April 28

I have officially made it back to France and am ever so excited. I just met some New Zealanders who are finishing up a school trip. People from New Zealand officially have clearer accents than any I encountered in the UK, aside from their pronunciation of the name "Bear Grylls".

There was a waiting room at the train station last night/this morning, so that combined with my first train ride allowed me to get some sleep. I may be deprived, but I'm not entirely bereft, which can go a long way.

April 27

Today, I am in a poor mood. It began with sleep deprivation and too many days straight of traveling, and with a lack of exercise and no shower and unreliable Italian transportation, the mood is worsening.

The ferry I took was Superfast I, which boasts that it can make the trip from Patras, Greece, to Bari, Italy, in 15 1/2 hours. They leave at 6 PM and arrive at 8:30 AM the next day. Or that's what they advertise. The reality was that we arrived at the port around 10:30 AM. I WAS excited about making a 9:30 AM train to be in Nice, France tonight. Instead, Italian trains are still on strike, reservations for night trains are booked, and so it looks like I'll be sleeping on a fold-out seat again unless I find some alternative. My first plan of action is to get out of Bari, Italy. The heel of Italy is unpleasant, and my natural dislike for Italians that began with my parents' divorcimoon is furthering my current disdain. Prove me wrong, Italy. Prove me wrong. However, I do love their food and wine. I suppose I just prefer take-out. 

I am now very much hoping to sleep tonight. But there IS more to life than sleep....

I'm on the train to Bologna, Italy. There's a chance that I'll be dishonest with my Eurail pass, but Italy owes it to me 'cause they took an extra day from me when I first came from Vienna. My understanding is that a large amount of transportation runs through Bologna, so maybe I'll find a way to France from there. 

Lack of interaction with people appears to be why I'm unhappy. I just laughed with a girl on this train over our mutual discomfort with our lack of reservations, and I felt good. The introvert and the need for people is a constant battle. 

Another Italian got on the train, and despite the language barrier, we were buddies for most of the seven-hour bus ride.

And now I am at the train station in Bologna. It is currently 10:36 PM and, assuming that the Italians don't screw up again, I'm off to Nice, France at 5 AM. I walked outside to judge if I should try to find a hostel but really, I'll get less sleep if I do that. I need to be up and about within six hours to get that train. If I sleep at all, I'll do it in the station. This saves money and will get me to Nice as soon as possible. In fact, it will be after noon, so I should be able to check into a hostel immediately. I've already looked one up that's close to the station and got good reviews. 

I decided today, once and for all, that I won't go hungry anymore. If I need to eat, I should eat. Travel is difficult enough without abusing my body further. I think I've learned whatever lessons are worth learning from it anyway, namely that your stomach growls while you talk to people. 

April 26

Last night, I arrived in Athens after my flight from Istanbul. I went to a hostel that was far too expensive and difficult to find (but only €10/night). Because of this, I lost what daylight there was left. But the only other occupant in the 12-bunk room was an Australian who was beginning a 6-month trip through Europe that day. He had just flown in a few hours before. So we saw some of Athens at night for an hour or two before he jet-lagged and we returned. I was going to stay another night in Athens, but that would have meant an extra day or two before I reach Southern France, and I'm tired of waiting for that. So I woke up at 8 AM and set out to find my way to the train station that would take me to the port. 

