The Art of Awkward

Map Reading in Rome

Everyday I am amazed at the kindness of total strangers in helping me along my way. In Bern, a father and teenage daughter spot me reading directions and walking around aimlessly with my pack on my back. They approach me in English, walk me half way to my destination and wish me safe travels.
A women from Norway seeks me out after sitting next to me on a canal tour in Copenhagen to bear hug me and tell me, “May God bless you and your travels.” As I pace nervously outside a hotel (not my own) at 4:45 am in Reykjavik, Iceland, the hotel manager comes to check on me and informs me that the shuttle has already left. She calls a cab for me, tells me not to worry and makes me coffee with biscuits as I wait.

As me and three men are examining a map in Munich attempting to find a good local watering hole, a women stops us to ask us what we are looking for. When we tell her a local bar, she tells us the name of where she’s come from and that she’s pretty “sauced”, so we will have a good time there.

As I said in my Iceland post, pulling out and staring at a map is a universal sign to either mug me or help me find my way. Repeatedly Europeans have graciously offered a stranger help in finding her way, purchasing tickets and making sure she gets off on the right train stop. In America, we frequently hear of Southern hospitality, but European hospitality would give Southerners a run for their money.

Yes, I had my wallet stolen in Florence. Yes, some man decided to whip it out of his pants to flash me in Rome. But you can’t let a couple of bad moments color the daily acts of kindness I’ve seen from Europeans.

It has me contemplating my own kindness towards others. When people are on street corners looking at maps, literally or figuratively, am I extending basic kindness that can be so meaningful?

In the Scandinavian countries, everyone speaks English. Everyone. I have yet to meet a true Norsk who doesn’t speak practically perfect English. This makes it immensely easier to navigate foreign cities by yourself. Yet, there are a thousand Awkward American moments occuring daily.

It can’t be helped. While I can frantically Google whether you tip the waiters in Oslo, I didn’t even think to look for a ticket system similar to the DMV at the Opera houses. You pull a ticket, and then you get to go to a window at the box office. While I was thinking, “Come on, Norway…get a move on,” they were patiently waiting for their number to appear. This ticketing system is everywhere from the baker to the post office.

Europeans use coins for literally significant chunks of change. My first approach was not to bother with coins until I learned that many exchange agents won’t accept coins. So that was an expensive mistake. Now I sit there flipping through coins while the sales clerk or street vendor stares on in exasperation and disbelief. And stares on. And stares on.

“Is this a five? I think I have a two. What was the total again?”

“Why don’t I count it out for you?,” the postal clerk in Copenhagen asked.

Yes, why don’t you just count it out for me?

I can’t read maps. I had forgotten this because of the iPhone. I’d use my iPhone, but I can’t get it to work the majority of time. So I stare at maps and misread maps. Sometimes people come over to assist me.

“Can I help you find something?”

“I’m looking for the Church.”

“I think you just need to turn around.”

“Yes, alright then. Well thank you.”

Movie theaters come with assigned seating, which wouldn’t be hard to navigate if I knew the Norwegian words for row, seat and theatre. Operas have assigned coat check stands. A thousand minor frustrations a day face me, and I have no one to bounce off whether I’m headed in the right direction or not. But I’m facing these frustrations in Europe! Instead of a job and somehow that makes it all bearable.

View of the Oslo Opera House from the ramp that leads to the roof

Oslo was a whim. I read an article about how Norway was on the uptake due to its income from oil several years ago, and it stuck in my head. Norway is actually the fourth largest oil producing country in the world. Who knew? Well I guess the Scandinavians. At the time of the article, they were building one of the top opera houses in the world, and I put it on a mental to-do list of things I thought I’d never actually see.

Oslo and I got off to a rocky start due to my hostile hostel situation (blog post to come). But we recovered nicely, and I fell in like with the city.

As I did with Reykjavik, I spent the first night walking all along, until I was too tired to go any further. (For concerned family members reading at home, I turn around if it starts to feel too deserted.) I love getting lost in each new city. Which is convenient, as I can’t read maps very well, and am not able to use my iPhone easily. There is something about walking along cobbled roads glistening with rain and around every corner is a cathedral or courtyard or…H&M. In this case, you can take Karl Johans Gate, a pedestrian road, from the main train station to the palace, which isn’t gated. Then I walked to Aker Byrgge, a redone shopping complex on the edge of the shipyard. People are still sitting outside, cuddling up in fur skins with candlelight, and it looks cozy.

