tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-47428815080898145802024-03-13T20:17:02.191-07:00Gauffre-a-gogothis is what happens when you let me out of the countryLyssa Brehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10302891708109076653noreply@blogger.comBlogger39125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4742881508089814580.post-24596265698419024942011-05-18T10:14:00.000-07:002011-05-25T16:30:24.692-07:00NamurOne of our profs here, Philippe, is from this town in the southern half of Belgium called Namur. Namur's about 2 train stops from Ottignies, the "big" gare (train station) 6 minutes from Louvain-la-Neuve. Pretty much if you want to go anywhere from Louvain-la-Neuve, you hop a train to Ottignies (it's probably a 6 minute ride) and switch at the station there. It's slightly smaller than North Charleston, and has a river and a citadel. As a treat, Philippe took us to his hometown and showed us around, because he's such an awesome guy! Prepare yourself for a bajillion pictures.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5fehS6Ehi-k/Td2N5Xa2MAI/AAAAAAAAARo/zIIiRIaHyZM/s1600/DSC04523.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5fehS6Ehi-k/Td2N5Xa2MAI/AAAAAAAAARo/zIIiRIaHyZM/s320/DSC04523.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610796727452184578" /></a> This is a part of the Citadel. I have no idea which part exactly it is, but it's part of it, hahaha. We had to climb a bajillion steps up a mountain to get there, so by the time we arrived at the top I was way too out of breath to pay attention to those kinds of things.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mKd1ZWtU0uQ/Td2PNXGNCsI/AAAAAAAAASA/esLyRQ0_k2E/s1600/DSC04525.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mKd1ZWtU0uQ/Td2PNXGNCsI/AAAAAAAAASA/esLyRQ0_k2E/s320/DSC04525.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610798170474613442" /></a> The city of Namur, as seen from on the Citadel. Chouette, isn't it? (that's French for "cool")<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RiVsGWtxFMk/Td2OnKS2zXI/AAAAAAAAAR4/6B40TepPA_E/s1600/DSC04518.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RiVsGWtxFMk/Td2OnKS2zXI/AAAAAAAAAR4/6B40TepPA_E/s320/DSC04518.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610797514202991986" /></a> We also visited the citadel perfumerie. Why is there a perfumerie in a citadel, you ask? I'll tell you. The guy who started the perfumerie needed a place to keep his fragrances cold while they were in production. It gets really expensive to rent out industrial freezers, so why not just buy a space in the side of a mountain that's pretty much the equivalent of a wine cellar? Smart guy. That's Mike and Eliana, by the way. It looks like a warm, gorgeous day outside, but it was actually a freezing gorgeous day.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Rdg-kzxss48/Td2PidWXz3I/AAAAAAAAASI/4lPytGvBdB0/s1600/DSC04552.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Rdg-kzxss48/Td2PidWXz3I/AAAAAAAAASI/4lPytGvBdB0/s320/DSC04552.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610798532930293618" /></a> Nick, Karen and I had lunch at a little café in the town square while everyone else was lame and went to Pizza Hut. This is Karen here with her orvalette, a traditional Belgian dish. Orvalette is pretty much the same thing as tartiflette (a traditional French dish with potatoes and cheesy sauce), only they also put in BEER GRAVY. Needless to say, I ended up eating half of Karen's plate.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-od6o-AoRLAk/Td2QF4dYpEI/AAAAAAAAASQ/Cu0UHpEL3Sw/s1600/DSC04574.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-od6o-AoRLAk/Td2QF4dYpEI/AAAAAAAAASQ/Cu0UHpEL3Sw/s320/DSC04574.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610799141502886978" /></a> This is St. Aubin's Cathedral, a giant baroque church that WE DIDN'T GET TO GO IN. Do you know how sad my heart was? Y'all know how I love churches.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WQLqOcWwVaA/Td2QkYeOV2I/AAAAAAAAASY/gZPFWJ7gr-c/s1600/DSC04579.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WQLqOcWwVaA/Td2QkYeOV2I/AAAAAAAAASY/gZPFWJ7gr-c/s320/DSC04579.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610799665492416354" /></a> And here is Nick, sitting in the King of Fools' throne. Karen explained to us the deal about the king of fools: they crown a new one every year at some festival, and that's his throne. On the back of the seat of the king of fools is a statue of this guy Nicolas Bosret. Coincidence? I think not.<br /><br />Namur is cool. It's quiet, it's cozy, it's got good food. What's not to love?Lyssa Brehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10302891708109076653noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4742881508089814580.post-55237656177241972292011-05-17T06:14:00.000-07:002011-05-17T06:40:54.536-07:00Back to Deutschland!When we came back from Greece, we flew in again to Germany, which meant more time spent invading Nick's house. This time we mixed it up a bit and brought Karen along. We only stayed a day, but oh what a marvelous day it was. Actual showers and actual beds and POPEYE'S. Yeah. Nick's dad brought us Popeye's from base. I had never had Popeye's before and I was skeptical (as I am about every chicken joint that is not Bojangle's) but it was good. Oms noms noms.<br /><br />We had a bit of an adventure at Nick's. There's an adorable baby goat that lives next door named Bobo that takes it upon himself to come frolic on the patio and play with the dog and eat Miss Lisa's flowers. He also likes to get in the house.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-T3kE7mNIJVQ/TdJ1qgwxcjI/AAAAAAAAARI/zeCaQH2AuHI/s1600/IMG_0189.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-T3kE7mNIJVQ/TdJ1qgwxcjI/AAAAAAAAARI/zeCaQH2AuHI/s320/IMG_0189.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5607673859239146034" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YsTtqkKGhTg/TdJ1zJtMklI/AAAAAAAAARQ/_1rvDXZu2OM/s1600/IMG_0192.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YsTtqkKGhTg/TdJ1zJtMklI/AAAAAAAAARQ/_1rvDXZu2OM/s320/IMG_0192.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5607674007668953682" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yyKl1TDltJ8/TdJ15jLNtBI/AAAAAAAAARY/UHwPr_tNvLE/s1600/IMG_0194.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yyKl1TDltJ8/TdJ15jLNtBI/AAAAAAAAARY/UHwPr_tNvLE/s320/IMG_0194.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5607674117584958482" /></a><br /><br />Yes, that was just an excuse to spam you with baby goat pictures.<br /><br />We also went to the eiscafé down the road before getting on the train back home! Eiscafé = German for "ice cream parlor". Lots of fun ice cream was had: I had amaretto ice cream, Annie had curaçao ice cream, Karen had a banana split, and Nick had SPAGHETTI ICE CREAM MOST AWESOME THING EVER. No, it is not spaghetti flavored ice cream; that would be gross. They serve the ice cream in a way that makes it look like spaghetti noodles, and then they put strawberries or some other variety of red fruit on top to make it look like there's tomato sauce on top. It was super cute and we should import this to America.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kpdMpbOZNp8/TdJ6lmdOetI/AAAAAAAAARg/ETnomwKGEFw/s1600/DSC04477.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kpdMpbOZNp8/TdJ6lmdOetI/AAAAAAAAARg/ETnomwKGEFw/s320/DSC04477.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5607679272426568402" /></a> All of us at the eiscafé!<br /><br />And then Nick dropped us off at the station and we came back to Louvain-la-Neuve. Wee!<br /><br />Yes, pretty much this post was an excuse to post pictures of baby goats.<br /><br />Next up, Namur!Lyssa Brehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10302891708109076653noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4742881508089814580.post-86966788701156381702011-05-14T02:57:00.001-07:002011-05-15T03:22:08.734-07:00En Grèce!Hey guys! I am made of fail, I know, but here's part 2 of the Spring Break series, entitled "En Grèce" (which means "In Greece" in French)!<br /><br />We flew out of Frankfurt, Germany to Volos, Greece, and from Volos hopped a bus to Athens. The group parted ways there: Anna, Megan, Nick and Grace went to Skiathos, and Annie, Karen, and I went to Santorini!<br /><br />It's a 7 hour ferry ride from Athens to the port at Santorini. When I say "ferry" I mean "big freaking cruise ship". I have never been on a boat before and promptly freaked out on the inside. Y'all saw Titanic; don't play games/look at me like I'm crazy. Pretty much if your method of transportation is not a car, I don't trust it.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WiUcokhNZE0/Tc5VTduLQII/AAAAAAAAAPQ/sRQeDiPC8f4/s1600/DSC04241.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WiUcokhNZE0/Tc5VTduLQII/AAAAAAAAAPQ/sRQeDiPC8f4/s320/DSC04241.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5606512379007025282" /></a> That's the island of Naxos, as seen from the deck of our boat. Naxos is still a good 2 hours from Santorini, so we had a while to go after this.<br /><br />On the island we stayed in the touristy town of Perissa at Anny Studios, a really cool/pretty hostel run by an American guy from California.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KpAutNhsZHE/Tc5WiAdN1nI/AAAAAAAAAPY/3cJaqFwDWJI/s1600/DSC04383.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KpAutNhsZHE/Tc5WiAdN1nI/AAAAAAAAAPY/3cJaqFwDWJI/s320/DSC04383.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5606513728360928882" /></a>That's our hostel! There were marble steps in front of our room. It rained one morning. I wore flip flops. Do you know how disastrous that was? I couldn't sit down comfortably for 2 days. It was sad but hilarious (in hindsight).<br /><br />Fun thing about Perissa: BLACK SAND BEACH. By sand I actually mean "pebble", but WHATEVER.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jj5luknYBh0/Tc5XF_7fVzI/AAAAAAAAAPg/NawZq8TmKMg/s1600/DSC04253.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jj5luknYBh0/Tc5XF_7fVzI/AAAAAAAAAPg/NawZq8TmKMg/s320/DSC04253.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5606514346694760242" /></a> Welcome to paradise, right? That first day, we got to the hostel, ran to our room, changed into our swimsuits, and promptly fell asleep on the beach for like 4 hours. Words cannot express how black I was when we woke up. Yikes.<br /><br />A lot of the places on the island were closed because we weren't there during tourist season, but all the restaurants were still up and running. Let me just say: Greece = CHEAP FOOD. I was so happy. A plate that would have cost me €12-14 in Louvain-la-Neuve cost me €7 in Perissa. Thank you, terrible Greek economy! You saved my pocketbook from certain death. Below is a picture of Karen with one such plate.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uv22-3ud6E8/Tc5YjKI2wmI/AAAAAAAAAPo/V1f05ugznic/s1600/DSC04261.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uv22-3ud6E8/Tc5YjKI2wmI/AAAAAAAAAPo/V1f05ugznic/s320/DSC04261.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5606515947163009634" /></a><br /><br />On the day before we left the island, we went up to Oia and Fira, the two main tourist cities. They're the ones where all the buildings are white with blue circle roofs! SO PRETTY. I'm not even going to talk about it; I'm just going to post pictures.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KbIFliC5DTU/Tc-lBN-6kpI/AAAAAAAAAPw/an-QgNSh8PA/s1600/DSC04303.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KbIFliC5DTU/Tc-lBN-6kpI/AAAAAAAAAPw/an-QgNSh8PA/s320/DSC04303.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5606881501451555474" /></a>Fira<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Q8QjXd99soE/Tc-lg2mcCkI/AAAAAAAAAP4/Dga_Nqi1duY/s1600/DSC04305.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Q8QjXd99soE/Tc-lg2mcCkI/AAAAAAAAAP4/Dga_Nqi1duY/s320/DSC04305.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5606882044930689602" /></a><br /><br />Fira is also forever endeared to my heart because I found €20 on the ground there.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pXbLpMUIYaY/Tc-l2ui7KjI/AAAAAAAAAQA/vaG_TTGzLp4/s1600/DSC04336.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pXbLpMUIYaY/Tc-l2ui7KjI/AAAAAAAAAQA/vaG_TTGzLp4/s320/DSC04336.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5606882420725590578" /></a>The view at Oia<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-f26zolMG0Sk/Tc-mEN4PonI/AAAAAAAAAQI/eFBCrG4FWU8/s1600/DSC04343.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-f26zolMG0Sk/Tc-mEN4PonI/AAAAAAAAAQI/eFBCrG4FWU8/s320/DSC04343.