Marie Astrid Langer

I was filled with excitement as we left Venice because I knew my vacation would start when I met up with my very dear friend, Astrid Langer. I've known Astrid since my Senior year of high school. She came to little Rhode Island from Stuttgart, Germany to do a year abroad at LaSalle Academy. We met on the track team and have been friends since.
Hanging with Astrid is nonstop fun. She's super adventurous, independent, totally outgoing, super sweet--a gorgeous woman through and through. Whenever we meet, we pick up right where we left off, not matter how many years have passed. This time, Anna and I met her and her boyfriend, Steffan, at the Italian/Austrian border, and proceeded to head to Tubingen, Germany.
Too many amazing things happened in my week and a half with Astrid, so I'll sum it up and then elaborate on one particular day. We basically...explored Tubingen by foot and by bycicle; ate pretzels, drank beer, and experienced all sorts of German cuisine; witnessed the most breathtaking sunsets; hiked to a beautiful chapel perched on a hill, road bikes through the countryside; learned to rock climb; camped by a lake bordered by four countries; sunbathed topless in Zurich; ran a 10k; ate, drank, laughed, lived... and cried when it was time to go.
This was my very favorite day: we woke up in Astrid's gorgeous apartment with a beautiful view of Tubingen. Astrid doesn't mess around about breakfast. She put out a spread of cereals, Italian and German breads, jams, fresh fruit, and of course...Nutella (which Anna absolutely could not go a day without :) ). We feasted and prepared for the day. We spent the better part of the morning walking around Tubingen, doing a little shopping. Then we found ourselves some bicycles and went for a long ride through green fields and hills of German ocuntryside...to a lake where we had a snack, napped in the sun, and where we were almost attacked by swans. Anna was in the midst of admiring them, and I in the midst of telling her how nasty they can be, when one walked right out of the water at Astrid, hissing! It was...hilarious. Not long after that, we gathered our things and started making our way back to the apartment. On our way, we stopped and had a doner on the wall by the river (those of you who don't know what a doner is...should try one and find out. There are no words). While we were eating, storm clouds rolled in and we started to catch a few drops of rain on our heads. We barely made it into a tunnel with our bikes before torrential downpours and booming thunder roared all around us. It was nothing short of incredible. Bikers and pedestrians gathered in the tunnel with us to wait out the storm. When we thought we caught a break, we made a run for it...and only laughed when we got drenched moments before reaching Astrid's front door. We quickly changed clothes and biked to the gym to meet Steffan for a rock climbing session. I had never been before, but I LOVED it! Astrid and Anna agreed that I'd found my land sport. Back at the apartment, we got cleaned up, made dinner, and talked for a long while before heading to bed. I told Astrid this was my favorite day thus far. She kind of laughed and said, "It's so funny you say that because this is a typical day in my life."

Venice at last....

At this point, I had tried multiple times--unsuccessfully--to get to Italy. Even though Anna and I only had 24 hours to squeeze it in, it was well worth it. We stepped off the plane and welcomed the blast of heat, and the sun beating down on us. The first thing we did was get ourselves a hostel, lunch, and...gelato, of course! :)
Venice is an incredibly beautiful, incredibly confusing city. Each street we turned down, each bridge we crossed over the maze of networking canals was more stunning than the one before. We were--quite literally--blissfully lost the entire time we were there. We pretty much walked around, ate, walked, had coffee, walked, shopped, ate, and so on and so forth. Our hostel was located overlooking a square where a little restaurant set up their outdoor seating. About the hour we were ready to go to bed, people were just arriving at the cafe for their evening meal. We fell asleep to the sounds of the city, and woke to bells singing from countless church towers. It was an amazing experience, though I much prefer the seashore to the city... :).
Since we were in Italy for only a short time, we treated ourselves to a nice dinner--prosciutto and melon, fresh pizza, and a carafe of red wine...gelato for dessert. The only thing missing from our brief stint in Venice was a gondola ride--only because Anna wouldn't get cozy with me ;).