If anyone with a Eurail pass is reading this (doubtful, I guess), here is the current route from Athens to Patras in Greece, from which you can take a ferry to Italy (current as of April 26, 2014). It was similar for the trip back as well. In Athens, you take the metro to Larissa Station. From that station, there are trains leaving hourly (or that's what it seemed like) from Athens to the stop S.K.A. (It's the 4th stop, pronounced "skah"). Then you get off the train, go to the other side of the tracks, and walk back in the direction of Athens. There's a little walkway, and you go down some stairs and it takes you to the correct station. You take the train to Kiato. That's the final destination for the train so you don't have to be super attentive after you get on. Then in Kiato, you exit the train #duh and go downstairs. Just outside and to the left is a bus to Patras. And it's the TRAIN station the bus takes you to in Patras, not the bus station. I don't think Eurail passes work at the bus station. All of these are free with the Eurail pass, and for those of us with limited travel days, it doesn't use up any of those. They didn't even look at mine, just asked if I had a valid one. From Patras, you have to take either a shuttle (€1) or a taxi (a few euros, I think) to reach the port. It's a few minutes away. The whole journey from Athens-Patras is around 3 hours and 45 minutes. 

I ended up visiting the Acropolis, which is kinda THE thing to see in Athens. Unfortunately, to make my train, I only had half an hour there. Still, I took some pictures that will hopefully turn out nicely. And I realized that despite my deep love for Greek mythology, there isn't too much to get out of it without paying for a tour guide or visiting the museum.

April 25

While waiting for the ferry to go back to Athens from Santorini, the driver/bartender for the villa I has stayed at waved me over. He was with a Canadian girl (well, 28 years old) that he had apparently been having a week-long romance with while she was in Europe. Then the ferry came and, as these things tend to go, she became my travel companion to Athens. She was a yoga instructor and kinda just believed in good vibes and auras and such, as the yoga teaching tends to lend itself to. I've done yoga plenty, so we got along fine (and it didn't hurt that she had a lot of food to share because she "would eat too much anyway"). However, one of the more difficult parts of traveling as a Christian is that I have to constantly hush the thought that they're likely headed to hell if they don't start believing in the death and resurrection of Christ. I don't want to preach at them both because it'd be ineffective and because I genuinely don't want to, but it is tough. I know where they're headed. And most of the people I've met haven't been very open to Christianity, at least not past the point where it's my story. My story is FAR more boring than Christ's.

She and I got off the ferry and I helped her search for her hostel in Athens. We went to the acropolis but I couldn't get student pricing, so we didn't go in. Still, it was cool to get on a rocky outcrop and see the landscape that so influenced Greek and Athenian beliefs and mythologies.

We went back to her hostel and I went to catch my flight to Istanbul. I barely made it due to that sightseeing. Also, I had looked ahead online and people had said that you could store luggage for a fee at the airport, but the airport personnel ended up telling me that that doesn't exist. So I had to throw away my mouthwash but stuffed my Swiss Army knife in my backpack. It made it through security. We'll see if lighting strikes twice on the way back. 

It was a pleasant 45-minute flight from Athens to Istanbul. The passport control line, however, was a staggering 2-hour wait. By the time I found my hostel in Istanbul, it was evening. Fortunately, the night life is where it's at in Istanbul. My hostel was near Taksim Square, which is where a lot of protests and rioting take place. The next such event is expected to be next week, so I'm kinda dodging a bullet on that one. Taksim Square is ALSO where the city's bustling nightlife takes place. After resting and putting pictures on Facebook, I ventured upstairs where there was a common area, and I was asked if I was hungry. The answer is always "yes" and so I was fed by a British guy and discussed Istanbul and travel with him, a Korean guy, and a Canadian woman. This allowed me to focus on drinking that night rather than also trying to find food, and they also told me what to visit when I explored the city. After dinner, I went in search of a karaoke bar. The city is so vibrant and diverse at night, it's a bit of a sensory overload. But I found a karaoke place and the bartender, despite my asking for a 10 lira drink, brought me a 14 lira drink ($7 instead of $5). So I nursed that drink all night. They gave me a shot for my first song and continued to bring me salty food to make me thirsty and carrots and cucumbers to hydrate me, all because they wanted the rich American to buy more drinks. But for me, it was $7 for a meal of nuts, popcorn, veggies, a beer, and a shot. The bartender wasn't happy with me, but I wasn't with him, and he got two good songs out of it. I was the only one singing in English because Turkish music is apparently a thing that they take pride in. 

