Culminating Chef-d'oeuvre!

Our video depicting the 2 month adventure we shared. Try this link for better quality: https://vimeo.com/88404039

La Dolce Vita With my Cuz

Ayayay!! Where did the 63 days go?

Today I’m writing this post from the sofa in my parents’ house instead of on some train or in one of our many “homes” that are scattered all over the European continent. Since our return last Wednesday, we’ve experienced beautiful reunions and have been reintroduced to all the American items we began to so sorely miss while abroad i.e. Mexican food, our beds, our wardrobes etc.

As a result- and I can only speak for myself- I’ve felt really distracted. This blog post will offer the reflection that is necessary after such an adventure. It helps to put feelings into words and hopefully (if I do a good job) I can return to these words and I’ll feel the flickers of memories as they resurface.

Before I try to sort out the mixed emotions that I’m left with, I simply must offer a few straightforward descriptions of our time in Italy. Both Liv and I agreed that it was our favorite of the countries we visited. The best way that I can describe it is with the Goldilocks allegory. As you know, Goldilocks tries 2 porriges, 2 chairs, 2 beds, etc. and each one isn’t just exactly to her liking. Then, she tries and third and it jives “just right”. For me, Italy is the proverbial third porridge, chair, bed, while the other countries where I’ve lived are the other 2 near perfect alternatives.

Take the language for example: when living in Spain, I adored the bouncy, wide-open, floppy castellano of the Spaniards, but I really didn’t like the seemingly lazy syllables at the end of words. (Why can’t you say pes-ca-do instead of pes-cau?) Now take French: the French do an exquisite job of articulating, but as a result, the francophone must make those, pointy, pinchy, and altogether unbecoming pursed lips. Italian, however, is the perfect marriage of the two: precise, lively, animated- like music to our ears. Even the words to describe music come from Italian and they illustrate perfectly the harmony achieved in this language. Staccato when spoken sounds intentional and delicate, while largo sounds relaxed and mellow. Perfecto!

Now take the cuisine: another perfect marriage of the Mediterranean diet that I experienced in Spain and the propensity for richness that I’ve encountered in France. Here is a place where I’d drink their olive oil as if it were wine and their wine as if it were water. In Italy, we ate pizza and paninis day after day without pause or remorse. We’d wake up in the morning and rejoice that another day had started because that meant that we’d get to try new flavors of gelato. We both agreed hands down that our best meals where in Italian homes- courtesy of our friends in Bologna and Rome. Our last night in Rome, I was reunited with one of my dearest friends in the world, Sara, where we devoured cheeses, anchovies, prosciutto, olives and her charming boyfriend Francesco’s pasta romanesco. Refer to Liv’s post about our meal in Bologna.

I could go into detail about the other realms wherein my Goldilocks analogy seems to be true, but I suppose I should get to know Italian culture a little more before I start generalizing about the demeanor, tempo, and values of this great country. However, if you left me that task at this point in time, I would have only the best things to say about Italy: for Liv and me, it was a paradise.

I would say that Italy offered me the best moments of the whole trip, but I would be overlooking a far more important factor. Perhaps I could overlook it because this factor has always been such an integral part of my life that I struggle to separate it out from other circumstances. But, like I said at the beginning of this blog post, now is the time for reflection.

Upon reflecting, it’s really quite obvious what that one factor was that made this adventure so remarkable: Liv. Almost everyone reading this also knows her, so I needn’t start from scratch when I sing her praises because you already know how smart, witty and kind she is. I’ve always known that, but I didn’t know just how much I’d come to rely on her for her other attributes that lay just slightly deeper under the surface.

She’s resilient: I never saw a tough situation weaken her resolve. If anything, she found ways to make light of it, to find the humor.

She’s adventurous: She never declined any opportunity to add depth to our shared experience.

She’s indulgent: Thank goodness I was travelling with someone who just as eager to attend fancy symphonies, order liters of wine, or buy truffles for the train-ride.

And conversely, she’s thrifty: Thank goodness (again) that I had a partner who was fine eating pb&js for 3 weeks straight or who would carry a cauliflower across three countries just so we’d have dinner when we arrived where we were going.

