South Carolinians…

A funny thing happened to me on my way to the bar the other day.

Long Hop is probably the ONLY American bar in the 6th Arrondisement, if not the only one in Paris and being the obnoxious American tourists that we are, some of my friends and I thought it would be fun to go over there and watch the Eagles play. (Yay American football!)

Late as usual I caught up with my friend Meghan to meet everyone at Long Hop. On our way a young guy who looked like he could use a shower (ironically didn’t smell like it though) approached us and made an attempt to ask in his terrible French,

“Parlez-vous anglais ?”

His British accent reeked through every word and it was clear not just by what he was asking but how he asked that this was probably the only French phrase he knew how to say.

We replied “yeah”  to the  harmless yellow-toothed traveler. Delighted to find native English speakers, Traveler-Man replied ever so enthusiastically,

“Oh wicked! Hate to trouble you but do you know of any cheap living spaces I could stay in for the night?”

Sadly we didn’t have an answer for him. After learning that he was traveling alone and with not a lot of money in his pocket we politely explained that we were staying at the Belloy Saint Germain up the block but that we also had no idea how much it costs nightly. After suggesting hostels he replied,

“Yeah they’re like 25 Euro a night, fuckin’ bullocks! Really bloody rip you off here in Paris don’t they?”

He soon realized we couldn’t really help him and at that he made some small conversation asking us where we’re from and such. We both sheepishly replied America, (like it wasn’t obvious), I from New York (not really) and Meghan from Maryland. By the look on Travel Guy’s face he had never heard of Maryland.

“Where abouts are you from?” I asked.

“Oh I’m from the States too!” he exclaimed urgently.

Meghan and I looked at each other, I mean this guy was CLEARLY British, he said “wicked” “bullocks” and “bloody” in conversation, might as well have been the Queen or whatever.

“Really?” We both looked skeptical.

“Yeah, South Carolina.”

“Ohh….” Meghan paused, “you don’t have an accent.”

He was definitely definitely definitely definitely not from South Carolina………..

“Oh, yeah guess I’ll have to work on that.” he replied. “Anyway have safe travels hey. Cheers!”

Cheers? CHEERS?!? Dude was British.

WTF Paris?!

Whilst eating my nutella and banana crêpe on the streets of Paris,  I noticed a group of very trendy Parisian high schoolers laughing and looking cool. I was jealous I’ll admit it. Upon further observation, I realized what this pair of cigarette holding girls  were laughing at:

A poor, toothless beggar woman!

Not only were they laughing at her, they were taunting her! She was begging random walkers on the street, for directions, food, money, Jesus, anything and these girls would follow her, poke her in the shoulders and run away on their awkward skinny scissor legs and cackle to themselves. ‘Cause didn’t you know, jeering at those less fortunate than you is soooo totally cool! This sight was beyond appalling that I almost lost my appetite and threw my crêpe  away….  almost.

I admired their style until I noticed their attitude so here is the moral of this story:

Class and cool are not found in the clothing that you wear, but in the way in which you carry yourself… Furthermore, DON’T FUCKING TAUNT HOMELESS PEOPLE  BECAUSE THAT’S MEAN.

Onthaal aan Rotterdam

On Thursday we woke up at 6:00 am to catch a 3-hour train ride to Rotterdam in the Netherlands. Waking up at 6:00 after packing at 2:00 am is hard enough, maneuvering 24 people (12 of which were recovering from hangovers) on two metro rides to the train station while it’s still dark out is a fucking nightmare.

The process of getting to Rotterdam involved: hassling workers at Starbucks, certain persons losing their train tickets,  eating pain au chocolates and taking restless naps on the once three now four hour train ride due to an accident in Brussels.

When we arrived, we walked to our hotel and were immediately taken aback by the lobby which pretty much doubled as a North African trade goods store. I felt right at home.

Here’s what I mean:

We ate lots of Middle Eastern food at the hotel’s adjacent restaurant, and went to the National Architecture Institute for some class time. Here’s some info about that:

“The NAI moved into its current premises in 1993. The building is situated at the edge of the Museumpark in the center of Rotterdam and was designed by Jo Coenen.
The NAI stores important architecture archives and collections, and makes them accessible to the public.”

Some people were late for class, but nobody was really surprised considering there was a “Coffee Shop” on the same block as our hotel. I checked it out on the way back from dinner and ….

Soooo, after checking the sights, like the Kubus Woningen (Cube Houses) and the Santa Clause Statue, also known as Dwarf Buttplug, (you’ll see what I mean), most of us napped, and whoever didn’t nap smoked.

We got dinner at a Tex-Mex restaurant and after a Hyper Jack, two Bloody Marys and a veggie taco I was ready for bed.

The Bazar Hotel has themed rooms and fortunately Liz and I were situated in the Jesus and Mary room (yes!!), complete with Spanish comic strip wallpaper and Jesus head knobs. I got into bed by 2:00 am and was so tired that our glow-in-the-dark Mary shrine didn’t even keep me up.