Lahinch, surf town Ireland

Anna Cronin, dear friend and co-worker, met me in Lahinch shortly after Noel and I had parted ways. Just a few months earlier, I had told Anna of my plans to go to Ireland for my friend's wedding, and my intentions of doing some traveling while I was at it. I asked her if she wanted to go to Europe for a couple of weeks. She said, "Yeah, sure," and proceeded to go about getting herself a ticket.
Anna arrived on a dreary, rainy evening. We settled into a charming bed and breakfast that was quite like a very upscale hostel. A young couple, along with there very adorable puppy named Annie, had just opened the place a couple of months prior. Anna and I were right at home. We spent our time in Lahinch relaxing, enjoying lots of tea and great live music, and every so often, checking the water for surf....At one point, we decided to jump in the ocean anyway, waves or no waves!
The day we were meant to leave Lahinch, the surf picked up! I rented a board and paddled out. It felt so good to be out, even on a crappy old soft top, surrounded by dozens of surf campers. I had a blast, and a good, long paddle down the beach before I got out and walked back to meet Anna.
I turned in the surf board, we gathered our belongings, and headed for the bus. We had booked a 6:00 flight out of Shannon the following morning for our next destination--Venice, Italy! Our journey to the airport would be one for the books....
The bus route to Shannon requires a transfer in Ennis, a very small, quaint town that was almost eerily quiet on this particular evening. We had time to kill, so we decided to find a cafe and see what Ennis had to offer in the way of a cappuccino (side note:stick to tea if ever you're in Ireland). The gentleman who was taking care of us expressed an interest in our travel plans (it was so obvious that we were from the States). We told him that the available public transportation would find us at the airport in time for a 4 hour nap before our flight. He promptly suggested that we take a cab to the airport instead, and that we stay in a bed and breakfast not too far from there. While he seemed harmless, there was something awkward and almost creepy about him. I looked at Anna, and she was glowing the way that I had been when I'd gotten out of the ocean earlier that day. She wanted an adventure. We agreed to allow our waiter to set up a cab and a room at this mysterious bed and breakfast.
Upon conferring with another man in the shop, our new friend then offered us a ride to the B&B. Once more, I looked at Anna, and she didn't seem as though she felt threatened by either of them, so we went along. As it turned out, the van that was to be our mode of transport was a delivery van, and did not have room for both of us. The driver offered to take one of us and come back for the other. We definitely were not comfortable with that, so instead...Anna sat in the front seat with our driver, and I sat on the other side of the gate that separated passengers from cargo, nestled amongst boxes of empty liquor bottles.... True story. It's amazing how two intelligent women find themselves in these situations. We kept track of where we were going, and arrived at the B&B, not sure what to expect. It could have been something out of Psycho, or it could have been what it was--absolutely delightful and the makings of a good story. Mrs. Healey and her sweet husband owned the B&B, and welcomed us with tea and cookies, and a gorgeous room with two very comfortable beds and lots of fluffy pillows. We couldn't help by laugh at ourselves as we settled into our home for the evening.
Our cab arrived precisely on time the next morning, and everything went off without a hitch to get us to the airport in time for our flight. Venice, here we come!

on to the Irish west coast

From Dublin, I headed west to Galway, where I met up with Noel, a relative of one of my beloved regulars at People's Coffee. Noel and his room mate, Danny, pretty much spoiled me rotten during my short stay. As soon as I met up with Noel, he treated me to a delicious cup of coffee and then showed me around town a bit before we headed home.
Noel and Danny live nestled in a quiet neighborhood not too far from downtown. When we arrived at the house, Noel welcomed me by showing me to my own room with a ridiculously comfortable, fluffy bed. I felt like a princess! He then made tea and we sat down to enjoy a cup, accompanied by delicious scones he had baked earlier that day. We chatted and listened to the rain. It was so relaxing and calming, especially after all the excitement of a wedding and a bustling city. Danny came home and took us out for a fantastic Indian dinner at a restaurant called Kashmir. We totally overindulged, so Noel and I decided to go for a walk, and ended up at an old bar called O'Connell's. It was one of those places that had been collecting antique miscellaneous items over the years that they proceeded to hang on every surface in the place--lanterns of all sorts dangled from the rafters, old road signs and wagon wheels could be found on the walls, as well as a fake deer head that spontaneously sang and bobbed its head every so often. It was quite the experience!
Danny picked us up when we were ready to head home, and insisted that I relax and warm up with a hot bath before I headed to bed. I figured I'd just have a quick shower, but I walked in the bathroom to find that he had lit candles for me, turned on the heater, and put out lavender bubble bath and a big fluffy town to wrap up in when I was through...I was speechless then, and I'm speechless now recounting it. It absolutley did the trick, and I instantly slipped into a sweet slumber the second I sank into that big, cushy bed :).
I was planning on taking a bus down to Lahinch (Ireland's very own surf town) the next day. I was astonished when Noel said that he had planned on driving me. He not only gave me a ride there (a 2 hour venture), but showed me practically every surf spot on the way down. Unfortunately, the weather was pretty nasty, and there weren't any waves, even in Lahinch. I took him out to lunch at a wonderful little restaurant as a thank you, and we parted ways. I was disappointed about not being able to surf with Noel, but the drive down was beatiful--through hills of gorgeous Irish country and along a stunning coastline in Noel's beat up surf mobile...classic :).