Hansel and Gretel came out and served me cookies at the Norsk Folkemuseum

Day two was touristville. I hit up the Norsk Folkemuseum. Think Colonial Williamsburg, with less Colonialists and more Norsks. It recreated all these different houses and periods of living from before the Vikings to current. The tour guides say to spend half a day here. Let’s Go Elaine says spend an hour if it’s winter and muddy, and no one else is around. That said, Stave Church (a type of Medieval wood and beam Church) was an incredible sight to see. The second

And then at the Norsk Folkemuseum Vikings came out and plundered Hansel and Gretel (ok, not really...)

stop was the Viking museum with ships dating from 900 AD. I have no idea how they actually plundered villages with those boats. No motors to be seen. I then walked down the rest of Bygdoy Peninsula to the Ron Tiki museum. To discover the Ron Tiki museum was closed. *Shakes fist*

The Norwegian bars close at 3:30 am, so the fanny back brigade and I owned the streets of Oslo, when we hit the streets at 9:30 am on Sunday. Nary an authentic Scandinavian in site. I spent the morning at the Askershus fortress overlooking the harbor and then got very lost en route to the sculpture park. And then got very lost in the sculpture park.

And then I did a very American thing before the ballet. I went to National Gallery with 45 minutes before closing, and I asked to see The Scream. I hate when people tear into art museums trying to check off pieces of art off a to-do list without seeing anything else. I don’t intend to do cultural drive bys frequently, but it was a dash-and-see or miss seeing it forever. Fun fact: two versions of The Scream have been stolen and recovered.

Oslo Opera House

Norwegians treat the Opera house as an all-hours playground, which is because you can walk up a giant ramp to the roof and walk around. The roof holds 8,000 and they hold performances there as well too. After the performance, the mist was rising from the harbor and the opera house was aglow. It was one of the most romantic activities I’ve ever undertaken. By myself. And I should know, since I’m single a lot, I do a lot of romantic activities. By myself.

The performance I attended was, “A Evening of Dance With Nacho Duato.” The title

Wall Inside the Oslo Opera House

seemed akin to a movie Will Ferrell would star in, along the lines of Blades of Glory. And…the opening sequence began with dancers in near tighty-whities and ended with the dancers pouring sand on themselves and the stage. But, the ballet dancers were beautiful and incredibly athletic. Even if it did veer a little too close to performance art for my unsophisticated taste. Needed less sand, more Jon Heder.

The next morning I got to a later start then I meant to and had to forgo the ferry ride I planned on taking. But I got to have coffee with a college friend, Erin Riley, who is currently living in Oslo. I only found out about a week ago that she was in Oslo, and unfortunately, she was at an Athens conference for most of the weekend. But it was great to catch up and grab travel tips.

I wish I had more time to see the outer cities of Norway.

For various reasons involving technical incompetence, I can’t upload my photos yet. You can see my photos from my iPhone on my Tumblr, 90 Days in Europe.

First stop on the trip is Reykjavik, Iceland. It’s pronounced rek-je-vik, but I was going with ray-jav-ick for a good month. Say it with enough confidence and people wonder if they’ve been pronouncing it wrong.

When booking a flight to Oslo, they had a two-hour layover in Reykjavik, and I thought, why not make it a two-day layover.

With only 300,000 people, Iceland is one of the most educated countries in the world. It also used to be one of the wealthiest until the economic crisis and the country Bernie Madoff-ed everyone. Wikipedia declares, “Iceland’s banking collapse is the largest suffered by any country in economic history.” Not to make light of an awful situation, but doesn’t it sound like the entire country should be on sale? Like a giant outlet of a country? As in, “Yes, I would like to purchase your parliament building for $25.” But the plus side IS a weaker Iceland Krona and a government really encouraging tourism.

