La agridulce. The bittersweet. Barcelona 2010 se acabó.

This has to be a short post...

I'm actually going to miss Barcelona. Yeah, I just said that. I'm going to miss Resu, all of the warm baguettes she brings home for dinner and the ridiculous moments traveling. But, I am proud to say I will never ever have to fly RyanAir again. Can I get an amen?

Tracey and I traveled to the beach in Sitges with two friends. We spent the day digging our toes in the sand and frolicking in the water. Not to mention we topped off the day with a little ice cream.

Resu made my favorite for dinner and we polished off a warm baguette. A great way to end my time in Barca. I didn't sleep all night. I get too nervous before a big flight that either my alarm won't go off or I'll be running late (i.e. suitcase not packed). So I spent the night packing. And a little bit of vino with some chicas up on the roof.

The next morning, four hours later, Resu and I said goodbye and my eyeballs started to sweat (teardrops). It was a long ride to the airport. Everything went great. Heathrow was easy to get through and my flights were on time. My airplane to the United States was even a double-decker. So cool! (*said in 9 year old boy voice)

Adeu!

To check out the rest of the photos, check out the Flickr album:  http://www.flickr.com/photos/chasecarrie/sets/72157623891870805/


To check out all 3,270 photos, check out the Flickr album: http://www.flickr.com/photos/chasecarrie/

Thirteen pages of history of Spain GOLD

Por fin. I have learned all of Spain's history in approximately 2 weeks. I also managed to jot down 13 pages or so of this history in Spanish. I hope my teachers don't see this, but this is the looooongest I have ever spent writing a paper. Embarrassing you ask? Almost 16 years of academics. No way, José.

I trapped myself in the library. And I even did the unthinkable....I SPENT MY ENTIRE SATURDAY THERE. I didn't think I had it in me. The curriculum is a little different in Spain. Your entire grade depends on 1) the midterm and 2) the final exam. And since I was stuck in God-forsaken France with the blizzard of 2010 and all of it's one and a half feet of snow and missed the midterm, things weren't in my favor.

I should also mention the libraries in Spain are a little different than those in the good ole US of A. No. One. Utters. A. Word. I'm also 99% sure that the reason the natives didn't want to share a table with me is because I type too loudly. That's right. A simple finger stroke is TOO LOUD. It made for good stories after some late nights when the other loud typers (a.k.a. Americans) and I would gather at the local bar to trade stories.

Here's a picture of Tracey y yo, ready to turn our papers in!

And here's where we were 20 minutes later. Dos margaritas, por favor. 

The loud typers and I chose to let loose that weekend. So we spent it at the local art museum, eating delicious food, Fería de Abril, and watching the light show at the fountains. If I haven't mentioned before, I legit am in love with those fountains. I've been all over the world and those fountains are top five.

The local art museum, Fundació Jaon Miró, sat on top of the Montjuic (a mountain, if you donn't speak Catalan) and looked out into the Mediterranean and the rest of the city. Gorgeous? Hah, just a little.

It should be noted that as we were waiting outside to get in the museum, a monsoon came through. And by monsoon I mean large rain drops and necessary to take shelter.

We thought it was appropriate and sunny enough to spend the remainder of our day walking around Montjuic and heading to the beach. Finally, after 5 months, and hearing "the weather is normally never like this," it was sunny in Barcelona.

Bright and early Saturday morning Tracey and I headed down to the university area to explore and do things that we have been talking about for the past five months. We started out on our adventure for the best chocolate in Barcelona. It 'twas delish indeed, but left few Euros in my wallet. Womp. As we were dining on fine chocolate at 10 a.m. we noticed a large crowd outside of the church across the way.

We jumped on the bandwagon and waited for what the crowd was waiting for...natives in large costumes...dancing outside of the church. Tracey and I were not only distraught, but hot because of this fluke sunny Barcelona weather. We were also hungry and decided it was lunchtime.

We ate the BEST lunch ever. Maybe it was because we were so hungry, but we firmly believe it's because the food was just THAT good. The restaurant was called "Cheese Me."

