Adventure is out there! (Part 1)

For our February vacation, I made it my mission to find crazy places to go and crazy things to do. Museums and art exhibits would be replaced by extreme outdoor pursuits and seeking out incredible sights. What was the Holy Grail of this quest? Malta and the Canary Islands.

Right now, most of you are probably saying, “Hmm, Malta. What country is that in?” Answer: It is its own country, a full-fledged member of the European Union located to the southwest of Sicily in the Mediterranean Sea. Due to various periods of colonial occupation, Malta has a very unique culture that combines influences from many others, such as Britain, Italy, and North Africa. The Maltese language is actually a mixture of words from English, Italian, and Arabic, with its own alphabet and set of rules.

Malta first appeared on our radar when we met Krista and Stefan, the Maltese pharmacy students studying in Montpellier for the semester. I met them the first weekend I was in Montpellier, and little did I know that in a few months we would be visiting them in their home country, something I had only seen on maps and in geography trivia games (Sporcle.com anyone?). Myself and 7 other friends from Montpellier hopped a plane, train, and bus (literally) from our town and arrived on “The Rock,” as the Maltese like to refer to it, greeted by our two friends who had returned before Christmas. They gave us an incredible grand tour of their country, showing us everything from the most popular sights to the most far-flung to the ones they had come to consider personal favorites.

Highlights of our stay on the Maltese Islands:

-Renting and getting to drive a car. This is one of the things I miss most about being in France this year, so this was a welcome change. Plus, having been a former British colony they drive on the left side of the road, something that proved to be much less difficult than I had imagined. What did prove difficult was navigating our way around the island, despite the fact that we have some natives on board. The icing on the cake was when we turned down what ended up being a one-way street and found ourselves face to face with a line of angry cars and a charter tour bus flashing his headlights. Oops.

-Going to Carnival on the smaller island of Gozo. In order to get an adequate picture of what the Carnival experience is, imagine the mass partying atmosphere of the Preakness infield, in a city, at night, where everyone dons a crazy costume, and dances around floats to blasting music. Throw in a few cans of Cisk, the amazing local beer, and you’ve got yourself Carnival, Maltese style.

-Seeing some of the oldest manmade structures in the world. Malta is home to a complex of stone buildings that have been excavated dating back to 5,000BC. Different rooms and cuts of the stone are still visible, with some blocks weighing several tons.

-Scaling a variety of mountains, cliffs, and rocky precipices. Malta, being a country set on a rock in the middle of the sea, is full of places to go climbing or even sliding down, as it were. Beautiful views of the landscape or the sea were to be had around every turn, and it never got old. We even got to climb down into the cave where legend holds that Odysseus met Calypso in The Odyssey.

-The food. One word: pastizzi. This delicacy is either peas or ricotta wrapped in flaky pasty dough and baked in the oven. Incredible. Krista and Stefan were also awesome enough to invite us to their homes during the course of the week to share their favorite Maltese dishes with us. Krista’s was baked pasta with tomato sauce and meat, and Stefan’s was baked rabbit. Excuse me while I go book a ticket back to Malta as my mouth waters.

-Everything is SO. CHEAP. Malta is on the Euro, but somehow their prices have remained incredibly low and are some of the lowest in the European Union. To give you an example, we went to the bakery/grocery store for one day’s lunch and dinner shopping and got the following for our group of 10: 30 pastizzi, 10 pigs-in-a-blanket-esque creations, a few other assorted baked goods to share, pasta, cheese, vegetables, olive oil, bread, 2 dozen beers, and other assorted beverages. Total per person: 7 euros.

-Spending time with the Maltese. The entire country of Malta is one of the most welcoming and friendly I’ve ever travelled to. Our friends basically dedicated their weeks to making sure we had an awesome time. Fast forward several skipped university classes, 5 trips to the airport for the different outbound flights we had, and coordinating a weeklong itinerary and they never once complained. Here’s a big thanks to Krista and Stefan for being the sweetest times this side of the Atlantic.

One of These Things Doesn’t Belong…

For anyone who has been to France between the months of November and April, you know very well that the typical attire of a French person consists of dark jeans and some shade of black or gray sweater/jacket/shirt. I’ve noticed this as the winter weather continues to roll on, but didn’t realize how true it was until I had a fire drill during class two days ago.

Of course this fire drill (which the administration neglected to inform me of) happened during a rainy day, so I stopped in the teacher’s lounge before exiting the school grounds to grab my rain coat. As I filed out the front gates with the students and other teachers, I suddenly realized that I could quite easily be picked out of the crowd as the English Assistant from the States. Stuck in the middle of a group of black and gray, there I was with my bright blue running jacket, complete with areas of reflective silver. This jacket made it easy for all of my students to find me while we waited so I was soon surrounded by a circle of high schoolers all giggling and saying, “Hello! ‘Ow are you?”