The next day, I ventured into the city. Istanbul is intimidating on the bus ride because traffic is crazy. However, like most big cities I've been to in Europe, it was manageable on foot. I had a map from the hostel with a few markers telling me where and what things were, but it was still a lot of walking blind. That coupled with the amount of history I have forgotten regarding Constantine, Rome, and the Ottoman Empire, meant that I rarely knew the significance of things I was looking at. And that is a feeling I hate.

But I still saw the palace and the Blue Mosque and the cistern (but only because I had already waited in line before I found out I had to pay to get in). The cistern felt like that scene in Lord of the Rings as they're escaping the Mines of Moria. 

The reason I was in Istanbul at all was to meet with my cheer coach from university when I was a mascot. She and her family are living in Bursa, Turkey, as missionaries. So after touristing, I went to the docks to make sure I could find the ferry that I was to board the next day to Bursa. I found it and then, feeling quite tired, I went back to the hostel to shower and put pictures online. Alcohol is expensive in Turkey just as it is in most places if you go out, but, of course, cheaper alternatives can always be found at supermarkets. So I bought a pint, had dinner, bought another pint, and walked up to the open balcony area of our hostel. There, some French music teachers offered to let me join them. I did, and though they spoke little English, my time with French people is always enjoyable. I went out once more in search of sweets (they have churros that are basically fried bread covered in a honey-like sugar water). Then a guy asked me for a light (I don't smoke) and started chatting me up and wanted me to go to a bar with him. It was late and I was waking up in the morning, but I asked him the drink prices and he said "Only 20 lira ($10) per drink" and I said "no" and he offered to pay for mine. Though I'm not a woman, the situation still felt suspiciously date-rapey. When the bar required us all getting into an elevator and it all seeming very regulated, I told him I had to wake up early, and ditched him there and returned to my hostel. 

The next morning, I was off to Bursa. I bought my ferry tickets online, so all I had to do was find the machine and swipe my debit card, then my tickets popped out. No other steps required. The ferry was a little under two hours and I slept the whole time, and then one of the greater sights in the world, seeing a family waiting there to welcome you. I had spent a lot of time with my cheer coach's children as well, so they were all excited to see me. They took me to lunch where I tried whatever they suggested. A drink I was NOT fond of was one that tasted like sour cream, a sour milk thing that could be endured with spicy food. But that food wasn't spicy enough to make me drink much of it, so I switched to Fanta. From there, we went to their apartment where we all took a break and their daughter, Kenzie, told me about their trip to DisneyWorld last year via scrapbook, which made me want to visit DisneyLand this summer. After their young boys had taken their naps, we went to the grocery store and then off to visit a 600-year-old tree in Bursa which was ever so large. We also visited mosques where some Ottoman rulers and such had been buried and then we went for dinner, where they stuffed me full of foods, the main dish for me being a sort of Turkish #prizza. The dessert was this weird shredded wheat thing with sugar and cheese that I didn't understand, but I loved the taste. 

After this, we all went back to the apartment and they put the kids to bed, and I talked with them about what the culture is like, and how it is being missionaries there. The main answer is that it is difficult. They are living there through support from a ministry organization, so they spend all their time studying the language and culture. With one girl and two boys, all of them as crazy as good families are, it's amazing how they manage to make it work. They've been there almost eleven months and because of government stuff, they don't do formal church. They meet with other missionaries (and none of them use "the m word" because of adverse connotations there) once a week for fellowship and then just work at forming relationships. Their entire family and life moved to Turkey and their ministry is mostly making friends with locals and sharing Christ as the Spirit leads. I hope I get to return after med school, not only to experience more or Istanbul, but also to see what God has done in and through them. I was a rare treat for them. Most people don't end up on this side of the world, or that far to the east in Europe. 

Update: they checked the weight and size of my backpack and it passed the test. The Swiss Army knife made it through two sets of security with no trouble. I should keep one of these with me everywhere just for funzies. 

