Dehanminguk

Sixteen years can do a lot to a developing country. My last trip in the Republic of Korea sixteen years ago gave me less-than-wonderful impression. The first "real", different country (Canada, I'm afraid, can't count as "abroad"), Korea appeared to me as rather under-developed, the cities even seemed rather "rural", ice cream was bought at small convenience stores for 100₩ (or less than $0.10) with the most expensive being 500₩ (less than $0.50), and the people being rather behind the times and rather xenophobic. 

The situation couldn't be any more different now. Still adjusting to the time difference, my total stay in Korea so far amounts to less than 36 hours. And yet, the moment I stepped off the plane at Incheon International Airport, I felt that this country I visited with my family as a child sixteen years ago, was no longer the same. Moving with the crowd of people on our way to baggage claim, a surgically-clean train connecting the terminals whisked us away behind glass doors. Once a neatly dressed customs officer stamped my passport and my luggage collected, I swiftly passed through customs declarations and into the arrivals area.

Someone was already waiting for me with a sign that bore my name. That someone was from the international office of the university that hired me and she spoke fairly good English. My Korean geography being a little under par, I hadn't realized exactly how far from Seoul the university was. I was chauffeured by car to my temporary residence, the entirety of the trip taking approximately three hours. During the car ride, I was able to go through the courses I would teach and some of the best ways to travel to and from Seoul since I have a very close friend living and teaching there. 

Once at the apartment, my luggage carried up for me, I was introduced to my rather humble abode, which I would have to make my home for the next three-odd months. There is a small kitchen, to my absolute despair, has no oven, a small balcony, a small living room, small bathroom with a very strange shower (I will explain later), and a small bedroom, not dramatically dissimilar from the one I had back in Cambridge. Luckily, the kitchen comes equipped with a gas range, basic kitchenware, there is a bed, desk, drawers, and chair in the bedroom, and the apartment comes with a washing machine and refrigerator. I was also given a toaster... but with no oven, it seems as though I won't be eating much bread as I do not usually buy bread and strongly prefer baking my own. 

It was about 5p.m. by the time everything was settled. Despite having traversed across a continent on an almost 11-hour flight, I was told to quickly change and give an introductory class for one of the evening classes. I'd prepared the introductory class materials in the car and I taught for a few hours in the evening. I got back to the apartment rather late and, exhausted, fell asleep at a normal time, only to wake up at three in the morning. Unable to go back to sleep, I tried reading and preparing for classes on Monday. By the time I felt sleepy again, the sun was rising... 

In the end, I failed to stay awake and fell asleep, waking up again at around 1p.m. Right now, I should really be sleeping, but sleep doesn't seem to come (it's past midnight here). All I can say about Korea for now is that it's definitely much more modern than what I remember... and oh yes, the ice cream that used to be 100₩ is now 500₩ and the ones that were 500₩ in my memory are now more than 2,000₩. Talk about inflation!

Today's Random Picture:

Calculating Total Distance Hitchhiked

Having obsessive compulsive behavior, I keep several thorough lists. One list lists all of my hitchhiking adventures and the routes I used, which helps me calculated the approximate distance I've hitchiked since I participated in this dangerously addictive sport about seven years ago at the age of sweet sixteen. Since then, and adding my most recent trip, I have hitchhiked a total of... wait for it... 26,847 mi (43,206km), give or take a few miles (or kilometers.

To give you an idea of this distance, the circumference of the Earth at the equator is 24,901.55 miles (40,075.16 kilometers). In the past seven years, I have hitchhiked an approximate distance surpassing one trip around the Earth! Normally, I dislike bragging, but even I must admit that the total distance hitchhiked can't be dismissed as an insignificant feat. Now, if I successfully hitchike to Stockholm and back this week and next, it'll add up to an additional 2584 miles (4159kilometers) under my belt.

Perhaps the limited amount of free time has me daydreaming of hitchiking or perhaps the prospect of handing in a completed 100-page (25,000-word) thesis soon and going on a short vacation for Midsummer sparked this post, but I really need to do something other than writing, reading my paper, and looking over my mountainous pile of books and papers. I suppose I should let you know that I most likely will not post anything for a while after this one. I need to finish my thesis, then I will visit Sweden for 2-3 days (the total trip hitchhiking to and fro will take approximately one week), then, I just heard back from my guest lectureship application at a university in Korea, so I will fly to Seoul on June 30th for 3 months of work. It's going to be a busy couple of weeks!

Today's Random Picture:

Zones of Unparalleled Interest

International borders and crossing them by means other than a car (such as walking or swimming across them), provide a source of newfangled preoccupation in my life. The derivation of my new interest probably dates back a few years ago, when I attempted (successfully) to walk from Poland to Germany. Yes, whilst it is true that I misunderstood heavily armed Polish border control officers who were yelling at me in incomprehensible Polish and had to undergo scrutiny once again once on the other side in Germany, that moment made me realize that border-crossing can provide a very different source of entertainment. Thus, my last unusual border crossing involved swimming from Germany to France, across the river Rhine. During this near-fatal last attempt (I nearly drowned), it dawned on me that this trend could very well turn into a new sub-category of "must-do"s on my list of things to do before I die.

Many areas of exceptional borders exist throughout the world, the famous swim across the Channel from England to France (or vice versa) being a very popular one. Yet, that comes off to me as too much of a cliché goal to add to my list. Thus, I have decided on making it my mission to cross (or attempt to cross... or just visit in case of certain death) some of the most bizarre international borders on the planet. Below are some of the most daring ideas (listed in order of increasing difficulty to cross):

1.Baarle-Nassau/Baarle-Hertog: the Netherlands/Belgium

Baarle-Nassau belongs to the Netherlands. Baarle-Hertog, completely surrounded by Baarle-Nassau, belongs to Belgium. Some zones in Baarle-Hertog also contain parts of Baarle-Nassau. The result? An extremely complicated border between Belgium and the Netherlands in which sometimes even a single building may lie half propped in Belgium, the other in the Netherlands. (In the picture, NL = the Netherlands, B = Belgium) 

2. Derby Line: U.S.A./Canada

Similar to the situation in Baarle-Nassau and Baarle-Herzog, Derby Line, a small town in Vermont straddles the U.S.-Canadian border. A very interesting border since, some buildings were intentionally built on the border. For instance, both the Haskell Free Library and Opera House both sit right on the border. The Opera House's stage is in Canada but the entrance and most of the seats are in the U.S., making it have two separate addresses, one American, one Canadian. Again, as with the Belgian-Dutch border, there exists a chance that someone takes a shower in one country and sleeps in another.  

3. Ceuta: Spain/Morocco 

The autonomous city of Ceuta, politically part of Spain, sits on the border with Morocco. Separated from the rest of continguous Spain in continental Europe, Ceuta and the autonomous city of Melilla can be found in North Africa, facing the Mediterranean Sea and the Atlantic Ocean. Morocco, since these cities sit so closely, claims them as its own. This led Spain to erect a 3meter-high, barbed wired border fence around Ceuta.

4. Tumen River: North Korea/China/Russia

The Tumen River runs on the border of North Korea, China, and Russia, immediately south of Lake Khasan. It starts in North Korea, runs up through China and ends in Russia and you could walk along this path, crossing three different countries in just a few kilometers. You could hypothetically do it, but it would be extremely dangerous and attempting it may result in getting shot. North Korean military guard this area very carefully to make sure there are no defectors, since North Koreans frequently attempt to escape using this border.