Dublin

I stayed with the bride and groom at his mom's house for a couple of days afer the wedding. The newlyweds were meant to meet up with the bride's family at the Guinness museum for a tour and a few pints to celebrate a family friend's birthday. I had a few errands to run, so I decided to skip the tour and wander Dublin.

I had been to Dublin before, about 5 years ago in the winter. I did touristy things like the Guinness tour, and this ghost tour, which is a double decker bus that takes you to haunted places in Dublin. This time I wanted to get to know the city a bit. I ran my errands and proceeeded to walk Grafton Street--the "main drag," as it were.

One of the first things I noteiced was that the quality of music you find on the streets far exceeds that you find on Pac Ave, downtown Santa Cruz. One young man had set up an amp and was shredding on an electric guitar. There were two solo violinists, and a trio that conisted of a guitarist, violinist, standup basist, and three part harmonies--very impressive!

There was, of course, the odd man convincingly dressed like a statue, but what I found most interesting was the pseudotalent to be found in the streets of Dublin. I witnessed more than one person shaping a dog out of sand on a plastic sheet. As people pass by, they are no doubt awed by the talent, curious about the source of the sand, and nostalgic as they lose themselves in daydreams of tropical beaches with crystal blue water, perfect glassy waves, the sun on my face....where was I? Oh, yes! Naturally, I would throw some money into the hat of an artist who gave me a moment's peace and warmth in a bustling, gray city. However, upon further inspection, I noticed that these "sculptors" were standing proudly beside their unfinished work, NOT sculpting. Taking a break, you might suggest, and to the uninformed eye, that's precisely what they were doing. Passing by a few such "artists" multiple times revealed that the dog was always the same, and that no progress ever seemed to be made in it's construction!

I wouldn't have noticed this, but for the keen observation my friend, Amanda, (the bride) had made of a similar artist--a "painter" whom she had seen on numerous occasions, working meticulously on the same section of the same painting that was unfinished in the exact same sections every time she passed by. He would even go so far as to lick his finger and "smudge" the work--a very convincing ruse, indeed! I, unfortunately, did not have the opportunity to catch him in the act. I suppose he and the sand "sculptors" deserve props for their ingenuity, and in the case of the painter, he's certainly saving money by not actually buying materials. As for the sandmen, I say that if you're going to stand around all day mooching off tourists anyway, you may as well produce some art!

At least an argument could be made to throw a coin or two to the pseudoartists' cleverness. Explain how you might justify making a financial contribution to a man dressed as a vampire. Oh yes, it's true. In Temple Bar, at night, we witnessed a man dressed as a creature of the night--pointy ears and all! He would stay very still and wait for someone to get close, then grab them and make like he was actually going to bite them! I couldn't believe it. The worst part was, people were drunk enough (yes, I'm giving them the drink's influence as an excuse. I cling to the hope that sober individuals would choose differently)to be entertained by this to the point that this man was legitimatly making money doing it! Unbelievable...I've never seen anything like it.

Never a dull moment in Dublin, it seems. Very cool city, but I'm no city girl, and I found myself overstimulated after a few hours of walking around. Stephen's Green (the city's park) made for a perfect spot for a nap on the grass--though I kept dreaming I'd wake up to a torrential downpour.

An Irish Wedding

The reason I came to Europe in the first place was to act as "chief bridesmaid" in my best friend's wedding. Missing that flight guaranteed missing the rehearsal as well, but by 11pm 4 August, I and my bag (dress included!) had arrived safely in Dublin.

In the midst of helping the bride run last minute errands, I realized that I had never actually tried my dress on, and that, given I had been fitted for it a year ago, this might make things even more hectic and interesting.

As I suspected, the dress was falling off of me. I am less than adequately endowed to hold up a strapless dress as it is, nevermind one that's designed for an "average" girl of "average" size. Why hadn't I thought of this earlier, you wonder? Certainly I wouldn't think to get it tailored prior to a month before the event (I generally wait until the very last minute to get things done--I find that giving myself too little time to do things is incredibly motivating). Within that last month, I was too busy packing up my life and trying to fit in as much surf time as possible...naturally.

Anyway, I managed to take the dress in a bit myself--the night before the wedding, mind you. Considering I know little more than what every woman innately knows about sewing, it turned out rather well. Now I only had to worry about keeping up a dress that did fit me decently. Throughout the ceremony and the first half of the reception, I seized opportune moments to adjust things when the videographer and camera man weren't looking. I'm sure I ruined more than one photo....