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5606882652474810994" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-inqpCOpDerU/Tc-mQOZfTWI/AAAAAAAAAQQ/95_RlXtPyfw/s1600/DSC04350.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-inqpCOpDerU/Tc-mQOZfTWI/AAAAAAAAAQQ/95_RlXtPyfw/s320/DSC04350.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5606882858772680034" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-evBrc9ZPUlk/Tc-mgvfngJI/AAAAAAAAAQY/7b7Te31J0F0/s1600/DSC04381.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-evBrc9ZPUlk/Tc-mgvfngJI/AAAAAAAAAQY/7b7Te31J0F0/s320/DSC04381.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5606883142534660242" /></a><br /><br />If you can be unhappy in Oia and/or Fira and/or on the general island of Santorini, then you just need to go on ahead and end it. I'm a pretty grouchy person, and even I was like, "SO PRETTY WANT TO STAY FOREVER." Pretty much all the place was missing was a herd of unicorns.<br /><br />We left the island (sadly) and went back to spend a day on the mainland in Athens! Again, I won't talk: I'll just post pictures.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-y3RKB128BBk/Tc-nBYQxXEI/AAAAAAAAAQg/CyshO-q6K5I/s1600/DSC04386.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-y3RKB128BBk/Tc-nBYQxXEI/AAAAAAAAAQg/CyshO-q6K5I/s320/DSC04386.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5606883703234059330" /></a><br /><br />FUN FACT ABOUT GREECE/ATHENS IN GENERAL: there are random orange/lemon trees EVERYWHERE. They're just on the side of the road, chillin', growing fruit. Don't believe me? I have proof.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Z-f_oT1KX7c/Tc-nR8NhgQI/AAAAAAAAAQo/LTHtB8SC3xw/s1600/DSC04387.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Z-f_oT1KX7c/Tc-nR8NhgQI/AAAAAAAAAQo/LTHtB8SC3xw/s320/DSC04387.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5606883987762020610" /></a><br />See the oranges?<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-p8LfUDEFDTM/Tc-oCVPjqoI/AAAAAAAAAQw/O8w8q_Jf5fE/s1600/DSC04395.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-p8LfUDEFDTM/Tc-oCVPjqoI/AAAAAAAAAQw/O8w8q_Jf5fE/s320/DSC04395.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5606884819115158146" /></a> The Acropolis!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-X3JEMMvGgqg/Tc-oUqrhp6I/AAAAAAAAAQ4/GzJwE--_vbA/s1600/DSC04430.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-X3JEMMvGgqg/Tc-oUqrhp6I/AAAAAAAAAQ4/GzJwE--_vbA/s320/DSC04430.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5606885134107256738" /></a> The Parthenon! There was a little kid behind me; his dad was trying to explain to him that the Parthenon was very very old, and the kid goes, "...why hasn't it broke yet?" Bahahahahahaha<br /><br />And here's a picture of the Alps from our plane back to Germany!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0Y-9i3AGY-o/Tc-ozSEttjI/AAAAAAAAARA/BIdW0YZA4UY/s1600/DSC04467.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0Y-9i3AGY-o/Tc-ozSEttjI/AAAAAAAAARA/BIdW0YZA4UY/s320/DSC04467.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5606885660077962802" /></a><br /><br />Greece is a blast in a glass. I like it!<br /><br />Updates are going to start picking up. I only have 12 more days left here in Belgium, and there's a lot I want to cover. Check back soon/often for more junk!Lyssa Brehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10302891708109076653noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4742881508089814580.post-18469322567258735972011-05-01T05:41:00.000-07:002011-05-01T06:13:20.547-07:00Spring Break part 1I'm late. I know. But I'm always late so y'all should have expected as much.<br /><br />The first stop on our Spring Break Tour was Börnsborg, Germany, where Nick's family lives. It's in a quiet little corner of Germany; to get there we took the train from Louvain-la-Neuve to Luxembourg, got on a bus at Luxembourg,and his mom picked us up at the station in Saarbrücken, Germany. There's all kinds of rolling hills and greenery around their place; it's really gorgeous and when we got there we took a walk.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-a6UaK4KxLbY/Tb1WZQnLSKI/AAAAAAAAAOI/pYevJlVNZdI/s1600/DSC04133.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-a6UaK4KxLbY/Tb1WZQnLSKI/AAAAAAAAAOI/pYevJlVNZdI/s320/DSC04133.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5601728503474768034" /></a><br /><br />Pretty, isn't it? We chilled out that night (travelling sucks, btw), and ate a lot and watched tv in English. Not even gonna lie, it was kind of nice.<br /><br />Nick's family went on vacation to Spain shortly thereafter, so for the most part we had the house to ourselves. One day we sat in the house literally all day in our pajamas. Another morning, Nick got up, fired up the grill, and made us Bavarian breakfast (i.e., sausage and beer) which we ate out on the patio.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-T_pPQQrCfxM/Tb1YEXwX_XI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/dqR-H6VkaZo/s1600/DSC04142.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-T_pPQQrCfxM/Tb1YEXwX_XI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/dqR-H6VkaZo/s320/DSC04142.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5601730343638400370" /></a><br /><br />I want to say that particular beer was cristal weissen (I'm pants at spelling German). It was the noms, and it took me until we left that afternoon to finish it. We drove out to the Japanese garden! The Japanese Garden had just opened and not everything was blooming yet, but it was still gorgeous. The gift shop had tea cups that said 茶 on them which I found funny/snarky because 茶 reads "cha" which means "tea".<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vziPnCQIJZg/Tb1ZQh3Ic9I/AAAAAAAAAOY/raKoEFzrE_w/s1600/DSC04148.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vziPnCQIJZg/Tb1ZQh3Ic9I/AAAAAAAAAOY/raKoEFzrE_w/s320/DSC04148.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5601731652021154770" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-p48aY3vLi-8/Tb1ZfQMU-cI/AAAAAAAAAOg/4fEYPCqZdGw/s1600/DSC04158.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-p48aY3vLi-8/Tb1ZfQMU-cI/AAAAAAAAAOg/4fEYPCqZdGw/s320/DSC04158.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5601731904976255426" /></a><br /><br />The next day was Homburg for shopping and castle ruin exploring! <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yY1rDmsIsGw/Tb1aHnyE-QI/AAAAAAAAAOo/eefOrR4Wpc0/s1600/DSC04179.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yY1rDmsIsGw/Tb1aHnyE-QI/AAAAAAAAAOo/eefOrR4Wpc0/s320/DSC04179.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5601732598503373058" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-21RH4trMMNk/Tb1aaQI7LqI/AAAAAAAAAOw/4ZSrizaRaGw/s1600/DSC04212.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-21RH4trMMNk/Tb1aaQI7LqI/AAAAAAAAAOw/4ZSrizaRaGw/s320/DSC04212.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5601732918574263970" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8YznnqZl7uk/Tb1axKKTXEI/AAAAAAAAAO4/plhYhEHd3Ms/s1600/DSC04215.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8YznnqZl7uk/Tb1axKKTXEI/AAAAAAAAAO4/plhYhEHd3Ms/s320/DSC04215.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5601733312106421314" /></a><br />After having my camera for the better part of 7 years I've finally learned how to work it to take awesome shots like that last one. Win!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ew8Sja6m2Yc/Tb1bJxuCbiI/AAAAAAAAAPA/gjCWmcQOLfQ/s1600/DSC04218.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ew8Sja6m2Yc/Tb1bJxuCbiI/AAAAAAAAAPA/gjCWmcQOLfQ/s320/DSC04218.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5601733735042149922" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-M-0lKXEwYdE/Tb1bVgsgxcI/AAAAAAAAAPI/PPsy7T7qP9g/s1600/DSC04221.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-M-0lKXEwYdE/Tb1bVgsgxcI/AAAAAAAAAPI/PPsy7T7qP9g/s320/DSC04221.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5601733936630777282" /></a><br /><br />It was pretty cool. There was also a tower that Annie and I tried to climb up, but we got to the top of the stairs and it was roped off. Thanks, Germany. Thanks.<br /><br />After that, it was on to the airport to get to Athens!<br /><br />I like Germany. I pick on a select few of my friends all the time because they're OBSESSED with the place (I'm looking at you; Patty), but having gone there myself I now am forced to take back SOME of my teasing. Not all of it. Not even half of it. More like 1/5 of it. But I'm still taking some of it back. Take what you can get.<br /><br />Next time, it's Greece!Lyssa Brehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10302891708109076653noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4742881508089814580.post-12553776173859845782011-04-24T14:25:00.000-07:002011-04-24T18:53:05.535-07:00Χριστός Ανέστη !The title of this post says "Christós Anésti", which is "Christ is risen" in Greek. Our Greek bros that we met on the ferry/cruise back to Athens taught us that that's how they greet each other during Easter times.<br /><br />That being said, Happy Easter! Hope all y'all had a great day; I know I sure did! I did jack diddly squat, literally. I woke up, went to the grocery store, and spent the day watching The Hunchback of Notre Dame. Side note: that was my favorite movie as a kid, and now I'm watching it (at 21, mind you) and it's TERRIFYING. Seriously, SCARY.<br /><br />We had Easter dinner round mine tonight, which was fun! I made (i.e., bought) crepes and ham, but I also made (as in, from scratch, by hand, etc.) béchamel sauce, which, if I say so myself, was delicious. I didn't have nutmeg (it was super expensive at the store), so I substituted cinnamon and it was just as good, if not better. Who's a culinary boss? I am.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-auvZOKuL-h0/TbStknPSEUI/AAAAAAAAAN4/l7q4WF1nT9s/s1600/DSC04480.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-auvZOKuL-h0/TbStknPSEUI/AAAAAAAAAN4/l7q4WF1nT9s/s320/DSC04480.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599291081248346434" /></a><br />Easter dinner! Eliana brought the vegetables, rice, and made the deviled eggs. Mike brought the wine and the Coke (and dessert, which is not pictured here), and Karen brought the beer. We will talk about the beer in a moment. See my sauce in the pot? Yayaaa.<br /><br />Belgium has a lot of hang ups about beer. For example, you can only buy beer from one of the trappist abbeys once every 6 months, and it's illegal, literally against the law, to pour a beer into a glass that's not the brand's glass for that particular beer. You can't pour Chimay into a Rochefort glass, or Leffe into Guillotine. That being said, they also like to have fun with their beer, by which I mean there are beers for certain holidays. Every brand of Belgian beer I've run across has a Christmas beer (available obviously at Christmas time), and apparently there's Easter beers too! Karen was awesome enough to bring us the Leffe Easter beer for Easter dinner, and it was delicious. I'm a little biased though; I like Leffe best of all.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LCaRt5_2LpA/TbTTFXa44WI/AAAAAAAAAOA/DPPiZA_-O6s/s1600/DSC04482.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LCaRt5_2LpA/TbTTFXa44WI/AAAAAAAAAOA/DPPiZA_-O6s/s320/DSC04482.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599332325867970914" /></a> Aw yeah holiday beer yeah! That's Karen in the back :]<br /><br />All in all, today was a good day.Lyssa Brehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10302891708109076653noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4742881508089814580.post-41483138986990579672011-04-23T09:32:00.000-07:002011-04-23T10:25:40.101-07:00What? Tease!Hey guys! I'm back from my bajillion day long vacation, feelin' all refreshed and lookin' all tan (read as, "darker than I've ever been in my life") and what not. I've been travelling for 2 weeks none stop, pretty much, and, needless to say, I've got a lot to talk about and even more pictures to show. I'm pretty sure I have upwards of 300 pictures from Greece and Germany, and since I definitely can't do all of those in one post here's what the plan's gonna be:<br /><br />1. Easter post tomorrow<br />2. Germany post Monday or Tuesday<br />3. Greece post Wednesday or Friday<br /><br />Here's a little teaser so you know what you're in for:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qgtbV7d51Fk/TbMK23sLu1I/AAAAAAAAANw/9hwayNSQ6g8/s1600/DSC04148.