 

5.  Korean Demilitarized Zone: North Korea/South Korea

The Korean DMZ divides North and South Korea. The most heavily militarized border in the world and attempting to cross it would be unthinkable if not near-impossible. What makes this border particularly interesting, aside from the near-impossibility to cross it? Since the actual border is 160 miles (258km) long and 2.5 miles  (4km) wide and since no people live there, it has developed into a nature reserve. Many highly endangered species now live in this area and some speculate that their populations may actually be increasing. Technically the DMZ can't be called a "border" since the two Koreas merely agreed to a ceasefire in 1953 and a peace treaty was never signed between them. So they are still technically at war. A MDL (Military Demarcation Line) is the "de facto" border, completely surrounded by the DMZ. At the MDL, a one-room building for rare North and South Korean military/official communication straddles the "border", with one half in South Korea and the other in the North. This "room" is the only "room" where anyone can be in both Koreas at once and soldiers hold on to each other while there to prevent being pulled over to the other side.

Today's Random Picture: 

Aquarium Hotel in Maldives?

I've already wanted to go to Maldives for a while now... especially before the oceans rise and sinks the small island-nation. Normally, I'm not really into staying at hotels, but this particular suite looks worth the money. It would simply feel like sleeping in the ocean, wouldn't you agree?

Today's Random Quote: 

"Great spirits have always encountered violent opposition from mediocre minds." 

- Albert Einstein

Around the World by Thumb

I had a discussion with my Polish friend today. Despite both of us having hitchhiked for approximately the same number of years, he finally admitted that I'd surpassed him in total distance covered by thumb. In fact, I recently calculated the approximate distance I have hitchhiked since I first began as a clueless 16-year-old.

Total Distance Hitchhiked: 23,659 miles (38,075kilometers)

Even I was impressed at this number. It's about 1,300 miles (2,000km) shy of the distance around the world at the equator! I think the next time I hitchhike, wherever that may be, I may successfully cross this threshold number. After that... I think I'll feel ready to try boat-hiking to Antarctica! Penguins, here I come!!!

Today's Random Picture:
Sometimes children are funny...

Baltics and Back

I won't make the same mistake I made last year by putting off posting an entry about my summer travels. Trying to keep this entry relatively succinct, I'll summarize my last month or so in as minimal but efficient detail as possible, since I plan on posting (probably within a week or so) more detailed entries for each country on my website.

Before celebrating my 23rd birthday, I decided to visit a handful of micro-states (Liechtenstein, San Marino, and Monaco). Knowing no one living near Liechtenstein or San Marino, I made sure I had my sleeping bag and tent with me. Hitchhiking to Vaduz from Strasbourg wasn’t all too difficult, nor did it take long. I spent most of the day in Vaduz, which turned out to be more of a village than a city, admiring the scenic layout of the town and the fairy tale-like Vaduz Castle situated on a cliff. Then it was off to San Marino. San Marino was also a very scenic and beautiful town. Having nowhere to go or to sleep I camped out for the night.

Bright and early the next morning, I hitchhiked to Nice where a classmate of mine was spending the summer in his parents’ summer house. Day trips to Monaco and the beach were made during my relatively short stay there, but I had to go back to Strasbourg before heading north towards Scandinavia. I barely made it to Stockholm in time for my birthday, but I did make it! Tomasz even hitchhiked from Poland, though with an added incentive to visit Norway, to help me celebrate. It was like the first time I was in Stockholm already over 3 years ago. It was January then, when Tomasz and I took a flight to Stockholm from Gdansk, surprised to meet Erik for the first time at the airport. Ah… memories.

After my birthday, Tomasz and I hitchhiked to Oslo, where one of my ex-roommates now lives. He was from the arctic region of Norway but was studying a year in the U.S. at my university over 2 years ago, graduated, and is now living and working in the capital. Oslo was a nice city, though the weather could have been kinder. I seriously wanted to go to Kjeragbolten but the inclement weather (it was cool and rainy) combined with Tomasz’s hesitance temporarily delayed this trip. I would have gone alone, but I had no camera and I wanted to take a picture standing on the famous rock between the cliffs… so if my Polish travel buddy who had a camera was unwilling, it meant that the incentive to go alone was weak. We hitchhiked back to Sweden together before we parted ways, I continued east while he went south back towards Denmark, eventually back to Poland.

I managed to hitchhike on a ferry via a Finnish truck driver who was leaving Stockholm to go back to some town I’d never heard of in Finland. His Finnish made me laugh and my attempts to speak his language amused him. Overall, it was a perfectly entertaining ferry ride. As we approached the shore he pointed to the slab of land saying, “There’s Finland!” It reminded me of one Conan O’Brien episode with “going to Finland!” (Karin and Ken know what I’m talking about =D). There was still light out but whether I would make it to Helsinki in time or not seemed questionable. Risking hitchhiking past sundown, I got off the truck at a seemingly deserted rest area and waited with my sign. The problem was not that cars didn’t stop. The problem was there were no cars. My bright and cheerful demeanor faded slightly as I waited for what seemed like forever.

Then, as the sun started to set on the Finnish horizon, came one of the horrific moments of my life. It was as if someone turned some switch or pushed some invisible button. As soon as the sun hit the horizon, I heard a strange buzzing sound. This eerie sound grew louder. Frantically I turned around in search of this strange and mysterious noise. There it was… a moving gray cloud… no… it wasn’t a cloud… it was a swarm of mosquitoes!!! Suffering from a seemingly incurable phobia of bugs (or anything with more than 4 legs), I felt my heart sink into my stomach, my palms got clammy with cold sweat, and my body felt stiff and numb. Mosquitoes seem to love my blood for some strange reason. I already had over 20 mosquito bites and this swarm of hundreds of mosquitoes would probably eat me alive. Running as fast as I could with my heavy camper’s bag, I darted towards the rest area building for shelter as the swarm of blood suckers flew towards me. Just then a car honked next to me, and, as I’ve told my friends, I’d rather take my chances with a psycho killer than a room full of bugs, I got into the car without even asking where the driver was going.

Patience is the key to virtue. Once in the car, I learned I’d waited at that rest area for nearly 5 hours but the driver of the car was going to Helsinki. I almost wanted to kiss him when he said that. Not only did he save me from the mosquito army but I’d be able to get to Helsinki before it was too late. In Helsinki, I stayed with Tom’s (my half Finnish, half Swedish friend) friend. It was a pleasant city, but quite small and empty, especially at night.

After Helsinki I left for Tallinn on another ferry. This time, I hitchhiked to Estonia with a Belarusian driver. My Russian was tested to its limits during the relatively short ride. Once off the ferry, the car got stopped by Estonian customs (probably because he was from Belarus – non-Schengen, non-EU, evil Lukashenka, etc.) and it was strange for me since it was the first time the driver had to get out of the car, open his trunk and show a bunch of documents for the car and the like. Estonian customs didn’t really question me too much at all. Once I showed them my ID, they just glanced at it then returned it to me, the custom’s officer grinning broadly, probably realizing I’d just hitchhiked from Finland with the Belarusian driver. I was dropped off in Tallinn and the driver continued his trek back to Belarus.