Halfway Point (Part 2)

The past week has been the most memorable in many ways. The moment I was no longer with any friends or people I knew, that was when there was a notable change. Beginning to walk away from a karaoke bar, knowing that it would be more than twelve hours before I would again have a secure place to be, safely on a train. And then arriving at the train station, only to find that it was not open in the middle of the night, most likely because of people like me who wanted to sleep there. And then, of course, the train to northern Italy, with the connecting train never coming because of a strike. And meeting three guys from Wisconsin who were backpacking for a month after studying abroad in London. And then taking the first train out of there to the next stop just out of the mountain ranges, where I caught such a memorable train to Rome where I had no reserved seat due to the strike, and was forced to sit on a fold-out seat all night in the very very very cold. And then connecting from Rome to Bari, where I had my first real meal (#prizza and wine #duh) in a great long while and met two French-Canadian girls from Montreal.

We got along so well right off the bat that we pooled our resources to make dinner and bedding on the comfortably-carpeted floor of the ferry. I snuggled closely with one of the girls because of the cold, but I suspected ulterior motives on her part because, well I am a perfect specimen, only slightly less so after having such arduous travels.

The next day when we arrived in Patras, Greece, the girls offered for me to stay at their hostel in Athens, at which they had booked a double private room. My sleeping bag and I were delighted. This invitation was partly because I convinced them to join me in a trip to Santorini, Greece, which was reportedly quite possibly the most beautiful island in the world. With Blue Star Ferry, it is also discounted 30% for Eurail pass holders, which made it affordable. In Patras, we opted for the 2 euro taxi rather than the 1 euro bus ride to the station because one was immediate and the other was an hour wait, and the suspiciously (but apparently genuine) kind taxi driver informed us that free Eurail pass bus to Kiato, Italy (where the train to Athens was) actually was located at the train station, rather than the bus station. We arrived just in time for the bus, and were awed at the scenery for a little over two hours as we traversed the terrain to Kiato. Upon reaching this destination, we boarded the train to Athens airport on accident. The port of Piraeus, where the hostel was located and where the ferry would depart from, was on a different track that would become more apparent when the rail split. Confused at this, we got out of the train to reassess the situation and wait for the right train. The conductor asked out of his window where we were headed, and we told him, and he told us to get back in until a certain stop that I cannot recall now (it was two words though). We obeyed and got off at the correct stop, and the conductor this time got out of his train and pointed at the track we would be taking to get to Piraeus. The Greek have been ever so helpful and kind.

So, to clarify, both the bus and train to get from Patras to Athens were free and took 4-5 hours total.

The Athens metro system was different from those I had seen in London and Paris. The tickets we bought were good for an hour and a half and cost under 2 euro. The downside was that we didn’t get to see much of Athens because of how long it took us to find our hostel and purchase ferry tickets with the Eurail pass discount, which you must do in person.

Traveling with the Canadians was a welcome relief from the forlorn traveling I had done for the days previous. I had prayed to God for American friends that day and He delivered, just with people from a little further north than I had expected. In the hostel that night, we celebrated with what the souvlaki (gyro) chef told us was a great local drink, called ouza. I was the only one who remotely enjoyed it because it tastes like absinthe, but without being green. I had already acquired a taste for it, but it’s still illegal in Canada. Since then, I have learned that it is indeed a local drink that is made cheaply and easily, to the point that in stores here, you can go to the alcohol section and know that the big unlabeled bottles are not water. I repeat, they are not water. They are ouza. 

We camped on the Santorini boat (leaving at 7:30 in the morning requires some sleep time on the ferry) and passed island after magnificent island. Santorini was the last stop, and the gorgeous view gave us assurance that we had made the right choice in our destination.

We were greeted at the port by our villa’s bartender (who doesn’t like to drink) who drove us to the villa. Villa Manos was very much like a hotel, a 15-minute walk from Fira/Thira, the picturesque city you see when you think about Santorini.

