Today's is short and sweet. I lied. It's not sweet. Short and sweaty. That's more like it!
I got off the plane and found myself in a rainy France. I made my way to the subway station and after buying a few tickets I didn't need, I finally got the one I did. The ticket of doom.
What started out as a chill and nearly empty metro ride that was supposed to take about 15-20 minutes, ended up being a hot, sweaty, sticky, humid, stinky, and pain-inflicting sardine-packed hour-and-a-half long trip. I've done it before. In metros, in buses, even in vans in Mexico where I'd have a couple girls squeezed onto my lap so we could get from A to B. What made this different was the conducting. It didn't happen. Where at most stops you're there for up to 30 sec while people get on and off, our conductor, for whatever reason, kept us at every stop with the door open for up to twenty minutes. People were pissed, but they were respectful about it.
"Why isn't anyone complaining?" I thought. I feel like we as Americans are some of the most impatient people around. In that kind of situation, we wouldn't just stand in bitter silence like these composed French folk. We would start shouting obscenities into the nothing, at least five people would be chewing out the conductor indignantly, and maybe others would even vandalize.
I was able to chat with some Seattle folk on the metro as the three of us were fortunately squished against the wall together. It's incredible how seeing another American can sooth culture misplacement like cold aloe vera on a sunburn.
Obviously I made it off that silly metro (with a slightly injured foot) but I'm alive and sane and I learned a lesson on maintaining peace in the frustration.
My French sucks, man. It's obviously just because I haven't put in the time or been around it. I think this ignorant feeling is making me all the more want to learn it.
After I was able to buy a ticket (which by the way was miraculous since I didn't reserve a seat in advance like you're supposed to) I decided to meander out around rainy Paris with my suitcase and my backpack.
I walked about a quarter mile in the rain before I headed back and stopped in a pastry/bakery. I browsed the decadent yum-yums (pistachio pies and breads, macaroons, hazelnut cakes), buy I settled on a prosciutto baguette with marsclpon type cheese and arugula, lettuce, tomatoes, and the bread had baked fig in it. It was a pre-made ready to take one, so the only three phrases I had to use were "Bonjour" "Si vous plait" and "Merci beaucoup". That sandwhich though... Augh. So. Good.
I ate my baguette back at the train station by a French young man working on his computer. After I finished my divine sandwich, it was nappy time. The boy looked up from his laptop and offered in French and then English (when I didn't respond appropriately) to watch my stuff as he watched me struggle to prepare for a nap in a way that no one could steal my two pieces of luggage. I told him "Merci" and nap I did. I was half asleep for a solid two hours, when abruptly I jumped up thinking I missed the trains. Typical. I must've appeared as a scatter-brained American, as he had to remind me of my water bottle I left. "Merci! Bon voyage" which I thought was a thing? But he didn't reply with anything.
At the train station In Paris it appears that prime cardio health in their passengers is a priority. How, you ask?
The train you will be departing on is not reflected on the departure board until 20 min before take off. It takes just that to get to your seat and get your luggage loaded if you're on car #16 on Train 17. People are booking-it across the long platforms with their luggage whipping people behind them. It's mad. Mad, I tell you. Prime heart condition though.
When I got on my train I was seated at a diner style table with a very sweet, well-to-do older couple from Guadalajara, Mexico who brought their daughter on a trip to tour Europe for her 15th birthday. They were really cute and really good at mimicking accents from all over Mexico.
I realized on the train that 20:30 was not the duration of the trip (as it would be on an airplane ticket), but rather the ETA. I had texted Lichita at the Paris station via wifi to tell her I'd be in tomorrow. On the train, seeing the stop schedule board is when I realized my mistake. I had no way of telling her I was arriving in Barcelona tonight until I was already in Barcelona.
Tune in next time for Barcelona evening mishaps, okayhaps, and besthaps.
Tuesday, May 31, 2016
Monday, May 30, 2016
Really Quick in Reykjavík
I had three goals today:
1) Coffee (only "slept" an hour on the plane, which I'm usually so good at)
2) A wall plug adapter (literally have 3 that I forgot in a box back home)
3) Restaurant food (because canabalism is still frowned upon)
When I bought my bus tickets to make those goals happen, the sweet girl who charged me suggested just walking around downtown Reykjavík for the day.
