Stumbling through the dark hotel room and into the cold bathroom, I felt myself step into something sticky. Turning on the blinding bathroom lights, I saw what it was: beer and lots of it. There were bottles lined up around the tub, the sink and even the baseboard! I blinked the sleep from my mind, trying to recall the previous evening. I remember buying feta cheese. I remember searching for soft pretzels. I remember falling asleep when my head hit the pillow.
Where did this beer come from?
Tiptoeing softly across the rough hotel carpet, I bent over to examine LD. He lay passed out; prune-y fingers from sitting in the tub for hours, an alcohol-induced smile spread across his lips. Shaking my head, I slipped back underneath the covers. He had enjoyed the beer that Berlin so eagerly offered.

While sitting in the lobby, later that morning and partaking in the free internet, we faced a serious dilemma: whether to inform my mother from across the Atlantic that her beloved camcorder was slightly unavailable or wait. We opted to send an electronic message her way:

'Hey Mom- we're going to the Christmas Market in Nuremberg instead of Erfurt, like you suggested and your camcorder is gone. Love you!'

The train ride to Nuremberg was a great deal slower then we had anticipated. Not only we were moving at a snail pace, but it was rather crowded for a German train; part of the journey we sat on our luggage, elbow to stroller with Deutsche kinder.

We arrived in the Medieval town as light was failing. Maps everywhere directed us to the Christmas City.

As a small child, every Christmas my mother or grandmother would purchase us Christmas coloring books containing pictures of snug medieval towns draped in snow, with smoke rising from chimneys and colorful decorations. I remember my Christmases in that warm glow, smelling of cinnamon and clove, crackling fires and the sounds of Christmas carols. Walking through Christkindlesmarkt brought the memories of Christmases past back into view. Maybe it was the warm pretzel in one hand or the mug of Gluhwein in the other, but it was hard not to want every Christmas to be like this. No commercialization but rather homemade delights, no rush to finish a Christmas gift list at the mall just small stalls filled to the brim with handmade toys.

Nuremberg showcased the marvel of Christmas.

We awoke early, after a restful night sleep in a clean hotel. Let me repeat the most important part again: hotel. One cannot truly grasp the meaning until you've felt grimy shower tile under your feet, slept with your bed against the door because there was no lock or dried your hair in the kitchen where your hostess made herself eggs.

Another amazing feature was the continental breakfast. This is probably the last time you'll hear a statement about breakfast here, I probably dislike breakfast more then anyone you'll ever meet. This aside, the assortment was my type of breakfast: turkey breast, cheese, small rolls, yogurt and cranberry juice. While thoroughly enjoying my breakfast sandwich, I smiled to myself as I watched a bus pull up outside the window of the Holiday Inn Express. My feet will be glad for public transportation.

What an enjoyable city to sight-see in. We hit all the main tourist attractions and made sure to see a few off the beaten path, as well. The Reichstag was our first destination. We waited in line for almost half an hour and filed slowly in groups of ten into the building. Inside, we were ushered through metal detectors. Not surprisingly, LD was pulled aside for his bike lock (which they believed to be a gun lock, yesh). After our little incident, we were piled into an elevator and whisked to the top floor: an indoor/outdoor roof, covered partially in glass with amazing views of Berlin.

Much to the dismay of my feet, the city was easily navigated on foot and beautifully decorated for Christmas. We happened upon a Christmas market, richly decorated and filled with the smells of Weihnachten: roasting chestnuts, cinnamon and sausage.


Berlin was home. In all the traveling we had done, I never felt more comfortable then in Berlin. It felt like Pennsylvania. If I were placed in the center of Aldi's in Berlin and in the center of Aldi's at home, I wouldn't know the difference until someone spoke to me. In stating this, I am not dismissing the history that seeps from Berlin's pores; I just felt as though Berlin welcomed me with open arms and a pint of beer.

What sets us apart?

How does one strive and fulfill, while others fail?

Do we have the same desires, yet lack the ability to experience them?

What is the 'right' way and the wrong?

Let the Panic Commence...

While fear might have been our travel partner, there were only a handful of times when sheer and utter panic griped me and shook with all of its might. Walking the streets of Copenhagen at 4am was one of those times.

Before going to bed on our last night in Copenhagen, I asked our hostess what the quickest route to the train station was from our inn. She rattled off some information, I nodded like I understood and bid her farewell.