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qgtbV7d51Fk/TbMK23sLu1I/AAAAAAAAANw/9hwayNSQ6g8/s320/DSC04148.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5598830699530140498" /></a><br />The Japanese Garden at Homburg<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-a8MNFFZ2OBc/TbMKhvlLOuI/AAAAAAAAANo/WzpStZjhNfU/s1600/DSC04358.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-a8MNFFZ2OBc/TbMKhvlLOuI/AAAAAAAAANo/WzpStZjhNfU/s320/DSC04358.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5598830336576010978" /></a><br />Oia, Santorini, Greece<br /><br />Be jealous :pLyssa Brehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10302891708109076653noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4742881508089814580.post-25723938983010633892011-04-14T12:40:00.000-07:002011-04-14T12:53:28.315-07:00I made it!I've made it to Greece! I'm currently fending off Mosquitos in the port café we're passing the night in before we catch the ferry to Santorini in the morning, but whatever: I'm here in one piece.<br /><br />So Greece. The countryside is beautiful. The water's really beautiful. Athens? Sketchy. Sketchy looking and dirty. We think we may have found the nicer part of town on the train, but there was no time to investigate.<br /><br />The ferry tomorrow is out at 7:55 in the morning, and it's SEVEN HOURS LONG. I will try not to cry. Y'all know I don't do water. After that, though, it's 4 days of beach and sun and wonderfulness. I'm excited.<br /><br />Things I've Learned:<br />1: Greek food is cheap<br />2: Greek food is delicious<br />3: Greek food is filling<br />4: Greece is diverse. I've seen more different types of people here in 7 hours than I have in 4 months in BelgiumLyssa Brehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10302891708109076653noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4742881508089814580.post-84367678277208408902011-04-10T10:26:00.000-07:002011-04-10T10:35:32.099-07:00Deutschland DeutschlandHey guys! How's it hanging?<br /><br />Spring Break has officially begun! This week, Nick, Annie, Grace and I are in Germany staying at Nick's house. I'm not quite sure where it is, and he's gone on a run so I can't ask him, but the googling weather says I'm in Steinach am Glan. Either way, I'm close to Trier, which is where Clemson chemical engineering majors go to study abroad.<br /><br />The weather. Here. Is. PERFECT. It's presently 19° C, which is close to 70° F. I FEEL LIKE I'M BACK IN SOUTH CAROLINA OH MY GOODNESS. Yesterday, we took a walk through the woods and sat out by a lake forever and played with Nick's dog. It was a good day. We even got to go to Ramstein, AND THERE WAS HAIR CARE PRODUCT I FLIPPED OUT ALL OVER THE PLACE. Seriously, I've never been so excited over hair grease. Ever.<br /><br />Germany is so pretty I can't even stand it. It's all rolling hills and pastures and farm animals and deer and giant bunny rabbits and perfectly placed trees. Unfortunately, I can't put up pictures right now (not that I've taken many thus far) because I don't have my laptop on me, but they're coming. Oh they're coming.<br /><br />Later this week, we're touring castles. A lot. Because it's Germany, and what is there to do? Tomorrow, we're going to Mannheim (I think)!<br /><br />Check back soon for castle rants :D<br /><br />Things I've learned:<br />1. Germany is gorgeous<br />2. Germany has perfect weather<br />3. Yes. They really do drive 80 bajillion mph--excuse me, km/h.Lyssa Brehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10302891708109076653noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4742881508089814580.post-90387052407088641432011-04-06T14:03:00.000-07:002011-04-07T04:51:48.386-07:00Napping on castles because I'm a bossLast Saturday, Nick, Annie, Grace and I went on a day trip to Gand! Gand, of course, is the French name for Ghent. The Flemish name is Gent. Oh Belgium, you confuse me so with you interlingual politics.<br /><br />Anyway, Ghent was great! It's got canals and awesome churches (y'all know how I love churches) and castles and parks and oh my giddy goodness! I can show you better than I can tell you.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-03HAIv6fMRk/TZzxiZlP7BI/AAAAAAAAAM4/DqBK0hXpuoE/s1600/IMG_0112.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-03HAIv6fMRk/TZzxiZlP7BI/AAAAAAAAAM4/DqBK0hXpuoE/s320/IMG_0112.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592610410572278802" /></a>This is Gand. Gent. Ghent. Whatever. It pretty much looks like a Disney movie threw up all over it, except for the lamp posts with Michael the Archangel slaying dragons on top of them. I love Disney movies, so I'm cool with that.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PsTGHhDnweM/TZzyHsf0c6I/AAAAAAAAANA/SLDO9Cke9ak/s1600/IMG_0119.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PsTGHhDnweM/TZzyHsf0c6I/AAAAAAAAANA/SLDO9Cke9ak/s320/IMG_0119.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592611051304940450" /></a>CASTLE. I love castles! This is the Gravensteen which is literally just sort of hanging in the city center. It was built in 1180, and was falling apart until the 1880s when the people of Ghent started reconstructing it. Now it's a museum with lots of castle-y weapons (spears, maces, GIANT SWORDS WITH 5 FOOT BLADES; y'know, the usual) and pretty rifles. Seriously, the rifles had ivory-looking panoramas carved into them. Ridiculous.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GMiTaDEbP7g/TZzzcbJRLUI/AAAAAAAAANI/MTmQ1zjA1n8/s1600/197956_10150190294808055_671563054_8441012_4561692_n.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GMiTaDEbP7g/TZzzcbJRLUI/AAAAAAAAANI/MTmQ1zjA1n8/s320/197956_10150190294808055_671563054_8441012_4561692_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592612506935831874" /></a>And this is me. Laying out on the lawn on top of the Gravensteen. I definitely fell asleep there. That's right. I napped on a castle. Be jealous.<br /><br />There are a couple of interesting churches in Gand. One of them is Sint-Jacobskerk, which we passed by but didn't go in (it has purple window shutters!), and then there's Sint-Niklaaskerk (which is a MONSTER oh my goodness it looks like a castle but it's a CHURCH), and, my favorite, Sint-Baafskathedraal. This is Sint-Baafs:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QluteSaCRg4/TZz1aqPsrcI/AAAAAAAAANQ/qDnuP2b32h8/s1600/IMG_0149.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QluteSaCRg4/TZz1aqPsrcI/AAAAAAAAANQ/qDnuP2b32h8/s320/IMG_0149.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592614675652849090" /></a><br />Impressed already, aren't you? I know. I know.<br /><br />Y'all know how I love big old impressive/imposing churches. We walked up to it and my mouth was open. It was really undignified. It got worse when we went inside. Pictures aren't allowed inside Saint Bavo's (the English way of saying Sint-Baafs) but I love it so much I found some on the internet to show you. Seriously, this is my favorite church in Europe thus far and I must share it with you folks back home.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gKMODgYkv0k/TZz2s-0wxMI/AAAAAAAAANY/o5AuEoI0x7U/s1600/SintBaafsAltar.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gKMODgYkv0k/TZz2s-0wxMI/AAAAAAAAANY/o5AuEoI0x7U/s320/SintBaafsAltar.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592616089926288578" /></a>That is the altar. <span style="font-style:italic;">Just</span> the altar. There's a big walk around the altar that you and it's got all these little side cubbies with shrines (I use the term loosely, and only because I have NO IDEA what to call these little rooms that are everywhere in Europe) with impressive sculptures and paintings of Jesus and one of them had a narrative painting of the crucifixion and oh my.<br /><br />I love Saint Bavo's. Everything is black and white. More specifically, everything is black and marble. You heard me. Marble. Think the altar was something? That's not even the best part. <span style="font-style:italic;">This</span> is:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PTkIBygXRcM/TZz3OS0Ar8I/AAAAAAAAANg/XdMLKkbSTaY/s1600/SintBaafsPulpit2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PTkIBygXRcM/TZz3OS0Ar8I/AAAAAAAAANg/XdMLKkbSTaY/s320/SintBaafsPulpit2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592616662227529666" /></a><span style="font-weight:bold;">THAT IS THE PULPIT. THAT IS THE PULPIT. THAT IS THE PULPIT.</span> DO YOU UNDERSTAND HOW EXCITING THAT IS? IT IS OAK AND MARBLE AND THE SERPENT IS A DRAGON AND THE APPLES ARE GOLDEN AND THERE'S A DOVE ABOVE WHERE THE PREACHER'S HEAD GOES DO YOU SEE THIS. <br /><br />I wanted to curl up in a ball and live in it. I still do, actually (just in case you couldn't tell).<br /><br />We ended the day by sitting in a park near the train station. If you didn't notice, it was a gorgeous day. It was 75° and perfect, and lying on top of the Gravensteen was the most peaceful moment I've had in the last 8 or so months--heck, let's make that in the last year. Someone build me a castle at home so I can nap on the roof when the going gets tough (or when I otherwise feel like it).<br /><br />Easter Break starts this weekend and goes through the 22nd! Friday I leave for Germany for a week, and then I'm on to Greece (Santorini, specifically) to lay on a beach and drink fruity drinks all day. Updates will be few and far between (or nonexistent) until I get back because I'm not taking my computer. I will, however, take lots and lots of pictures and post a good percentage of them here so you guys can see :]<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Things I've learned:</span><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">1.</span> Ghent is the city of French Bulldogs, epic mustaches, pregnant women, and people who speak really really good English.<br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">2.</span> It does get warmer than 55° in Belgium<br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">3.</span> 70° F is 20° C<br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">4.</span> Canals are cool<br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">5.</span> Castles are good places for napsLyssa Brehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10302891708109076653noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4742881508089814580.post-20138685908532869602011-04-01T10:27:00.001-07:002011-04-01T10:43:33.094-07:00Poetry, etc.Hey guys! Not much going on in the world of me, sadly. It's been sort of a dead week.<br /><br />It's spring. That means trees are blooming, things are sprouting, and pollen is everywhere in the air. It's by no means as bad as South Carolina here in Belgium, but it's all newfangled European pollen and what not that my poor, southern body has never had to inhale before. Said body is therefore flipping out. I missed 2 days of class this week because breathing outside my bedroom is difficult. Oy.<br /><br />Yesterday (Friday) I had a poetry reading of sorts at a school sponsored event. Truth be told, I got suckered into it by my Japanese teacher--if I had actually been paying attention I would have NEVER agreed to do it. It was simple: just recite 2 haikus in Japanese at the shindig and be done, but I was super nervous about it. It's sort of nerve-wrecking to perform in your third language in front of a room full of people who speak your second language as their first language, you know? I didn't choke, though, surprisingly enough, and it turned out well! The program's supposed to be put on youtube; when Mariken gets me the link I'll post it so you guys can see!<br /><br />Exchange rate is still bonkers. This is breaking my poor, cheap heart.<br /><br />There's something else I'm supposed to tell you all, but I definitely can't think of what it is!<br /><br />I think I speak better French when there aren't any Americans around. Actually, I know that for a fact., I say that because I know me. I'm lazy. The Americans speak English, so I don't put my best effort into speaking French because I know I can fall back on English with them. When they're not around, I don't have a crutch, so I have to step my game up.<br /><br />Greece in 2 weeks! :D Get excited.Lyssa Brehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10302891708109076653noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4742881508089814580.post-16035356182280312112011-03-24T05:21:00.001-07:002011-03-24T05:40:59.341-07:00La Mouche, et autres histoiresHey guys! Just a quickie update while I'm sitting here listening to one of my flatmates play guitar. They have Lundi de la Guitare here (Guitar Monday), which is pretty much where people get together and have drinks while students/local folks play guitar. I've never been, but apparently he plays it sometimes.