Reykjavík is the capital city of Iceland. I don't know why I had it in my lil Lynda brain that I would be cruising around a little port town. Sure, it has a port, but a town it is by no means. It reminded me a lot of a mini San Fran. Cute houses close together, had a warf, lots of big ships at a few piers, and so many overpriced shops. I only walked six miles today, but it felt like so much more with my 30lb backpack and slip-on shoes. Glad I started with this reminder of packing lighter because I know that with triple the daily walking on the Camino I'll be doing in just two weeks, I would keel over and die if I did it with today's level of preparation. Learning as I go. (Paths taken indicated by turquoise lines on map)
Java was a priority, so that was to be my first stop. I navigated my way into downtown from the bus station by foot. Almost every sign is written in Icelandic. Like I said in my former post, I love it! I love seeing and hearing a foreign language used. Especially a rare one. It gives the language part of my brain a little, coochie-coo tickle. But that same part of my brain hasn't been tickled like this in over 5 years. Any countries I've been to within the past five years have been where the two languages I actually know are used. But throw some new nordic letters in there (æ, ö, ù) and I can't get around as easy as usual. It was humbling to feel ignorant to language again.
Coffee. Kaffi. It happened, it satisfied. The cafe I went to was just like some of ours in the states where the baristas are hipsters that are indiffernt about the customers' needs. I'll admit, since that was my first encounter outside of the airport interacting, I assumed that Icelanders are just cold. They're not. It's just those snooty baristas. You know. Makes me wonder how many times I've done something oblivious or rude as an American and have people stereotype Americans because of me.
One thing I surely did note interpersonally, from the airport all the way throughout my Reykjavík exploration, is that there seems to not be any words for "excuse me" or "pardon me" in their language... or at least they don't care to use it. Whether it's scooting by or getting your attention, they just cut in front of you silently or they'll just begin their question or statement without you even looking at them. I wasn't offended, just found it to be different than both cultures I'm accustom to. And I'm not basing this on one instance, I looked for it in all my interactions today. Ha
I was on a purple, baby unicorn chase for that adapter dealio. No one seemed to know exactly where to get one, which I get if you're a local and already have the correct outlet plug on all your gizmos. Looking for the adapter alone was half my walking today. In circles I went. Finally a local older gent who overheard a young boy in the minimart giving me wrong directions chased me down in his car to tell me in Icelandic and throwing in the English word "leave" where I needed to go. That was a God send. I was caught off guard at first since he drove his car onto the sidewalk where I was walking to instruct me, but I probably would've walked twice as much in a flury had he not. (Location of instance indicated by lime green dot on map).
Iceland has native, white, nordic folk as well as even more native eskimos that would better hold the title as indigenous. I only heard the latter speaking a few times--there weren't as many in the city--but it appears that they speak their very own language.
The place where I stopped for lunch was owned by an indigenous lady and her husband. She has to be at least trilingual. I ordered the soup of the day. She said it has "all kinds of seafood in it". I didn't ask... I just ate. Soup and bread. "You're ready to pay? Okay... It will be... 14,000" Oh! The currency they use here is ISK. My lunch was 14,000 ISK=$11 USD. It's funky though hearing those prices!
After I finished eating and charging my phone a little in the restaurant, it was time to explore.
I walked around and took the most shameful selfies... Yep... With a selfie stick. I know some people love to take selfies and it's like nothing, but I get so embarrassed. Of course I'll take them for SnapChat or whatever, but I try to be as inconspicuous as possible. Check my surroundings... No one's watching... No one's really around... Good to go.
Not this time. I blushed and awkwardly as I took selfies by myself with that ridiculous (yet helpful--thanks Mom) selfie stick.
"You didn't have to." You're right, I didn't. But I remember six years ago looking through all the pictures I took in Europe and wishing more of them had people in them. After all, it's not the fancy building or the rustic door that's significant, it's the moment. I and the people I am with are what make a moment. So since you, dear reader, are not here to be in these selfies with me, I have to record the moment by myself. Shamefully. Ha (My future self will appreciate it)
(The red dots on the map are where shameful selfies happened)
I hiked up a street to see the cool Hallgrímskirkja Church that peeks & peaks up over the rest of the city, all pointy and grey. It had a fancy pipe organ and it was neat seeing how the Bible is written in Icelandic. Guð er alls staðar (God is everywhere).