Once in Tallinn, I realized I had no place to sleep and decided to do what Tomasz did so often, sleep at an airport. It was ok for one night. The airport security guard let me off the hook one time when I mumbled some story about a flight in the morning and not having any Estonian krooni. The second night, he wasn’t so forgiving, and I had to head back to the city and wandered around the outskirts of Tallinn. Tired beyond what I could physically handle, I decided to call it a night and sleep at a bus station outside and took out my sleeping bag. Just as I was about to fall asleep, I suppose it was sometime past midnight, someone asked me a question in English, albeit with a rather strong Russian accent. Bewildered and half asleep, I sat up on the bus stop bench and saw the speaker. He asked me what I was doing. When I told him I was going to sleep at the bus stop, he laughed. Not just chuckled, but really, laughed. I really didn’t, and still don’t, understand why this is so funny, but once he managed to subside his laughter, he said he lived a block down the street in a student dorm and his roommate had gone home for the summer so there was an extra bed. His offer seemed genuine so I accepted the offer.

Meeting Sergey at the bus stop made my stay in Tallinn one hell of an experience. He was Russian but from an eastern Estonian town bordering Russia, so his Estonian wasn’t exactly perfect and he’d been studying, working, and living in Tallinn for the past 3 years. The next morning, I met his friend Sasha, who was also Russian, and they showed me around the city, I discovered milk being sold in plastic bags at Estonian supermarkets, and, despite them trying to dissuade me, tried traditional Estonian food. In short, it was a learning experience.

Time running low, despite wanting to spend more time with my new-found friend, I left for Latvia. The first driver out of Estonia was an Estonian businessman who only spoke Estonian and Russian. Never before did I think Russian would be such an indispensable language during my travels in the Baltic States. My impression was that the Russian language was a reminder of the Soviet times, times that the Baltic people wanted to distance themselves from… but nevertheless, anyone in their late 20s and definitely everyone over 30 spoke Russian. Not to mention significant Russian minorities living in these countries. Initially, I started learning Russian because I liked the way it sounded, but after this experience, I realize now that it’s probably one of the most useful languages I’ve learned so far, especially when it comes to hitchhiking in Europe. My Estonian driver took me to a town close enough to the Estonian-Latvian border.

Hitchhiking in the Baltic States, I would soon realize, is extremely, extremely easy. I waited no longer than 5 minutes when a Lithuanian truck driver stopped and I’d hitchhike into Latvia with Lithuanian truck drivers. I hitchhiked with the first Lithuanian truck driver who spoke only Russian and Lithuanian. He told me he had colleagues leaving to go around Riga. So, after a 20-minute ride, I had to get off his truck to get onto another truck, the one going near Riga. Initially, I felt a little… uneasy since once in the truck, there were two male drivers who spoke no English (again, only Russian and Lithuanian). People I hitchhiked with always told me never to hitchhike with truck drivers, especially in Eastern Europe, and especially not with two. On this occasion, they were a couple of the friendliest Lithuanians I’ve ever met in my life. The older truck driver had a 25-year-old daughter studying for a doctorate degree in political science and the younger driver also had a daughter who was just 3 years old. I got to practice a lot Russian all the way to a rest area near Riga.

As they wished me luck, they told me I was about 20km away from the center of Riga, a distance I thought I’d be able to handle without any problems. Once in Latvia, I realized a lot of people spoke Russian or were probably ethnically Russian. For instance, at the rest area, a bunch of Russian boys were hanging out talking… I honestly have no idea why they were hanging out at a gas station but I didn’t feel like asking them since the sun was about to set and I still had to get to Riga. I waited no more than 2 minutes when a car stopped. A young veterinarian was going straight to Riga! She also spoke perfect English. We immediately “clicked” so to speak and she said I was more than welcomed to stay at her apartment for a few nights. Riga was wonderful thanks to her. We went out for drinks, walked around town, had some heart-to-heart talks, ate traditional Latvian food… it was simply amazing, not to mention her lavish apartment (my apartment in France seemed like a crap shack compared to her place). I even stayed a day at her parents’ place by the sea since they were away on vacation. Ieva and I were both sad that I had to leave Riga, but I’m sure we can keep in touch; at least, I hope so!

I hitchhiked out of Riga first with a Lithuanian businessman who spoke perfect English. Actually, he was one of the most knowledgeable and interesting drivers I’ve ever met. I learned a lot from him, about Lithuania, Latvia, the languages, and history… even some more scientific things that I’m rather weak in. Since my driver was going to Kaunas and I was planning on going to Vilnius, I had to get off at a rest area in Panevezys. From there I got a ride with a Lithuanian engineer who also spoke English. I suppose these series of rides and drivers were my luckiest moments of my trip in terms of finding English-speaking drivers.  Once in Vilnius, I slept at the airport at night and explored the city during the day. It was a beautiful city that seemed almost cozy at times.

Hitchhiking out of Vilnius was also a cinch. I easily found a ride with a bunch of Lithuanians, but this time, none of them spoke English and I had to revert to Russian. Once near the Lithuanian-Polish border, I hitchhiked with an old Polish truck driver into Poland. What I didn’t realize at the time was that this ride would basically foreshadow the rest (or most) of my hitchhiking experience in Poland. I only hitchhiked in Poland with my Polish friend Tomasz. Obviously, with him being Polish, language barriers were never an issue. Without him, hitchhiking alone… well… that was a completely different experience.

In a nutshell, hitchhiking in the Baltic States = super easy. Hitchhiking in central Europe = super easy. Hitchhiking in Poland = super easy but extremely frustrating. Waiting was not a problem in Poland. The problem was language. In the Baltic States, all my drivers spoke either English or Russian and either or very well. In Poland, most of my drivers knew no English and even if they understood some Russian, they spoke very little. Thus a series of mishaps began. I hitchhiked to some small town about 100km north of Warszawa with the old Polish truck driver. He didn’t talk much and my attempts to converse with him were in vain since my Polish was almost completely forgotten and my Russian was not well-understood by my driver. English would be even less comprehensible so I didn’t even try after he told me he didn’t speak English.

Oh Polish roads… the best place to hitchhike on Polish roads is from the bus stops when there are no rest areas. “Real” highways are not very common. I got picked up by another Polish truck driver who spoke a little more Russian than the last, but he asked me some strange questions and I felt quite uncomfortable. I managed to get off the truck at the first opportunity. The next driver was nice but communication was impossible. So impossible that he wrote down the number of kilometers he was going to drive me. I realized I was heading toward Warszawa and I figured it might be easier to find drivers from bigger cities… maybe drivers who spoke English. Then I had one of those rare bad experiences with my driver. Luckily nothing happened and I was able to defend myself (kickboxing and years of athletics do help!). I had to mentally prep myself for a few minutes and prepared my sign again. Then I hitchhiked with a very old man who took me just another village over. Waiting time was short but the distance covered was also progressing in sporadic, short bursts in Poland.

Then luck came back to me. A Belgian driver picked me up and with him I spoke in French! Ah French, finally communication was possible! He took me to Warszawa, though not to the center since he was going to head west and I was heading southeast towards Ukraine. In Warszawa I hitchhiked with a single father who lost his wife very recently (he still wore his wedding band, how cute!) and was from Katowice!!! Tomasz’s hometown! It makes me think; maybe people from Silesia are the nicest Poles around? He was going to pick up his two daughters from his mother-in-law’s place in Terespol, a very small Polish town bordering Belarus. He spoke and understood some Russian and after having heard a lot of Polish throughout the day, I managed to eek out some phrases and expressions in Polish in combination with my Russian.