<br /><br />So the exchange rate has gone bonkers. I have stopped checking it, because I had a miniature heart attack Sunday when I looked online and it was $1.42 to €1. Make it stop please dear God I beseech you.<br /><br />Last weekend I went back to Leuven! RANDOM FACTS: Belgium has 3 official languages--French, Dutch, and German. The German speaking people pretty much live in a corner of the country and are in no way/shape/form important because there's like 5 of them, and everyone knows that the French and the Dutch hate each other. As a result, every city in Belgium has 2 names: the Dutch name, and the French name. Leuven is the Dutch name for Louvain (not to be confused with Louvain-la-Neuve, because they are different). I think Leuven sounds better, but when I come home from the weekend and say, "I was in Leuven," people look at me like I'm crazy because they have no idea where I'm talking about. It's kind of funny.<br /><br />Anyway, we wanted to eat Mexican food, but apparently you have to have reservations to get in ANYWHERE in Leuven on the weekends so we ended up at (you guessed it) PIZZA HUT.<br /><br />Now, I can't stand Pizza Hut. Y'all know I don't like it. The crust is soggy and the pizza sauce tastes like metal (at least to me). THIS WAS HONESTLY THE MOST DELICIOUS THING I'VE EVER EATEN IN MY LIFE. I wanted to curl up in a ball under the table and just live there for the rest of my life. Euro Pizza Hut > American Pizza Hut. I kid you not.<br /><br />I've had a hard week. I came out of one funk to be literally, physically, and metaphorically thrown into another one. But it's a beautiful day in Louvain-la-Neuve, and I will rejoice and be glad in it. (srsly, it's like 60° and beautiful I'd be a fool not to)<br /><br />That was depressing. To lighten the mood, I'll show you what I call "La Mouche". <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-uXfpHe3vrt8/TYs63yz733I/AAAAAAAAAMw/Y_BT2hXxz8A/s1600/DSC04095.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-uXfpHe3vrt8/TYs63yz733I/AAAAAAAAAMw/Y_BT2hXxz8A/s320/DSC04095.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587624492890054514" /></a><br />It is giant. It is a fly (la mouche = the fly). It is a statue. Yayaaaa.Lyssa Brehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10302891708109076653noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4742881508089814580.post-6906114799430008442011-03-15T08:12:00.000-07:002011-03-15T08:35:34.366-07:00Bright sunshiny days!Hellooooo lovelies! I've had a super busy week; sorry for the lack of updating! It's midterm time, so I've got lots of studying to do. I learned to make stewed potatoes too! I COOKED! AND IT WAS EDIBLE!<br /><br />I'm going to Germany and Greece for spring break! How exciting is that? I KNOW. We're going to wander around Bavaria and then head off to Thessaloniki. It's gonna be awesome.<br /><br />Don't get all bent out of shape over this, but lately I've been in a funk. That happens to me sometimes. Most days I'm pretty apathetic, and then one day I'll be ridiculously happy--euphoric, even, and then I crash by 8 o'clock and go back to being apathetic because being that happy, and then randomly (literally, for no apparent reason) I'll get sad and stay that way for a few days, intermittently having spurts of intense anger, and then I'll go back to not really caring. I've been kind of in the dumps since Thursday, complete with angry spells, but today. TODAY. Today I woke up and the sky was blue, the sun was shining, and the weatherman said 62°. I've been floating on a cloud since like 7 AM. Not kidding.<br /><br />To celebrate my newfound non-depression, I took a few (literally, 3) pictures of my neighborhood.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jl9G3CALYfg/TX-Ewujrt-I/AAAAAAAAAMg/f3JlYovafmA/s1600/DSC04069.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jl9G3CALYfg/TX-Ewujrt-I/AAAAAAAAAMg/f3JlYovafmA/s320/DSC04069.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584328035628988386" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_4EqqZWu3wE/TX-Ecv2nnLI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/pyfm2Ql_gcM/s1600/DSC04070.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_4EqqZWu3wE/TX-Ecv2nnLI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/pyfm2Ql_gcM/s320/DSC04070.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584327692379462834" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gXmKsQlCE8c/TX-ElKeBq4I/AAAAAAAAAMY/Utn-y90mBL0/s1600/DSC04071.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gXmKsQlCE8c/TX-ElKeBq4I/AAAAAAAAAMY/Utn-y90mBL0/s320/DSC04071.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584327836963023746" /></a><br /><br />LOOK AT THAT SKY. LOOK AT IT. THE SKY NEVER LOOKS LIKE THAT HERE!<br /><br />The best part? IT'S SUPPOSED TO STAY LIKE THIS ALL WEEK. YESSSSSSSSS.<br /><br />Clearly this is a sign from God that everything's going to be alright.<br /><br />Side note: happy birthday to my dearest darling friend Kevin! He's a big boy now :]<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-iDMMz3R-pd4/TX-GrV6oGcI/AAAAAAAAAMo/pQZ0MXCeWtY/s1600/IMG_0558.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-iDMMz3R-pd4/TX-GrV6oGcI/AAAAAAAAAMo/pQZ0MXCeWtY/s320/IMG_0558.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584330142138243522" /></a>Don't let that face fool you. He does actually like me. I've even gotten him to admit it before.Lyssa Brehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10302891708109076653noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4742881508089814580.post-13585639459057215902011-03-06T06:36:00.000-08:002011-03-06T09:12:00.251-08:00Day trippin' : LeuvenHey guys! Long time no post, I know, but I've been sickish lately (yayyyyy sinuses!) and therefore hiding in my room, not doing anything exciting (like taking over Europe). Gear up though, because this might be a long one.<br /><br />Yesterday, I was <span style="font-style:italic;">supposed</span> to go to Brussels with Grace but we didn't so I ended up on a train to Leuven with Nick and Annie instead. Leuven's about 50 minutes from Louvain-la-Neuve if you catch the fast train, and it's the site of the original UCL (the university I'm studying at). The only problem is that Leuven, and, consequently, the university, are in Flemish country, and the Flemish and the Walloons (French speaking Belgians) <span style="font-weight:bold;">hate</span> each other, so they kicked the French students out of the university. I'm not joking. I couldn't make this stuff up. We wandered around Leuven for about 5 hours, getting into mischief, chasing ducks, and meeting funny Irishmen in restaurant/pubs named after Nostradomus.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Bl3VjMYIpx0/TXOwk8f8YFI/AAAAAAAAALw/roV0UaJVFbY/s1600/DSC04020.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Bl3VjMYIpx0/TXOwk8f8YFI/AAAAAAAAALw/roV0UaJVFbY/s320/DSC04020.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5580998512004063314" /></a>Random river/large creek that ran through the city<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aKvVm_rv0i4/TXOxEoxRJzI/AAAAAAAAAL4/TwM87WjsWrM/s1600/DSC04022.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aKvVm_rv0i4/TXOxEoxRJzI/AAAAAAAAAL4/TwM87WjsWrM/s320/DSC04022.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5580999056463832882" /></a>Saint Michael's church<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--T-yLIwS1fU/TXO8JiE0FNI/AAAAAAAAAMA/m-JzqZoeVtM/s1600/DSC04035.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--T-yLIwS1fU/TXO8JiE0FNI/AAAAAAAAAMA/m-JzqZoeVtM/s320/DSC04035.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581011235194016978" /></a>The canal!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9bYIcinPxmA/TXO8WPtqc6I/AAAAAAAAAMI/VIs_A0V7ERE/s1600/DSC04045.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9bYIcinPxmA/TXO8WPtqc6I/AAAAAAAAAMI/VIs_A0V7ERE/s320/DSC04045.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581011453603378082" /></a>Saint Gertrude's Cathedral at twilight<br /><br />Leuven's pretty great. It's slightly smaller than Greenville, area-wise. It's about the size of two Mauldins. There is Mexican food there, which has endeared it to my heart <span style="font-weight:bold;">forever</span>, and cool old buildings, and it's got a cozier feel than Brussels. There's some huge mansion/castle/thing on top of a hill that we didn't make it to before dark, so we're going to see that next time! I count this day trip a success.<br /><br />Next week, we're going to Waterloo, where Napoleon had his last stand. I like Napoleon. He was tiny and powerful and didn't take anyone's crap. Like me!<br /><br />Now I'm gonna go off on a tangent!<br /><br />So, I <span style="font-style:italic;">love</span> French hip hop. It's AWESOME. Kayna Samet, Soprano, Sinik; they're all great. When we go out, however, they play house music (i.e., techno) and not hip hop, so I'm all pouty and going through francophone rap withdrawals. I was having lunch with Nick yesterday before we jetted off to Leuven, and he played me a song by this group Sexion d'Assaut called "<span style="font-style:italic;">Désolé</span>" ("Sorry"). It's got your bread and butter of rap songs (I had to go find myself in the streets, etc.) but some parts of it are also <span style="font-style:italic;">really</span> political. One of the guys (Adams; how random is his name) calls Paris ALCATRAZ, and talks about war and how he wants to be with his people in Senegal.<br /><br />Here's a link to the lyrics in French and in English so you can follow along!<br /><a href="http://lyricstranslate.com/en/desole-sorry.html">http://lyricstranslate.com/en/desole-sorry.html</a><br /><br /><iframe title="YouTube video player" width="640" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/sxtJlQIxi3Y?rel=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe><br />SO. MUCH. AWESOME. IN. ONE. SONG. When Nick played it I was sort of "Buhh" about it until the guy who does the chorus started singing. LISTEN TO HIM. I LOVE HIM.<br /><br />I am now on a quest to find more French rap, preferably of the Belgian variety because I think these guys are based out of Paris. Wish me luck!Lyssa Brehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10302891708109076653noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4742881508089814580.post-6007139360112668792011-02-27T15:23:00.000-08:002011-02-27T16:01:44.152-08:00Random updateI did my hair yesterday-today! I thought I'd try something new, so I did a braid out, which is pretty much where you braid your hair while it's wet and let it dry that way.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RQQprL6RLQA/TWrjiQpjEAI/AAAAAAAAALo/rtKeqLgnlCo/s1600/DSC03946.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RQQprL6RLQA/TWrjiQpjEAI/AAAAAAAAALo/rtKeqLgnlCo/s320/DSC03946.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5578521266176069634" /></a><br />I'm pretty fond of the way it turned out :] The other girls are too<br /><br />Sunday dinner was today, as usual, but tonight we made breakfast food! I did scones (and didn't burn them this time!), there was strawberry coffee cake, hash browns, potatoes, french toast, omelets and homemade biscuits (courtesy of Eliana). I definitely just tried to spell omelet the French way and autocorrect flipped out on me and I didn't understand why it was freaking out because I KNEW I was spelling it right, hahaha.<br /><br />My faculties for French are coming back to me after Karen's birthday party Thursday night. They're not back up to par yet; let's hope they are by class tomorrow!<br /><br />This weekend, I realized that when I have to leave this place, I will miss it. I haven't quite figured out how to deal with this yet.Lyssa Brehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10302891708109076653noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4742881508089814580.post-47735505838559586662011-02-25T02:21:00.000-08:002011-02-25T18:21:16.918-08:00The African-American ExperienceHey guys! Long time, no post, I know, but I've been busy conquering Europe. Sorry! Really though, I haven't even been keeping up with my journal. I am slack. Really I've just been saving up to talk about a specific event.<br /><br />Philippe, one of my teachers, who is pretty down as far as Europeans go (I've mentioned this before), invited me to as a special guest to one of his classes. It's an English class on American history, and right now they're talking about "The African-American Experience" (hence the title of this entry). As I am probably the only African-American who has ever been through Louvain-la-Neuve, he asked me to come help him out with the class.