After seeing the church, I was tuckered out. Headed to the old park from the 1800's that surrounds this big ole pond with monstrous geese (they were the size of my grown Golden Retriever at home!!). I took more selfies with the statues, but only because some were absurd and deserved my unapproving looks. The one with the couple that is hollowed out was plain weird.
Then I colored. Then I napped.
(And the blue dot is where I took that glorious sun nap)
Bus brought me to the airport and here I sit telling you about my day. Tomorrow morn I arrive in Paris. My goal is to try to get to Barcelona ASAP to see Lichita & Edu. Trains are a little funky and my French is almost non-existent, but my God goes with me, as Lichita kindly reminded me this morning. I'm hoping this trip (especially being alone for so much of it) will instill in me a greater awareness of the fact that I am the daughter of a Heavenly Father who never let's me go alone. And protects me when I'm being naïve. And provides for me when unexpected costs come up.
I brought a book along that talks about following Christ and not just being a fan. I'm sure having brought it on this specific trip is going to have an important role.
Okay, until next time. :-)
1) Coffee (only "slept" an hour on the plane, which I'm usually so good at)
2) A wall plug adapter (literally have 3 that I forgot in a box back home)
3) Restaurant food (because canabalism is still frowned upon)
When I bought my bus tickets to make those goals happen, the sweet girl who charged me suggested just walking around downtown Reykjavík for the day.
Reykjavík is the capital city of Iceland. I don't know why I had it in my lil Lynda brain that I would be cruising around a little port town. Sure, it has a port, but a town it is by no means. It reminded me a lot of a mini San Fran. Cute houses close together, had a warf, lots of big ships at a few piers, and so many overpriced shops. I only walked six miles today, but it felt like so much more with my 30lb backpack and slip-on shoes. Glad I started with this reminder of packing lighter because I know that with triple the daily walking on the Camino I'll be doing in just two weeks, I would keel over and die if I did it with today's level of preparation. Learning as I go. (Paths taken indicated by turquoise lines on map)
Java was a priority, so that was to be my first stop. I navigated my way into downtown from the bus station by foot. Almost every sign is written in Icelandic. Like I said in my former post, I love it! I love seeing and hearing a foreign language used. Especially a rare one. It gives the language part of my brain a little, coochie-coo tickle. But that same part of my brain hasn't been tickled like this in over 5 years. Any countries I've been to within the past five years have been where the two languages I actually know are used. But throw some new nordic letters in there (æ, ö, ù) and I can't get around as easy as usual. It was humbling to feel ignorant to language again.
Coffee. Kaffi. It happened, it satisfied. The cafe I went to was just like some of ours in the states where the baristas are hipsters that are indiffernt about the customers' needs. I'll admit, since that was my first encounter outside of the airport interacting, I assumed that Icelanders are just cold. They're not. It's just those snooty baristas. You know. Makes me wonder how many times I've done something oblivious or rude as an American and have people stereotype Americans because of me.
One thing I surely did note interpersonally, from the airport all the way throughout my Reykjavík exploration, is that there seems to not be any words for "excuse me" or "pardon me" in their language... or at least they don't care to use it. Whether it's scooting by or getting your attention, they just cut in front of you silently or they'll just begin their question or statement without you even looking at them. I wasn't offended, just found it to be different than both cultures I'm accustom to. And I'm not basing this on one instance, I looked for it in all my interactions today. Ha
I was on a purple, baby unicorn chase for that adapter dealio. No one seemed to know exactly where to get one, which I get if you're a local and already have the correct outlet plug on all your gizmos. Looking for the adapter alone was half my walking today. In circles I went. Finally a local older gent who overheard a young boy in the minimart giving me wrong directions chased me down in his car to tell me in Icelandic and throwing in the English word "leave" where I needed to go. That was a God send. I was caught off guard at first since he drove his car onto the sidewalk where I was walking to instruct me, but I probably would've walked twice as much in a flury had he not. (Location of instance indicated by lime green dot on map).
