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.

Thumbs up or down?

We join you again from aboard a train, this time taking us from France to Switzerland. For both of us, it’s our first time in Switzerland and we’re looking forward to the unexpected. But, before we arrive, we have four hours of reflection time while the French countryside zooms past us.

This morning, over a breakfast of croissants, we were asked an interesting question by our hosts (side note: we could not have anticipated a warmer welcome in Lyon…Eric and Aila were sensational!) Anyway, their question was this: “Was there anything that particularly shocked you about France and the differences that exist between the US?” We answered through various anecdotes that illustrated some of the principal differences we’ve experienced, however, most of them derive from our first experiences in France five years ago.

So, for this post, instead of focusing on what activities we participated in while in Lyon, we’ll do a couple general reflections on things we love- and things we don’t love- about the places we’ve been so far.

I’ll start with Spain. My impressions will likely be different from Liv’s, however, I’ll try to think exclusively about those things that we encountered together. Let’s start with some of the good things:

-People generously call you guapa

-There is an abundance of jamón

-Unlike France, the showers actually attach to the wall above your head so you don’t have to make the decision to hold the showerhead or shampoo your own head

-The price of wine! And sidra!!

-Pinxos in San Sebastián. Little gourmet open-faced sandwiches.

-Great blinds that allow two exhausted travelers to sleep well-past their biological alarm clocks.

Now some of the Spanish things that we like –um- less:

-The obsession (that boarders of neurosis) of zapatillas (house-slippers)

-The inevitable shoving and shoulder bumping that happens in the street. What else could you expect from the country that has the bull as their animal emblem.

-The tissue papers that pose as napkins in bars. Should you get a drop of sidra anywhere, be prepared to waste about 40 sheets of this imposter material.

-Light switches outside of the room in question.

Now for the things we like about France:

-BREAD! You needn’t cross more than one foot over the border and the bread transforms into something exquisite.

-Pepper! After living in a country, Spain, that seems to reject pepper, it’s a delight to rediscover these little black specks.

-All of the chateaux that pepper the landscape (you see what I did there?)

-Most well-dressed, chic-looking children in the world.

-Digestifs. Tasty shots of hard alcohol that you drink after a meal to facilitate digestion

The bad sides of France:

-Digestifs. After aperatifs and all the wine you’ll have with dinner, this extra shot will feel like a very bad idea the next morning.

-The PINK toilet paper. What the heck? Given what we’re going to use it for, what’s the sense in making it cute? It just looks alarming once in the toilet bowl.

-Words the end in –GUEUX. Olivia does an excellent impression of the SNCF woman saying “Pérgueux” over the train loud speakers. Her version sounds like “Perry-goughghhuuu”

-Waiters who scoff and make a snorty sound when you order one 7.20 euro hot chocolate to split instead of two.

So, there you go: Those are our general reflections of the first 2 countries we’ve visited. We’ll check in again after we’ve crossed the Swiss border. Tally-ho!

Pass the salt...

And yet again, Kenz and I are aboard another train. A train full of power outlets, comfortable seats, and few passengers, and you would think we were acting like royalty. It’s truly the simple pleasures in life when everything you own is on your back.  Since our last post, we have ended our time in Spain and begun our short visit in France.

San Sebastian was our last stop in Spain, and it had a special kind of charm that Kenz and I were drawn to the very moment we arrived. Between the short the bus ride and the apartment we were staying in, we quickly became enamored with the elegance and beauty of a city nestled in a cove on the Atlantic. Aside from the little rain we experienced, and Kenz getting hit by a wave (video to come), our time in this city was amazing. We stayed in an apartment with a man named Lander, who made our experience effortless. Whether it was a map pinpointing the best places to see, bringing us tea when we took some time to dry off, or providing us with books of the restaurant, Arzak, he made our time their easy and enjoyable. Our experience there was heightened, when Kenz had made a connection that reserved a table for a fully paid, sixteen-course meal at Arzak, the world’s second best restaurant. We managed to pull together our best ensembles, and were pleasantly surprised at how well we managed under the circumstances. The meal was exquisite. After the initial fear of speaking too loudly or pegging ourselves as being completely out of our element, we had an incredible time. With the food and wine pairings along with the sometimes over-the-top presentation of the food, we quickly realized that we would never encounter a meal quite like this in our lifetime.