Visit Iceland also taught me that, “Team handball is a sport which is popular on continental Europe, but has yet to catch on in America. It is the team sport in which Iceland has achieved the most success, including a fourth place finish at the LA Olympics in 1984.” Well done Iceland. Also? When I ran junior varsity cross country in high school, I once had a 356th place finish. And now we are equally impressed with each others sports cred. Which is to say not at all.

The Infamous Northern Lights in Iceland. That I didn't see. But they sure look nice.

One of the most exciting aspects to me was that I would get to see the Northern Lights in Iceland. Yet one blog had the foresight to warn me, “Okay, listen. We’re really, really sorry, but we have to tell you something. The northern lights are not really on all the time.” So I was hoping to do a tour with Reykjavik Excursions the first night but the chances of seeing them were slim, so the tour was canceled. While walking around Reykjavik the first night, I saw something glowing in the sky that I was hoping would to be the lights. But nope, that was just Yoko Ono’s Imagine Peace tower. First she ruined the Beatles, and now she ruined the Northern Lights for me. Thanks Yoko.

Geysir (photo courtesy of the Geysir Center)

Day two took me on the Golden Circle tour with what I’ve affectionately dubbed the fanny pack brigade. This pretty much all-day tour takes you to one of their geo thermal plants, the Gulfoss waterfall, Geysir, Thingvellir National Park (home of one of the first European parliaments and you also get to see the Great Atlantic Rift. For all of you not paying attention to Mr. Smiley in Field Geology, apparently it is a crack between two tectonic plates – the American plate and the Euro-Asian plate.) You can see my pics on Tumblr.

Back to the fanny pack brigade. I have a long history of listening to my music so loudly you can hear what I’m listening to from far away. At one point during the tour, a motherly type turns to me and loudly says, “Ahhh….Paula Abdul.”

Busted.

Now, I am NOT a Paula Abdul fan. I just really love the violin intermission in “Rush, Rush.” But as she danced around singing lyrics, “Straight Up Now Tell Me,” I felt marked. I was a Paula Abdul loving American in inappropriate footwear, and even amongst the fanny pack brigade, there is a place of shame for that person. If only she overheard the next song, “Get Buck in Here” by DJ Felli Fel, I could have retained an ounce of dignity. Life is a cold-hearted snake.

Photo Courtesty of Blue Lagoon

The second night seemed unlikely to field the Northern Lights as well, so I opted for a swim in one of their geothermal pools – the Blue Lagoon. Swimming in these pools are very important to the people living in the country. Four percent of the energy from their geothermal power plants goes to swimming pools, and two percent goes to industry. (Guess who paid attention during the Geothermal plant tour? This blogger!) I like your priorities, Iceland.  Despite it being freezing outside, the pools have these warm currents running through them. It’s like how the pool gets warm in spots when someone pees in the pool, but it’s actually just mother nature here. You also rub this silica mud all over yourself that is supposedly great for your skin. I suspect I’m headed for break out city tomorrow.

How can you not love a country that casually claims that the Icelandic national food is the hot dog? And a delicious one at that. Hot dog stands are all over the city, and are tasty and cheap.

The people of Iceland are uber-friendly. As I sat there staring at my giant blue map with my giant backpack, a universal synonym for either “mug me and take my money” or “can you offer me directions,” the people of Iceland chose the latter. Also, the first time I looked at a geo thermal pool website, I figured they were models and only a couple of people would look that gorgeous. But as I woke up in a pool of my own drool as we were landing, I realized that the people of Iceland are that beautiful. And are probably not impressed with drooly Americans.

Next Stop: Oslo, Norway. Any suggestions?

The beautiful people of Iceland. Who probably don't wake up in their own drool on airplane rides. Photo courtesy of Laugar.

Got this e-mail from the hostel I’m staying at in Stockholm. Check out the video. Did you see ice on that water? Because I did. (But full props to my hostel – City Backpackers – for organizing an awesome and original event.) And I will likely sign up for the Swedish Meatball session because it sounds awesome.

Viking Sauna Tour

will launch for the first time this year the very week you stay with us!

Hooray! I can’t wait!