Iceland has native, white, nordic folk as well as even more native eskimos that would better hold the title as indigenous. I only heard the latter speaking a few times--there weren't as many in the city--but it appears that they speak their very own language.
The place where I stopped for lunch was owned by an indigenous lady and her husband. She has to be at least trilingual. I ordered the soup of the day. She said it has "all kinds of seafood in it". I didn't ask... I just ate. Soup and bread. "You're ready to pay? Okay... It will be... 14,000" Oh! The currency they use here is ISK. My lunch was 14,000 ISK=$11 USD. It's funky though hearing those prices!
After I finished eating and charging my phone a little in the restaurant, it was time to explore.
I walked around and took the most shameful selfies... Yep... With a selfie stick. I know some people love to take selfies and it's like nothing, but I get so embarrassed. Of course I'll take them for SnapChat or whatever, but I try to be as inconspicuous as possible. Check my surroundings... No one's watching... No one's really around... Good to go.
Not this time. I blushed and awkwardly as I took selfies by myself with that ridiculous (yet helpful--thanks Mom) selfie stick.
"You didn't have to." You're right, I didn't. But I remember six years ago looking through all the pictures I took in Europe and wishing more of them had people in them. After all, it's not the fancy building or the rustic door that's significant, it's the moment. I and the people I am with are what make a moment. So since you, dear reader, are not here to be in these selfies with me, I have to record the moment by myself. Shamefully. Ha (My future self will appreciate it)
(The red dots on the map are where shameful selfies happened)
I hiked up a street to see the cool Hallgrímskirkja Church that peeks & peaks up over the rest of the city, all pointy and grey. It had a fancy pipe organ and it was neat seeing how the Bible is written in Icelandic. Guð er alls staðar (God is everywhere).
After seeing the church, I was tuckered out. Headed to the old park from the 1800's that surrounds this big ole pond with monstrous geese (they were the size of my grown Golden Retriever at home!!). I took more selfies with the statues, but only because some were absurd and deserved my unapproving looks. The one with the couple that is hollowed out was plain weird.
Then I colored. Then I napped.
(And the blue dot is where I took that glorious sun nap)
Bus brought me to the airport and here I sit telling you about my day. Tomorrow morn I arrive in Paris. My goal is to try to get to Barcelona ASAP to see Lichita & Edu. Trains are a little funky and my French is almost non-existent, but my God goes with me, as Lichita kindly reminded me this morning. I'm hoping this trip (especially being alone for so much of it) will instill in me a greater awareness of the fact that I am the daughter of a Heavenly Father who never let's me go alone. And protects me when I'm being naïve. And provides for me when unexpected costs come up.
I brought a book along that talks about following Christ and not just being a fan. I'm sure having brought it on this specific trip is going to have an important role.
Okay, until next time. :-)
On a plane
On a plane, here I go
To a place I've yet to know
Eyes are wide and mouth is tight
As I wait to take this flight
Above the clouds, across the sea
Is where this metal bird takes me
And when the ground I touch once more
I'll peer upon a foreign shore
Into the waves so big and wide
Reminding me of my great stride
Abandoned family, friends and ways
I slip to a reminiscent haze
For when return I surely make
This will not seem such a mistake
So onward plane! Here we go
To the place I've yet to know
When I get as anxious, as I was right before my flight, apparently I start to resemble Dr. Seuss.
I'm now in Keflavík, Iceland.
The only things I knew of Iceland up to this point were anything I watched in The Secret Life of Walter Mitty (shout-out to MFM for having me watch it--love you!). The movie, starring Ben Stiller, depicts Iceland as this beautiful, green, and surprisingly cultured island. I've wanted to come here ever since. Fortunately, I have an 18 hr layover here on my flight to Paris, so... Here I go!