She’s flexible: That’s probably why we never had a genuine argument.

She’s responsible: She always carried the keys

She’s hilarious: Sometimes I felt like I was traveling with a comedian who had researched my life experiences and crafted her jokes in order to make me squeal with laughter.

She’s reconnaissante: Which means that she recognizes her good-fortune and expresses gratitude for it. It’s such a precious quality in a travel companion. Without someone like that, one’s a risk of becoming impervious to the ever-new wonders around them and with Liv that never happened.

It’s sad to end this blog, as it is sad to end such a trip. It was the best trip of my life, but I’m leaving it with many many treasures. I return home with images and memories of places that will color the canvas of my life. However, the friendships that were born or were deepened and the interactions that I had bring that canvas to the third dimension. They have marked me and will forever shape me.

This trip began as 2 cousins 7 countries and it has ended as 8 countries 2 sisters.

A Well-Oiled Machine

ITALY.

Oh my goodness, where do I begin? It’s safe to say in reflecting on the two weeks we spent there, every preconceived notion and expectation was exceeded. The people, the food, the weather, the overall impression you feel on every corner is overwhelmingly lovely and welcoming. The first city we visited was Venice.  Aside from the strange smell of sewage that wafts up uncomfortably every once in a while, the city is breathtaking. Every narrow street is adorned with hanging lights and multicolored buildings that reflect beautifully in the turquoise blue waters of the canals. We were able to go to an incredible symphony that had my arms folded over the balcony enthralled by the talent of singular people that have the ability to create something balanced and lovely as a whole. Our inexpensive balcony seats had us right above the pianist, whose fingers danced so quickly, it looked like an over dramatized animation. So grateful for these quick, unplanned decisions to splurge.

From Venice, we ventured to Bologna, where we stayed with a couple of architects and doctors in their twenties that opened up their home, helped us explore various parts of the city, and gave us our first authentic Italian pasta dinner. We collaborated on what Kenz and I would contribute, and finally came together and had one of the best meals we had in Italy. At one point, our host Giacamo said, “If Italy could be summarized in one moment, it would be this.” A group of friends sitting at table eating amazing food, drinking great wine and discussing everything from American soap operas to the political strife in Italy. And there within that small kitchen in Bologna is the beauty of a country and culture of people that still appreciate the most important things in life. If there is one thing I can take away from Italy it is the priority shift that I need to take. People don’t have their cell-phones sitting out on the table, and they understand the importance of being in the moment and investing time and energy into the person sitting directly across from you.

We journeyed from Bologna to Genoa for a short stay, where we explored a National Geographic museum, happily accepted free samples from the local farmers market, enjoyed some delicious gelato and stumbled upon the reality that prostitution is still very prevalent. This city is nestled alongside the sea, and Kenz and I spent most of our time wandering around, so blissfully excited to be in a country we loved. Kenz will go into the details of the final three cities in Italy, that were amongst our favorite of the entire trip.

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Now as Kenz and I are safely home and have completed our two month tour of Europe, I know as we return we will be asked, “Tell me about your trip, was it amazing?!” The simple answer, “It was fantastic!” will escape our lips, but the reality of what it meant will be churning in our minds. This answer will be sufficient for most that may not want to sit through my speech on the importance I feel in travel. It’s safe to say I have never had so little in my savings account, but I would never pass up the amazing opportunity to leave my native country and security, for the ability explore new areas that speak different languages and observe new traditions. I’m not necessarily suggesting that everyone should carry everything on their shoulders (we may need chiropractic work), but I do think if everyone took the time to be open to meeting people from all over the world, our society would be full of people that looked at the bigger picture. Instead of forming opinions that just affect one's own life, it would be full of people that could recall a mother and daughter in Graz that lived a similar life, with jobs, families and priorities. As I would pass ancient ruins that would merely follow the side of the freeway, I would be reminded as to how young we are as a country. How we are lacking so much of the culture and tradition that Europeans are immersed in, and the wisdom that could come with us looking to others for help and guidance. Our actions as a country affect more people than we realize and our self-centered attitude reflects poorly on the rest of the world. With all the good that people equate with America, there also comes a lot of negativity regarding our mentality.  That will only be changed when we become self-aware at the incredible growth that needs to come with our country.

