It’s almost like that book  The Secret, where you visualize, and then it happens.  Only, it’s not so much visualizing something’s going to happen, it’s me just assuming it will.  And somehow…

So when I wake up in Belgium on that Tuesday, August 17 (at 2:00 in the afternoon!), the only way I can describe the way I feel is: lucky.  I feel so lucky to be here despite all the obstacles and so lucky to have been accepted to Bath Spa and so lucky to have all the friends and family I do and so lucky to have my Wesley (who miraculously put up with me through 18 hours of traveling).  I feel like such a jerk for somehow getting to where I am, where others struggle their `entire lives just to put food on the table.

Nevertheless, I find a way to enjoy myself in the cute little country of Belgium.  After waking up and having some of Wesley’s favorite cereal, his mom drives us to town to get a few things and also to get Wesley a haircut and glasses.  I find Belgium so adorable, with all it’s little cars and the fabulous old buildings.  Everyone there is so nice, even when the find out I don’t speak Flemish, they just smile at me and speak in English with a very sweet Flemish accent.  I tag along behind Wesley and his mother, taking in all that I can and, again, I feel so insanely lucky.

My favorite moment, though, will have to be when Wesley, his mom and I are driving to the grocery store when we see a fire truck (and a very interesting one at that) parked outside and a few firemen wrapping up a hose.  Instinctively Wesley and I both go “IT LOOKS LIKE THERE’S SOME KINDA FYER!” and laugh.

Wesley’s mom, who the reference is lost to (and if it’s still lost to you, you seriously need to see the video called ’My push up bra will help me get my man’ on youtube, it’s hilarious) goes, “Do you think we can still go in?” Which only induces more laughter from me, because the grocery store is clearly unharmed.

But for now, my time in Belgium is short, because soon we will be off to Portugal, where I’m sure there are more adventures to come (because I can finally legally drink now that I’m in Europe).

These are, really, such foreign places.

Not a Fan of Poland

So after a completely restless night, Wesley and I pack up our things and head over to my parents house with high hopes.  When we get there my parents have made breakfast and they have all the credit card information from my uncle.  We jump on the computer and see that the seats are still available, so we hurry up and buy them before anyone can buy them all  (as if that were probable).

Now I have a ticket, but I know that I will have to fly by myself from Krakow to Warsaw and then to Brussels.  Wesley suggests that he might be able to switch his flight to mine, but I'm really not relying on that happening.  With both of us having our tickets and our bags in the car, we say our goodbyes to everyone.  Of course, someone had to start the crying, and that was Therese.  We all start crying and hugging about twenty times each and after waving goodbye to Therese and Anthony, GG, Grandma Brandon and Dan, Tyler and Grandma Carol, we're off.

The car ride to Chicago is about 2 and a half hours, and the entire ride there is filled with us saying "there's some kinda FYER" or shouting "STAY ON YOUR SIDE!" (don't understand the reference?  Check out the video entitled 'my push up bra will help me get my man' on Youtube).  Then Breanna decided we should play a counting game that should not be described on the internet.

At the airport in Chicago it's easy to find the check-in desk for our flight.  We nervously approach a very disinterested-looking young polish man at the desk and hand him our passports.  Wesley quickly starts to explain the situation from the previous night.  The young polish man stops Wesley and swipes my passport to make sure that I have a flight.  "You have a flight," he tells me, but not before we're already telling him the problem with me flying alone.  He looks at the screen and calmly says, " I'll see what I can do," and walks off!

We stand and wait with my sister and my parents while this polish kid is "seeing what he can do".  After about twenty minutes, he approaches us at the desk and tells us that he can't switch Wesley's flight to mine because the airlines are different, but he can switch both of our flights to one that leaves directly from Warsaw to Brussels instead of first going to Krakow.  It's perfect!  We thank him over and over again, but he only shrugs, says "It's really no problem," and then walks off.

After a few more minutes of waiting, our new found Polish friend comes back and tells us that he manged to switch the flights as well as get us seats next to each other.  I seriously want to hug him!  We thank him again and again but, once more, he nonchalantly tells us that it's "really no problem."  He weighs our bags (while ignoring the fact that mine is too heavy, not charging Wesley for his extra bag and also allowing Wesley to have his guitar as hand luggage) and sends us on our way!

We're in awe and I can't count how many times we each say we want to marry him.  An excruciating goodbye to my parents and sister puts Wesley and I in line for security.  I cry for at least half of the 40 minute wait and receive both concerned and exhausted looks from people around us.  It's not too long and we're boarding the plane for Warsaw.