I've been spending the past half hour that I've been waiting on this bus taking advantage of the complimentary wifi (that will be scarce from now on) to look up how I'm going to venture around town. Streets have Icelandic names like Lokastígur and Austurstræti--pronounced with that toothy, tonguey, throaty viking sound. Being that these names are completely foreign to me and rough to stick in my easily-retrievable memory bank, it was imperative that I jotted down all the cafes/restaurants/places I'd like to see in downtown Reykjavík and how to get there. Thank you Google Maps! You're on it.
What I love most about Iceland so far having been here a whopping 3 hours in the airport:
The locals look like me! Almost everyone looks like my two younger sibling and I. Button-up noses and high cheekbones included. Our Nordic-Viking side is pretty prominent in my mom's maiden Person side of the fam. These Icelandic vikings are surely 10 generation distant relatives. Surely.
I've just never been in a place where so many people could easily pass for a sibling, cousin, or uncle of mine. Funky.
I like listening to the locals speak Icelandic. They use it certainly more than English, which I appreciate. I respect seeing indigenous tongues preserved. It resembles a soft German accent.
Bee-tee-dubs, I had a fantastic week with my favorite and only nephew, my fur niece, and my big brother and sister-in-law and their families. Minnesota is a pretty neat place with those particular people living there. Can't wait to return. :-)
Half hour left of this bus journey to downtown. You might just get two posts today.
You lucky dog, you!
To a place I've yet to know
Eyes are wide and mouth is tight
As I wait to take this flight
Above the clouds, across the sea
Is where this metal bird takes me
And when the ground I touch once more
I'll peer upon a foreign shore
Into the waves so big and wide
Reminding me of my great stride
Abandoned family, friends and ways
I slip to a reminiscent haze
For when return I surely make
This will not seem such a mistake
So onward plane! Here we go
To the place I've yet to know
When I get as anxious, as I was right before my flight, apparently I start to resemble Dr. Seuss.
I'm now in Keflavík, Iceland.
The only things I knew of Iceland up to this point were anything I watched in The Secret Life of Walter Mitty (shout-out to MFM for having me watch it--love you!). The movie, starring Ben Stiller, depicts Iceland as this beautiful, green, and surprisingly cultured island. I've wanted to come here ever since. Fortunately, I have an 18 hr layover here on my flight to Paris, so... Here I go!
I've been spending the past half hour that I've been waiting on this bus taking advantage of the complimentary wifi (that will be scarce from now on) to look up how I'm going to venture around town. Streets have Icelandic names like Lokastígur and Austurstræti--pronounced with that toothy, tonguey, throaty viking sound. Being that these names are completely foreign to me and rough to stick in my easily-retrievable memory bank, it was imperative that I jotted down all the cafes/restaurants/places I'd like to see in downtown Reykjavík and how to get there. Thank you Google Maps! You're on it.
What I love most about Iceland so far having been here a whopping 3 hours in the airport:
The locals look like me! Almost everyone looks like my two younger sibling and I. Button-up noses and high cheekbones included. Our Nordic-Viking side is pretty prominent in my mom's maiden Person side of the fam. These Icelandic vikings are surely 10 generation distant relatives. Surely.
I've just never been in a place where so many people could easily pass for a sibling, cousin, or uncle of mine. Funky.
I like listening to the locals speak Icelandic. They use it certainly more than English, which I appreciate. I respect seeing indigenous tongues preserved. It resembles a soft German accent.
Bee-tee-dubs, I had a fantastic week with my favorite and only nephew, my fur niece, and my big brother and sister-in-law and their families. Minnesota is a pretty neat place with those particular people living there. Can't wait to return. :-)
Half hour left of this bus journey to downtown. You might just get two posts today.
You lucky dog, you!
Wednesday, May 4, 2016
It's going to happen
It started with a bold statement: "I'm moving to Spain this summer."
Flights were not booked, visas were not applied for, living arrangements had not been made--no preparation whatsoever had been considered. But I was going.
It became a mantra that I would not only tell myself, but anyone who asked (or didn't).
Where did that first absurd domino statement come from though?
I think the younger Lynda in this video answers that best:
Any time I have heard clearly from Yahweh it has been a spontaneous but strong thought in my head that seems crazy to do alone, but I foresee a strong remorse if I do not follow through. As cliché as it sounds, it's the kind of act that takes a "leap of faith"--an act that starts with a thought that I know I didn't make up in my brain.