<br /><br />Have I ever mentioned how <span style="font-style:italic;">awesome</span> being the only Black chick for miles (exaggeration) is when it makes me a hot intellectual commodity? Oh? I haven't? Well it's <span style="font-weight:bold;">awesome</span>. I should patent myself.<br /><br />Anyway, this was a series of 2 classes, and the first one was last Friday at 8:30 AM. I know. Already off to a bad start, right? We talked about slavery mostly, and segregation. We made it all the way up to the 1950s, and stopped right at the Civil Rights movement. We talked about Negro spirituals, songs that were sang in the field, the Black church, house slaves vs. field slaves; we even got into the colorism a little bit (colorism is just a fancy word for valuing one complexion over another), and Thomas Jefferson and all his illegitimate slave babies. The reference to TJ cracked me up; for some reason I find him really hilarious, and it didn't help that Philippe already knew why I was laughing.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">THEY DON'T KNOW WHAT JIM CROW LAWS ARE IN EUROPE.</span> When no one knew what Jim Crow laws were, I kind of bugged on the inside. Then Philippe and I taught them, and now Europe is a more educated place. On day 2, we talked about the Civil Rights movement all the way up to Obama. They wanted to know my stance on Obama, the healthcare proposal, and the tea party. When we talked about certain things, I got to tell fun family stories. Here's an example: when we got to the part in the I Have A Dream speech where it says, to be brief, that Black people are living on an impoverished island in a sea of prosperity, I told the story about Sick Granddaddy where he put his own gas tank in the yard when no one in Clinton would sell him any. We talked about passing for white, and why the blues was called the Devil's music, and The Great Migration.<br /><br />Philippe asked me how I managed not to hate white people (really, he did) considering all the dirty stuff that went down between my people and, well, them, and I just shrugged, and told him that no one I knew had ever enslaved anyone, or taken their rights, or lynched anyone, etc. (I did, however, also mention that there are certain movies that I cannot watch because they make me hate all white people for at least a week. <span style="font-style:italic;">Mississippi Burning</span> is one of them) He also asked me if, growing up, I was afraid of white people, to which I again answered no. I wasn't raised like that. And what's there to be afraid of, anyway? Have you met me lately? 2 words: ill-tempered hoodlum. 4 more words: prone to violent outbursts. That answers that, simple and plain.<br /><br />I talked to two guys Friday after the class, because one asked me how I felt about Obama's relationship with the Middle East and Africa, and how he always seems to have encouraging/positive words for them. He compared Obama's messages to the region to Bush's fear mongering, and I said, "It's easy to create that fear--we don't learn about Africa or the Middle East in school, and the region has been demonized to us." (don't play like it's not true) They both sort of gave me the "...you're joking." face (I'm not kidding; they both went completely flat), to which I said, "Twelve years of public school and I've never learned about Africa."<br /><br />That is not entirely true. As a child, I learned that Africa is where slaves come from, and in 10th grade we spent a week on the 5 great kingdoms of Africa.<br /><br />Long story short, they couldn't believe it. They didn't understand how the educational system could skip an entire continent--2, really, because all I know about Asia is the silk road went to China and World War II. I don't get it either.<br /><br />Truthfully, I agreed to come to the class to see how a Belgian viewed my history, and I was impressed. He knows his stuff, that Philippe, even though I think me being there made him a little nervous. It made me feel important that he even asked me to come, and I felt even better when one of the girls said to me that she thought that it was really cool that I came to speak to the class. I like to feel appreciated.<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">All in all, it was worth getting up at 8 AM on a Friday morning for.</span>Lyssa Brehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10302891708109076653noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4742881508089814580.post-18031246977657246922011-02-17T07:39:00.000-08:002011-02-17T07:42:29.683-08:00I love boxes!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5f9ZdXPMrds/TV1BgV-M6TI/AAAAAAAAALg/H3uamd6v9_8/s1600/DSC03931.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5f9ZdXPMrds/TV1BgV-M6TI/AAAAAAAAALg/H3uamd6v9_8/s320/DSC03931.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5574683937664198962" /></a><br />This box of wonderfulness came from my mommy in the mail yesterday. I came home from classes, pumped about my impending visit from the FedEx man, only to have Laura, one of my co-locataires, say "Lyssa? Lyssa, j'ai un surprise pour toi!" I got all giddy because I already knew what it was, and we opened it on the kitchen table.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Inside the Box<br /></span><br />* Valentine's Day card<br />* Fluffy pink puppy<br />* Chenille throw for my bed<br />* 2 bottles of ranch dressing<br />* Box of Oreos<br />* Box of double-stuffed Oreos<br />* 2 boxes chocolate chip coconut cookies<br />* 2 8 packs of Reese's cups<br />* 2 packs of Nestle Crunch Bars<br />* 2 packs of razors<br />* Tweezers<br />* Manicure set<br />* Valentine's heart full of tiny Reese's cups<br />* Olive Oil hair cream<br /><br />I have named the doggy Valentine, in honor of the holiday, but you gotta say it like you're French. Def fell asleep cuddling him last night and yesterday afternoon. I'm obviously 5 years old.<br /><br />In short, my mom is pretty much the best mom ever.Lyssa Brehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10302891708109076653noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4742881508089814580.post-30321329282871180162011-02-14T16:33:00.000-08:002011-02-14T16:54:31.476-08:00Valumtime's Day!Happy Valentine's Day to you lot! I hope you had an <span style="font-weight:bold;">amazing</span> day full of chocolates and/or general splendor. I had a great day getting haircuts and lunch with my Valentine Kim (one of the girls here from Clemson), and going to the movies with my other Valentines, The Karens and Nick! Nick was even a darling and brought chocolate.<br /><br />I know y'all are like, "I DON'T CARE ABOUT CHOCOLATE WHAT DO YOU MEAN HAIRCUT." <span style="font-weight:bold;">Calm down.</span> It's not that big a deal. Kim and I spent Saturday scouring Brussels for hair salons because she really wanted to do something to her hair, and I figured, "You're in Europe. Why not get a fashionable bang/layer combo?" so I went along. Turns out it's cheaper to get it done here in Louvain-la-Neuve, so today we went to CN Celini to get our hurr did. Kim's hair looks great. The girl that did it, however, was nervously eying me the entire time she was washing Kim out, and when I said, "Just do a side bang." because I was <span style="font-style:italic;">not</span> going to risk layers with Nervous McTwitcherton, she seriously cut 2 strands of hair and declared herself done. Thank goodness I told her to cut it long, so I don't look ridiculous. I'm just going to have to suck it up and find my way to Matongé to get my hair done, it seems.<br /><br />We went to see <span style="font-style:italic;">Rien à Declarer</span>, a comedy about these French and Belgian customs officers who work in a town directly on the border between France and Belgium. The Belgium officer hates French things/people, and the French officer is having an affair with his sister. It was hilarious! It didn't help that the only song in the movie was "I Believe I Can Fly" by R. Kelly. Yes. The song from Space Jam. I almost cried I was laughing so hard. The cinema is 5 € for everyone on Mondays, so we just made a date of it.<br /><br />I think that's it... I made garlic green beans for Sunday dinner and they were apparently a smash hit! Before this is over, I will know how to cook. Watch.<br /><br />Things I've learned about Belgium:<br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">1.</span> PDA is everywhere. People will stop in the middle of the road to start kissing. They don't need an excuse like Valentine's Day.<br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">2.</span> Rain is to Belgium as fog is to London. I will just have to learn to live with it<br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">3.</span> The SPAR is the only grocery store in Louvain-la-Neuve that is open on Sundays apart from the White Knight, but that is all the way up the mountain (i.e., very far from me)<br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">4.</span> Dogs here pretty much have free reign, but they're pretty well trained<br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">5.</span> In Belgium, it can go from being gorgeous and warm outside to raining to freezing. In the same day. In a 5 hour period.Lyssa Brehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10302891708109076653noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4742881508089814580.post-5883003085129626532011-02-11T11:46:00.000-08:002011-02-11T14:46:05.669-08:00RawrawrawrThursday in class, I had what I call a "slave rant". "Slave rants" are what happen when I need to rail on someone about how unfair society in general has been to black people. They happen completely spontaneously, and I have absolutely <span style="font-style:italic;">no</span> control over what comes out of my mouth during one.<br /><br />Anyway, we were in Philippe's class (French Civilization), discussing the differences between English and French like subtle nuances, different ways to say things, etc., when somehow we got on the topic of whether or not it's better to embrace everyone's culture or keep your own under a chastity belt. I made a face (completely on accident) when someone said to embrace everyone else's, Philippe saw me, and asked me my thoughts on the matter.<br /><br />I told him that I think it's better to keep your own. That is not to say, I added, that you shouldn't learn about other people, but you need to keep what's yours. I kept going, saying that maybe people would disagree, but I was speaking from the perspective of a black American: my people's culture was forcibly <span style="font-style:italic;">taken</span> from them.<br /><br />I then went on a 2 minute rant about how because of this, I know nothing about myself, really: I don't know where my people come from, I don't know what language we would have spoken, what food we would have eaten; I have nothing that, by divine right, is <span style="font-style:italic;">mine</span> and that I can rightly call my own. There's "American culture", sure, but at the end of the day, is there even such a thing? I don't think so. That's my story, and I'm stickin' to it.<br /><br />Not even gonna lie, afterwards I was very impressed that I did all of this in French and didn't mince words too badly.<br /><br />Now, Philippe's pretty "down" as far as Europeans go. He used to live in Louisiana, he knows what gullah means, that sort of thing. Turns out he's doing a class in a couple of weeks on the African-American experience, and invited me to come. It should be interesting; I'll let you know how it goes.<br /><br />Philippe also told me that my French is very good and seems effortless. Just thought I'd throw that in. Really though, it's nice to get compliments on it because I think my French is awful. :]Lyssa Brehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10302891708109076653noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4742881508089814580.post-35766529420584194902011-02-08T08:24:00.000-08:002011-02-08T13:28:54.382-08:00I call shenanigans.It has been <span style="font-weight:bold;">beautiful</span> for the last 2 days in Louvain-la-Neuve. Pleasant weather, sun shining, fluffy clouds... <span style="font-style:italic;">Clearly</span> God is rewarding me for something. Probably for not doing what I'm about to tell you about.<br /><br />Also, that hair salon I thought I found? Not a hair salon at all. Disappointment.