The following morning, Liz and I got up at 6:00 AM (again) to make the train back to Paris. So that’s what it feels like to spend 18 hours in the Netherlands.

Celery Salt & Sick Cars

When flying Air France I ordered tomato juice.  Along with my juice they brought me this.

Eat your heart out Malaysia Airlines, Air France knows what’s up. Celery salt? Brilliant!

On a completely unrelated note, I fell in love with this Mustang parked on the sidewalk no more than five feet from a puddle of vomit. Now I just need a leather bag to match.

 

Ooh La La

Our first night in Paris was a perfect prelude to our two-week stay.

After a delayed flight we finally landed at 4:30 and endured the Parisian traffic for a good hour before arriving at our hotel. Because of our setback during the first half of the day we only had 25 minutes to get dressed up for dinner, (we were notified by our teachers that dinner would be a formal affair), and the Belloy Saint Germain’s unaccommodating tight spaces didn’t exactly help our situation. To illustrate just how small the hotel is Franklin had to stack her suitcases on top of one another and take her backpack off in order to fit just herself in the elevator. Her last words?

“I’m not making it out of this elevator alive.”

By the time Liz and I stumbled into our room, we only had 15 minutes to get ready. We threw our luggage down, dropped trou’, got dressed and hauled ass to the bus that was waiting for us a few blocks away.

On our ride we were so star-struck by the sights; the Eiffel Tower and the Place de la Concord just to mention a few, we didn’t realize that our bus pulled into a port on the Seine River.

A dinner-cruise in Paris is definitely rolling up in style and getting there 20 minutes late ups it to being fashionable. Once seated three waiters served us hors d’oeuvres and surrounded us with bottles of wine, glasses of champagne and Chombard, (my favorite liqueur), and liters of Evian. (Who drinks tap water anyway, we’re just way too classy.)

We most definitely wined and dined as the waiters kept replacing empty wine bottles with full ones, and the sights were so outstanding that we were simply thunderstruck, yes thunderstruck at the whole experience!

We were all feeling prettttyy good by the time Liz finished an entire bottle of red and dessert, a flaming plate of Crepes façon Suzette, was served, that we all got up and ended the night with a Delaware and creepy 40 yr. old men dance party under the Eiffel Tower.

All in all, was a very very good night.

By the way, the first thing I heard when I landed in Paris: “Ooh la la”, unsurprisingly spoken by a French construction worker… I love it here.

Postscript: No Allie Franklins were hurt during our stay in Paris. Just a stolen wallet but that’s another story.

Last night in Stockholm & Breaking Swedish Law

An interesting observation about Sweden is that the Swedes are actually lawful people: they don’t  jay walk, taxi drivers refuse to hold more than 4 passengers, people actually do not trespass when signs forbid it, and when in a moving vehicle, you absolutely MUST wear your seat belt, even in the back.

I’m telling you this only to exemplify how badass my friends and I are, because we broke not just one, but ALL these rules in just a few hours…yessir.

To start off the night we got all dolled up to go to the old village of Gamla Stan for dinner at Fem Sma Hus, or Five Small Houses. After sipping wine and eating our fig-crusted goat cheese with honey sauce and beats or smoked salmon with cucumber pesto we thought we’d end the night at Stockholm’s famous Absolute Icebar.

Outside, we jay walked and crossed at the red man (Broken Swedish Law #1) and waited at the street corner for a cab. When it came to pick the last five of us up the cabdriver kept repeating,

“Sorry only four, only four! It’s against the law to hold more than that”

After lots of coaxing and pleading he finally agreed to taking all five of us as long as someone kept there head down and being the smallest one I volunteered. Plus we’re way too badass for seat belts (Broken Swedish Laws #2 & #3)

We finally, got to the Nordic Sea Hotel, paid 140 Kronor ( about $18 ) and before I knew it a synthetic fur-trimmed parka poncho, (felt like an enormous sleeping bag) was thrown on my friends and me, and via highly futuristic automatic door portals with their own sound effects, we entered the ice bar.

The icebar is pretty much self-explanatory, everything from the tables, to the chandelier to cups are made from blocks of ice obtained by cutting into a frozen river found in the North of Sweden. We ordered our Absolute drinks and proceeded to look like a little community of hooded gnomes who enjoy flavored vodka way too much.

Observe:

Ze Icebar

Dranks

"Isen" = "Ice"

Gnome Community

Feeling good with Absolute in our bellies and no money in our pockets, Liz, Matt, Stacey, A-Ron, and I decided to walk back to the hostel. The walk was so beautiful along the Norrström Waterway that we couldn’t resist trespassing through the Royal Palace Grounds along with some other official-looking buildings. (Broken Swedish Law #4) While deliberately breaking the law we thought snow angels were appropriate and conducted a snow angel making contest. During the contest Aaron looked up and said,

“We’re making snow angels infront of the Royal Palace in Stockholm.”

