Its been a few weeks since I’ve posted about traveling, I’ve been so busy between classes/midterms and being away almost every weekend, I feel like I have way to much to post for right now! I actually miss Milan a lot and kinda wish I had more weekends here, but I’m not about to complain about traveling so much. So far I still have to post about Copenhagen, Budapest, and Amsterdam..I guess I’ll start with Copenhagen.

With midterms just ending, I’m in a toss up between feeling relieved that exams are over and anxious that we only have a month and a week left. This past week has definitely been the most work I’ve done all semester – and I finally feel like I’m actually in school. Lessons here are set up differently than at home; we have very little outside work and our grades are mostly based off the midterm/final, so its up to everyone to study on their own time. For me that usually means cramming a few days before the exams, not the best idea but somehow it work.

Although the area has become a hub for tourists and gypsies trying to put a bracelet on your wrist, it is undeniably one of the most beautiful areas in Paris. Every street has its own charm and is full of beautiful cafe’s to waste your afternoons people watching and sipping expresso. Here is a little taste of what I have come across while walking around Montmartre.

There are some things in photographs you can live your life without believing they’re things that really exist. Baby bumps on celebrities or naked mole rats, for example. Sometimes, too, it’s hard to believe that real, untainted beauty can be found in more than just a good fantasy novel.

Last Wednesday, one of the biggest strikes to hit Europe in response to the current economic crisis swept across country borders, affecting Spain, Portugal, and numerous other European Union member states.  Since I’ve been in Madrid, there have been a handful of riots, protests, and strikes—why was this one so magnified?  After all, Spaniards have been struggling with a 26% unemployment rate for quite some time now.  Looming budget cuts were the culprit, proclaimed unavoidable by the government and “suicidal” by labor unions and protesters.  It seemed that the victims o

Last weekend, I met my dad in Austria. I landed at dusk into Vienna rushed and cheery, greeting my cab driver with a “ciao.” Whoops. The man did not “sprechen sie” Italian (or English, for that matter), but chatted about “wienerschnitzel” “kaffe” and “sachertorte.” Bring on the holy trinity. When we arrived at the lovely, completely-Austrian hotel, I was grandly welcomed and led into the plush, red-velvet wallpapered lobby. That’s where my dad was sitting, crossword-ing, and waiting for me. Yay!

As I sit on my flight home, I can’t help but think about my semester in Cape Town and how it’s changed me. According to all the reintegration charts of reverse culture shock, the sadness of no longer of being in Cape Town is supposed to hit me after about a week or two at home. I’m picturing myself walking on the street and not being whistled at asking if I want to go to Wynberg for the first time in what feels like forever, thinking how long I’ve been waiting to be back home yet still feeling incomplete.

I had an epiphany crossing the street today:

I like it here.