Being thrifty travelers, we enjoyed walking around and browsing restaurants until we realized we couldn’t afford anything. So we bought souvlaki with pita and a beer and sat on a bench overlooking the gorgeous sunset. We finished the night off by looking at more bars and restaurants we couldn’t afford to visit, and went back to the villa.

The next day, we were determined to have a donkey ride from Fira proper down to the Old Port, which was apparently an important part of anyone’s stay in Santorini. It was 5 euros for the donkey ride, and we made the mistake of riding the donkey down and walking back up instead of the other way around. This method is exhausting.

Following this, we visited Oía/Ia, the northernmost portion of the island. There is an old fort thing there that gives a great view of the island.

We went back to our villa from there and worked on a bottle of wine, then went out looking for some place we could afford. We bought souvlaki with pita and a beer apiece, and, after eating, found that we could finish our drinks inside one of the bars. We also visited a club that looked as if it’d be really cool if it had more than five people in it already.

The next day, the Canadians left, but not before the villa owners gave us a bottle of wine (I let the Canadians have it) and took a picture with us. I appreciated how tricksy they were in ending it on such a high note. (They normally charged 10 euros for that wine).

I made my way to Perissa, the most popular beach town on Santorini. The black sand apparently comes from the island resting right next to an active volcano. The rooms are cheaper on this part of the island (I’m in present tense now because I’m writing in my hostel room). Of course, I’m paying for a 6-person hostel bunk room, but because it’s the low season, they upgraded me to a 2-person bedroom. They told me I would likely get a roommate, but it’s my third day here and there’s no sign of one. Outside I have a poolside (though the pool is empty) balcony with a pull-out laundry hanging thing, which I really do appreciate since it costs me nothing to do laundry as long as I can easily dry it.

It is Easter today. I tried going to church, but I think I was late and also don’t speak/read Greek, which can prevent a human from navigating these parts very effectively. So I instead read my Bible and went to the beach. The unhappy loneliness has set in against the introversion that had taken over after so much time with the Canadians. I don’t know how I’m going to find a balance for this, but I need to. Hopefully I’ll be smart about making time to be introverts when my sister comes to Europe.

Halfway Point (Part 1)

For the many months before backpacking through Europe, I was excited. I read travel blogs most nights and dreamed of foreign lands. And then the tickets were booked and work became more occupying and my friends graduated from university. And because I didn't allow myself to plan the trip, I didn't know how to prepare. I became apprehensive rather than excited, and the whole thing felt like a sentence rather than an adventure. I went to Belarus and was able to take video for the team along with preaching and serving with children. The whole time though, I remained nervous about my upcoming flight to Ireland. 

When I left the mission team at the airport, my loneliness became almost a solid thing. The mission team leaders had confidence in my abilities to find my way, but I didn't share those feelings. Yet I made it. I found my connecting flight to Ireland, sat exhausted in the Irish rain for customs to let me in the country, and made it to my B&B. The next day, I took the bus to Dublin and met with the doctor and office manager for the clinic where I work(ed?) and they paid for my meals and Guinness Brewery tour. Then we parted ways so that I could visit a host family in Dundalk which, I discovered, was a far more boring place than Dublin. I went from there to Belfast after St Patty's Day, and learned on the way that some buses are 45 minutes late and it's not your fault but theirs. I stayed in Belfast and slept well with good Internet and a friend from JBU at the manor where I had studied just four years before after my freshman year. I took the ferry to Scotland and made my way to Glasgow to try CouchSurfing for the first time. My host turned out to be unavailable, but he found me a place to stay with nine Brazilians (all university students). Food was prepared for me but sleep was not quite ideal. However, I did make friends and made the most of it and left for Edinburgh that Sunday. My host in Edinburgh was the most accommodating I've yet had. He worked as a masseur and was very kind, but also liked to get drunk every night. Every night. I was only to stay for a few days, but Edinburgh was so incredible that I wanted to stay more, and my host was more than accommodating, even giving me the keys to the apartment one night when he wouldn't be home to let me in.