Side note: I’m not really sure how fire drills in France work, but comme d’habitude (per usual) the efficiency was questionable. At schools in the States, administrators receive word from teachers that their class has exited the building, and once all personnel and students have evacuated, they see how long the entire process took. During said fire drill, students wandered outside in a leisurely and unorganized mob, lingered for a few minutes just outside the gates (with some still relaxing at the benches in the courtyard), and bit by bit began filing back inside at an unannounced moment. I saw one member of the administration during all of this, and he was talking with a group of students the entire time. I pray there is never a real fire at school.

A Day in the Merde

Even in France, or maybe I should say especially in France, you come across one of those days from time to time where you wonder why you even got out of bed. Productivity is nearly impossible and you cannot help by avoid a series of bizarre encounters. My Monday was definitely one of those days. It went a little something like this:

-Go to bed at 5am after watching the Super Bowl, wake up at 7 to catch my train and arrive at school for my 9 o’clock class to find out that the teacher is absent and neglected to tell me.

-While using a public service announcement about guns to practice conversation with a student, she proceeds to tell me how there are five major gypsy tribes that roam France and are the major gun owners, how some of her friends have guns, and how the police are usually too afraid of them to try and take their guns.

-Upon my return to Montpellier at the end of the day, I arrive at the train station to find out that there are delays of up to 3 hours for a nondescript “problem” with the trains, or the train tracks, or the French train system. One of those things (probably). Since my 4:54 train was cancelled, I hopped on a high-speed train that was supposed to leave at 2:20 but was still stuck in the station, praying that they didn’t check tickets before I had to get off.

-After getting off in Montpellier without any problems, I was greeted by a nice rain for my walk home.

Happy Monday. Or rather, Happy Merde-day.

America, On the Rest of the World

Continuing my love for Stephen Clarke’s Merde series that gave its name to this blog, I started reading Merde Happens, another of Englishman Paul West’s adventures. In this installment, he travels across America with his French girlfriend in a Mini emblazoned with a Union Jack. In one part Paul talks about the way Europeans think Americans view them, thanks to movie and TV depictions. In a strictly stereotypical sense (because no American would ever be this ignorant….), the following descriptions are right on and are worth a shout out.

“The way the Brits think the Americans view them:

-Stonehenge-1776: A time of castles, kings ‘n’ shit.

-1776-1945: Crushed by the loss of its American colonies, Britain gradually shrivels up until it is so powerless that it almost loses a war to a vegetarian with a silly mustache.

-1945-present: Saved from destruction by the USA, Britain becomes a trusted ally, as vital to the balance of world power as, say, Bermuda.”

“The way the French think Americans view them:

-Jurassic Period-1940: An area of the planet devoted solely to the production of wine, cheese, prostitutes, and body odor.

-1940-present: Supposedly a friend, but in truth as reliable as the wedding guest who sleeps with the bride.”

Mass media: doing wonders for the world’s perception of Americans. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to grab my gun and my cowboy hat, hop in my Hummer, and go to McDonald’s…

Marvejols: A Land Lost in Time

A few weekends ago, 4 friends and I visited a fellow English assistant who had the great fortune of being placed in Marvejols, France. Marvejols, for those who aren’t familiar with it (and I don’t know why you would be) is located in the department of La Lozère. This area has the distinction of being the least populous in France. Accordingly, some French people have nicknamed it “le trou du cul du monde,” something that roughly translates to the “Boondocks,” or something like that…

The Marvejols Crew: Lisa, Susanna, Darcy, Me, and Alissa (the local). Thanks to Tom (our 6th) for the photography skills.

Despite this grim description, Marvejols has all the charm of a quaint town of 5,000 in the French countryside: medieval-looking houses, mountains surrounding it on all sides, and a calm feeling you can’t find in the larger cities. Not paying for lodging for the weekend was a big plus, made possible because Alissa lives in the boarding section of the middle school where she teaches. A few sleeping bags, blankets, and pillows later and the recreation room had become our very own dormitory. We hiked up the “mountain” that looks down on the town and ventured around the plateau on top for a while.

Once we felt like we had seen the town, we hopped in the car and drove 20 minutes to a lake nearby, stopping by a castle we found signs for on the way back. Yes, castles are found in the wild of La Lozère. The area is also known for its wolf population back in the day, but unfortunately the Wolf Park (a kind of zoo dedicated only to wolves) was closed in January.

On our way to Marvejols, we also stopped by the town of Roquefort, birthplace of the smelly cheese. Being off-season (if a cheese town in France ever has an off-season) and a Saturday, we saw maybe 6 people during our 4 hours there, 2 of which gave us a tour and tasting of the cheese caves. I’ve got to say that I agree with the old say: the smellier the cheese, the better.

Getting away for the weekend was great and the French countryside is beautiful no matter where you stop. Marvejols- definitely one of my favorite towns with a population under 5,000. Check it out if you’re ever in the neighborhood.