I have a handful of personally substantial instances that I can recollect:
I'm not always obedient though. This year's been a rough one. I've been told I come across to people like I have my life together, but honestly I often feel only held together by Him. Even when I go through long seasons of neglecting time with Him in prayer and in His Scriptures, He still continues to bless my life with good surprises and show me unconditional love through the people that surround me.
His love has always been an unrelenting one for me. From creation, when He designed the tulip in a way He knew I would love to look at. On the cross, when He paid with His bloodshed for the pardon of the offenses I would commit at a later time. In Heaven, where even He says that He is preparing a place for me. And here, where He fills my life with wonderful opportunities and the best people simply because He loves me, no matter what I am doing or not doing.
So I am going to listen to Him on this. Even though not everything is arranged. Even though the finances aren't all there. Even though a million things could still go wrong. I am trusting in my Heavenly Father to provide because I know He is the God who sees me and who loves me unconditionally.
So I know it's going to happen.
Tickets are bought. Departure is May 24th from California, May 31st from the U.S.
I arrive in Paris on June 1st with my luggage and three months to occupy Europe.
Tentative plans:
If you care to contact me during that time I will also be using/checking my email as often as the blog is updated: davislynda@live.com
I would totally appreciate encouragement on this journey, or even just a check-in to know I'm still cared for, so don't hesitate to email if you have the desire. It could just be that I get the message on the day I'm ready to give up.
Thanks for your care or curiosity! Both are welcomed and appreciated.
-Lyn
Flights were not booked, visas were not applied for, living arrangements had not been made--no preparation whatsoever had been considered. But I was going.
It became a mantra that I would not only tell myself, but anyone who asked (or didn't).
Where did that first absurd domino statement come from though?
I think the younger Lynda in this video answers that best:
Any time I have heard clearly from Yahweh it has been a spontaneous but strong thought in my head that seems crazy to do alone, but I foresee a strong remorse if I do not follow through. As cliché as it sounds, it's the kind of act that takes a "leap of faith"--an act that starts with a thought that I know I didn't make up in my brain.
I have a handful of personally substantial instances that I can recollect:
- Moving to Mexico after high school
- Praying with fervor for a man that was blind
- Giving my car away to a missionary
- ...and now this.
I'm not always obedient though. This year's been a rough one. I've been told I come across to people like I have my life together, but honestly I often feel only held together by Him. Even when I go through long seasons of neglecting time with Him in prayer and in His Scriptures, He still continues to bless my life with good surprises and show me unconditional love through the people that surround me.
His love has always been an unrelenting one for me. From creation, when He designed the tulip in a way He knew I would love to look at. On the cross, when He paid with His bloodshed for the pardon of the offenses I would commit at a later time. In Heaven, where even He says that He is preparing a place for me. And here, where He fills my life with wonderful opportunities and the best people simply because He loves me, no matter what I am doing or not doing.
So I am going to listen to Him on this. Even though not everything is arranged. Even though the finances aren't all there. Even though a million things could still go wrong. I am trusting in my Heavenly Father to provide because I know He is the God who sees me and who loves me unconditionally.
So I know it's going to happen.
Tickets are bought. Departure is May 24th from California, May 31st from the U.S.
I arrive in Paris on June 1st with my luggage and three months to occupy Europe.
Tentative plans:
- Meet with my friends J & E in Italy
- Meet with my friends A, EF, S, & C in Barcelona
- Take my admissions test/personal interview for the nursing program in Madrid on June 13th
- Walk the 500 mile Camino de Santiago solo for up to 30 days
- Job hunt and sight-see
- Come back to apply for visa in San Fran in Sept
- Get back to Spain as soon as that finishes processing
- That I would trust in His provision
- That I would be alert and protected in my travels
If you care to contact me during that time I will also be using/checking my email as often as the blog is updated: davislynda@live.com
I would totally appreciate encouragement on this journey, or even just a check-in to know I'm still cared for, so don't hesitate to email if you have the desire. It could just be that I get the message on the day I'm ready to give up.
Thanks for your care or curiosity! Both are welcomed and appreciated.
-Lyn
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