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Now to direct my attention towards Kenz- my travel partner. I know she knows how grateful I am to have her, but my gratitude grew by leaps and bounds after this trip. To be perfectly honest, it is a challenge to find a compatible travel partner, and I can’t think of anyone else that I would have even agreed from the start to do a trip quite like this. She thinks things through, is perceptive, an incredible problem solver, and makes me laugh in moments that make travel so challenging. I was under the impression that after knowing someone for twenty-three years I should know every single thing about a person, but I challenge friends, couples, and families to disconnect from media, place yourself in a Slovenian train station, and there you will discover everything there is to know about someone you love, appreciate, and rely on. She knows me better then anyone at this point, and she has become a piece of me that I will never be able to fully express in its entirety.  

After 63 days we became a well-oiled machine. Every decision and moment was made together, in unison, and we managed to create morning rituals amongst the craziness that comes with uprooting every few days. We mastered trains, buses, metros, and those moments of making quick decisions. If you’re lucky like I was, you come out the other side laughing hysterically over an obscure quote from Father of the Bride or Little Rascals that no one else on the planet would find equally as amusing. It takes a very special traveling duo to constantly be moving, remaining flexible whilst keeping a positive attitude, and remembering to still appreciate the little things and the importance of the journey with every unexpected turn. She is my companion, my comic relief, my stability, and my sister.

I realize I will probably never again get to experience of a trip of this magnitude. I am coming back with the knowledge of needing to find a “grown-up” job and reality will soon set in. With that being said, this trip will follow me for the rest of my life. Into my relationships, my future classroom, my political and social views and the way I live daily. It’s impossible to leave a trip like this unchanged, and am grateful to the support of family, friends, and those of you that shared support by reading our blog and giving us feedback, or providing a prayer and an encouraging word along the way.

I am so grateful for all of you.

Thank you for experiencing the journey alongside us.

The Acronym for U.S.A. in Croatian is S.A.D.*

Ever since I saw a Rick Steves episode featuring Dubrovnik, I knew I wanted to visit Croatia. It was described as a more Eastern version of Italy, with equally interesting food, architecture and culture, but with just a fraction of the tourists. When planning this trip with Liv, I pictured us roaming bright-colored streets and visiting the renowned natural wonders of some sort of undiscovered wonderland.

Well, that was a dream that didn’t really come true. Why? I think we only have ourselves to blame: one should probably not travel to Croatia in the wintertime with these expectations in mind. Instead, it’s wiser to be prepared for cold, snowy weather, inoperative train stations and over-cast skies. But, hey…Rick Steves was right about one thing: there really aren’t many tourists.

In Croatia, we experienced some of our most frustrating and, at times, unnerving moments of this trip (read Liv’s narrative to follow). However, we also had some moments that were truly amazing that helped in offsetting the ‘bad juju’ that we encountered. Here they are:

1) In Zagreb we were able to go to a restaurant called Vinodol, which featured gourmet Croatian foods and local wines. Here we had a sensational meal. Months ago, before embarking on this trip, we imagined ourselves subsisting on raisins and pb&js. Neither of us would have thought that we’d have a budget that would allow us to dine from the list of Zagreb’s ten best restaurants. However, our dollar was strong compared to the local currency, the kuna, and as a result, Liv and I clinked our glasses of Croatian wine above a meal of filet mignon in a sauce made of bleu cheese. Mmmm!

2) We arrived in a town called Rijeka and it was the first glimpse of the sun that we’d seen in about 3 weeks. In that moment we didn’t care that we’d had to cancel our reservation in Pula and trade it for Rijeka because it was the only other city accessible by train, nor did we care that the train was actually substituted for a bus, nor that we still had no clue how to leave this town three days later. Upon seeing the sun’s rays, we both exclaimed at our good fortune. The vitamin D went straight to our hearts and melted whatever Croatian frost had accrued there from irritation and desperation.