The Return Odyssey, Part 2

The next day, I woke up with the intentions of figuring out how I was going to make it home (after my complimentary breakfast, of course). I met up with a couple from San Diego who was trying to get home from a vacation in Europe, so together we all attempted calling the British Airways hotline. All BA passengers were advised not to come back to Heathrow unless we had confirmed a flight reservation with our airline, so naturally the BA hotline was down. I figured that avoiding the airport may be a good decision, so I booked myself on a Eurostar train from London to Paris via the Chunnel (the tunnel that goes underneath the English Channel). After my booking was completed, I received a message from Eurostar saying that there were problems with some of the trains due to the weather and that certain trips may be disrupted. Thanks for the advance warning.

I checked out of the hotel and hopped on the Tube to St. Pancras International train station. What was to be found there? All Eurostar services had been suspended following the failure of several trains entering the Chunnel and passengers were being advised to postpone their travel if it was "non-essential." Back to the drawing board. I sat down on the metal benches in the station (open air station in England I should add- a certain region of my body was numb by the time I was finished) and tried to Skype British Airways to rebook myself. After about 20 minutes I was put through to an operator and booked on a flight later that day. I packed up my things and hopped on the Tube once again for an hour long journey back to the Lion's Den, better know as Heathrow.

Once in Heathrow, everything went (mostly) as planned with only a small delay to my flight. I arrived in Paris around 11pm, finally in my destination country but with no more trains leaving the city for the night. Thankfully, my incredible former boss from my semester abroad in 2007 told me I could spend the night at her house (I am forever grateful, Carrie!). The upside? I got to spend all of the next day walking around Paris. So unfortunate...

Friday night rolls around after a day in Paris and lo-and-behold, there's snow in the south of France. Trains are being delayed in departure and slowed during the journey adding 1-3 hours to the journey. Or so I thought. My train left at 10pm, and throughout the night the conductors kept making announcements pushing the arrival times back. 2:30am in Montpellier. 3:30am. 5am. In the end, we pulled into the train station at 6am, just as Saturday's early travelers were arriving to find their trains.

And so concludes the 1 day journey that turned into 4 days spread over 3 countries. Unexpected? Yes. Ridiculous? A bit. Worth the travel story? Definitely.

The Return Odyssey, Part 1

Now that I've made it back from the holidays at home and settled back into this side of the pond, I would like to submit for your reading pleasure The Return Odyssey of 2010:

Rewind to the night of January 5. Location: Ellicott City, MD. I was booked on a British Airways flight direct from Baltimore to London Heathrow Airport, with a connecting flight to Paris. After this, I had timed my arrival perfectly so that I could catch a train direct to my town and arrive by dinnertime. I logged onto the BA website before leaving the house to make everything was in place for my flight when I saw a message at the top of the screen: "Attention- UK flight disruptions due to severe winter weather. Check the status of your flight here." I proceeded to check my flight and as luck would have it I had no delays or cancellations.

I arrive at BWI, went through security (with my extra carry on I was hoping wouldn't cause any problems in tow), and made it to the gate with plenty of time. Fast forward to 7 hours later when we're landing in London to the double-edged news that the UK is currently experiencing the worst snow storm in a decade, but that Heathrow is one of the only airports still open so we would be landing without a problem at 9am local time. Not worried in the slightest, I gathered my bags, went down the moveable staircase, and got bussed into the terminal. Enter chaos.

With the winter weather wreaking havoc up and down the UK, flights were being cancelled left and right. I found out my Paris connection was cancelled (when I confidently tried to stroll through security to my next gate), so I did an about-face to find the hour and a half long line I had to wait in to rebook. As the British would say, I queued for the better part of two hours until I was finally rebooked on a later flight that day. Still unworried, I went through security and found a place in the Terminal 5 waiting area (about the size of a moderate sized airplane hangar) where I could eat lunch and relax. Next flight time comes....and goes. We sit at the gate for about 45 minutes before they finally put us on buses and get us out to the plane. Add another 2 hours of waiting inside the plane to be deiced and the final announcement that Heathrow Airport has been closed and all flights are cancelled. So close.

We waited a bit more for the arrival of the moving stairs and bus to return us to the terminal and finally made it back inside. I later found out that we were among the lucky ones, since some planes arriving throughout the day had waits of up to 6 hours before crews could come to unload them. Back inside the terminal, I've now realized that I have missed my non-refundable train from Paris, will not be leaving London tonight, and have to stand again in a line for hotel vouchers that now stretches at least a quarter of a mile. After that 2 hour wait, I then had the great fortune of having to stand in the "Other Passports" line (all non-UK and EU citizens) to go through customs. An educated guess would tell me that there were around 1000 people in this line.

Almost 3 hours later, I was allowed through to go downstairs and find the bus to my hotel. On the way, I passed the battlefield of unclaimed bags that covered the floor after airport officials stopped letting passengers reclaim their bags.

I arrived at the Ibis Heathrow around 1:30am. Mind you, I first arrived in Heathrow at 9am. Myself and a few other stranded flyers enter the hotel to find that they have been inundated and are booked, but have called a taxi service to take us to the Ibis Earl's Court in central London. We finally arrive there and get into our rooms around 2:30am, where I checked in with my parents stateside and passed out in bed.