On the flight a group of rowdy bikers from Warsaw seem to know every person working on the plane and laugh louder than the captain speaking on the intercom!  Wesley and I watch some Louis C.K. (a comedian who I highly recommend to everyone) and by 8:00 it's already dark outside!  Since our previous night was a bit stressed and our morning was early, we're tired and decide to try and get some rest.  I fall into a fitful sleep that is disturbed every 20 minutes by the seat in front of me hitting my knees because this grown man can't seem to sit still, while a woman a few rows away is trying to whisper but is definitely not being successful.  My experience with Poland is already what I would call "less than satisfactory."

I see the sun go down and come back up faster than I ever thought I could.  The Warsaw Bikers have gone back to their post with their fellow Bikers in front of us, standing around, laughing and speaking in Polish.  My patience is at an all-time low (and for me, that's dangerously close to crimes being committed).

After 9 hours of no sleep, loud Warsaw Bikers and nearly shattered kneecaps, we land, exhausted, in Poland.  Already irritated and on the verge of just taking someone out completely, I'm not ready for Poland.  While trying to avoid stereotyping, I need to vent that our 6 hour layover was, to say the least, unbearable.  The people there refuse to speak English to me, no matter how many times I speak to them in English.  They just continue on in Polish while I stand in front of them hoping that I'm really getting a coffee (because at this point, I need it desperately).

The hours are not going by fast enough, and my temper is quickly rising.  We watch a movie to try to pass the time, but I feel more and more sleepy by the minute.  I use to bathroom to freshen up, but then I somehow get stuck in a corner like some kind of animal being herded.  I politely and timidly say "excuse me" to the woman who's enormous bag is blocking me from leaving the now packed bathroom and get to safety.  The woman does not hear me, or understand me, or care; I'm not sure which one.  So again, more loudly I say "excuse me!"  I get no response from this giant-bagged woman, but a small woman standing next to me tries to shuffle out of the way and let me through, but with no success.  So in a bold effort, I tap the bagged lady on the arm and say again, "excuse me!"  She STILL does not seem to notice.  Finally her lady companion grabs the bagged lady by the arm and yanks her out of my way.  I leave the bathroom frustrated, and completely not a fan of Poland.

It's finally time to board the flight and I hurry on, excited to be able to sit and sleep for at least 2 hours in the 15 that we've been travelling.  On the flight, to my dismay, the man who is sitting behind me has worse flight-etiquette than a 2-year-old.  He seems to be dying from something like the whooping cough, and feels the need to brace his feet on the back of my chair every time he has an attack (each of which happen at 5-minute intervals).  It took every ounce of strength I had not to whip around and strangle this coughing, kicking, awful man.

When our flight finally lands in Brussels, Belgium, I feel haggard.   I can imagine that his mother's first sight of me was not promising ( I made sure to dress nicely the next day).   We have some wine and dinner and then Wesley and I finally, finally get to sleep.

Theses are such foreign places.

The Night Before the Flight

Wesley and I are at my parents house packing, when I see on my flight confirmation that it's recommended to check on your flight 72 hours in advanced.  I, being the worrier that I am, ask Wesley to call and check, just to be sure.

When he gets off the phone he just says "Well that's not good."  Naturally, my heart sinks.

We find out that Airfare.com (the site we bought my ticket from) received an email from a Lillian White (my great grandmother and also the woman who's credit card we used to buy the plane ticket) telling them to CANCEL the ticket. CANCEL IT.

My fist thought is that there's a hacker, or even "GG doesn't want me to go! She's trying to keep me here!"

My mom calls her at 10:00 at night, and she tells us that she received two emails and thought she was being charged twice, so she sent one of them an email telling them to cancel that "second" ticket.

It sounds to me like GG needs to spend a little more time on the internet.

We spend 2 hours calling every person that could potentially fix the problem for us and get us the plane ticket back, (for the record, I do not recommend every using Airfare.com. They're rude.) only to find out that we will just have to buy another ticket.  ON THE NIGHT BEFORE THE FLIGHT.

So we decide to go ahead and just use the jerk Airfare.com people to buy the plane ticket again (let it be noted that we only used Airfare.com in the first place because the Polish airlines we were travelling on didn't take Discover and Airfare.com figured it out for us.  So at first we thought they were cool. Wrong.)  but the tickets were now 2,000 dollars!  My uncle's Mastercard on Expedia.com is the only other option, but we have to wait until morning. The only real problem is that we can fly from Chicago to Krakow together, but once we get there he gets on a flight from there to Belgium and that flight is full, so I have to go by myself on a flight to Warsaw and then to Belgium.  So of course we hardly sleep that night.

Don't worry, GG, we still love you!