The ceremony was beautiful, and the bride was absolutely breathtaking. I was flying by the seat of my pants as far as my "chief" duties, but there were no real catastrophes. The priest was very witty and had some encouraging things to say about falling in love (apparently, priest's can, too!) vs. committing to love someone for the rest of your life--an important distinction that seems lost to most young couples today.

After the ceremony, we took I don't know how many pictures--at the church, coming to the reception, at various places in the hotel where the reception was, and on it went.... The photographer ran the show. He would interrupt somewhat important moments (ie, turning and walking from the church post wedding kiss) to choreograph them for a photo. I found it rather awkward.

When that was finally over, it was time for dinner and speeches. The father of the bride gave a beautiful toast to his daughter, and managed to keep himself together better than I imagine my own father would (no offense, dad, but let's face it...;)). The groom's speech was, by far, the most entertaining, with a successful ruse that got everyone looking under their seats for a mysterious golden ticket, and a closing remark about his bride, who he described as his best friend who lets him touch her boobs....

I managed to get through my speech without tears, and with even a few laughs from a room full of Irish. The much-anticipated best man was both sweet and funny, and thanked everyone the bride and groom forgot to mention (phew! I guess that's why he's the best man!)

Finally, we were all able to relax and enjoy the evening. I took a power nap while the DJ set up, and came strolling in just barely in time for the first dance. The best man and I had a few laughs as we joined in and fell over ourselves. I, of course, was pulling my dress up the whole time. Once I thought it was safe to ditch that darn thing, I ran upstairs and changed into my jeans and a tank top (with the bride's permission, of course!).

Normally, I don't dance--I'm not very good at it. However, as one of the few sober people in the room, and in celebration of my best friend's marriage, I shook it all night long! Apparently, my slick moves struck one lad's fancy (let's call him Don Juannabe, though anyone who was there knows exactly who I'm talking about, and I'm sure he'll love that he made the story). Anyway, he asked me to join him in the middle of the dance circle, and kindly offered to let me straddle him, a move he had pulled on a friend of mine at a club two nights prior. Misunderstanding his words, she ended up enduring 60 seconds of inescapable molestation in the middle of a crowded room. I made Don Juannabe aware that I knew his game, and respectfully declined his very generous offer. He seemed shocked to have been rejected, but that didn't stop him from looking me up and down the rest of the night, and disregarding personal boundaries whenever he tried to strike up a conversation. One for the books, no doubt....

The night continued with lots of laughs and silly dancing. The bride wanted a line dance, and after asking the DJ three times, and telling him once, the American girls took the floor for Cotton Eye Joe. All the Irish guys in the room just sort of stopped and stared, drinks in hand, looking not a little befuddled. Once the DJ packed up, we all moved to a bar across the hall for more drinks and some live music from a couple of the guys who brought guitars. I retired at about 3:00, but I hear the festivities carried on until about 5am. Those Irish sure know how to throw a party!

Oh, did I mention I caught the bouquet? According to my new friend, the DJ, that means I'll be married to an Irishman within twelve months. I laughed and told him...something that would offend any Irish boy (I use "boy" intentionally) who reads this. Let's just say I've got other plans :).

I left; therefore I blog

Some may know me by my name, other's may refer to me as "People's Jenn," "coffee shop girl," or "Anna," by those who confuse me with another former barista who served the best coffee in Santa Cruz ;).
People's Coffee is located at 1200 17th Ave in Santa Cruz, CA. It really was voted best in town. If you are one of People's many regulars, you know why, and if you haven't yet been in...they're now open till 8pm daily.
I worked at this privately owned local phenomenon for just under two years. It is a warm, family-friendly environment. As an employee who was well taken care of, and as someone who had the pleasure of serving a truly incredible community of people, family is exactly what I found in it.
While I enjoyed working at the shop, it was time to move on to other things. I have a degree in marine biology that's been collecting dust as I worked and applied to graduate school. Grad school wait-listed me...twice, in fact. I decided to take the hint this time around. I put my life in storage and left Santa Cruz behind me. I'm taking a year for myself, and I want you to be able to share it with me. In truth, I'm not the blogging type. Anyone who knows me knows I don't like spending excessive amounts of time on the internet, and that I'm not particularly savvy with these sorts of things. This blog is inspired by and devoted to keeping in contact with those people I've been serving and have come to love within the last couple of years. Thanks for taking such good care of me :).