Seriously, if I fail at life, I’ll move to Poland and become a comedian. My Polish made him laugh and my attempt at recounting some of my stories (camping, sleeping at bus stations, getting kicked out of the airport, etc.) were apparently highly entertaining. To him, I was one of the strangest and funniest people he’d ever met; to me, he was one of the nicest people I’d ever met. Despite the language barrier, he could clearly see that my attempt to entertain and my apparent lack of sleep had tired me out and so, he told me to sleep and I was extremely grateful I could relax for a while. Once I woke up, we were perhaps 50km from Terespol and it was nearly midnight. He told me I could stay for a day or two in Terespol if I wanted, to rest, before going to Ukraine.

I suppose he explained the situation to his mother-in-law and I was given a warm blanket and a pillow and spent a very rejuvenating and comfortable night in their living room. I spent a day there and met his two daughters, aged 8 and 3, so they spoke absolutely no English nor Russian, so it was quite amusing trying to communicate with them. They had giggle fits every time I tried saying something in Polish. I then tried to go to Ukraine… a very unsuccessful attempt. After much frustration, I decided to call it quits and head back to France. Being in southern Poland, I decided I’d take a break in Bratislava where Pavol lives, so as to take a day’s break before going to France. Going from southeastern Poland to France seemed impossible to do in one day while the sun was still up. I had one more negative encounter hitchhiking in Poland, this time with a Lithuanian truck driver, but again, nothing major, and I was extremely relieved to be out of Poland and in Slovakia, where, for some reason, more people spoke Russian or German than in Poland.

I hitchhiked into Slovakia with a Slovak truck driver, communicating in a mixture of German and Russian, but no major communication problems existed. He took me all the way to Bratislava. I was able to get in touch with Pavol and stayed a night at his place then headed out the next morning towards France. Knowing ahead of time that hitchhiking through Austria is slow, I decided to go by way of the Czech Republic. It was a breeze to go through this way. From Bratislava to Brno, I got a ride within 2 minutes with a Czech businessman who spoke English. Then from Brno to just around Prague, the 2nd car that passed by me stopped, which happened to be a Czech truck driver who spoke a little bit of German and Russian. Then from a rest area near Prague, the 3rd car that passed by me stopped. I was hesitant since it was a Polish license plate, and yes, he was Polish and language was an issue, but no matter, he sped me all the way to Germany in about an hour.

Once in Germany, I could resort to German or English (mainly German since I want to become fluent by the end of the year) and I waited no more than 3 minutes on average (it was raining) for cars to stop and the last driver that picked me up was a Swiss diplomat who went out of his way to drop me off about 1 km from Strasbourg before heading south to Bern. My vacation ended smoothly and despite a couple mishaps along the way, I don’t regret anything and it was truly one hell of a trip.

My few days back in Strasbourg were spent mainly cleaning, packing, meeting old friends, and taking care of any other minor details in preparation for my departure. I hitchhike to Paris from Strasbourg and spent my last day in the first European city I fell in love with before boarding the plane back home. I managed to smuggle some unpasteurized fresh cheeses from France and surprisingly border control said nothing. The only thing the border control officer said to me as he was taking my fingerprints and flipping through my passport was, "So, Miss Kim, you seem to travel a lot. Are you planning on using up all your visa pages before your passport expires?" His comment made me grin and I answered, "If at all possible, why not? Traveling is a passion of mine." He grinned back and I passed through to hand in my customs declaration where the officer, luckily, did not smell my Camembert and brie.

Out of the airport with my luggage, I spotted my mother right away, a small blond woman leaning eagerly over the railing with eyes narrowed as she seemed to scan the faces of every female traveler with a backpack. "Mom!" Recognizing my voice, she ducked under the railings to hug me, tears in her eyes. I was quite shocked to see how happy she was to see me. Usually she was not so emotional on the phone... So now I'm back in the States. I'll be leaving for another adventure soon, so, until then, my life is going to be rather... boring =(

Unplanned Trip to Portugal

As many of you already know, I went to Portugal! Why the sudden trip to Portugal? Well... I figured I'd have to visit one time or another and I thought it would be better to travel to Portugal now since it's "closer" in my mind than places like Norway or Finland. I realize now, after having hitchhiked there (total hitchhiking time took about 29 hours, but that included a detour to Andorra), it's actually not *that* much closer than Norway or Finland. Too late to realize that now, but still, I'm not regretting my decision. The weather there was beautiful almost every day; sun shining, clear blue skies, and a comfortable heat in the lower 80Fs (upper 20s). Another reason for coming to Portugal: I suddenly got a place to stay, a week of lectures I could delay and put off for June, and I really needed a tan!

Rainy, gray, and cloudy Strasbourg turned me into a pale zombie. In the mornings, I scared myself sometimes, actually. I mean, I really don't like the combination of features I received from my parents. In the winter, when I don't tan, I can become extremely pale. That can be "OK" in itself sometimes, but pale skin combined with dark hair and blue eyes... it looks scary in the morning, trust me. So, as my sister mentioned when I talked to her on the phone, I needed a tan, fast. While this was happening, my ex-boyfriend and I have recently been trying to be friends. We did sort of enjoy each others' company and I like to keep in touch with people and so, in the midst of our conversation, I mentioned that I was planning to hitchhike to Portugal. He enthusiastically insisted that it was a great idea since I could have a free place to stay there. His best friend (whose wedding I'd attended) lives in Lisbon with his Bulgarian wife. They would be vacationing in Malta for the next week or so and they'd be able to lend me out the apartment if I could get there before Sunday.

Thus, armed with my trusty thumb, a cardboard box, and a permanent marker, I hitchhiked southwest from Strasbourg. I spent a night at a friend's place in Toulouse and the next morning, bright and early, I hitchhiked to Andorra to add to my collection of countries visited. After Andorra, I was in Spain. Spain took a lot longer to hitchhike across than Germany. Still, I was at the door of Alexandra and Ben before nightfall.

I took day trips from Lisbon to places in southern Portugal throughout the week, most notably:

Salema

Lagos

... and Faro

Of course, my base was Lisbon

After my stay in Portugal, my ex-roommate Victor, who's back in Madrid, invited me over to lunch to meet a celebrity obsession of mine, Spanish goalie Iker Casillas! I'm still waiting for pictures from Victor since I dropped my camera while taking a picture in Madrid and it cracked open... I break everything... And the camera was relatively new!!! I only bought it last year, so I was pretty sad about it breaking. In any case, after the fateful encounter (it was actually anticlimactic to meet Casillas since I had extremely high expectations), I spent a night at Victor's place in Madrid. I hitchhiked to Toulouse again and spent another night there on my French friend's floor before heading back to Strasbourg early the next morning. 

Now I've been back here in Strasbourg and extremely bored. I want to go travel again!!! 

Today's Random Picture: 

Golden Thumb

My friends, most notably Pavol and Erik, have dubbed my thumb the "golden thumb". I've calculated that over the past 4 years, I've hitchhiked a total of approximately 11,333 miles (18,240 kilometers) give or take a few miles, which is a distance I realize, is pretty impressive if I don't say so myself. To give you an idea how much distance that is, the Earth's diameter at the Equator is 7,926.28 miles (12,756.1 km) and at the Poles is 7,899.80 miles (12,713.5 km). The circumference of the Earth is 24,901.55 miles (40,075.16 km) at the Equator and 24,859.82 miles (40,008 km) at the Poles. Perhaps it's now safe to say, since I've hitchhiked a distance equivalent to nearly a trip halfway around the world, that I'm an "experienced" hitchhiker. 