3) Everyone likes to get stamps in their passport. It somehow feels like a visual validation of the time you’ve spent abroad. Due to the hellish train tables between Croatia and Slovenia, we managed to get 7 new stamps. So…hooray!

4) Liv and I have visited more modern art museums on this trip alone than I have in the other years of my life combined. Which, is saying a lot, because they’re my favorite type of museum, with the exception of hands-on science museums. So, having seen so many, we were pleased to discover that Zagreb’s MSUwas the best yet. We spent hours in that museum, maybe because it was so darn cold outside, but also because the pieces provoked a lot of consideration and reflection.

5) As two girls from the rural towns of Pollock Pines and Redding, we never had too many occasions that required taxis. Taxis were for cosmopolitan women in their early thirties- not us. However, in Zagreb, a taxi ride to about anywhere in the city costs less than three dollars. And if you add up the cost of two tickets for public transit, it comes to more than that. So, Liv and I permitted ourselves to hail taxis when moving about the city, which, is surely only cool and exciting for young women who consider it a practice of those in a much higher tax bracket.

6) And finally: we had one of those wonderful “right place at the right time” moments. In Rijeka, we wandered around the downtown in the early afternoon looking for a place to eat lunch. First we found a giant open-air market and right on the edge was a restaurant with picnic benches outside basking in the sun. The waiter explained that he only had about five dishes that were advertised on the menu, but he offered to assemble us a sample platter of them all. We readily agreed and about 20 minutes later we had a plate that covered about half the bench that was full of whole fried fish, grilled baby squid, fried calamari, creamy tomato and shrimp pasta and fresh salad with lemon wedges and parsley scattered all over the plate. It felt like the Mediterranean had just flopped into our mouths. Even after eating at Vinodol and other ‘fancier’ restaurants during this trip, this meal will be the one I remember forever. 

So, there you have it: the highlights! In some ways Croatia was a chilly, fatiguing logistical nightmare, but it wasn’t without its moments of beauty. We’ll certainly look back with reverie at these 6 instances that I described and soon, we’ll probably even be grateful for the inside jokes and memories that stemmed from the dozens of other moments that weren’t so lovely. Take it from here, Liv!

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Croatia: The land of beautiful seaside views, delicious fresh seafood, and where various forms of transportation go to die.

It’s good that Kenz started this blog post on such a high note, describing the couple lovely things we found about this country. Unfortunately, a singular day in particular made both of us wish we could blink our eyes and reopen them back in California. Which I should add, is miraculously the first time we have felt that on the entire trip. Let me begin by saying getting to Zagreb from Graz was a foreshadowing into the rest of our traveling experience in Croatia. We were told to get off the train and to instead board a bus that took us up into Slovenia, only to then get off the bus and board yet another train, setting us back from our initial arrival time. In this particular experience, Kenz and I were more amused at the complication of their system at the time and thought, “Ha! What bad luck!” Little did we know getting from Rijeka to Umag was an entirely different kind of travel day, and the kind that wards most away from the idea of travel in general.

We woke up on this lovely sunny day in Rijeka and weren’t entirely surprised when the woman told us that instead of the train we were planning on taking was not in operation, and instead we would need to board the bus waiting outside. Okay, sure, we were use to stuffy buses at this point in Croatia. After an incredibly windy road that left Kenz feeling both nauseated and hot, we ended up in the middle of a country side at a quiet train station, where we got off the bus only to board yet another bus and for our driver to take a poorly deserved smoke break.

We finally arrive at the Slovenian border, to receive yet another Slovenian stamp that will only be more ammunition for Customs in America. It’s a bit disheartening and alarming when you hand over your passport to a border patrol officer, only to watch them walk off the bus into a room with closed blinds. I remember in this moment, Kenz and I looked at each other and inaudibly thought, “No big deal, that’s only our ticket home.” It’s amazing how such a small booklet can hold so much weight and importance to your own identity when traveling on foreign soil.  I can say with much relief that he reappeared with a fresh stamp, and Kenz and I allowed our heart rates to reach equilibrium once more.