From there, I went to London on a night bus which I knew was not always the best idea, but my sleeping abilities did end up pulling me through quite well. 

While in London, I stayed with a British friend I had made while studying abroad in Italy. He and his flatmate were both very witty, but I ended up able to keep up with them. However, the British comedies they had me watch in an effort to turn me British were so difficult to follow, with such strong accents, that I must say I did not go British from that. I spent most of my time in London visiting the free museums. In London, these museums are plentiful, and made for wonderful afternoons. I also ate Cadbury chocolates, mostly Crunchies, nonstop. Because really.

From London, I took a bus through the chunnel (one of the eight modern wonders of the world) to Paris, where I stayed with the Barlows, the family who had hosted the small group I taught in high school. They were gracious in allowing me to stay right up until the night they moved to California, at which point I was forced to pay for a hostel. The hostel was actually very good, and I do hope to stay there again with a much more free flow of cash. But then again, I feel that way with most of Paris, since it is among the most expensive cities in the world. My last night in Paris, I actually stayed outside the city with a CouchSurfing host whose job was “computer scientist”, which was something I learned nothing more about since his English was so poor. Though he did dislike that I had a Macbook. We watched Man Vs Wild and since I had seen the episode before, it was just fine that the episode was in French, and my Parisian host and I were both laughing out loud when Bear Grylls ate bugs and raw fish.

From Paris, I ventured on to Vienna, Austria, where my CouchSurfing host was a freshman at university who, like me, was well-traveled. She and her friends were German, but she was kind enough to take me out at night when they went to house parties and such. I felt quite old, not just because of the age difference, but also because I have never really been one for being out till dawn. Dawn really just isn’t my favorite time of day. Anyway, I also met up with my friend Jamie and her friend whom she had met in Ireland, and we did a wee tour of Vienna on our own. I had almost no takeaway from it, but it was an enjoyable time nonetheless. I had no host and did not want to pay for a room on my last night, so that began a whole other adventure...

How Do They Do It?

If nothing else, this trip has taught me what it feels to be alone in your faith, to be the only Christian in a foreign place. I don't know how missionaries do it. Or, at least, how they did it before the Internet. Maybe this is only a fleeting thing, but I feel like I've gotten over missing my close friends. What I miss most is a warm bed, my own schedule with which to use it, and the knowledge that Christians are never too far away. It's like the greatest club and support group, and I feel like if I was ever stranded with no sleep and nowhere to go, I could always count on someone through the church to help me out. 

April 14

Ugh, I can't stand Rome. As beautiful and historically important as it is, there is just too much crime. It feels unsafe. I was just buying a reservation to go to Bari and a man walked up and began to help me. I've been used to very helpful employees at stations in other countries, so I foolishly thought nothing of it. After I bought the reservation, he asked for payment. I gave him €0.22 because really.

And now I'm just wanting to find Internet SOMEwhere. The McDonalds boasts wifi but it doesn't work. I have a lot going on that's coordinated by HAVING INTERNET. Hopefully I'll find some after my train ride. I would say during the train ride, but I'm in Italy, where it's hard to avoid feeling targeted for evil schemes. 

April 13 Cont'd

I'm on the train to Rome (I think). I'm very tired. Friday night, I went to a house party with my CouchSurfing host, a freshman at the university in Vienna studying psychology. She introduced me to her friends and it was great fun, until we stayed out. So late. I'm not used to it. We arrived back at her apartment close to dawn (6am) and went to sleep, only to wake up around 11am, I with a hangover. I had put my clothes in her washing machine that Friday afternoon, but after going out and everything, I hadn't set them out to dry till Saturday's wakeup. This wouldn't be such a problem except that she had to leave for a flight on Sunday morning at 4am. Consequently, I had to pack up my barely damp clothes and take them with me to walk Vienna from about 6:30pm to 4am. Not wanting to trouble her anymore, I instead went to sleep at the train station and learned that it's closed from 1-4am. So here I am now, going on my third night of poor sleep, to be followed up with at least one more before I finally make it to the Greek island of Santorini.