This time of the year it’s chilly in Sweden, so the Vikings invented a great way to get that summer beach feeling; the sauna. I’m gonna take some backpackers trekking through a forest to a sauna by a small lake, and it would be great if you joined us! What we do is we get a fire going until the sauna reaches boiling point, and then we throw ourselves in the lake, which will be a lot colder I tell u!

I know this sounds like complete madness, but I’ve been doing this tour twice a week all through the last two winters, and all the people who have joined me have absolutely loved it! It’s healthy, relaxing, fun, and a great way to meet new people. Have a look at this film and you’ll get an idea:

The tour runs on Tuesday and Thursday 10.00 (am) – 14.30 (pm) and costs 440 SEK. Bus tickets, private sauna, lunch sandwich and a beer is included in the price.

If you pre book the Sauna Tour plus any of our other tours by answering this mail you get a 50 SEK discount. (We can only take ten people on each tour, so it’s a good idea to sign up in advance anyway.)

I hope to see you in the sun, we’ll have a great time!

Yours Lena, Chief of the City Backpacker Tour Squad

I have the first leg of my trip mapped out so far. I would love any suggestions on what to do or where to eat while I’m in any of these cities. I’m definitely on a budget, so any suggestions of inexpensive things to do are greatly appreciated. I’m really excited for Reykjavik and Istanbul as I never in my wildest imagination thought I would visit those cities.

11/11 – 11/13 Reykjavik
11/13 – 11/16 Oslo – Just found out a college friend lives there. Psyched!
11/16 – 11/20 Stockholm
11/20 – 11/22 Copenhagen – Gotham Gal suggested I travel to Copenhagen and Istanbul too…
11/22 – 11/ 25 Istanbul
11/25 – 11/30 Athens – Traveling to
11/30 – 12/7 Barcelona

Tentative Travel Schedule
12/7 – 12/11 Prague
12/12 -15 – Salzburg – The Sound of Music tour? Of course!
12/15 – 17 – Innsbruck
12/17 – 12/20 Venice
12/20 – 12/23 Florence
12/24 – 12/26 Siena
12/26 – 12/29 Rome

So…I need an Internet meme for my trip to Europe. Something awesome like the guy who danced all over the world. I mean, I’m an awful, awful dancer. Like Elaine Benis awful. But…bad dancing is taken. So I need something new. Any suggestions?

My friends Matt and Monika went as Where’s Waldo and Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego for Halloween. I think that would be hilarious if I took a picture of whatever country I’m in as Waldo or Carmen, but that’s a of stuff to carry around in a backpack.

UPDATE:
If you were going to suggest I dress up as a creppy-as-all-hell Teletubby and dance around, my friend Ef already has that base covered.

As excited as I am about three months in Europe, there is a lot of things that are terrifying me to the core. I wake up from nightmares every single night since I’ve made the decision. This is a good thing. As it is, there are a lot of things in life that scare me or make me uncomfortable. But what scares us, what makes us tremble, what gives us nightmares, are often the activities in life that are most memorable and worth pursuing. So cheers to being scared!

• Flying – I rationally know flying is safer than driving, but cars never shake due to turbulence. Being on planes for three months including a leg from Seattle to Reyjavik looms large. (Tip: Most planes crash during the first 30 seconds of landing or taking off. I count to 30 when we take off, and know statistically that we aren’t as likely to crash)
• Being mugged or robbed – My mom got pick pocketed twice in London. That I can handle. Having someone pull a weapon on me? Not so much. No one enjoys a good stab wound on vacation. Even Diane Von Furstenberg got robbed outside of the Thyssen Museum.
• Staying in hostels - This entitled American is not used to sharing, especially rooms with strangers. Including men.
• Meeting new people - I’m introverted by nature, so the thought of meeting nonstop strangers for three months is terrifying for me.
• Being unemployed when I get back – Spending a lot of money to be faced with no job makes me sick to my stomach.
• Eating by myself - I hate eating by myself in sit-down restaurants. Hate it. HATE it. I imagine I’ll be eating at the bar a lot.
• Carrying everything I need in ONE bag – I need to be able to pack a bag that I can comfortably carry on my shoulders for three months for clothes I can wear at pubs, the Opera and general sightseeing while in climates ranging from freezing (Iceland) to warm (Barcelona). In ONE bag.