The first sign was the feeling of dread in my stomach, then the radiator kicked and knocked.
Jeff, why is the radiator making that noise? I never heard it do that before.
It's amazing the superhuman strength one has when their sympathetic nervous system kicks in. I was dressed, packed and we were out the door within fifteen minutes of waking.

We should have waited for the bus.

Dragging our baggage along the dark, cold streets of Copenhagen was probably not one of my better decisions. I knew they were after us, though. The hostess and her two male boarders were after us.

After what seemed like hours, we boarded the first train to Roskilde. It was an old Viking settlement that housed a small museum and some artifacts.

We hopped off and hopped right back on the next train back to Copenhagen.
Too dark, too early, too cold.

Finally, we were off to Hamburg, Germany. Scratch that, Berlin.

Trains rock me to sleep. Cars rock me to sleep. Planes rock me to sleep. Sitting in the Social Security office rocks me to sleep.
I can't help it.

Needless to say, Jeff is not a fan of my little naps while traveling together. It is rather annoying, I miss out our intellectual conversation and beautiful scenery, or in this case, watching the train I was on being loaded into a boat.

Whitney, get up. Get up! We're on a boat.

Why does he have to do this? Just ask me to get up and talk, don't lie to me. I opened my eyes out of annoyance, only to find us on a boat.

Umm, uh oh.

The train came to a stop and everyone casually got up and started crowding at the doors. The scene out the window went from windmills on farms to steel walls and bars. We followed the crowd: to where, we had to idea.

We found out the train rides into the belly of the boat, from there they unload the passengers and usher them upstairs to a cafeteria. After a twenty minute ride, the passengers are reloaded, the train repositioned on the tracks and back on our way: in Germany.

From there, aside from the beautiful views out our train window, the trip was relatively uneventful.

We arrived in Berlin late in the afternoon, to rather bleak weather. With all the stores still open, we were able to purchase a Berlin map and have a friendly tourist guide point us in the right direction for the Holiday Inn Express.

We opted to walk. Walked with all of our luggage. Walked to the other side of Berlin.

Walked and walked.

After an unexpected detailed tour of Berlin's park (i.e, being lost), we arrived.

My goal is to blog about our trip to Europe, writing daily about the events which took place on that same day, a year ago. So on this day, December 17th, one year ago:

After some much needed sleep in a real bed, things didn't seem so dire in the morning. We dressed, received a key to the backdoor of the apartment and headed out to navigate the city.

Carrying around a little notebook, jammed with receipts for hotels we've yet to stay in, directions and print-outs of must-see sights, I had a little itinerary for the day. First stop: Carlsberg Brewery, a few blocks from the inn were we staying at.

The brewery had a mix of architecture, from the new skyscraper to the arch which dated from 1881.

Copenhagen is a perfect city to use pictures to tell of our travels.

One of our first stops: Tivoli Amusement Park. It's located across the street from the train station, in the middle of the city. It was beautifully decorated for Christmas and interesting to see. However, we made the mistake of eating hot dogs. Will we ever learn?

Copenhagen delighted us at every turn. We walked the entire length of the city, with the exception of one subway ride. According to my itinerary, we had to see Christiania. Christiania is the hippie haven, which has recently been under a lot of fire from the city, they wanted to close it. Right before entering in, I wanted to snap a photo of the entrance, and not realizing until afterward, that I snapped a photo of a man getting hit by a car!
FYI: After a walk through the area, I can honestly say I can see where those officials are coming from.After seeing Christiania and the fact it was getting extremely cold and dark, not to mention my feet were insanely throbbing, we started our trek back.

Half way back to the inn, I could not do it anymore. At all.
There were tears.
There were fears.
There were new shoes. All was okay, again.

Plus a can of Carlsberg Christmas beer helped a little, too.

Let the Learning Begin.

Traveling is a learning experience. Here are a few tips we learned in only our first few days in Europe:

1. Be sure to know the times the sun rises and sets: plan accordingly.
2. Do not wear heels, no matter how small or cute the heel is.
3. Traveling overnight on a train is extremely efficient, however uncomfortable it may be.
4. Do not eat street-vended sausages.

We arrived back in Oslo, with little rest. Bright lights + loud people + old sausages = no sleep.

After unlocking our luggage, we headed out to explore Oslo itself and the Viking Museum.