We winded up through the hills of Slovenia and finally reached our destination, Pivka. I chuckled as I wrote that because no ones actual destination is Pivka, but it was the destination of our next train to bring us back into Croatia. We knew that we had about three hours to kill before our train left and so we ate our pb&j’s in a cold empty room and ventured out to see the town and to find an open pub to stay warm. This lovely town greeted us with tanks lining parts of the streets, fallen trees, broken signs, and on the horizon were factories wafting chemicals into the air. Kenz and I looked at each other and wondered unanimously if a war had taken place just moments before we arrived. After two hours of sitting in a pub watching Russia destroy it’s competition in an obscure Olympic game, we ventured back to the train station. The single employee told us that due to “natural disasters” our train would not be leaving and we had seconds to run out and catch the bus sitting outside. We board the bus only for fifteen minutes where it drops us off farther into the mountains of Slovenia at a train station where we were told to wait and a bus to Koper would appear in two hours. The stressful part of travel comes when you are reliant on other people’s information to be accurate. It is easy for a native in passing to tell you something with great certainty, but for us it is critical information that defines our safety, and our arrival to our next bed.

Let me set the scene for you: We are in a train station, without electricity as the sun is setting, and the only noise to be heard anywhere are two amorous Slovenian teenagers making out on a bench right in front of us. Making out makes it seem relatively normal and sweet compared to the sucking sound of a plunger that we endured for two whole hours. TWO HOURS. As the two of us sat in silence in the dark, Kenz sitting on top of the heater to stay warm, I realized in this moment that I had picked the perfect travel companion. Here we are, two twenty-three year old women waiting for a bus we aren’t even certain will arrive and we calmly begin brainstorming a Plan B. The stage was set for a perfect moment for one of us to break down. Traveling for hours, with only a pb&j quickly leaving the lining of our stomach, unsure of what to do next. Fifteen minutes after the time we were told it would arrive, there we saw the most beautiful beams of light we could have imagined. We board the warm bus, eat a handful of celebratory almonds, and sit in grateful silence holding hands. Not to get too sappy on everyone reading this, but its in moments like that where we both have the ability to remain calm and hopeful is what overwhelms me and makes swell with such love and appreciation for the kind of travel and life companion I find in her.

We reach Koper, and find a taxi to take us across the border into Croatia. We receive yet another Slovenian Stamp, arrive in Umag, crawl into the coveted bed and let out a sigh of relief and gratitude in knowing we did it. 

Total travel time: 10 hours and 45 minutes

Actual distance between Rijeka and Umag: 1.15 hours by car

Total number of buses: 5

Cost of taxi ride: 50 euros

The amount of love and respect I felt for Kenz after this day:

Exorbitant.

*It really is S.A.D. (Sjedinjene Države Amerike)

"A del vice, Adle vice..."

Liv's previous post was a great segue into this one, where I'll try my best to describe our experience in Austria. To do so, I will have to use all the synonyms for elegant, pristine, & welcoming that are in my repertoire.  

Let me start from the beginning, we left Munich & headed east on a train so luxurious we worried we were sitting in first class and that Herr Controler would take one look at our shabby attire and goofy passport necklaces and send us back a few cars. But, no, this fancy train was just a foretelling of what was to come in Austria: a land that is perfectly attuned to simple elegance.

After taking another train out to the countryside surrounding Salzburg, we found ourselves in Trimmelkam, the village where we'd be spending our petit séjour. Our hosts were gone that first night, so we had reign of their adorable house and access to all the feline affection we elicit from their cat, Rosa* (who was so cute that she merited a spot in the 2Cousins7Countries rendition of "My Favorite Things"). We felt like little girls again, playing house in the quaintest cottage-home that Austria had to offer. So, what did we do: played some Brandi Carlile, sautéed up several different beige vegetables, drank some of the wine we'd been carting all over Europe and swooned in front of a George Clooney film.  Yep, just like we did as little girls, only substitute an Austrian vacation cottage for Gram's and Poppa's house, wine for Hansen's soda, and a George Clooney for the sexier of the two male leads in White Christmas (I guess that's Danny Kaye).