We knew they would be accepting of our American taste buds. We sat outside and drank delicious sangria. We ate salad which had dressing from the Gods. And the main course....was this...words can't describe it. My mouth is watering. I can't take this. SOMEONE, BRING CHEESE ME TO THE UNITED STATES!

The rest of the day is a blur. Cheese Me was too delicious. It's more than likely that Tracey and I went home, laid on our beds and fell asleep with a big grin on our faces. 

The following day we had BIG plans. Our day was going to be filled with nothing but Spain culture. Tracey and I met up with Sam, Jordan and Danielle, some great year-longers from our program (Sam, Jordan and I are also good friends at Etown). Señoras spend an entire year preparing for the Fería de Abril. A Flamenco festival with lights, delicious food, a fair and well, flamenco. Below are the lights, which are not impressive in the slightest bit in the day time, but at night- Ay, díos mío. 

So we spent the day pondering whether or not we actually needed a flamenco dress in our closet. 

We also practiced our own flamenco and taught our fellow Americans what to do if in a flamenco battle among a native. 

I was also able to meet up with a friend from Etown. And being the typical college student that I am, we didn't take one picture together. Two perks when traveling with parents: 1) you have pictures with anyone and everyone you came in contact and 2) they pay for everything!

I took her to the fountains, the greatest and #1 thing you should do in Barcelona. And this is the only picture I have from that evening that is of an actual human being. And no, I'm not putting up a picture of the fountains because I can't pick just one. 

If you haven't heard of the Fuents Magícos (a.k.a. Magic Fountains) let me tell you. They last two hours long and light up the Palau Real (Royal Palace). I think I was almost on my knees and in tears at the end of the Disney soundtrack night. Lights are everywhere. Music is everywhere. It's amazing to say the least. 

All in all, a successful weekend full of Barcelona. And I'm not going to lie, it felt kind of good to not travel on another RyanAir flight. 

Okay, I give in...here's one (blurry) photo that gets most of the point across. 

To check out all of the photos, check out the flickr album: http://www.flickr.com/photos/chasecarrie/sets/72157623875605543/

Felíz día de Sant Jordi (aka Happy Catalan Valentine's Day)

According to my dear friend Wikipedia, Dia de Sant Jordi is: "also known as El dia de la Rosa (The Day of the Rose) or El dia del Llibre (The Day of the Book) is a Catalan holiday held on 23 April, with similarities to Valentine's Day and some unique twists that reflect the antiquity of the celebrations. The main event is the exchange of gifts between sweethearts, loved ones and respected ones. Historically, men gave women roses, and women gave men a book to celebrate the occasion—'a rose for love and a book forever.' In modern times, the mutual exchange of books is also customary."


All of  my single lady chicas and I celebrated together. We took on downtown Barcelona. We met at the top of La Rambla and began our trek down, towards the playa. 

La Rambla was packed, so we decided that a Buenas Migas stop was necessary. If you're ever find yourself in Barcelona, your first stop (after the hotel) should be Buenas Migas. Not only are the staff beautiful looking, but they also speak some English, which on somedays was necessary (so beautiful that Jordan curtsied, just one time, because she was so in awe of Señor Barista's good look and didn't know how else to respond). A little sneak peak of Buenas Migas (also the only thing I have EVER stolen, a Buenas Migas coffee cup, with the most delicious tea inside). 

We were also waiting for Caitlin, who's mode of transportation was Bicing. A form of public form of transportation by bike. She had to drop her bike off at one of the Bicing bike racks and she legit couldn't find one open. She checked everywhere, so much that she almost ended up going back home to find an open rack. Here is a Bicing rack on a normal day....

Anyway, after some Buenas Migas we tackled La Rambla. There were books and roses everywhere. It was LOCA, as Shakira would say. We all had plans to by books and roses on La Rambla, but we then quickly realized that 99.9% of the books were in Catalan. A language that none of us knew, except for the words "exit" (sortida) and "goodbye" (adeu). I was lucky enough to receive a b-e-a-utiful rose from Tracey. 