As such, I've decided to share some advice about this sport for those who are interested in trying out their own thumbs on the road. Here are 5 Golden Rules of Hitchhiking:

1. Hitchhiking is not for the timid or for the weak. You have to have a sense of adventure if you want to hitchhike. It's perfectly normal to feel a little scared or nervous the first time you hitchhike a longer distance, but you should still be fearless enough to smile as you stand and wait for a driver to stop. 

2. Patience is the key to virtue. Sometimes, you might not get a ride. Usually, I hitchhike alone and, I do admit, as a solo female hitchhiker, I have a pretty easy time getting cars to stop. Still, I have had some instances when I wasn't able to find a good ride out of some Albanian and Romanian villages. Be prepared to entertain yourself if you're traveling alone and don't feel down. Hitchhiking can be one of the most rewarding things you can do in your life!

3. Talk with your driver! Oftentimes drivers pick up hitchhikers not only because they're nice people and want to help, but because they want someone to talk to on a lengthy trip. Having a conversation with your driver may lead you to have drinks or dinner or better yet, a floor to sleep on once you reach your destination. If you're especially lucky, you may make a friend for life from someone who picks you up! 

4. Have a sense of humor. Sometimes, when it rains or when it snows or when inclement weather turns its ugly head, you might feel desperate or hopeless. Don't let the weather get you down! In fact, I find it easier to hitchhike in bad weather since people often think, "Oh, that poor hitchhiker standing in the rain". Even if you don't get a ride, keep on smiling and things will work out in the end =)

5. Be prepared. Make a sign if you know where you're going. It increases the speed and efficiency of your trip. In case of an emergency or other situation where a ride is absolutely unattainable, be prepared to either set up a tent outside or have a debit/credit card or enough money to take public transportation the rest of the ride if you're in a hurry. For instance, when I was hitchhiking to the airport in Frankfurt from Poland to catch my plane back home, I managed to hitchhike all the way, but was prepared to pay for a bus or train ticket should I get stuck somewhere with no ride. Also, have some food and water with you since it's very possible to "be stuck" while hitchhiking longer distances. You might get hungry and no one wants to die of dehydration in the middle of nowhere! 

Don't come back and sue me for endorsing this sport! Hitchhike at your own risk and trust your gut instincts! If the driver in the car seems like a total creeper, it's perfectly OK to decline the ride! I've had to decline a couple rides from men who seemed very creepy and I know I made the right decision because after I decline, they yelled and swore as they drove away. Hitchhiking is extremely addictive, so brace yourself for that as well. Now that I'm completely hooked, I can't imagine going back to conventional or "normal" ways of traveling in a foreign country. It is one of the most rewarding life experiences you may have and you may also meet some of the kindest souls on the planet!

Today's Random Cartoon: 

Traveling versus Languages

I always say that I have two passions in life: foreign languages and traveling. Never before have I had to choose between the two... never before until now. One thing I do know for sure right now is that I'm not going to stay in France. After that, my life is a complete blur. So far, I've decided that I won't go to South Africa for my mom's sake. She would worry herself sick and my mother is not getting any younger and I think I'll do my best not to make her worry any more than she already does from now on. Lately, I've been feeling really guilty about making my mother worry. Despite our stark differences, polar opposite priorities, and frequent disputes over the phone, my mother is still my mother and for that reason I love her. That leaves the schools in the UK and the U.S. to choose between.

This, however, is not the only problem now. Recently, I've come to realize that my two life passions are violently clashing with each other. With the money I've saved up, instead of studying, what I really want to do is travel the world until I run out of money. Considering the way I travel (hitchhiking, sleeping outside in tents, train stations, airports, on floors/sofas/futons of random people's houses), this could be anywhere from 1 to 3 years that I'd be traveling around the world. Up to present, I've been to 40 countries, which leaves me 79 countries to visit. If I do end up traveling around the world for 1 - 3 years, I think I'll make great progress to complete my goal of visiting at least 119 countries to visit before I die.

One problem: my other life passion would be stabbed nearly to death if I follow through with my plan to travel the world. All those hours devoted to learning languages will have been in vain since even after just one year of no exposure, I know my German, Russian, and Italian would suffer tremendously. My Korean and Swedish, I realize, will probably stay the same - absolutely no progress made but not terrible damage done, since, after all, those are languages I had exposure to before I was 10 years old. French and Spanish I'm not terribly worried about, since they're at a level advanced enough that even after a year of going without daily review, they won't become dramatically worse. Not only that, but there are many more countries in the world (where visas are not required) where French or Spanish are official languages or where these languages are spoken.

Language-learning is like romantic relationships, at least for me. First you hear a language and you like the way it sounds. You flirt with the language, perhaps you engage in a short-lived fling with the language (as was the case with Swahili, Slovak, Serbian/Croatian, and Japanese). Then if, after the initial flirtation, you realize you not only have an interest, but a love for the language, you really devote yourself to the language. Essentially, you get "married" to the language and you devote some time to this relationship every day and you never stop learning a language until the day you die (just like how in marriage ceremonies they say, "until death do us part"). In this case, I am in a polygamous relationship with multiple languages - I am married to my many languages and they are the sole reason, the sole factor holding me back from throwing everything else aside and fulfilling my desire to discover the world. Thus the dilemma. Which is stronger? My love for foreign languages or my love for traveling? Should damage my marriage to my languages by traveling the world only to attempt to heal the damage done after my foray around the globe? Or should I stay in my language-marriages like a devoted wife should?

Today's Random Picture:

Veer Off-Course or Stay the Course

A cousin of mine recently contacted me by e-mail after (I presume) getting this, among other, information from my mother. I rarely ever talk to my cousins since the huge age difference created a generation gap and lack of things to discuss early on. All my cousins are over 30; my youngest first cousin is 32 right now. They grew up in the 1980s while I grew up in the 1990s. While I was entering kindergarten, my cousins were graduating from high school. As I entered freshman year at university, my cousins all had careers of their own, some even got married. Thus, we never talked except on those very rare "family reunions", which are held at sporadic moments and I do admit a little sheepishly, that I have missed a handful of the past few.

Getting back on track, my 35-year-old cousin sent me a link today containing of list of "8 Things I Wish I Knew When I Was 22". I'm 22 right now, so I guess its age-applicability inspired him to send me the list? So I thought I'd share the link/list with you:

1. Pick a career you love; you don’t have to give into the pressure to be practical.

2. Pay off your credit card debt and don’t buy so much stuff.

3. Your student loans can be deferred practically indefinitely.

4. It doesn’t cost as much as you’d think to travel.

5. The job you have right now is not that important.

6. You don’t need a safety net.

7. This is the best time in your life to travel carefree.

8. Did you read #7? Go Travel Now!

Based on the article/list, I'm right on track! I don't have any credit card debt, I have no student loans, I've traveled to 39 countries so far, I have "stints" and no real permanent "jobs" right now, I'm living abroad, I'm not afraid of going to a foreign land where I don't know anyone... but the only part where I'm falling short is the first item on the list, picking a career I love. My dream job is to become a travel writer. This seems like an impossibility in terms of career options at the moment. Being an unpaid travel writer in hopes of some magazine/book/publisher reading my posts and deciding to pay me for my articles is not a viable method of feeding myself. I'm not afraid to sleep on the streets and eat very little, but I can't say starving to death on a random street in a foreign land is something I'm "dying" to do. Still, I feel somewhat inspired by the fact that I'm falling short here. Something inside me says that this list is right. Studies can wait until later, right? Maybe I should put my studies on hold for a while and try out my dream career of a travel writer and backpack across the world with little money, eating scraps of food and sleeping at random people's houses along the way. There is a part of me that really wants to do this and maybe it's about time I listen to this voice that's being muffled by my logical side!