Gah! Can you tell I'm getting homesick at all? Here I am supposed to write a post about the WEEK we spent in Austria and I'm musing about cats and my childhood.

The following day we ventured back to Salzburg in hopes of touring the city by foot, but managed to get distracted within the first hour by a tour company advertising "Sound of Music Tours". We agreed to walk over and check it out, knowing that we were both goners already. How could the female off-spring of our two mothers ignore something so beloved by our fore-bearers. A deep appreciation of this film is in our genes, right next to the love of board games and sharing our feelings. 

So we signed up and we hopped in a tour van (after a glass of glühwein) and listened to songs from the movie as we visited the lake where the Von Trap children fall out of their canoes, the gazebo where Leisl falls in love and the snowy mountains where they ultimately flee Austria, among other spots. For Liv and me, it was the most fun we had in Salzburg.

It's a beautiful town, with a castle, a river, a charming old center and not-so-charming middle-aged men. While Austria gets the blue ribbon for being the loveliest of the countries we've seen it also gets a blue-ribbon for condescending "tourism industry professionals". 

Me: "Guten Tag. We have a ticket for a guided tour."
Snooty guy: "Well of course you have a ticket, otherwise you wouldn't be hereeeeeee"

I am happy to report that that's where the unpleasantry ended, in fact, everyone else we met proved that Austrians are possibly the most hospitable and generous of all Europeans. Our hosts in Salzburg (technically Trimmelkam) shared their company and their dinner with us, Alison and Charlie (who aren't Austrian, instead, they're the best kind of ex-pats) devoted hours of their time to improving our stay in Vienna, and Monika and Debby made us feel as though we'd practically been re-born from the womb of Graz herself.

Before I jump to Graz, I should write about Vienna. It is easily the most beautiful city I've seen to date. San Sebastián has been dethroned by his regal, dignified cousin from the north. Liv and I were shocked at just how expansive, yet pristine Vienna was. Even under fresh blankets of snow, Vienna sparkled with class and mystique. On our first day, we met the aforementioned Alison who first showed us to a few of Vienna's important sights before exposing us to it's tastes. Over our time in Vienna, she introduced us to the famous desserts at Café Central, Austrian wines at Café Landtmann and Hungarian goulash from a tucked-away restaurant near Saint Stephen's Church. Before saying our goodbyes, she also treated us to one of the most comforting gifts of all: chocolate, bread and peanut-butter, which our American palettes have sorely missed. 

While in Vienna, we also attended a symphony in the Auersperg Palace where Strauss and Mozart echoed through the ornate walls and mirrors. Here again, I was reminded of Leizl, who asks her father if she may "stay and taste [her] first Champagne" while singing "So Long, Farewell". Why? Because we bought our first Austrian Champagne (technically, sparkling wine) to commemorate how special it felt to be in a palace- in Austria- with our life-long best friend.

And then, we left for Graz. We were told that, in fact, Salzburg, Vienna and Graz were the three loveliest cities in Austria and it seems that this must be true. Graz, like all my favorite cities, had a frosty river running through it, winding streets and a contemporary art museum. We spent time exploring all three: one day beholding the art pieces, one day exploring the city, and another exploring the, ahem, bars of the old town, which the Grazians affectionately call the Bermuda Triangle. We spent our final night with our hosts and this time, we cooked them a meal: Thai curry soup with rice noodles. Liv and I have been craving spice, which, regrettably, might have been a tad too strong for our coughing and tearing hosts.

Then began our journey to Croatia. Dun dun dun. That is a post within itself. Because I'm writing this you know I've made it safely. Liv on the other hand is still stuck back with the border patrol in Slovenia. Just kidding!! She's perfectly safe, but it was still a bit of a comical ordeal. A post for next time!