He definitely summed it up.

The view that night

Moral of the story: Breaking the law is fun!!!! No but really, it’s just too easy to do in Sweden.

Cheers!

Göteborg: So Fancy Ya

There are only 100 Design Hotels in the world and I happened to stay in only the sickest one! The Avalon Hotel is out of control, and after sleeping on a cot for 4 days I felt beyond pampered. We ooh’d and ah’d just at its location; right by the metro and right across the street from a pizza place, felafel place, and a delicious pasta eatery. Then we went inside and went nuts! The hotel has a Feng-Shui award, the owner hand selected every piece of furniture, and everything is state of the art. (We’re talking Bang & Olufsen electronics). The minibar came fully stocked with bottles of champagne too! I didn’t do damage or anything…

my floor

Facts about the Hotel:

- There are 4 different kinds of pillows on the bed varing from goose-down pillows to microfiber

- The sheets are 100%, 1000-thread count Egyptian Cotton

- 24 rooms have their own mini spa and gym

- There’s a master suite penthouse that we got to check out, with a private rooftop pool that overlooks the entire city

- Rain simulated showerheads….

Need. I. Say. More…

Plus d’images:

my floor

my room

our bathroom

in the tub, the water drips down those metal plates on the sides

Smorgasbord

If you ever find yourself eating buttered potatoes drowned in cream sauce with a side of reindeer, salad with cream dressing, coleslaw and bread, sweetheart… you’re probably in Sweden.

We went to this sweet ass market before going to Central Badet, (siiick Swedish spa with lots of Swedish nudity), and it was like stepping back in time. There were countless glass cases filled with exotic cheeses, meats, pastries, the closest America comes to this is through Whole Foods and don’t get me wrong I loooovvve Whole Foods, but its got nothing on Sweden.

Here are some pics for your viewing pleasure:

Saluhall Market

Inside

Swedes don't mess around

"I definitely ate too much cheese"

Swedish Fish are Not from Sweden

So it’s day four in Sweden now and thankfully I’m starting to look less like a tourist.

Here’s how…

• Wear a coat, a scarf, gloves and a somewhat stylish hat and boots

• Don’t say “excuse me” simply give a polite shove

• “Tack” is used for “thank you” and “hello”… and “goodbye”

• TGI Fridays is BUMPIN’ on the weekends, but don’t get caught nodding your head to the beat

• Order anything with horseradish or reindeer and always have wine with lunch;

• Know that the Swedish currency although spelled Kronor is, interestingly enough, pronounced “Corona”

• Never squeal in excitement when Glögg is offered, and expect it to only be offered during Christmas time. Glögg by the way is possibly the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted and what I would expect Potter’s butterbeer to taste like. It’s red wine mixed with cognac, sugar, cloves and cinnamon, served warm

• Say “Hey hey” when greeting others, “Hi” is faaaar too American

• Get naked not just in the communal shower in the spa, but in the sauna, steam room, and locker room too!

• Smile at Swedes, eye roll Americans

• NEVER, under ANY circumstances look like you’re cold, or even a bit chilly even when it’s –10˚ C

Vasamuseet

Sailing is a subject I like to act like I know a lot about, hence why I enjoyed the Vasamuseet so much.

Vasa is fucking sweet, and if you don’t know what Vasa is, allow me to explain. In summation, Vasa is a Nordic warship that sank in 1628. Apparently it only sailed for 20 – 30 minutes before dropping to the ocean floor which is actually kind of fortunate since most on board survived. (Viva la Sveden ya!)

So Tony and I took a cab from Skeppsholmen to Galärvarvet and after being so joyfully greeted by my class at the entrance of the Vasamuseet (Vasa Museum for all you non-Swedish speakers), I was blown away by a huge ship bow jutting out at me. The pictures definitely do not capture the grandiosity of it at all.

We took a tour and here are some fun facts about Vasa:

• Somehow the ship was completely intact when found in 1961, that even some of the skeletons found in it still had the shoes they died in tied securely on their boney feet.

• The bow has a huge lion on it as a symbol of the Swedish King, Gustavus Adolphus, a.k.a. The Lion of the North (Sweet ass!)

• The ship had two gun decks, which is part of the reason why it sank. It was really narrow and with two gun decks it was extremely top heavy.

• There were about 345 people aboard the ship: 200 soldiers and 145 crew members.

• They had a doctor and a priest for the dying and the dead, not just on Vasa but on ships in the 1600s in general. In fact they’d keep the dead on board until they’ve reached land to give them a proper funeral. Thoughtful yet eerie.

• Around 700 sculptors and ornaments surround the ship, which is almost entirely made of oak. Most of them relate, in a symbolic way, how King Gustave wished the world to see him and Sweden. So saucy ya that Gustave.

That’s all.