This has happened to me before. Before coming to France, this same voice wanted to be heard. Ultimately I had to choose between coming to France for graduate studies, traveling the world with one backpack, or doing a 2-year internship with the UNDP. In the end, I couldn't make the choice myself so I rolled a die, which told me to come to France. I now acknowledge that my last decision, made by rolling a die, was a mistake. The academic program in France isn't what I was looking for and I think I would have been better off traveling or doing an internship. Now, my options are different. I have 3 different countries to choose from in terms of pursuing higher education (UK, S. Africa, and the U.S.) but now, that same part of me, that voice inside that was calling out a year ago, is trying to be heard again. Perhaps I shouldn't make the same mistake of rolling a die to decide and truly weigh out my options and make a decision. It's really about my illogical and logical sides duking it out. Should I veer off-course from normalcy and travel around the world aimlessly until I'm near-death from starvation? Or should I walk the safe and secure path that every normal person would deem as the only viable choice of going to get my degree, perhaps pursue a PhD, then get a job and so on?

Today's Random Quiz:

You Are an Astronaut

You are not normal at all, and you could never do well is a typical office job. You are too brilliant for that! You have a strong sense of adventure. You really want to see the world... especially from space. You don't just dream big - you also do big. You are willing to work hard to get the career of your dreams. You are a very talented and special person. You seem to succeed at every project you undertake.

What Popular Career Are You?

Swedish Women Voted the Most Beautiful

I'm not lesbian, but I'm a woman. As a woman, I can appreciate beauty in all sexes since female sexuality is not as rigid as male sexuality. Not just that, but I just appreciate beauty, whether it's in a form of art, a beautiful person, or beautiful music, anything really. So what's the point of this entry? Well, I read travel magazines and in one particular magazine article, it listed the top 10 cities with the most beautiful women in the world. Sweden was #1. I'm not surprised. I've been to Stockholm and there were plenty of beautiful women there. It was nice and I don't have to be homosexual to say that. Like I said, I appreciate beauty in all forms. Still, I guess this entry is for all my male friends out there who are planning their next trip ;). Here are the top 10 cities according to Traveler's Digest:

Cities with the Most Beautiful Women by Dakota Smith

10. Montreal, Canada
Ahh the flavour of France but with the convenient location of Canada, Montreal is truly one of the world's best cities. So many colleges & universities, so many women, & with fashion sense, a very good quality may I add. The best part of course being that the women all speak French, the language of love. So my friends, take a trip to Montreal, and find a beautiful leather trench coat wearing beauty that will serenade you in French all night long.

9. Seoul, South Korea
Every guy loves Asian women, I'm pretty sure that's a scientific fact and Seoul is home to quite a few of them. The city is a large, cosmopolitan, & vibrant city. It's home to some of the best nightlife in Asia, so you'll also not be lacking in opportunities to meet people. After a trip to Seoul, whether you like Asian women or not, you'll come down with a case of the 'yellow fever'.

8. Amsterdam, Holland
Of course Amsterdam must make the list. This city has women more beautiful riding past on bicycles than other cities have going by in chauffeured cars. Dutch girls are amazing in so many ways, they're trendy, as well as cool, they're fun, & also friendly. They're the kind of girls that you just want to date for a very long time.

7. Tel Aviv, Israel
Israel has some of the best looking women in the world, something about those green eyes that are just particularly attractive. But beware as in Israel women over the age of 18 are required to have been in the military, this of course means that if you sleep with an Israeli girl's best friend, she may very well kick your ass, while equipped with an Uzi. Sure it's a longshot, but it could happen.

6. Caracas, Venezuela
Caracas the capital of Venezuela, Venezuela the country with more Miss Universe Pageant titles than any other nation, so you know it's capital is going to be raging full of beautiful women. Women so beautiful that they make Brazilian women look like trashier counterparts. I speak honestly when I tell you that I know what type of undergarments runner up to Miss Venezuela wears (let us just say little flowers), what I cannot begin to tell you however is the amount of fun you will have if you take a trip to Venezuela, say hello to Hugo Chavez for me.

5. Moscow, Russia
Mother Russia is home to some of the world's finest women, the Moscow subway alone has more beauties than most of the United States alone, & I live in the United States :( It's not only the regularity of tall, blonde hair, blue eyed women that make it so great, it's also the amazing level of friendliness that you will find. It's a definite unique experience when what seems the world's most beautiful woman is staring your way, it leaves you wondering whether you have something on your shirt, but you in fact probably don't, they could very well think you're hot.

4. Varna, Bulgaria
Many of you may not have heard of Bulgaria, some of you may not know where to find it on a map, but you have all been there, in your dreams at night when you sleep. A land of cheap vodka, no drug laws, mechanical bulls on the beach, & waterslides. A land of cafes with inflatable furniture, the land of g-strings, & see through pants, the land of topless sunbathing. But more importantly than all others the land of the world's most beautiful, charming, & stunning women, oh how I love them so.

3. Buenos Aires, Argentina
Buenos Aires should be designated the capital of the Western Hemisphere, not only for it's wealth of beautiful women on a scale unlike any other Latin Country, even the extraordinary Venezuela, but for being the best city this side of Paris. Buenos Aires is amazing, where else can you sing Madonna hyms by the burial site of Evita, answer nowhere. More importantly where else can I get invited to model scout competitions, invited to Fashion TV parties, & kiss a 6"4 supermodel, well not too many other places let me tell you.

2. Copenhagen, Denmark
Copenhagen has surely got some of the world's most beautiful women, & also some of the friendliest, maybe even a little bit more sex orientated than their Swedish counterparts. For instance, I had just arrived at the Copenhagen train station, it was late, I was tired, I must've been looking good, for I noticed a hot Danish girl looking my way, so I looked hers, then I smiled, then she pointed me out to her friend, & next thing you know I had an entire high school classroom full of girls yelling at me, things, yelling things, good things. This alone is why I say Copenhagen is one of the best, it's like Amsterdam but instead of hookers, Copenhagen has porn stars.

1. Stockholm, Sweden
Stockholm is a city filled with the best looking women in the world, women so good looking that when you walk in to a 7-11 you will swear that you have just walked into a reality TV set, What Happens When Supermodels Work at A Convenience Store? Yes I know it's a long name, but hey it's true. Better yet the women are super friendly, & extremely educated, they speak English with English accents, they start making you wonder whether England in fact had good looking women but they're all on working vacations in Sweden, turns out they're not as England doesn't have but in fact they're all just really well studied Swedish girls.
Out of the 10 cities listen above, I've been to 6 of them. Stockholm, I definitely agree with. Moscow, I believe them, though when I was there, I was stranded without a passport and I was 15 and in a panicked state and had no chance to notice even key architecture, let alone the women. Amsterdam, hm... I guess I was too amazed at how well people spoke English there (even 80-year-old grannies speak perfect English there!) that I didn't notice. Seoul I've been to when I was like... 8 so I don't remember much. Montreal I'd agree with though I don't like the Quebecois. The French they speak in Montreal isn't the same as they do in France and to me, it doesn't sound good and thus, not "romantic" or hot at all. Though, if you don't know a word of French (or if you LIKE the Quebecois accent), then heck you might not notice the difference. My brother and I have a theory as to why Swedish women are beautiful. Back in the ancient times, when Vikings roamed the lands that are now Great Britain, they took all the beautiful women, or most of them. Now, stretch that out over a couple decades to centuries and you might have a significant impact on the gene pool. That might explain why British women are considered "mediocre" and Swedish women "beautiful".