<br /><br />Today, I'm going to get political on you guys. I've been typing this post for a few days now at the suggestion of a few people, but nothing important like Sunday Dinner has happened so I can finally upload it today. I've probably told this story a thousand times since it happened (okay, 4; whatever), but one more time won't hurt. This, ladies and gentleman, is the story of last Thursday night.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">WARNING:</span> if you want to keep believing that I'm not a snarly beast, stop reading <span style="font-weight:bold;">right now</span>.<br /><br />Thursday, Nick decided that I was going out; no excuses. To be fair, I've had <span style="font-style:italic;">a lot</span> of excuses. I've been sick since before I went to Prague and I just don't like parties, especially ones where you're told to "dress to get dirty". I don't own things that can get dirty. No thank you. It was a convenient excuse. After a bit of half-hearted kicking and screaming, I gave in and sacrificed a pair of jeans, a sweatshirt, and a pair of shoes to the great kraken known as The Cercle Party.<br /><br />Let me explain. The "cercles" are fraternities here. They throw crazy insane parties Sunday-Thursday, and none on the weekends because everyone's gone home to recover. According to our Belgian associates, Thursday is the biggest party because it's the last one of the week. These parties, from what I've been told, are <span style="font-style:italic;">disgusting</span>. There's beer on the floor, some may get on your body, and there's a good chance you will be vomited on. There is <span style="font-style:italic;">no way</span> you can convince me that this is fun. It's just not going to happen.<br /><br />But I went, mostly so I could say, "That was miserable, I'm never doing it again." and never do it again. I digress.<br /><br />We started the night at Kate's apartment. Kate is one of the girls here from Clemson; her roommates (all guys) are cool people, and they do a pretty good job of taking care of us poor, hopeless Americans. This is especially pathetic as half of them are American freshman age. I am being chaperoned by high school seniors: look at my life; look at my choices. Anyway, we hang out at Kate's for a few hours, playing card games and generally enjoying ourselves, and when the time comes we head to Casa, which is where the night's big shenanigans were supposed to happen. We're a pretty jolly bunch, all skipping and singing down the road.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">And then it happened.</span><br /><br />We're walking down the street in a mob acting like your typical 18-22 year olds on a Friday night only it was Thursday. Dylan (on of Kate's roommates), and I are making up the back of the line; we all love each other and everything is wonderful, and when Romeo, the only other black kid with us, makes what I assume was a joke (I honestly have no idea what he said), Dylan laughingly responds with, "Somethingsomethingsomething, you crazy n-word-which-I-refuse-to-say."<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Oh no. He. Di'n't.</span><br /><br />Yes. In fact, he did.<br /><br />And I went from 0 to 500 in a very impressive half second.<br /><br />Nick, bless him, was in the middle of Dylan and me, and I think he knew exactly what was about to happen because he looks at me with this miserable look on his face as if to say, "Oh God we are all going to die."<br /><br />Me being me, which is to say an ill-tempered hoodlum prone to violent outbursts (no, really; it's true), reached across poor Nick and shoved. Hard. And then I stomped off, glaring and still pretty unhappy (to make the understatement of the year and it's only February), to the front of the group with Grace and Karen O., who I think saw me shove but did not hear what happened, and who now want to know why Dylan is looking after me, horrified and afraid for his life. (mild exaggeration; but if he wasn't he should have been)<br /><br />I got over it in record time, and that says a lot because I get mad and stay that way for at least 3 days (no exaggeration). After a minute or 2 I stopped snarling, and I was almost okay with the world again when I look up and who is in front of me but Dylan, with Nick behind him for what I assume was moral/physical support: moral because the kid still looked petrified, and physical in case I decided to break his nose for funsies.<br /><br />Dylan, poor boy, tried to explain to me that he didn't mean it like that, and it doesn't mean bad things here in Belgium, and he's not a racist (exact words: "I love black people!"). I'm not hearing it. I'm about to pound on dude's face, and I think Nick can sense this because he starts saying to him, "Say you're sorry. Say you're sorry. Tell her you're sorry." It was a step in the right direction, but we're a bit past sorries, love. Sorry. (see what I did there?)<br /><br />Eventually, Dylan and I hugged it out in the street, but he spent the rest of the night coming up to me at random intervals and apologizing, even after I told him it was okay. We ended the night dancing together at Casa, and we all agreed to come out again together this week.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Now let's get down to business.</span><br /><br />Truth be told, I was <span style="font-style:italic;">waiting</span> on it from someone. Not from anyone in particular, but I was waiting on it because I've been around people and I know what to expect. People <span style="font-style:italic;">never</span> grow out of that good old trial-and-error "let me see what I can get away with" thing kids do. The n-word is a big shiny diamond of "I might get my butt kicked for this but I'm gonna see how far I get", and who do you know that wouldn't go for a big shiny diamond? Exactly. <span style="font-weight:bold;">NO ONE.</span><br /><br />I do not expect this from everyone. Really I don't expect it from most people. But you never know. Even I've been wrong before. (EGO)<br /><br />Moreover, I, for one, am having a hard time believing that the n-word is not offensive here. Everyone has their own version of it, and it's horrible in any language; you tell me it's not and I'll call you a liar. I fully realize that "punk" was originally British slang that referred to prostitutes, but the n-word was created to dehumanize and demoralize an entire race of people--it worked, too, and it looks to me like it's still doing a pretty good job of working to this day. It's an evil word, and I've <span style="font-style:italic;">never</span> known evil things to reform themselves. I'm going to look into this, and if I'm wrong then I'm wrong, but as of right now, <span style="font-weight:bold;">I call shenanigans</span>.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KSCnzgwxl4E/TVGx5PbSOSI/AAAAAAAAALY/WuZ4TPKSTms/s1600/shenanigans.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 258px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KSCnzgwxl4E/TVGx5PbSOSI/AAAAAAAAALY/WuZ4TPKSTms/s320/shenanigans.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5571429810985646370" /></a>If you don't know what movie that's from, you're obviously neither my age nor in college.Lyssa Brehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10302891708109076653noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4742881508089814580.post-77589161290328261372011-02-04T17:34:00.000-08:002011-02-06T17:40:53.165-08:00Rub your hands against the snake!Feel free to ignore the title; it's a bit of an inside joke hahahaha.<br /><br />I was going to do another political post, but that can wait for later because today (Sunday), I practiced being a housewife when I graduate college and made dinner.<br /><br />Actually, Nick made dinner, and I made dessert and a side item or 2, but those are minor details.<br /><br />We've been tossing around the idea of cooking dinner for a while, and this weekend we finally did! Nick and I went to the grocery store Sunday afternoon and got pretty much everything we needed for around 25€, and the stuff we forgot Karen O grabbed on the way over. We had Moroccan chicken, couscous, roasted chickpeas, and a spinach salad with roasted tomatoes. For dessert, I made chocolate chip orange scones. They ended up being more like cookies because I got distracted by making lemonade, but apparently they were still delicious. That made me happy, because I was pretty bummed that I browned them a little too much.<br /><br />Pretty much, we fed 7 people for under 40€. And there are leftovers. That's impressive. I think it's pretty safe to say that Sunday Dinner is a new tradition.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KSCnzgwxl4E/TU9M0tEdF0I/AAAAAAAAALQ/l-BW7JziYyE/s1600/DSC03918.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KSCnzgwxl4E/TU9M0tEdF0I/AAAAAAAAALQ/l-BW7JziYyE/s400/DSC03918.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5570755732415780674" /></a>Lyssa Brehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10302891708109076653noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4742881508089814580.post-86828461061059317662011-02-02T05:12:00.000-08:002011-02-02T05:49:06.587-08:00First week of serious business!Classes have started! Schedules are mad confusing, and <span style="font-style:italic;">everything</span> conflicts but I'm slowly wading through this. I made a chart on Excel to map out all the overlaps, and if only I could figure out one last class I'll be all done! It's exciting. I like making lists.<br /><br />I had my first Japanese class in Belgium yesterday. Not gonna lie, I was terrified about it. Here I am, with my English speaking self, taking a Japanese class at a French university. How many things in that sentence don't match? What am I thinking? Look at my life; look at my choices.<br /><br />Turns out it wasn't so bad! We mostly watched a series about a guy named Yan who likes this girl Okata, but Okata has OBVIOUSLY friend-zoned him and is moving to the country with her parents anyway. Sucks to be that dude. In class I met 2 girls: Amélie (like the movie!) and Bathilde. Maybe one day I'll make Belgian friends? Fingers crossed!<br /><br />This story I'm about to tell is proof that I can make just about <span style="font-style:italic;">anything</span> a political statement and/or a lesson Black People (it should honestly be class). Today, we had Modern French Civilization with Philippe, who is the lovely, whimsical Belgian man that helps run our program. He wanted to spend some time getting to know us, and I don't rightly remember <span style="font-style:italic;">how</span> exactly this exercise was relevant to the class (it was though), but he went around the room asking everyone where their families were from (historically).<br /><br />Now I know what y'all are thinking. How am I supposed to answer that question without doing 1 or a combination of the following:<br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">1:</span> looking totally lame and going "America" since I can't rightly break down what countries my ancestors came from because of that whole slave thing<br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">2:</span> going off on a rant that would go something like, "What the heck kinda question is that my people were SOLD and no one kept records RAWRAWRAWR!"<br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">3:</span> just going, "Africa." and give everyone the gimp eye<br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">4:</span> just going, "I'm Black." and being done with it.<br /><br />All those options ran through my head. I have no idea what country my people came from for obvious reasons. This has always worked my nerves, so to speak, because I've always been really interested in genealogy and that sort of thing. Everyone I've ever known can go, "Oh, my family is -insert 10 countries/nationalities here-" and I can't and I hate it. Fortunately, I recently learned a bit about my family history and was at the end of the line, so by the time Philippe got to me, I had formulated a proper response.<br /><br />Philippe: Et toi, Alyssa? (And you, Alyssa?)<br />Me: Ma famille vient des pays africains, et de l'Allemagne, et j'suis amérindienne aussi. (My family comes from African countries, and Germany, and I'm American Indian as well.)<br /><br />He made the <span style="font-style:italic;">greatest</span> face at me. Philippe always makes REALLY great faces; he's very expressive. This one was sort of like a kid that's found a really fascinating toy. Anyhow, he makes this great face at me, and then says,<br />Philippe: Tu est comme Tiger Woods! (You're like Tiger Woods!)<br /><br />I laughed on the inside. Seriously I did. Never made that comparison before, but I guess it works.<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Who wins at being fascinating?