With love,
Jenn

Someone looking out for me

I suppose I should tell the story of how I got here, though it's mildly embarrassing....

My flights to Ireland were booked with miles. My itinerary was: Providence, RI to Toronto; Toronto to Frankfurt; Frankfurt to Dublin. I left at 6pm EST 3 August and was in Frankfurt by 11am local the 4th. I knew I had about a four hour layover, and my body was screaming for some horizontal rest, so I set my alarm and found a bench to nap on for a couple of hours. As it turned out, I was not 5, but 6 hours ahead of where I had been, and I woke five minutes after my plane had departed. I was alarmed and more irritated with myself than anything else. I couldn't believe I'd made such a stupid mistake! I prayed as I walked, and told myself that beating myself up about it was not getting me any closer to my destination. God has always provided, and this was an opportunity to trust in Him. I knew I would make it to Dublin that night or the next morning, but any hopes I had of getting to the wedding rehearsal that night were swiftly extinguished.

I went to the ticketing counter and relayed my problem (SO thankful that everyone else on the planet seems to have been raised multilingual! :-/ ) Apparently, since my flight was booked on miles, they had no authority to reschedule it, and could do nothing to help me. I needed to call United mileage plus. I considered getting a calling card but when i was told that I would receive €9 for my $20, I opted for the $1/min phone call from my incredible little iPhone (which I'm SO thankful to have!). At the end of a very expensive period on hold, I was told that here were no flights available, and that I would have to purchase an entirely new one. Panic ensued, but I kept praying and reminding myself to trust...though you might say I was stranded in Frankfurt and setting things up to have the maid of honor absent at my best friend's wedding!

I went back to the ticketing counter and was told that the next flight to Dublin was at 9:00 that night, and that a seat on it would cost me $700-- a terrifying prospect, but a prospect, nonetheless. I tried getting on the computer to search a couple of last minute booking websites that my friend, Astrid, had told me about. I quickly found those efforts futile, and resorted to anoher phone call. In situations like these, it is important to utilize your resources. I called Astrid--who lives in Tübingen, and who I would be visiting later in the trip. She told me about last minute booking agencies within the airport, and directed me to one in particular. She was on her computer and saw a flight out that night for €350 (~$500). It's amazing what starts to sound like a deal under such circumstances. There was a line at the counter she told me to go to, so I ended up at another for the same agency.

There was only one person in front of me, but of course, the minutes felt like hours, and I was furiously twirling my hair (if you know me, you know I can't keep myself from doing this when I'm nervous or deep in thought) A man walked up behind me, and pointed it out, asking if I was alright. I briefly told him my situation, leaving out details, but admitting that it was totally my fault I missed the flight. He was very nice, and for some reason, just talking to him and hearing him talk about his own travels calmed me down a bit. I got to the counter and found that there were two seats on a flight out at 10pm for €218! Ok, that's still $350 I wasn't prepared to spend, but it beat the he'll out of even the $500 I thought I would be stuck with.

I hand the woman my card, and she tells me she can only take cash. I laughed. What else can you do? It really was commical at this point. My new friend, Jeff, told me he would watch my things while I ran to the ATM. There was a line there as well, but the very nice gentleman chatting joyfully at the head of it happily let me jump in. I thanked him multiple times, and then ran back to he counter. As the woman was completing my reservation, Jeff asked politely what my money situation would look like after this. I laughed and told him I wasn't quite ready to think about that, recalling how the exchange rate seemed to worsen every time I turned around. He proceeded to hand me €100. I was flabbergasted, and thanked him, trying not to cry. As I finish paying for my new flight, Jeff reaches into his pocket, and hands me the rest--a complete stranger just bought my flight to Dublin. I couldn't believe it. I was barely holding back tears at this point as I hugged him and thanked him profusely. He said that if his daughter were traveling and found herself in a bad spot, he would hope that someone would help her. He also said he knew I would turn around and do something like that for someone else someday.

I walked away shaking and thanking God, not only for Jeff, but for challenging my faith and giving me an opportunity to trust in Him. I don't know what you believe, and some may say it was just chance that brought me to that ticketing counter just as Jeff arrived; and that the price was better than I anticipated because the Internet is unreliable; that it wasnothing extraordinary that the man at the ATM was kind, or that I was able to snag 1 of 2 seats left on that flight. In truth--scientifically--the odds were not in my favor, and I take none of those blessings for granted. I choose to believe that God provided because I trusted Him and submitted, knowing that this situation was out of my control. Jeff wouldn't tell me his full name, but I'll never forget him and the kindness he showed me. I continue on my adventure, ever-mindful of all I have to be thankful for.