After San Sebastian, we boarded another train, that we may almost missed had it not been for two employees that went above and beyond, (How is it possible that we didn’t meet a single mean Spaniard?) and we were quickly on our way to Périgueux. Upon arrival, Kenz notified me that the man we were looking for would appear to be a French Santa Claus. Lone behold, in the corner of our eye we spotted him, Luc. The jolliest and most pleasant man the world may possibly ever see. With his full beard and laugh that could light up a room, I knew our stay here would be pleasant and full of memories. After driving away from Perigueux we headed into the small village of Saint Paul. We arrived at their house where Charlotte welcomed us in with an amazing dinner paired with a warm fireplace and comfortable accommodations.  Within this first meal, I quickly realized the handicap I had not speaking in yet another country. Not once have I taken for granted the gift Kenz has in language. I often find myself feeling guilty and childlike, unable to help her carry the conversation or take the burden of answering and asking questions. I know without a doubt that this trip would be very different if it wasn’t for her and her willingness to carry the weight of speaking for two. It’s extremely humbling to sit at many a dinner table unable to share an opinion, story, or even express to a family how grateful you are for their time and hospitality. I learn a lot in the silence and observations, and from the perspective of a future teacher, in these short couple of weeks I have been here, I have a much softer heart for the trials and tribulations that come with English Language Learners, and what they have to deal with on a daily basis in the classroom.

I digress…

With this lovely and warm couple, we experienced hikes through the countryside, tours of towns that France has dubbed, “The most beautiful towns in the country,” and a picnic at the base of a castle. They truly went above and beyond what most hosts deem necessary to entertain a couple of homeless American travelers. Our goodbye consisted of tears, gifts of fossils, straws, a flask, and a container full of salt that all held a hilarious inside joke or memories that Kenz and I will truly cherish for years to come.

These first two weeks have been nothing short of amazing, and it only seems appropriate to end with the famous words of our dear friend Luc, “C’est Good!”

Until Next Time, Asturias. Nos quieru!

So, Liv and I are on in a train passing León, Spain, which according to Liv is one of the ugliest places in the whole world. I don’t disagree. Fortunately, we’ll be heading to Lyon, France in just about a week, which up until this year, I’ve always said is one of the most beautiful places in the whole world.

That, however, may have changed and been replaced by Asturias, the region that we left only a few hours ago. I might be slightly biased by the fact that when in Asturias, I am showered in love, but even someone not so necessarily saturated in amor would agree that it’s quite exceptional.

Yesterday, Miguel and his friend, Andrés (Suku), gave us the ultimate in surf and turf tours. We started the morning by driving to Covadonga, which is Spain’s second most popular religious destination because of the virgin that is tucked away in a mountain cave/waterfall. When standing near the virgin’s sanctuary, you are also near the tomb of Asturias’ first king, therefore, it’s a destination for devotees and patriots alike. You can then choose to marvel at the views of the church or drink from the seven fountains, which will guarantee you luck for the next year (as if 12 grapes weren’t enough) and if you drink from the fountains in the correct direction, then you will get married within the next year. Only Liv drank correctly. Are those wedding bells I hear? No, it’s the loud speakers playing Little Drummer Boy again.

From the snow-capped mountains near Covadonga, Miguel then drove us thirty minutes to the coast. Therein lies the charm of Asturias: it’s one of the only places where one can show-shoe in the mountains and surf the waves all within half an hour. We stood from a tall look out point and saw the rolling hills of the county of Llanes as well as the wide stretch of the Atlantic Ocean ahead of us. When Miguel’s other friends, Carlos (Wuelles) and Diana, arrived, we decided to then head to the bufones, giant sea-geysers that burst from the ground with the same intensity as those in Yellowstone but that leave a saltier after-mist.

After witnessing our share of marine explosions (and after Miguel rigged a picture so that it looked like one was coming out of my big nostril) we decided it was time for lunch- it was after 4pm, so I should like to think so. It was too late for even Spain to be serving lunch, so instead we went to the grocery store for libations: Manchego and Alperal cheeses, jamón york and Serrano, as well as cecino (cured, thinly-sliced beef), an empanada with béchamel sauce and more ham, sidra and, of course, wine from Ribero del Duero. We spoke a hybrid language of English, Spanish and Asturian and we all seemed to grow more and more fluent after a few culines of cider.

This morning, we were awake long before the sun…or Sammy (the dog that kept Liv up the night before) or the goats that generate traffic in the streets of Vibañu. And now, we’ve passed León (thank goodness) and are headed in the direction of Vitoria, which will only serve as a linkage point for our subsequent train to SAN SEBASTIÁN: the city that is rumored to be Spain’s most beautiful. We’ll see about that, Sanny-boy, Asturias is stiff competition.