Ta ta! P.S. We discovered it was actually written "Edelweiss"

2 Cousins SEVEN Countries

Kenz and I now sit in a studio apartment in Zagreb, reflecting on our time in both Germany and Austria. Germany was an added country to our original plan, and now realize what an important addition it was. After leaving Switzerland and arriving in the complicated Munich Metro Station, our initial interactions with Germans happened within minutes. The puzzled Californian stamp we must have unknowingly on our foreheads prompted two different natives to physically walk us in the direction of our train. I am not kidding you, but every single time we are confused involving different forms of transportation, a kind, English speaking European is always within earshot and willing to go out of their way to help. The gratitude I feel whilst witnessing the kindness of strangers in these situations fills me with such enormous amounts of appreciation.

After maneuvering through the underground tunnels like a couple of lost gophers, we immerged in the center of Munich by night and were surprised by the beauty and the feeling of the cold, frigid air punching us in the face. Kenz describes this feeling perfectly. She explained it as though your face hurts so badly from the wind chill that it feels almost bruised. Needless to say, our luck with weather had finally come to a close. In Munich we stayed with Vitus, Eveline’s nephew, who welcomed us into his apartment with olives, pistachios, and our first genuine German beer that was the perfect ending to a cold, travel-filled day. We settled into bed that night with the knowledge that our trip to Dachau the next morning would be a hard touch of reality.

As we arrived in the small town of Dachau by train, we both verbalized the eeriness of seeing the name written on the station as though it was just a small town without the weight of what happened not so very long ago. We walked alone for about an hour, reading signs and watching a short film that left us both choking back tears. We then met up with our tour guide and a smattering of other English speakers, and began the journey through the camp. Our guide, whom voluntarily takes the time to educate groups of people, stressed the grave importance he feels to speak to people of all ages about the Holocaust and about Dachau, the very first, and model camp for the rest of the thousands of camps that spread throughout Europe.

My memory of the tour, now over a week later, consists of the hum of the thick German accent of our guide and my mind and body feeling numb and achy as we walked through every room, hallway and chamber we toured. At one point, we stood in the main square, Kenz and I looked at each other using the unspoken language we have now acquired, to insinuate how cold we were. Simultaneously, he shared with us that the prisoners would stand where we stood, in a couple feet of snow, with wooden shoes, and striped pajamas for twelve hours daily.  Our complaints felt trivial. In fact, any complaint I have ever had in twenty-three years was inconsequential and trite compared to the hell the victims of the Holocaust lived every single day. It’s impossible to leave as the same person you were when you entered.

At the end of the tour we left feeling physically, mentally and emotionally exhausted, and I couldn’t help but realize the huge responsibility I felt as a future educator. Unfortunately, the world has not quite learned its lesson from the twelve years the Holocaust lasted, and different countries have discovered other concentration camps in more recent years. What stops history from repeating itself? Educating each generation on the gravity of decisions. Making these moments in history relevant to each child, when it may seem more and more like a story in the history books as the gap between generations widens. Teaching empathy and the power of standing up for what you believe in, and what is inherently right, needs to counteract what is being fed by the violent media and negativity that is being ingested when a child picks up a video game that rewards points for killing.

With a heavy heart we left, and me with the awareness of the very important role I have in teaching history in the classroom.

Our next day in Germany was spent walking around, taking in the beauty of the architecture and greatly appreciating how prompt and timely every single train, metro and bus runs. This country runs like clockwork and with streets so clean you could probably eat your hearty, meaty meals directly off the sidewalk. We explored the modern art museum that had an entire section on old cars and the timeline of computers, that both excited me and made me miss and yearn to hear conversations between my dad and brother that has second-handedly educated me far more then I realized.

Kenz and I had an important and educating stay in Munich, and both agreed it’s a city we could have stayed in and explored for longer then we did. Germany was full of incredibly lovely people, and we had the opportunity to experience insightful conversations that left us with food for thought. We then ventured to the snow and delicacies in Austria where Kenz will summarize our lovely stay there…

Let's be franc...

It’s safe to say our proficiency in train stations, and riding trains should be it’s very own blog. “How to Maneuver Through Train Stations With 16-Liter Backpacks In Countries Full of Slow Walkers,” is sure to be on the Best Seller List. Well you guessed it, we are now heading on a train to Germany after having been in Switzerland for a little over a week. We feel as though we had the opportunity to see different parts of the country, as well as taking a much needed break from unpacking and repacking every couple of days. This was the first country (and the start of a few more to come) where both Kenz and I were unable to discern any of the language. Swiss-German would often elicit a giggle from one of us, and the proud Swiss native would then begin speaking perfect English. There we would stand, yet again, humbled at this countries ability to speak 4+ languages with ease and proficiency.

Our first stop in Switzerland was Bern, the country’s capital. We ventured out on a Sunday, where we quickly discovered stores remain closed, and the local Bernians? Bernites? Bernonians? do not venture outdoors. With all the layers we could put on, whilst still able to move our appendages, we walked the streets alone, surrounded by buildings that were all the exact sandstone green. This dollar-bill green, was unfortunately just a reminder that we had entered a country that charges 8 francs for a small Starbucks coffee. We quickly discovered the plethora of clocks, knives, jewelry stores, and our inability to afford much of anything. The following day, we ventured to Wichtrach, the home of our hosts Eveline and Burkhard. Once there, they graciously treated us to various ways of eating pork, potatoes, sauerkraut and a new appreciation for Swiss wine. Looking out the window of their apartment that very first day, Kenz and I discovered the beauty of their homeland. The Alps.

As of this point in our trip, we had seen a lot of different landscapes and natural beauty, but nothing like what we saw this day in Switzerland. In just a short thirty-minute drive, Eveline took us to the base of Stockhorn, just one of the mountains that make up the expanse of the Swiss Alps. There we took a gondola up to the very top, and Kenz and I were floored. If I could create a list of the “Top 5 Sights to See Before You Die,” this would be a hard view to beat. Clear blue skies and a panoramic view of these snow-capped mountains, and we were experiencing bliss. Add some vin chaud (hot wine), and a cafe sans other tourists, and we gawked in amazement. We are SO grateful to Eveline for sharing with us that day we will never forget.

While in Switzerland, we looked for activities that would keep us out of the cold and awkward daily mist. One rainy day, we traveled to see the Musée de l’Art Brut in Lausanne. It was a museum full of pieces done by people who have either been hospitalized, institutionalized, or have lived their life with a mental disorder. Cut to three hours later, and Kenz and I leave having seen every single piece and read every single plaque.  This was by far the most interesting and thought-provoking museum I have ever been to. It was inspiring to see art that was not created for the sake of art, or created without a single art class. To look at a piece where you can see the internal struggle of being stuck in one’s own mind was captivating and sometimes chilling. For me it was fascinating to discover that so many artists from these pieces had really challenging childhoods and the hard spiral that soon followed (don’t worry, I’ll leave out my child development theories…this time J).  Following this venture, Eveline set up a meeting to visit Les Dames de Hautecour, a family-owned winery where we were gifted a private and personal a tour and tasting. I won’t pretend to have any sort of advanced knowledge on this subject, however, in my humble and unbiased opinion, if you are an inquiring mind, and would love to learn more from a gifted blogger and wine critic, click on the following link à agirlandavine.blogspot.com.

Last night, our final night in Switzerland, was spent preparing a thank you dinner to our hosts. After discovering the shockingly small and expensive ethnic food section in the local supermarket, Kenz and I managed to bring a little Cali-Mexican flare to the table. I am still not completely sure who enjoyed it more. While Eveline ooed and awed, Kenz and I settled into the comfort and excitement that came with eating a meal with spice, lime, and avocado, and we grinned at each other in sheer appreciation for our abundantly flavorful country. You don’t realize the beautifully expansive palette of our great West Coast, until you are without it for about a month, and you begin craving salsa as though it’s your dying wish.

Although our time in Switzerland has been great, with hosts to match, we are ready to journey up North (Brr, why do we keep voluntarily dropping in Celsius?) to tour Germany for a couple of days. There we will visit Dachau, see the sights, and experience first-hand the land where my favorite beer was born. 

Avidizen, Switzerland, your chocolate and mountains successfully lived up to your reputation.