We finally made it through the LOCA-ness and down to the playa. With a little pit-stop for some delicious noodles. On our way down we then decided that grass was more optimal for our picnic since we had all showered that morning. So we posted up and picnic-ed our little hearts out. We were even lucky enough to have some guitar playing from Kara. I'd put a picture up, but she says she "looks ugly" while singing and playing guitar and therefore purposely made every single photo terrible. Here's what you get. 

I gave Tracey a book for Día de Sant Jordi. She had been dyyyying to read The Last Song. Don't worry, I wrote something heart felt on the inside. 

It was a successful and Catalan filled day. It made me wish I had stayed in Barcelona more weekends. However, I have some pretty amazing photos photos and memories. "Congratulations, you have now completed a successful RyanAir flight." 

Check out the Flickr album to see all of my Barcelona shenanigans: http://www.flickr.com/photos/chasecarrie/sets/72157623946346778/

Camels, quads, tubes and dirhams.

Ridiculous. The only word that can be used to describe four days in Morocco. We arrived in Morocco around 9pm and headed straight for our hotel. We were SO excited to be in Morocco. The minute we stepped off the airplane we could feel the warm weather, and how nice it felt. After 20 minutes in a taxi, and after our taxista assured us "only 5 minute," we were in the center of the "Free American Passport/Ransome Walking." "Okay, get out here, go straight," our taxista assured us. They must have smelled the fear in us because there was now a crowd of Moroccan MEN surrounding the taxi. Scared s**tless, to say the least, we booked it to our hotel.

Safe and sound, we were in our SUITE, finally. Yeah, suite. One giant king bed and two smaller beds. The only downfall was the bathroom and the lack of shower door and lack of bathroom door in general. It was then, that we all realized we were going to get verrrry close on this trip.

The next morning started out early, as we decided that we should stay in our suite at night and enjoy the sunshine to the fullest. During breakfast we started our planning of what we were going to do. Mary found a map...with less than reassuring words of wisdom:

"You are here. You are lost. Everything is going to be alright. Don´t panic. It´s only Marrakech."

During breakfast, the owner at the hotel asked us what we were doing that day and after talking, he volunteered that one of his employees, who he referred to as Jean Claude Van Damme, would take us on a tour up the mountain. We were a little skeptical, so to make sure, we asked, "he won´t leave us at the top of the mountain or anything, right?" He replied, "YES, yes, of course he will!" We assumed it was the language barrier.

We ventured out into Marrakech in search of some markets, as we told Jean Claude we would be back at noon for our adventure up the mountain. We quickly realized, again, that we were quite a sight for the natives. We came to the conclusion that in our t-shirts and capri pants were the most skin some of these men had seen in a while. After following narrow streets, we quickly discovered the markets...

After purchasing some souvenirs, a.k.a. gifts for ourselves, we decided to wanted back to the hotel. Minutes later we were in the car with Ismael, a.k.a. Jean Claude, and were headed to the mountains. Foruntaly, I got the side with the trick window, it never stayed up the entire bumpy and very windy two hour drive up the mountain.

Our first stop was: camel riding. I have an issue with riding animals. I´ve done it maybe...ONCE in my entire life. And as my faithfull blog readers, a.k.a. mom and dad, can recall, I had a little bit of a rough time trying to ride a mule in Ecuador. I fell off and the mule was crazy, literally; everyone voted. So, as I have an extremem fear of heights, trying to get on a camel, a much taller animal than the mule, was not to my liking.

After a couple attempts, and some funny pictures, I finally mounted the camel. Our faithful guide, guided my camel, again crazy, down the path. We stopped for some kodak moments, where all my camel wanted to do was eat. Overall, mission accomplished and another item checked off my list of ´100 Things To Do Before I Die.´

Our next stop was ... "Ish, where are we?" "Okay, we go." Needless to say, this is where the language barrier happened. Our faithful tour guide, who we nicknamed Ish, had brought us to a co-op.

We were then taken on a small tour of the co-op learning that everything is made from the natural nuts. From collecting the nuts, cracking the nuts and making magical touristy souvenirs for their "rich" clients, i.e. naïve college students. 

So, we purchased our natural mud face masks, chap stick, mint tea and some peanut butter. We had big plans for our night in our hotel. 

Our next stop was lunch, and we were starving to say the least. Our faithful tour guide took us to a restaurant, conveniently owned by a friend, where we dined on couscous, veggies, chicken and coca-cola while being serenaded by some "new friends."

Our next stop was the waterfall, normally you stand at the bottom of waterfalls, right? Womp, wrong! 

After 45 seconds of enjoying our hard work, we headed back down the mountain, passing elderly women who should never had been allowed to ascend the mountain in the first place. We then headed back to Marrakech, but not before stopping at a supermarket to pick up some dinner. Bread, fruit, crackers, juice and champagne; the five major food groups. 

When we got back to our hotel with our bags, the owner of the hotel asked if we were going up to the roof, to the jacuzzi. Why, indeed, we were. Success! Hotel was great to say the least and the roof was even greater. 

Our first order of business was to break into the peanut butter we had bought at the co-op. It was DELICIOUS. Then, came the champagne followed by a little dip in the COLD jacuzzi. Yeah, I guess the solar panels weren't working that day. Anyway, we then broke out the face masks which turned into a disaster, to say the least. 

Twenty minutes later we quickly realized that the part of the face mask that made your skin feel soft was removing the mask. Try rubbing the skin off of your face. A similar sensation as removing this "mask."After the strenuous mask removals we called it a night because we had a big day ahead of us. 

We were up and awake ready to start day of quad biking and tubing. After breakfast we headed to the Moroccan Tubing office where the quad biking people would pick us up. While waiting for the bus we were talking with out tubing guide and told him about our little...mishap with the face masks. He then...bestowed a little of knowledge upon us. "You know where they get the nuts from, right? Goat poop." We had just spend the night before spreading goat poop all over our faces. Not to mention that during the application and removal process we may have gotten some in our mouths. Excellent. 

We then hopped into the bus and headed to quad biking. We were fitted with face masks and helmets and then put on a quad. 

We then headed out onto the trail, through berber communities, through the countryside. It was amazing. And, it also felt great to be in control of a motor vehicle. I think the maximum that we all hit was 40 km. Dirt was flying everywhere, it was great!

Half way, we stopped at the top of a mountain for a little break. And to capture some pictures of how dirty we were. Yet, there was SO much more dirt to come! Our next stop was at a little berber house to wipe down the dirt, or get off as much as you can, and dine on some mint tea and some Moroccan pancakes, as we called them. 

(the shirt WAS white at the beginning of the day)

We then hopped back on our quads and headed back towards the base. Overall, AMAZING, and we were so excited for the rest of our day. We headed back to the tubing place, after getting a quick bite to eat, and then headed out to the river. 

We drove for what seemed like forever to a house, aka headquarters for Moroccan Tubing. Along the way, the guides told us they were from Scotland (well, that we kind of guessed as blond hair and blue eyes are the norm in Morocco) and had driven the van all the way down there....roughly 2,500 miles. Devoted? I think so. 

The house was right on the "river." And I use the word "river" loosely. We all looked at it, and couldn't figure out how there was enough water height for the tube to float. A few hours later we were SO wrong. Just wait. 

We were fitted into our wetsuits and waterproof shoes. And by wetsuits, I mean used wetsuits...with holes in precarious locations. Let's just say, it's good we chose to bring our bathing suit tops and bottoms along. As to the water proof shoes: converse. I would have rather worn my own. 

To see all the photos, check out the Flickr album: http://www.flickr.com/photos/chasecarrie/sets/72157623717411615/
To see all of the tubing photos, check out the Splash Morocco website's gallery: http://photos.rafting.co.uk/gallery/11824761_HWTEe/1/835805187_urWFz#835828245_jpbjb (these are not photos taken by me.)

Milan for 12 hours...aka the Last Supper...aka NEVER again

After a tumultuous train ride to Milan, to say the least, I was there. Apparently, the train to Milan is a busy one. And finding your correct seat is a doozie, let me tell you. First, I don't speak any language that was on my train ticket. Second, google translator doesn't know any language that was on my ticket. So, balls to the wall, I found seat and sat in it. 20 minutes later, the seat owner appeared, who spoke the train ticket's native tongue. He pointed me in the direction of my seat and what did I find, a family of four fast asleep. I couldn't wake them, I would have felt terrible. So I found a nearby seat, hoping the family of four would wake up and get off a stop before mine. Nope. Faaaast asleep. And then the owner of my new seat appeared so I had to wake the family, I had no choice, the train was literally packed. So I talked to the family of four in my native tongue, kindly told them they were in my seat and then my knees went weak and I told them I would go sit in their proper seats, two cars back. Terrible. I arrive at my fake seat to find an american couple fast asleep. I picked a new seat and prayed that no one owned my new seat.

Finally, Milan and in a country that speaks a...similar language to Spanish. Done. Earlier in the week, I discovered that I needed to get tickets well in advance to see the 'Last Supper.' My flight back to Barcelona left out of Milan, the cheapest airport closest to Switzerland. My flight didn't leave until 8pm, so I figured I had time to see the #1 sight in all of Milan. I had bought a sight-seeing package that involved a ticket to the 'Last Supper.' Done.

I stopped into the tourist office, asked if they knew of any good restaurants, as it was 10:30am  and the tour wasn't until 2:30pm, so I had some time to kill. It had been raining off and on in Milan, so I figured I wouldn't battle the rain with my backpack. So I parked myself in this restaurant and sat there, reading my Lonely Planet travel book, sipping on tea and eating as many sandwiches as I could because my next meal was going to be breakfast in Barcelona the following day.

Perfect timing, it started down-pouring as soon as I got up and decided to explore the city. I wandered over to the train station, where I had to catch the train to the airport. I purchase my train ticket and headed back towards the tourist office, in plenty of time for my tour.

Luckily, on the day that I went, the tour was in both English and French, and since I'm basically fluent in French because of all my "vacations" there, I know a word or two. It was annoying as-you-know-what to hear everything in English and then in French. Do you wanna know how many people spoke French in our tour group of 40? ONE! ONE PERSON! Who happened to be from my country of España. French and Spanish are very similar, but not that similar.

Besides my new friend on the tour, it was the WORST tour I have ever been on. I highly recommend that you do NOT go to Milan. To be honest, the 'Last Supper' wasn't even that great. I know, it's a terrible thing to say, but honestly, TERRIBLE. Here are the four pictures I have from the tour...(there's more, I just don't want to have to subject you to anymore pain than you are already in).

(this USED to be the biggest church in europe...then sevilla came around)

(the ONLY souvenir I have from the last supper)

(Here's your warning... if you see this bus, RUN! )

Luckily, I was in the first group to go into the room of the 'Last Supper.' Only twenty people are allowed in the room at one time, for a maximum of fifteen minutes. For a room that was once a barn, that's right, BARN, it was harder to get into than to the White House. 

I hopped on the next train to the airport and was in Barcelona before I knew it. Whew. 

To see all of the photos, check out the Flickr album:  http://www.flickr.com/photos/chasecarrie/sets/72157623759868080/

Say Jungfraujoch ten times. Interlaken and Jungfraujoch, Switzerland

Four hours later, after a layover in Bern, I had arrived in Interlaken, Switzerland, a haven for any traveling thrill seeker, which is how i would....NOT describe myself. You may ask yourself, Interlaken? Why there? Well, let me tell you...my travel book told me to! Besides the fact that Interlaken is hands down, the most beautiful place I have ever been to. And I don´t use the word beautiful lightly, I think it´s a girly and sappy word. But, Interlaken was indeed beautiful.

Getting to my hotel was considerabley easier than trying to get to my hotel in Geneva. A bus left directly from the train station and dropped me off at the bus stopped, named after my hotel, it was too easy. I checked into my hotel room and was greeted by the biggest bed I have seen in the past four months, not to mention a balcony and the best views of Interlaken.

I settled in and then decided that I should purchase my train tickets for the following day before the station closed. And just my luck, it was a terrential downpour. Let me tell you about my luck that I have had in

Europe within the past four months:

   1) every single time I leave Barcelona for a holiday, the sun shines and it is beautiful.

   2) every single time I travel to somewhere else, the weather is the most insane it has been within the past 26 years.

   3) every single time I return to Barcelona, the weather makes a turn for the worse and the sun seems to magically dissappear.

So as you can guess, I was fully prepared for any type of weather Switzerland tried to throw at me. I hopped on the bus to the train station to purchase my train tickets. Tran tickets to where, you may ask? Jungfraujoch, of course! (If you have completely no idea what Jungfraujoch is, and I don´t blame you, click here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jungfraujoch) Along with my trusty travel book, which said that Jungfraujoch is a once-in-a-lifetime experience. So, I then thought to myself, "when is the next time I´m going to be in Switzerland?" I purchased my train tickets, picked up some pamphlets and headed to the grocery store. I had noticed a tea pot in my hotel room, and I envisioned a night of sipping tea and starting my new book, The Last Song. I also managed to purchase some swiss chocolate. My dad asked me, "what´s so special about swiss chocolate?" later that night. It´s simple, swiss chocolate is made in Switzerland, and how often does someone have the opportunity to dine on fancy swiss chocolate while in Switzerland? I then headed back to my hotel, put on a pot of tea and crawled into my ginormous bed. After a few chapters, aka one-third of the book, I decided I should be a real person, enjoy my time in Interlaken, and leave the four walls of the hotel for some real food. I had searched online, in my trusty travel book and through ads in my pamphlets. Fifteen minutes later, I found the Goldener Anker.

The food was delicious to say the least. First, FREE bread, which never happens. Second, garlic butter to go with the fresh bread. Third, ketchup, real Heinz ketchup for my fries. I ordered a schnitzel, thinking it would be a sausage, when in fact it wasn´t. Either way, it was delicious.

I retreated back to my hotel and snuggled up into bed with my book and tea in preparation for the following day.

The following day came way too quickly. I set my alarm so early that the sun wasn´t even out. I waddled down to breakfast with every layer of clothing that I had brought with me and was greeted by a giant cat, it was the Lucy of Switzerland. And of course, you can imagine how happy I was. Switzerland Lucy sat by me at breakfast as I petted her, I knew that it was going to be a great day! I left the hotel and my next stop was the top of Europe.

Here is a map from the train:

My first stop was Wilderswil, where I had purchased my ticket the day before. 45 minutes later we had arrived at our next stop, Lauterbrunnen. It quickly became clear how much the swiss love to ski, I was surrounded by people in ski suits with ski booties, not to mention the train even had a special car for just the skis and snowboards. The train ride up was spectacular. Everything was covered in snow, kinda like the highways in France a couple weeks earlier. Anyway, the train ride up was...beautiful.

After changing trains, our next stop was Klein Sheidgg, the last stop for the skiers and the snowboarders before Jungfraujoch. And as you probably guessed, it was beautiful.

30 minutes later, the train arrived and we headed up the mountain, making two stops along the way to look at the glacier.

We finally arrived to the top, two and a half hours after leaving my hotel, to the highest train station in all of Europe. I was so excited to start my day!

I first went to the very top, the Sphynx Observatory. Not only does the Jungfraujoch rail station serve as a tourist attraction, but also a weather/science/really smart people thing. Because I went in the middle of March, the weather wasn´t that great. Normally it is sunny and you can see for miles, but in the winter there is a lot more snow, and since snow was my new friend, I decided to enjoy it. There was an elevator, which was a little freaky as I am deathly afraid of heights, that took me all the way to the top. I then went straight for the outside, where it was -16°F, a little cold to say the least.

I took a million pictures that day, so I reccommend you look at the Flickr album, the address can be found at the bottom of this post.

Since I was by myself, I decided to just sit, inside, and listen to music and enjoy the view I had. Luckily, I found some tourists, speaking English (bonus!), who I asked to take my picture. After a couple minutes of chatting, the dad of the family told me he grew up in Culpepper, Va. This world can´t get smaller than it already is. This was an instant in, which then led to more photos.

My next stop was the ice palace...yeah, that´s right, ice palace. Neeless to say, it was everything I hoped and dreamed of, minus Mario saving me at the end. Anyway, there were ice sculptures everywhere, kind of like the asians. Before I say what I´m going to say next is important: I am in no way racist, I have lots of friends that come from different cultures than my own, I am just simply...observant. Now, if I see one more asain, I´m going to flip. It was like Chinatown, but no dead chickens hanging upside down. I thought I was going to die because I a) don´t speak a word of mandarin, chinese, whatever language they speak and b) I have ZERO patience for these people, they wiggle their way to the front of lines that I have been waiting in, they step infront of my pictures and they take 45 minutes to take ONE picture. I don´t know what it is, but asians travel more than any other race, maybe it´s because they are a little bit more destinctive than us white folks, but still, don´t they have jobs? children to raise? rice to eat? I am fed up with them. Or at least I was until I ask them to take a picture of me at the ice palace and one of them called me "beautiful." He was probably just kissing ass, speaking the only word of English he knew, whatever it may be, but it definitely redeemed him and his endless amount of asian friends.

After the ice palace, I decided I was hungry and since I didn´t have any fancy swiss chocolate, I sprung for a real meal. I decided that while I was in Switzerland, since everything was priced quadrupled the normal price, I would only pay for one meal a day, breakfast was provided by my hotel. I figured, go big or go home, which I did. I ate at the Crystal Restaurant which looked directly at the glacier. It was great. I was next to the window, got free bread, and then the most expensive dish of noodles that man has ever created.

You may be thinking to yourself, that´s a small portion, no more than 20 francs (which is about $19). Oh, no, no, my friends. This fine place of pasta set me back 31 francs, plus the 6 franc bottle of tap water.

After lunch, there really wasn´t much else to do. The plateau was closed because of the snow, which I was a little thankful for. I really didn´t feel like spending more than .45 seconds outside in the -16°F, and this was a perfect excuse. So, I headed to the gift shop, where else?, to purchase some gift cards. I read, somewhere, that postage from Jungfraujoch is like gold to stamp collectors, so I graced my parents and godparents with some gold.

I decided it was too early for me to head back down the mountain, so I headed back up to the Sphynx to listen to some more music and enjoy the view. I was deep in thought, jamming out to my music and thinking how lucky I was to be at the top of Europe. Which then, got old quickly, thanks to my asian friends, NOT. I was sitting on a bench, and all of a sudden this grandpa puts this eight year old kid, who is either dead or the deepest sleeper in the world, lying down, next to me, on the bench. Let me also tell you, that there were other benches, which had no people sitting on them! Why?!? Why?!? Why me?!? It was possibly one of the most awkward moments in my life because they then all, meaning the grandparents, parents, cousins, everyone, left the kid, dead asleep alone with me, on the bench, while they went outside. I then quickly decided that I had about had enough of this asian invasion and was on the next train down the mountain.

The ride down was equally beautiful. We went through Grindewald this time, which was where the majority of the skiers were. It was nice to see people that were more tired than I was!

The train dropped me off at Wilderswil and 30 seconds later I was on the bus headed for the hotel. I snuggled up in bed, reading my book, eating fancy swiss chocolate and watching the FC Barcelona vs. Arsenal Champions League Match. Unfortunately, the game ended in a tie, which my cousin Jack, the biggest Arsenal fan I know, was probably upset that Arsenal didn´t win (less than 2 weeks later, the second game of the Champions League was played in Barcelona and FC Barca won 4-1. Sorry, Jack). I was up until 2am reading/laughing/crying while finishing my SECOND book of Spring Break.

Thursday started out bright an early on the 7:30am train to Bern to catch my train to Milan.

Fortunately, I was going by train and not by car because a minor snow storm had started. Why is the snow always trying to put a stop to my plans? All-in-all, Interlaken was second best trip, so far. You can´t really beat Dublin for St. Patrick´s day...

Check out the Interlaken Flickr album here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/chasecarrie/sets/72157623643378807/

Check out the Jungfraujoch Flickr album here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/chasecarrie/sets/72157623643380571/