In all my wandering in the night, I met two drunk Portuguese men who offered to let me stay at their place, provided that I could find somewhere to put my bags and go clubbing with them until 5am. I had them sign the Juice Journal but told them that it really wouldn't work out. I met a German later that night while walking among drunks (Vienna is one of the safest cities in the world, so drunks abound without fear) and, upon seeing my backpack, asked if I as a backpacker. When I told him I was, he informed me that he had backpacked in the States for a full year without ever paying for accommodations, and would like to help me do the same. He gave me his number but had similar conditions, that sleep would not come until 5am.

Right now, I am sitting with a Pakistani friend I made through mutual desire to board the train to Rome. He speaks little English but talks it up with his other Pakistani friends. Racial profiling is strong within me now. It is almost 11pm and I just want to sleep. Yes, the ticket man just came by, thereby ridding me of my fears that I had needed a reservation to be here. I think the Pakistani guys are getting off before Rome, 'cause they've been standing and walking around constantly, and talking between themselves and on their phones. OR MAYBE I DONT SOUND AS CRAZY WHEN I SAY THAT THEYRE GONNA BLOW UP THIS TRAIN!!!

Update: the situation has become laughable. Taliban (obviously) guys came into our cabin, turbans and beards and voices loud, thus disturbing our slumber. Then a human came up and quoted reserved seats to us, displacing only the strong American patriot and allowing the terrorists to stay. Then I moved to another cabin and was once again ousted. So now I am sitting (and will be "sleeping") on one of the "chairs" that folds out from the wall. Also, a baby is screaming. And someone is playing loud Turkish music (screaming) out loud on their phone. Like, all of us are obviously just trying to sleep, and they're adding to EVERYTHING ELSE. Whatever I am intended to learn this Palm Sunday, I hope I'm learning it and that God will finish this lesson soon. 

April 13

Well, I had a trip from Vienna, Austria to Bari, Italy set up. I was to change trains three times. This is where a problem came about. See, some Italian train conductors are apparently on strike, and one train that I had planned on using just didn't show up. Though I did manage to find one train to get me out of the mountain range on the very northern edge of Italy, I now sit on a public toilet in the town of Bolzano, hoping that I can use the night train to get to Rome (and then to Bari, from which location I will depart to Greece). The problem is that the reservation I had before was for a train I was forced to miss, and the man at the teller here told me that because of the strike, I cannot reserve a ticket for the upcoming train to Rome that may or may not show up. I find out in less than an hour. 

Learning And Learning

I haven't been updating regularly. I haven't even been recording video regularly, and most definitely haven't been editing it. I'm currently in Vienna, Austria, drinking an unfiltered beer called Schladminger. It's pale and rich (something I hope to be someday), and, due to my travel diet of not much, I'm feeling a little buzzed from only drinking a little bit of it.

I've been more concentrated on budget than on most anything else, which was okay until now, because I was in cities I've already been to for the most part. Now I'm hundreds of dollars under budget, which means that I don't have to worry much anymore. I'm gonna party tonight a lil', then a lot tomorrow night to stay up all night, then board my train for Bari, Italy. Then depart for Patras in Greece like 12 hours later, then from Patras to Athens for a few hours, then to Santorini for like 4-6 hours via ferry.

It's so amazing to live off the kindness of strangers. I found when I had a flat that I very much like to host. I like to offer food and drinks. I'm a poor chef but I enjoyed serving people and being able to have something to give. I think it's with that mindset that people have been so willing and eager to share.