What scares you?

For the last five years I’ve wanted to go and travel Europe. When I was stressed at my first job (and I was always stressed at my first job), I would print out travel articles and place them in a red folder with the label “Escape.” I planned on quitting on my two-year anniversary, but somehow made it to four-and-a-half years. When it looked like they might need to do layoffs, I offered to be the first one figuring I’d travel Europe and come back and work at Sephora for awhile. But I wasn’t laid off. And then my next job at Metzger was too good of an opportunity, so I went straight there.

As I started contemplating travel again, I simply ran out of reasons not to go. I had the money, I’d put in a year at Metzger and just needed to get through one big client event, and I wouldn’t be traveling in the summer (hate the heat). Plus, I’d made great connections at Metzger that would help in a new job search. And I was exhausted. So I quit.

I know quitting a perfectly good job in this economy is just this side of crazy. I also know that when I get back, I won’t have a place to live or a job, and that can only lead into a depressing situation. But I’m also ok with doing clean up on aisle six until I get my feet back underneath me. And I’m also running out of time when I’ll have the opportunity to just pick up and leave.

After my parents passed away when I was 24, I had this sinking feeling in my stomach that I wouldn’t make it to 30. It’s not rational. Or something I still really think is true. But losing both your parents within six weeks of each other in your early twenties tends to affect your rational thoughts. And I turned 29 on Oct. 13, and 30 still seems ominous to me. When you look at the ages of my parents when they passed away, this is technically my mid-life crisis.

I grew up in a traveling family. We didn’t spend a lot of money on cars, clothes or entertainment. But each year my Dad would plan a two-week vacation that was the highlight of his year (he hated his job as an attorney). It brought some memorable trips including the time we went to England when I was in the third grade, and my parents paid us 3 cents for every fact we could recite about England at the dinner table. It was our spending money for the trip, and I earned $100 dollars, so I was pretty damn knowledgeable about England by the time we left. Some trips were less memorable like the car trips in our station wagon across the Nevada desert to California (the highlight being where my sister would use her feet on my face to move me as far away from her as possible.)

Frances Mayes talked about the need to surprise your life in the “Under the Tuscan Sun.” I’ve always related to that desire for dramatic change. The desire to purchase a house in Tuscany. Or as it relates to me, the desire to spend Christmas by myself in Siena. I’ll be leaving for my journey on Nov. 10. So far, Reykjavik, Iceland; Oslo, Norway; Stockholm, Sweden; Barcelona, Spain; Athens, Greece; Siena & Tuscany, Italy; and Paris, France are on the menu. I’m also hoping to do London, Prague, Switzerland, Ireland, Austria and Belgium. That’s a lot for three months. But I think the trade off of being poor, homeless and jobless upon my return will make this journey worthwhile.

“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn’t do than by the ones you did so. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.” – Mark Twain

Love is a battlefield. Which is how our friend signed my friend’s Steph and Neal’s wedding guest book. From now on, I will be carrying an assortment of 80’s and 90’s songs to pull from when signing wedding guest books. I went with “Congratulations and I love both of you.” Pro tip: Don’t say good luck. Brides think that implies you don’t think they’ll make it.

Despite all lack of originality in my signature, I do love the both of them. Our first weekend of college, Steph came and knocked on our door and asked, “Do you want to go to a party?” Ummm…yes. Please. Steph and Neal, who didn’t actually start dating for several more years, took us to our first official party off campus. From then on, their crew – Katie, Andi, Carmen, Alli, Joe, Ryan, Andy, Neville – were the sophomores, and we were the freshman. They became the juniors, we became the sophomores. They became the seniors, we became the juniors. And so we stand, six years post-grad, they remain to us as the seniors.

The seniors took us to many more parties, they bought beer for our St. Patrick’s Day party, they gave us their old furniture, they hosted tailgates, told us what classes to avoid and drove us to Target. They even threw my 21^st birthday party (and Beth’s) complete with cake, beer, balloons and hair holding. They were the older siblings we always wanted. With beer.

So a cheers to Neal and Steph. May their lives continue to be full of the love and warmth they brought into our lives.