</span> <span style="font-weight:bold;">I do.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KSCnzgwxl4E/TUleeb99-dI/AAAAAAAAAK8/sOkZgecwUhQ/s1600/tiger-woods.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 298px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KSCnzgwxl4E/TUleeb99-dI/AAAAAAAAAK8/sOkZgecwUhQ/s320/tiger-woods.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569086291217086930" /></a>Yes, that picture was necessary.<br /><span style="font-weight:bold;"><br />Happy Black History Month!</span>Lyssa Brehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10302891708109076653noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4742881508089814580.post-77370191108667275192011-01-31T06:40:00.000-08:002011-01-31T11:31:30.939-08:00Photo bomber!Soooo I know I promised a photo dump last night and I didn't do it. I'm sorry. But you're getting it now!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KSCnzgwxl4E/TUcKDSt6FOI/AAAAAAAAAKs/Pan6mtm7-Ko/s1600/DSC03782.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KSCnzgwxl4E/TUcKDSt6FOI/AAAAAAAAAKs/Pan6mtm7-Ko/s400/DSC03782.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568430515947181282" /></a>Czech money! The ones that are copper-looking around the edges are 50 kč, and the silver ones are 2 kč. I have 20s too; they're gold, and look like the 2s. I saved some to bring home!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KSCnzgwxl4E/TUb9wZjENVI/AAAAAAAAAIk/9wOHU82LZRE/s1600/DSC03704.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KSCnzgwxl4E/TUb9wZjENVI/AAAAAAAAAIk/9wOHU82LZRE/s400/DSC03704.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568416997223707986" /></a> St. Nicholas Church in Old Town Square, right behind our hotel. It's so pretty! And it's in the Baroque style!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KSCnzgwxl4E/TUcLnlIS9dI/AAAAAAAAAK0/6r5UpVusC64/s1600/DSC03706.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KSCnzgwxl4E/TUcLnlIS9dI/AAAAAAAAAK0/6r5UpVusC64/s400/DSC03706.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568432238876620242" /></a>Those things poking out of the top of those buildings are actually the towers of the Church of Our Lady before Týn (Kostel Matky Boží před Týnem in Czech), also in Old Town Square, which is, quite frankly, the most terrifying church I've ever seen. It is tall and spiky and it literally scares me. Go to Wikipedia and look at it and see if it doesn't scare you too. Of course, because it is ancient and huge and impressive looking/generally imposing, I also love it with all my heart.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KSCnzgwxl4E/TUb-FYvbprI/AAAAAAAAAIs/ZdXjDFc2iXY/s1600/DSC03705.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KSCnzgwxl4E/TUb-FYvbprI/AAAAAAAAAIs/ZdXjDFc2iXY/s400/DSC03705.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568417357784393394" /></a>Old Town city hall, also in Old Town Square<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KSCnzgwxl4E/TUb_GXDOSJI/AAAAAAAAAI0/U4FNszA16nQ/s1600/DSC03707.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KSCnzgwxl4E/TUb_GXDOSJI/AAAAAAAAAI0/U4FNszA16nQ/s400/DSC03707.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568418474022029458" /></a>The Prague astronomical clock (Pražský orloj in Czech) on the side of Old Town city hall! The astrological clock on the bottom supposedly has a lot of cult symbols in it.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KSCnzgwxl4E/TUcAKm2WyII/AAAAAAAAAI8/fdK44EmnPUw/s1600/DSC03726.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KSCnzgwxl4E/TUcAKm2WyII/AAAAAAAAAI8/fdK44EmnPUw/s400/DSC03726.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568419646494132354" /></a> One of the statues on the Charles Bridge (Karlův most in Czech)! 30 statues decorate the sides of the bridge, and they're all really intense looking and full of religious imagery (2 of my favorite characteristics in art/architecture).<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KSCnzgwxl4E/TUcA6tn39oI/AAAAAAAAAJE/hlp7obq4npc/s1600/DSC03748.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KSCnzgwxl4E/TUcA6tn39oI/AAAAAAAAAJE/hlp7obq4npc/s400/DSC03748.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568420472946161282" /></a>THE PALACE. The two main statues on the gate (the ones in the center) were intense and murderous: homeboy on the right has a bat and is about to bludgeon someone; dude on the left has a dagger and is about to stab the other guy in the neck. INTENSE. Don't mess with the Czechs, man.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KSCnzgwxl4E/TUcHFGV9L9I/AAAAAAAAAKc/QIebr8pswSU/s1600/DSC03753.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KSCnzgwxl4E/TUcHFGV9L9I/AAAAAAAAAKc/QIebr8pswSU/s400/DSC03753.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568427248450351058" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KSCnzgwxl4E/TUcHSSmko_I/AAAAAAAAAKk/0jhLRtty-mQ/s1600/DSC03765.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KSCnzgwxl4E/TUcHSSmko_I/AAAAAAAAAKk/0jhLRtty-mQ/s400/DSC03765.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568427475079570418" /></a><br /><br />That, my friends, is Saint Vitus Cathedral, Katedrála svatého Víta in Czech. Yes, it's the one that took 600 years to build. The original architects died, leaving the building unfinished, and it wasn't until the 19th century that the Czechs hired new architects to finish it. The 2 guys who finished the cathedral actually had themselves sculpted into it; there are 2 statues hiding out over the front door of 2 men in 19th century clothes!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KSCnzgwxl4E/TUcBgCdw6aI/AAAAAAAAAJM/YrOiHKrzhGo/s1600/DSC03763.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KSCnzgwxl4E/TUcBgCdw6aI/AAAAAAAAAJM/YrOiHKrzhGo/s400/DSC03763.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568421114196060578" /></a>Inside of St. Vitus Cathedral! I walked in and just sort of stared with my mouth open. I repeat: old, impressive church = love it.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KSCnzgwxl4E/TUcD1ohDu_I/AAAAAAAAAJc/ZzIXSu2modw/s1600/DSC03835.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KSCnzgwxl4E/TUcD1ohDu_I/AAAAAAAAAJc/ZzIXSu2modw/s400/DSC03835.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568423684210932722" /></a> I assume this was a minor altar in the cathedral.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KSCnzgwxl4E/TUcEb8cHXCI/AAAAAAAAAJk/umQ01UMgpm8/s1600/DSC03851.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KSCnzgwxl4E/TUcEb8cHXCI/AAAAAAAAAJk/umQ01UMgpm8/s400/DSC03851.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568424342393936930" /></a>This was just in the middle of the street. I'm not joking. Look at that blue sky! O Sunlight, how I miss thee.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KSCnzgwxl4E/TUcE6kkPH8I/AAAAAAAAAJs/FemlkcwxCXo/s1600/DSC03858.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KSCnzgwxl4E/TUcE6kkPH8I/AAAAAAAAAJs/FemlkcwxCXo/s400/DSC03858.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568424868561493954" /></a>Coolest synagogue ever! THE ROSE WINDOW IS THE STAR OF DAVID. We found this on accident, trying to get to... I don't even know where we were trying to go. It was on a street called "Jeruzalémská". Prague has a huge Jewish quarter; I think this may have been on the fringes of it.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KSCnzgwxl4E/TUcFjtPw9vI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/h-2SZwRohgE/s1600/DSC03862.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KSCnzgwxl4E/TUcFjtPw9vI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/h-2SZwRohgE/s400/DSC03862.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568425575266186994" /></a>The National Museum!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KSCnzgwxl4E/TUcF5Dzl3xI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/4oQM_Vf0KnI/s1600/DSC03865.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KSCnzgwxl4E/TUcF5Dzl3xI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/4oQM_Vf0KnI/s400/DSC03865.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568425942099287826" /></a>The main staircase in the National Museum! It looks JUST LIKE the opera house in the Disney version of Anastasia.<br /><br />My favorite building was hands down Saint Vitus Cathedral. Old gothic/Baroque churches make my life, and it was done in BOTH styles because of the gap in construction. Plus (this is completely superficial), I just like to see the church glorified.<br /><br />I should have been an architect so I could make important looking churches. I have realized this, and am coming to terms with it.<br /><br />In other (good) news, I FOUND A BLACK HAIR SALON IN LOUVAIN-LA-NEUVE ON THE WAY TO CLASS TODAY AND I THINK THEY SELL MY BRAND OF HAIR CARE PRODUCT YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW MUCH THIS EXCITES ME OR MAYBE YOU DO.<br /><br />Okay. I'm gonna go calm down now.Lyssa Brehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10302891708109076653noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4742881508089814580.post-56033063663526112432011-01-28T14:07:00.000-08:002011-01-28T16:53:31.658-08:00PRAHA<span style="font-weight:bold;">GUYS.</span> I <span style="font-style:italic;">love</span> Prague. Seriously. I love it. It's cold, and it snowed for 2 days (blegh, says the Southerner), but it's a beautiful place (albeit a little sketchy looking in some parts) and the people are friendly and everything is so impressive! I love it.<br /><br />First and foremost, I must gush about today. Lately, I've been all grumbly and depressed acting because of the lack of sunlight in Louvain-la-Neuve (it seriously rains EVERYDAY), and today... <span style="font-weight:bold;">IT WAS SUNNY IN PRAGUE.</span> We walked out of the hotel and I felt like a kid on Christmas with too many presents. I hope tomorrow is gorgeous as well!<br /><br />Today, we toured the castle panorama, which is on top of this <span style="font-weight:bold;">MONSTROUS</span> mountain/hill. I swear, if I don't have the best legs/bum in America by the time this is over I will eat the large furry hat I bought from a souvenir shop today. There was a church that took 600 years to build, and galleries, and so much grandeur I didn't know what to do with myself!<br /><br />Y'all know how cheap I am. Seriously. I could get blood out of the metaphorical turnip, which is why I must reiterate that the Czech koruna is worth absolutely <span style="font-style:italic;">nothing.</span> It's fallen 2 ck against the US dollar in the 3 days since we've been here, so I'm in cheap stuff heaven, unlike in Louvain-la-Neuve. Right now, $1 US is worth almost 18 ck. It kills me though, because there's very good stuff in the Czech Republic, but it's not priced accordingly. Food around here, for example, is therefore very cheap: tonight is the first night I've spent more than $7 US on dinner, and that was just because we splurged a bit and went to this nice Italian place we found the other night. I had spicy spaghetti, and it was delicious. Speaking of the food, I'm glad y'all asked about it because I was going to tell you.<br /><br />I have discovered that I like Czech food. It's got much more of a German influence than I expected it to, what with all the sauerkraut and sausages, but it's also Slavic food, like dumplings and grog (yes, grog) and garlic soup. Garlic soup is supposed to be a big thing around here, or so Karen said, but we only found it at 3 places. We had it today at lunch while we were touring the castle and I liked it. Garlic is one of my favorite things ever, so that was pretty much a guarantee.<br /><br />The Czech Republic is also famous for its apple strudel, so I tried it. <span style="font-weight:bold;">Hated it.</span> Absolutely hated it. To be fair, I <span style="font-style:italic;">knew</span> I would hate it when I ordered it. I don't like cooked fruit; never have, never will, but it's a big deal around here according to Karen, so I thought I'd try it for the cultural experience. <span style="font-weight:bold;">THERE WERE RAISINS. I HATE RAISINS.</span> I was honestly grimacing the entire time I was eating it. It was a well made apple strudel, sure, and the drizzling of chocolate sauce helped, but it's just not something I would eat ever again. Ever.<br /><br />All in all, there's a varied food scene in Prague. Apart from traditional Czech food, there are lots of Italian restaurants and Chinese places, and there's a Parisian cafe down the street from our hotel. There's also KFC and McDonald's. I've actually seen more KFCs than McDonald's, which is very random/odd.