No one I've met has been Christian, unless I knew them through Christian connections. It certainly makes me wonder. I mean, I've had to explain my faith to a lot of people, which is good for me (and hopefully for them), but I can't help but wonder why I encounter so few Christians. Are they just not opening up their homes via CouchSurfing? Have I only CouchSurfed with a small minority? I dunno.

In any case, I've been learning a lot. I've learned to live with little and with plenty, taking a lesson from the Apostle Paul. I'm also becoming more and more convinced that people are generally good. When left alone, people get worse and are positive that they don't like each other. But when people interact, their depth is revealed. They become worthwhile.

April 9

My first time using my Eurail pass did not disappoint. I spent the 12-hour journey from Paris to Vienna with a Frenchman (originally from Austria) and a second-generation Asian Parisian who spoke considerably better English. We discussed everything from accents to food to wine to beer to travel. I was expecting to be in trouble when the ticket checker informed me that there were no electrical outlets on board, but it turned out that I had no need to watch shows on my porcuter. They were enough company. And since this overnight train was underbooked, each of us had one extra seat to prop our feet on. Still not as good as a couchette or sleeper, but it was endurable. 

April 7

In my desire to revisit feelings I used to have, I did not realize that I had matured enough to leave them behind. I wanted to write more poetry about a girl I see in my travels, but my focus just isn't on that anymore. I don't really like it as much like this. I had a fondness for the lonely depression, for my mind idealizing people I see. Maybe I'm just not insecure? Maybe I know myself and my tastes too much... Maybe the only time I've liked, really liked someone, and they seemed the right type (physically, mentally, spiritually), God never gave the green light, so I never went for it. Thing is, I don't see that type of human often, the kind that seem to match me. Only the once, really. So that is why, in the most romantic city in the world, I don't daydream about meeting the love of my life. It's too implausible. To be clear, I'm not worried about finding a girl who finds me attractive enough to date or marry. That's not a fear at all. It's just that, as one of my friends put it to another when asked why I was still single, I am too picky. 

I'm not willing to settle for less, not in the important stuff. I wasn't willing to stay at home instead of traveling Europe, even though I had a job and my friends were also all moving back to the area. All of this makes me better as a person, I think. And if I'm willing to sacrifice friendships, relationships, security, and ease of living in order to better myself, then I most certainly would expect similar standards in the girl I end up with. 

No Stressing

I've been foolish lately with trying to be out and doing things rather than stopping and taking them in, which was kinda the entire point of going to Europe for three months instead of a week or two.

I always knew that stress was bad. Worries and anxieties do not belong to us. As Christians, we are to surrender them, just as we surrender the rest of our lives. But it does become difficult while traveling. On CouchSurfing.org, a website I've come to love, I made a public request for a place to stay for a few nights. Everyone I asked said "no", but one guy messaged me separately and offered for me to live in his apartment, since he's temporarily in the States. I replied "YES" an hour afterwards and was very excited, though the British guys I was staying with likened it to the movie Taken. 

So I told friends in the area to call off the search for a place for me to stay and it was nice. Then I realized that my bus didn't arrive in Paris till 10 PM and the station was across Paris from the apartment. Then I realized that I still hadn't gotten a reply back to confirm I could even stay in the apartment. On top of this, I was told that there was an area popular for mugging near the apartment that I needed to try to avoid. So I woke up this morning checking my email constantly, knowing that it would be foolish to assume I'd have wifi on my way there.

So I thought of panicking, of being anxious, of stressing. But that belongs to The Lord. So I decided to trust Him and (with a hand motion) thrust it towards Him, away from me. Because stress is His, just as my hopes and dreams for tomorrow are. 

Then today I made it to my bus. Then I found that choosing the back of the partially-filled bus gave me the back row to myself. Then I found a power outlet and wifi. Then I got an email from the Parisian about the apartment, and my friends there offered to make room for me for the night. All is well and was always going to be so because God makes a way for those He loves.