Today's Random Picture:

Great Escape

A lot has happened in the past few months. I don't know how to go about explaining everything nor do I want to explain everything. In a nutshell, I'M FREE(!!!) in every sense of the word! I quit my jobs, took a flight to France, got into all the MA programs I applied to, broke up with Paul, I no longer work and I've planned a great escape for this summer.

I got into the Master's program and that's another source of indecision since I haven't chosen a program yet. In Paris, it's a great program and I really like it.... problem is it's quite expensive and living costs in Paris are also equally expensive, even in the outer banlieus like Villejuif or Ivry-sur-Seine. The minimum rent is about $700 or so, which is cheaper than in New York, but I don't think I'll be able to make even half as much money as I did in New York in Paris since I can only work part-time with my visa (20 hours or less). Strasbourg is a good program, not as great as the one in Paris, but it's right on the border of Germany (the campus is only about 2 miles from Germany) so it's a great chance for me to learn German by crossing the border every weekend. The third program is in Nice where the program is pretty good, but living costs are more expensive than in Strasbourg though the weather is much nicer. It's also close to Italy, giving me a good chance to practice that language. Right now... I'm actually leaning towards giving up Paris for Strasbourg or Nice since... though I love Paris with all my heart, it's really quite expensive and I fear I might become homeless at one point, haha, not that I haven't been before. BUT, I figure I can always try to transfer or live in Paris some other time if I really hate Strasbourg or Nice. Gotta stay within a budget, right?

Meanwhile, before I make a decision, I decided to hitchhike around the Balkans, to Greece, and to Turkey before my courses begin. Right now, I'm in Katowice once again, visiting good old Tomasz since he's turning 24 tomorrow to help him celebrate. Then I'll be hitchhike to Bratislava then onward south/southeast before heading back to France.

Currently, this is the rough draft of the "Great Escape":

July 17
Katowice -> Bratislava

July 18
Bratislava -> Zagreb

July 22
Zagreb -> Belgrade

July 25
Belgrade -> Sarajevo

July 28
Sarajevo -> Podgorica

July 31
Podgorica -> Tirana

August 3
Tirana -> Skopje

August 7
Skopje -> Athens

August 12
Athens -> Thessaloniki

August 16
Thessaloniki -> Istanbul

August 20
Istanbul -> Bucharest

August 24
Bucharest -> Budapest

August 25
Budapest -> Vaduz

August 26
Vaduz -> San Marino

August 27
San Marino -> Monaco

August 28
Monaco -> Andorra la Vella

August 29
Andorra la Vella -> Nice/Paris/Strasbourg

So wish me luck!!! I might actually need all the luck I can get if I want to do this in less than 2 months!



Today's Random Picture:
An interesting Wikipedia map I befell on noting the percentage of EU member states' and EU member applicant states' populations that believe in "God" (<- holy cow that sentence was really wordy).

Two Weeks in a Nutshell

Below I've summarized my trip to Bulgaria and the hitchhike back to London.

Waking up at the ass crack of dawn, we made our way to the Gatwick airport in London for the 6:30 flight to Sofia. Once at Sofia, Benjamin, the groom, (or Ben for short) was actually waiting at the airport for us and we were transferred to a small but cozy apartment where we'd be staying for a couple days. We were to stay at Ben's soon-to-be wife's brother's friend, Владислав's, place. So, to simplify things, it was Ben's brother-in-law's friend's place. I'm not sure if that makes things any clearer, but it's good enough. We'd arrived in Sofia before noon and so, we had the entire afternoon to go about sightseeing and such.

At night were the bachelor and bachelorette parties. Seeing that I was neither a man nor a friend of the bride, I had the evening free to myself. After exploring the city alone at night, I headed back to the apartment. Late the next morning, as we were getting ready to go to the wedding, Paul seemed a little disapproving of my outfit. I did not have a single dress in my closet back in New York so instead I'd brought a business suit. A simple white shirt with a black jacket and black pants with a pair of high heels. Apparently he thought it would be more appropriate to wear a dress than a business suit. It was too late to buy a last-minute dress or change outfits so we headed out all the same.

The Bulgarian wedding was a little different from the handful of American weddings I've been to. First of all, we didn't go immediately to a church or some other place for the ceremony. The first part of the wedding involved going to the town hall to have a "wedding" there, which involved paperwork, official documents, marriage certificate, and the like (or so I assume). Then the second part of the wedding took place at a church/cathedral.

The bride's family was very... nontraditional (I'll explain later) so the actual wedding, though it took place in the Bulgarian orthodox cathedral, wasn't exactly a typical traditional wedding (or so Анатоли explained to me in a mixture of German and Russian). I couldn't understand much of the Bulgarian, but I don't think the whole speech in Bulgarian was dramatically different those all-too-familiar wedding speeches at American weddings. It was still a little different though. First of all, we held candles and no one was sitting. We all stood around the bride and room as the priest chanted things in Bulgarian. The parents of the bride and groom stood directly behind them while we were encircling them in a sort of half-circle, all holding candles. The bride also did not wear white but wore blue. Actually, I'm not sure if that's a wedding tradition to wear blue or not. It might have been the bride's personal preference to wear a different color. Like I said, it was a nontraditional family. In any case, the wedding itself didn't take that long and the ending was almost the same as an American wedding. They exchanged rings, kissed... then the bride and groom tried to step on each others feet. It was weird. I later learned that it's a tradition and whoever steps on the other's foot first will dominate in the household. I guess Александра will be the head of the household, because she won the stepping contest =) Oh yeah, another different thing I noticed. When people make the "cross" in Bulgaria (you know where you touch your head, heart, shoulders - people who are Catholic will know this immediately, I'm sure), they do it with the cross ending on the left shoulder. Normally Catholics end with the cross on the right, but yeah, even that was different over there =)

After the wedding at the church, it was off to the reception at a restaurant. The entire place had been rented out for the wedding. The food was traditional Bulgarian food and alcoholic drinks were provided. They had it all. "Ракия" (rakiya - apparently a traditional Bulgarian drink, if I'm not mistaken), beer, wine, vodka, мастика (mastica - reminds me of the word "masticate" in English, and I think there may be a connection here - which I thought was weird-tasting vodka as I drank it), and cocktails served to order, including one I tried облак (oblak = "cloud" - an allegedly popular Bulgarian cocktail). Despite the abundance of alcohol, I've been educated by my mom never to drink too much at a wedding, so, I was far from being drunk.