<br /><br />We've been to every souvenir shop in the general vicinity of our hotel, and even some in the Jewish quarter. There are Swarovski crystal shops EVERYWHERE, and nearly every souvenir shop sells crystal and glass figurines. They're very cute, but can get a bit pricey. <br /><br />I was standing around in the souvenir shop the other night, waiting on either Karen or Annie to finish buying stuff, and one of the shop owners came over and talked to me. He was a nice Arab man, and he must have heard me say something in my funny accent to one of the other girls (we've been running around Prague pretending to be British) and asked me if I spoke French. I answered him, in French of course, and he started asking me other things, also in French. He asked me if I was African, and I said, "No, I'm from America, but I guess that counts as being of African origin, yeah?" We had a laugh over it, and it turns out that he was from Tunisia, where the first in this latest series of Arab uprisings was. We chatted a bit more; he said he assumed I was African because lots of African countries speak French as their official language (which is true). I told him that all of my professors think I'm Haitian (which they seriously do), and we had a laugh over it. When the other girls were finished, we said goodbye. He really was a very nice man.<br /><br />You guessed it. I'm about to get introspective/political.<br /><br />I find it <span style="font-style:italic;">much</span> less offensive when people here assume I'm anything other than American. One, they don't run into very many Americans, not as many as other English speaking Europeans anyway, so it's just not the first thing they assume. Also, to be frank, there's <span style="font-style:italic;">not</span> very many black people in Europe, as evidenced by the fact that I can't even find freaking hair grease in Louvain-la-Neuve, and most of the ones that are here came from (gasp) Africa, seeing as it's so close. I guess it seems more like a natural train of thought that when a European (or African/Arab immigrant, as in this case) sees me that they assume I'm African, and not insulting like it is when my American professors (and high school teachers) say to me everyday "Are you Haitian?" or "Is there any French in your family?" No. If they want to get technical, if I can for sure claim any European country as my heritage, it is Germany (hoorah for the Subers out of Clinton!). In America, it just seems like they look at me and go, "Oh, she's ethnic (I hate that word) and can speak another language; obviously she's not a regular black person and that language is in her heritage." It's demeaning to me, and I take it very personally.<br /><br />I've also taken a bajillion pictures, but you'll have to wait until Sunday to see them. Know why? I'm a complete and total boob and left my camera cable back in Louvain-la-Neuve. Who's brilliant? I am!<br /><br />Srsly though. Tune in Sunday for a photo dump.<br /><span style="font-weight:bold;"><br />Things I have learned:</span><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">1.</span> They do not split tabs in Europe. It is therefore best to carry around bills.<br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">2.</span> Grog is real. It is a drink. No, I did not try it.<br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">3.</span> In the Czech Republic, beer is cheaper than water (surprise)<br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">4.</span> It is the Czech Republic. Not Czechoslovakia.<br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">5.</span> I like sauerkraut.Lyssa Brehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10302891708109076653noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4742881508089814580.post-68096270770589252662011-01-26T12:14:00.000-08:002011-01-26T12:59:35.122-08:00Les vacances!First things first: RAFA NADAL LOST TO DAVID FERRER IN THE AUSTRALIA CUP WHAT KIND OF WORLD EVEN IS THIS I DON'T UNDERSTAND. Admittedly, Ferrer is a good player, but REALLY?!! REALLY?!! At least Rafa's been a gentleman about it and isn't whining about his hurt leg. HE'S SO CLASSY. I'm still upset though; I really wanted him to get that 4th title. (I'm sorry, but tennis is my football)<br /><br />Now, the stuff y'all actually care about! After pretty much a 24 hour journey, I have made it in one piece along with Karen G. and Annie to Prague! We're sort of all zombies right about now, but I'll start from the beginning.<br /><br />We took the train from Louvain-la-Neuve back to Brussels, only instead of being at the Grande Place we had to get off at the Midi stop, also known as the business part of town. BORING. And we had like 6 hours to kill. It was looking pretty wretched, but we wandered around until we found interesting things!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KSCnzgwxl4E/TUCCnsDBNVI/AAAAAAAAAHk/EvC4pvkg8LQ/s1600/IMG_0050.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KSCnzgwxl4E/TUCCnsDBNVI/AAAAAAAAAHk/EvC4pvkg8LQ/s320/IMG_0050.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566592757780264274" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KSCnzgwxl4E/TUCDmw59VEI/AAAAAAAAAH0/YhVyU8GEA00/s1600/IMG_0060.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KSCnzgwxl4E/TUCDmw59VEI/AAAAAAAAAH0/YhVyU8GEA00/s320/IMG_0060.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566593841416197186" /></a><br />Impressive, right? You have no idea. But that's not the coolest thing we found. Not by any means. THIS is:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KSCnzgwxl4E/TUCDRw75mLI/AAAAAAAAAHs/DekDoAkodjA/s1600/IMG_0054.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KSCnzgwxl4E/TUCDRw75mLI/AAAAAAAAAHs/DekDoAkodjA/s320/IMG_0054.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566593480647088306" /></a><span style="font-weight:bold;">THERE IS A REAL LIVE CASTLE TOWER IN THE MIDDLE OF THE CITY FOR NO REASON DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH THIS EXCITES ME I DON'T THINK YOU DO.</span> Seriously, I <span style="font-style:italic;">live</span> for this kind of stuff. Old churches and castles? Sign me up; why is this not 1456. It was just there on the other side of this random park in the middle of the street and I had a small heart attack over it (sort of like the one you just read). We wanted to tour it, but we're going to save that for another day (one where we're not toting backpacks full of junk). BUT THERE WAS EVEN EVIDENCE OF A MOAT. AH.<br /><br />We flew out of Brussels South Charleroi airport on WizzAir, which is this super cheap Euro airline. It was only an hour and fifteen minutes, <span style="font-weight:bold;">AND I DID IT WITHOUT TAKING ANY SEDATIVES THAT IS AN ACCOMPLISHMENT.</span> Granted, I was flipping out the whole time, BUT I DID IT. It helped that we stayed awake in the airport all night so I was dead tired and only wanted to pass out, but the point is I did it! I hate planes, guys. Seriously I do.<br /><br />We're staying at the Hotel Atlantic. It's in a really nifty location pretty much in the center of town near a lot of really important buildings. It's a really cool hotel, and this is probably the biggest Euro hotel room I've ever seen. We didn't do much exploring today because we're zombies, but we did see a few impressive buildings!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KSCnzgwxl4E/TUCFavGNtpI/AAAAAAAAAIE/Tk6BxjM3a2E/s1600/IMG_0065.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KSCnzgwxl4E/TUCFavGNtpI/AAAAAAAAAIE/Tk6BxjM3a2E/s400/IMG_0065.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566595833795557010" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KSCnzgwxl4E/TUCFwM1277I/AAAAAAAAAIM/pcQeKKNWmEY/s1600/IMG_0066.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KSCnzgwxl4E/TUCFwM1277I/AAAAAAAAAIM/pcQeKKNWmEY/s400/IMG_0066.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566596202557271986" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KSCnzgwxl4E/TUCF8Y2jlXI/AAAAAAAAAIU/TawCCx2EfqU/s1600/IMG_0068.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KSCnzgwxl4E/TUCF8Y2jlXI/AAAAAAAAAIU/TawCCx2EfqU/s400/IMG_0068.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566596411939853682" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KSCnzgwxl4E/TUCGFz6G2zI/AAAAAAAAAIc/lpeddzj51wQ/s1600/IMG_0073.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KSCnzgwxl4E/TUCGFz6G2zI/AAAAAAAAAIc/lpeddzj51wQ/s400/IMG_0073.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566596573821328178" /></a><br /><br />Woo pretty things! I have no idea what any of these buildings are except the first one which is something akin the an opera/concert house, but I will find out and tell you.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Things I've learned:</span><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">1.</span> Prague is not really full of gypsies. I feel like I've been lied to.<br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">2.</span> The Czech Republic was supposed to switch over to the Euro a year or two ago, but no one really has. Most places still only take the Czech crown, but, unlike Belgium, most places also take American bank cards!<br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">3.</span> Czech money is worth NOTHING. 1 US dollar is 15 Czech crown, and 1 Euro is 25 Czech crown.<br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">4.</span> Czech money is really pretty so I hope they don't get rid of itLyssa Brehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10302891708109076653noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4742881508089814580.post-64317996524630290032011-01-22T04:35:00.000-08:002011-01-22T05:06:31.123-08:00An Ode to Food and City Art<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KSCnzgwxl4E/TTrQRSnIPVI/AAAAAAAAAGc/CDZP9IiJhC4/s1600/IMG_0044%255B1%255D"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KSCnzgwxl4E/TTrQRSnIPVI/AAAAAAAAAGc/CDZP9IiJhC4/s320/IMG_0044%255B1%255D" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564989285041978706" /></a><br />Do you see this? This, my friends, is what we have affectionately nicknamed "pizza waffle". It's a waffle. WITH STUFF INSIDE. Technically, this one has nothing to do with pizza at all: it had chicken, curry and tomatoes and IT WAS DELICIOUS. It was 3,40€ at Waffle Factory, this little place close to school. The guys who own it are really nice, and did I mention that it was only 3,40€? 4,50 if you got a drink. Will definitely be going back. Possibly today, if it is not raining and/or disgusting outside.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KSCnzgwxl4E/TTrUZCtbMmI/AAAAAAAAAGk/o5fuDOlgIRk/s1600/IMG_0037.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KSCnzgwxl4E/TTrUZCtbMmI/AAAAAAAAAGk/o5fuDOlgIRk/s200/IMG_0037.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564993816258884194" /></a>I have also found popcorn in Europe! Trust me, it's harder than you think. They serve as an appetizer of sorts at this crêperie in town that is mad expensive because they're supposed to have the best crêpes and milkshakes. They average out between 14 and 20 € a crêpe. Yeah. The one I got was 8,95 and suffice it to say that I will not be patronizing them often.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KSCnzgwxl4E/TTrU1NtpilI/AAAAAAAAAGs/XvQGfKk7fYI/s1600/IMG_0045.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KSCnzgwxl4E/TTrU1NtpilI/AAAAAAAAAGs/XvQGfKk7fYI/s400/IMG_0045.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564994300248951378" /></a><br />THIS IS ON THE SIDE OF OUR MOVIE THEATER. If you pay attention to how the city is on top of a highway and a railway, that is what I mean when I say that Louvain floats on top of a highway. I actually think this city is meant to be Louvain. Either that, or Minas Tirith in the 21st century ('nother LotR ref!).<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KSCnzgwxl4E/TTrVvG-kzjI/AAAAAAAAAG0/Iu9XjKJ0GJg/s1600/IMG_0046.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KSCnzgwxl4E/TTrVvG-kzjI/AAAAAAAAAG0/Iu9XjKJ0GJg/s320/IMG_0046.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564995294873308722" /></a><br />And this I just think is cool. Check out the roots coming from the columns! Don't ask what that building is for; I have no idea.<br /><br />I don't rightly remember if I said this before here, but Wednesday, I AM GOING TO PRAGUE. Every time I think about it, I want to sing "Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves" by Cher. I'm actually listening to it right now! :]Lyssa Brehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10302891708109076653noreply@blogger.com5