Oslo is a beautiful city and easily accessible with public transportation. We initially planned on seeing Vigeland Sculpture Park when we arrived back in town. After a few wrong trolleys, we finally found the park. However, considering it was 6am and did not appear too safe, we boarded yet another trolley in pursuit of breakfast.

We found a cute cafe and settled in. After choosing our am goodies and some much needed coffee, Jeff attempted to pay.

'Please head down the street to an atm and we'll hold this food for you.'

Two hours later, after a lesson in Norwegian banking and etiquette, consumed with fear that we would we boarding the next plane home, we come to find out that banks only allow you to withdraw a certain amount each day. In the US, that's easy to determine. In Norwegian krone, it's a littler harder.

After our little run in with the bank, we skipped out on our cafe.
Come on, you know they didn't save our food for almost three hours!!
Anyways, we boarded a bus and headed over to the Viking Museum. Interestingly, the group of people who sat with us were British, as well. Jeff and the older Brit of the group were like two little boys, explaining to each other that since childhood they had wanted to see this museum. I was waiting to see if they skipped to the entrance.

The museum was amazing, though not very big. The clean lines of the building allowed all the attention to be drawn on the ships, showcasing their detailed artwork.

Realizing the time and when our train was departing for Copenhagen, we knew we had to head back to the train station immediately.
'The bus back to the station comes every fifteen minutes,' the lady at the admission counter informed us.
Jeff and I exchanged worried looks and headed outside. There was a bus... leaving!!
We ran, we ran like we never ran before, we ran like we had had a good night sleep, like I wasn't wearing heels and it wasn't sleeting.

Back at the train station, we boarded the train and headed for Copenhagen, Denmark.

After a rather boring trip and a 5-minute layover in Sweden, we arrived at our destination around 9ish at night. Here's where our travel companion, fear decided to throw in his two-cents.
We had vague directions, no map and the bus turned us away because our money was too large, he didn't have change. After another hour of pacing and harassing the Danish, we finally were able to board the appropriate bus and head to our inn.

We jumped off the bus and realized we were in a residential section of the city, streets with few lights and lined with apartment buildings and beggars. We followed our emailed directions and were led to a dilapidated apartment building. 'Jeff, let's go. PLEASE. Let's go, now.' We were buzzed inside and greeted on the stairwell by a rather tall, thin lady who directed us up the stairs into her apartment, filled with Christmas decorations and children. She waved us through the apartment and opened a door on the other side of the room. We were staying, for two nights, in a bedroom, in her apartment. When I read inn on the Copenhagen travel website, this was not what I imagined. We shared her kitchen and bathroom with her, her children and two other boarders.
We will be forever haunted by the smell of the unusual food cooking and the grimy bathroom, but hell, we had free internet!

We skyped home that night: 'How's your trip?'
After exchanging looks, 'Fine.'

Potential Energy

Potential Energy: 'The energy of a particle or system of particles derived from position, or condition, rather than motion. A raised weight, coiled spring, or charged battery has potential energy.'

Another form of potential energy: me.

And it's starting to take a toll on my body.

For example, right now, aside from freezing, my mind is racing. However, this page is blank. I have so much I would like to share and the thoughts, the feelings are preparing to jump, bracing themselves to be splattered all over this page and yet... nothing.
Potential energy.

The feeling is unreal. It's almost as though you are thousands of miles away but are being forced to have your body stay in one location. I look in the mirror and am surprised at the girl who stares back. In my mind, in my researching, in my readings, I have created this person who is always waiting to reveal itself.

Waiting for the time to be right.
Waiting to move to another location.
Waiting for the money to come in.
Waiting to graduate.

Waiting.

I love when people say they are going off to 'find themselves' or some nonsense. I know where I am, it just depends on which part of myself I am looking for. My body is right here, physically cold, physically clothed, physically unfit. My mind, well what part of that are you looking for? The part that shares a story or two with you or the part that laughs at your tale? Sure, that part jumps out immediately, wanting to be liked. I just cannot get the rest of it to budge.

Honestly, why wait? Why have I waited and continue to wait? Ready to make a move, ready to pounce... yet, nothing.

I think it boils down to fear, among a nice pesto of other ingredients.

Like a fortune cookie once fortuned: If you always do what you've always done, you'll always get what you've always gotten.

I guess, still, after all of this I don't know what to do.

In essence,

I'm still waiting.