Paul was the best man for the wedding, so we got to sit at a large table with the bride and groom's parents not too far from us. The groom's parents contrasted starkly with the Bulgarian bride's parents. They were very conservative Britons, the type of people you'd imagine sipping tea outside during "high tea time" with their pinky fingers sticking out, discussing weather or interior decorating or some other boring topic of limited interest on my part. The bride's parents were very... unconventional and different. I learned from the bride that her mother had recently announced to the family that she was lesbian. Her brother, Анатоли, who believes in "God" and is rather conservative, thus refused to look at his own mother at the wedding, not even sitting near her. Александра, the bride herself, couldn't have cared less. She said it didn't matter if her mother was lesbian or bisexual or whatever her sexual preference was. She seemed super chill though... I don't know, there was some kind of passion that was missing in her. Everything she said, she said nonchalantly in a very bland manner, without too much life or laughter. Perhaps that is just the way she learned to speak English since her way of speaking Bulgarian was noticeably different than the way she spoke English. Her English was perfect, don't get me wrong. She just spoke English with less... less gusto than when she spoke Bulgarian.

The father of the bride was also something. He drank quite a lot during the reception, which started out with a toast of ракия and eventually, I found out that he spoke Russian, most likely remnants of Soviet times. He spoke slowly, perhaps because he was tipsy, so I was surprised at how much I actually understood. The groom's parents didn't speak a word of any other language other than English so it was fun to act as a sub-par interpreter for basic phrases between the two sets of parents. I gulped down a few shots of мастика (which I mistakenly thought was strange vodka) in hopes of improving my language skills. Luckily I didn't have to feel bad that I was preoccupied with attempting to play interpreter since Paul was having fun drinking and talking with his friends.

One thing was particularly shocking. The bride's father told me that he was an old man but he still enjoyed life very much because he had a 28-year-old lover in the north. He then told me to translate this to the groom's parents. I hesitated. "Давай, давай!" he insisted, seeming to grow impatient. Being a horrible liar and unable to come up with a creative lie on the spot, I translated it. The groom's parents seemed less than impressed and their expressions clearly showed their disapproval of such an affair. They also had no idea that the mother was lesbian, but I was really afraid of their reaction to that, being the conservatives they were. They were very nice, though, despite their conservatism and they were really happy about their son marrying Александра, whom they deemed to be a perfect match for him.

After hearing about his 28-year-old lover, I felt awkward translating any further details for him so I spent the rest of the night with Paul and Александра's brother, Анатоли. He contrasted starkly to both his parents (who were not your average parents and the cool, laid-back Александра). Анатоли was very conservative and religious, but nice all the same, at least based on what I understood him say. He knew approximately 20 words in English but spoke fluent Bulgarian and German. So we conversed in a mixture of German and Bulgarian, relaying information to and from Paul in English. Quite interesting, I must say. After the food, drinking, dancing (including the хоро, a traditional Bulgarian dance), the festivities came to an end and we all dragged our feet to bed.

The next morning, I'd planned to hitchhike back to London but my wishes had to be held back for another day. Paul and I were convinced to spend another day in Sofia, and Владислав showed us around the city, we ate more Bulgarian food, and at night, we partied and drank 'til we dropped. Late Sunday morning, we woke to find that it was Easter. Invited to an Easter brunch, we couldn't refuse, we were in Sofia for another half a day before we bade everyone farewell and left for London.

Hitchhiking in Bulgaria was rather easy. We had no major problems and though we did have some issues with language barriers, we managed to make it to Northwestern Bulgaria before it was too late. We then hitchhiked into a small town to eat dinner. At the restaurant we met a bunch of Romanians also stopping for dinner before heading over to Romania who invited us to join them. We agreed, believing them to be friendly enough. Friendly they were... but we got drunk and somehow stupidly agreed to go to Romania with them!!! My memory is very hazy as to how exactly we got to Romania, I remember we took a ferry from some Bulgarian city to Romania. Once in Romania, we woke up to find ourselves on the floor of an small house in Transylvania. They were very hospitable, but we realized we'd backtracked about a day or two so on the 13th, we had to hitchhike west, hitchhiking throughout much of Transylvania. I have to admit, I love the Transylvanian accent in English! It is so incredibly sexy. Unfortunately, we didn't always hitchhike that often with English-speakers. More often than not, they spoke French and sometimes German. We managed with no major problems and what was weird was that they usually asked for money. It reminded me of hitchhiking in Mali and Senegal where people would ask for some money whenever we hitchhiked there. We didn't have any Romanian lera, so we said we could pay them in what was left of our Bulgarian лева and euros, which they accepted (more happily euros than Bulgarian лева).

Romanians know how to party! Our last day in Romania, we hitchhiked with a bunch of Romanian students on vacation and we hitchhiked to a border town of Hungary, injected ourselves with alcohol and partied. It was just amazing. Language barriers did not even exist after a few bottles of beer. In the end, we were sad to leave them and even Paul, who was unsure and skeptical about hitchhiking at first, seemed to change his mind a little after that experience.

Crossing into Hungary on the 14th, we tried to recover lost time and was able to make it all the way to Austria by the end of the day. I hate the Austrian police as much as I hate the German police. They didn't give us a lot of trouble, but it was annoying all the same when they demanded us to show them our passports and interrogated us while we hitchhiked. Eventually, we ended up in a tiny town in Austria with an Austrian student visiting his parents during vacation. He was unable to host us but he found another friend to keep us for a night and we went out for Austrian beer before crashing on his friend's floor for the night. His friend was pretty hilarious. "No acts of procreation in the living room, please," he said to us as we wished him good night. We listened to his request =)

Crossing into Germany, I learned how to hitchhike like a pro in this country and I also learned that Germany is probably one of the best countries to hitchhike in, in spite of the annoying, anal police officers. Many people who picked us up were businessmen or middle-aged former-hitchhikers who were happy to pick us up and talk. Sometimes their English wasn't super, so my deteriorating German skills were forced out of the back burner and utilized to its limits. With amazing speed, we hitchhiked across the entirety of Germany and were in the outskirts of Köln (Cologne) by sundown. Again, we'd managed to befriend our driver and he agreed to host us for the night. We went out to Köln for drinks that night, which ended on a wrong note at least between Paul and I, but the next morning, we were ok again. I guess you can't spend nearly 2 weeks with one person, seeing them every day, and spending nearly every waking moment with them for a week without having at least one argument.

By the morning of the 16th, we crossed the German-Belgian border and hitched a ride with a group of Belgians who invited us for a late lunch. They were a bunch of the craziest people I've ever met in my life. That's all I'm going to say about that experience for now.

After Belgium, by late afternoon, we crossed the border into France. Paul and I both speak French, so that was no problem (and we also got to use French in Belgium as well, though the people we hitchhiked with spoke English). They were friendly enough, though friendly in that particular French way. There wasn't much distance to cover in France since we would have to take a ferry over to the UK. We got on the ferry and what was amazing was that we hitchhiked on a BUS! I didn't know whether the driver would entertain the idea of two hitchhikers getting on his bus for free to go to London, but he did! He was a friendly Irish bloke and Paul was also surprised that he let us in. Paul still claims he only let us on because I was American, whatever that's supposed to mean. In any case, we were in London by the night of the 16th, with no major problems. It took a day longer than I anticipated but we'd spent 4 days hitchhiking from Sofia to London.

Once in London again, although we were both a little tired from our thumb-traveling adventures, we went out for drinks the last night and came back around 3a.m., waking up at a decently early time to catch brunch before my flight from London to New York.

The End!

Today's Random Picture: