Ambler photo journalist Laura Kicey continues her three part series documenting her weeklong journey of the mystical country called Iceland. Kicey’s trip was funded entirely by a new, innovative website called kickstarter.com – which specializes in micro-patronage for creative ventures and concepts. For other kickstarter.com success stories, visit their website.

Pictured is a fortuitous shot of The Great Geysir of Iceland, for whom all geysers are named. The Geysir first erupted in the 14th century. It used to erupt every 60 minutes until the early 1900s when it became dormant. Earthquakes in June 2000 subsequently reawakened the ‘sleeping’ giant and it now erupts approximately every 8 to 10 hours.

The Geysir, for which all geysers are named, burbles and steams constantly in between eruptions. The explosive drama of the geyser’s spout against the backdrop of the purple, June-time landscape, surrounded with jewel-toned pools of steaming water, rich blue skies and intense sun was quite rousing. But, the intensity and raw power of our next stop at Gullfoss, the grandiose Golden Falls, dwarfed even Geysir. When you pull into the parking lot, you can neither see nor hear this raging force of water cutting into the land, but after a short walk over the hill, the turbulent wind and mist grab you and start to pull you into the core of Golden Falls. Standing on a ledge a few feet from the edge, separated by only a single thin wire, the wind at your back edging you forward, it would be easy to get swept away by its puissance.

The map, that my faithful navigator Sandra was consulting, appeared to suggest the most convenient route to get back to Reykjavík, passing by Þingvellir (a large national park), would be Route 365, rather than double back the way we had come. As we turned off the main road, the terrain immediately changed as we crested our first (and certainly not our last) blindhædir and entered the most desolate lunar landscape we had seen yet: moss, volcanic rubble, and craggy mountains as far as we could see. When we stopped to take some photographs at one point, when we stopped speaking we realized the air was utterly silent. The occasional SUV was the only reminder we had that the road we were on actually led anywhere: there were no buildings, fences or animals, only the thick dust clouds that rose as passing vehicles disappeared – after forcing us off the narrow roadway, that is.

Part of Laura's challenge was navigating the desolate, and many times dangerous, roads that are par for the course in such a land. “Even on the major roadways, there is a peculiar lack of signs indicating direction or distance to and from major points in Iceland,” explained Kicey.

Miraculously, we emerged on the other side of this no man’s land back on a main road, hurtling towards Reykjavík. After dinner, we ended up taking a stroll through the streets of the city, taking in the last rays of daylight around 11 p.m. We did have to make it an early night, as the trip we had planned for our second full day was going to be quite an undertaking: driving from Reykjavík to the glacial lake of Jökusárlón in the southeast of the island and back again – about 12 hours on the road altogether.

The weather that met us each day seemed perfectly appropriate for the character of the day’s wanderings, and the gray gloom of this day was no exception. Our first stop, about two hours drive from Reykjavík, was Vík (fully: Vík í Mýrdal), which greeted us with some characteristically stunning visual drama – deep black sand beaches, fast-moving gray clouds with a mist of rain, and towering cliffs dressed in lupines and fog. After a quick lunch of soup and bread, we walked the beach, admiring the Reynisdrangar – columns of black basalt said to be trolls petrified by morning light – and the swirl of nesting seabirds, mostly puffins and fairy terns. When we’d had our fill of rolling about on the black sand, we took off towards Vatnajökull and the glacial lagoon. The landscape changed quite distinctly at several points along the Ring Road on the south coast, and frequently hid the ocean from view although we were quite close to the shore. The glaciers of the Icelandic Interior (the remote central highland region that is off-limits most of the year), including Mýrdalsjökull and Eyjafjallajökull, were always visible in the distance, remaining the sole constant as the roadscape shifted from flat, lupine-covered plains to barren black lava fields to placid glacial rivers reflecting the gray sky. We stopped to take a closer look at the moss-covered volcanic rock and found the moss to be incredibly thick and bouncy – closer examination proved even more like walking on the moon than just appearances.

Vik is an Icelandic coastal village, known for its popular offshore spires called Reynisdrangar, meaning ‘troll rocks’, which are actual columns of black basalt. Legend has it the ‘trolls’ became petrified by the sun as they were dragging a boat to shore.

Even on the major roadways, there is a peculiar lack of signs indicating direction or distance to and from major points in Iceland. No matter how far removed you feel from civilization, however, it is rare that another vehicle is all too far behind you as the last disappears from sight. The road dips inland at Skaftafell National Park, close to the Vatnajökull glacier, and turns back out towards the water – and there, suddenly, icebergs are upon you! Sandra and I stopped dead in the parking lot and shrieked with delight in the car: unimaginably majestic, the icebergs were an amazing shade of pale blue-green, with veins of black. They are constantly moving, but ever so slowly, out to sea – breaking, colliding, melting. Being in their presence is peaceful, like watching the ghosts of long-dead giants passing by. Tomorrow there will be all new icebergs, and those I saw will be long gone, but quite unforgettable.

The weather that met us each day seemed perfectly appropriate for the character of the day’s wanderings, and the gray gloom of this day was no exception. Our first stop, about two hours drive from Reykjavík, was Vík (fully: Vík í Mýrdal), which greeted us with some characteristically stunning visual drama – deep black sand beaches, fast-moving gray clouds with a mist of rain, and towering cliffs dressed in lupines and fog. After a quick lunch of soup and bread, we walked the beach, admiring the Reynisdrangar – columns of black basalt said to be trolls petrified by morning light – and the swirl of nesting seabirds, mostly puffins and fairy terns. When we’d had our fill of rolling about on the black sand, we took off towards Vatnajökull and the glacial lagoon. The landscape changed quite distinctly at several points along the Ring Road on the south coast, and frequently hid the ocean from view although we were quite close to the shore. The glaciers of the Icelandic Interior (the remote central highland region that is off-limits most of the year), including Mýrdalsjökull and Eyjafjallajökull, were always visible in the distance, remaining the sole constant as the roadscape shifted from flat, lupine-covered plains to barren black lava fields to placid glacial rivers reflecting the gray sky. We stopped to take a closer look at the moss-covered volcanic rock and found the moss to be incredibly thick and bouncy – closer examination proved even more like walking on the moon than just appearances.

Seaweeds have been used in Iceland for over a thousand years for various purposes including food, animal fodder, fuel, manure, dyeing and medicinal purposes. Humans have been consuming some variations of the seaweed since the year 961. The edible seaweeds were chopped, cooked and then prepared with milk and flour to be eaten as a nutrient-rich thick pudding.

Doubling back again through the alien landscapes, hoping to see Svartifoss (a remarkable waterfall in Skaftafell which inspired Reykjavík’s most impressive cathedral) before returning to Reykjavík, we were told at the visitors center it would be a 45-minute hike each way. We decided that with 4 hours on the road still ahead of us plus a dinner stop, we couldn’t afford it. We carried on through to Vík where we paused long enough to stop at the Strondin Bistro; the service was fairly awful, but the burger that filled our empty stomachs at 10 p.m. could not be matched for divine flavor. The weather was taking a turn for the worse: fog was darkening the skies and the rain was coming down more steadily. Driving up a very steep mountainside cloaked in milky haze, the edges of the road dropped off from imagined cliffs. It was a harrowing drive home, especially for someone who hates driving as much as I do (Sandra does not have a driver’s license) and is unfamiliar with the twists and turns of the road ahead. Still, it wouldn’t be the last of our death-defying driving. We made it back to our Reykjavík base quite late and packed our bags so that we could launch early for the West Fjords and Strandir Coast.

Of the icebergs Kicey viewed melting and heading out to sea: “Being in their presence is peaceful, like watching the ghosts of long-dead giants passing by. Tomorrow there will be all new icebergs, and those I saw will be long gone, but quite unforgettable.”

The drive northwest along the Ring Road was fast-moving, and we paused only a few times to admire the changing landscape before we were abruptly ejected onto one very rough road. We stopped almost immediately at a stretch of rocky beach when I was struck by a rainbow-like array of seaweed and kelp in every imaginable color washed ashore. Unlike every other beach I have ever been on, despite the massive amount of dead and decaying organic matter, it smelled fresh and salty and was a feast for the eyes. When we got back on the road, I was only willing to go about 30km/hr, but we soon realized we might never get to Djúpavík at that speed. The road from there on out was extremely rough, paved with only stones or dirt, and barely one and a half lanes wide. We pulled into Holmavík a couple hours later, which is the last “big” town on that route in the north – about 300 residents. After refueling the car, we stopped by Café Riis, a tiny pub, for some lunch. Expecting a rustic, pub-style meal, we both ordered a roasted bacalao (salted cod) dish with potato cake and salad. We were blown away when we were served beautifully presented platters worthy of a much more upscale restaurant: all locally-produced cheese, fish and shrimp. It was impeccably prepared, with delicate, bright flavors.

Somewhere Over The Rainbow

The road heading north from Holmavík was even narrower, and followed the bend of every fjord, making the drive woozily repetitive but ever more harrowing as the roads became increasingly rugged. Although as the driver, it was hard for me to appreciate it fully, the weather and the scenery were stunning. Golden sunshine was chased by brief bursts of showers inland, dramatic clouds played over the mountainsides and ocean views; breathtaking terrain rolled past, dotted with tiny farmhouses and clusters of sheep, and waterfalls appeared at regular intervals.

The last two fjords before our arrival were particularly treacherous, and I had to do everything in my power to keep my cool. Sandra would point her camera out the window to shoot the scenes for us to view later, averting her own eyes as the drop induced a bit of vertigo. The final kilometers of road into Djúpavík hugged a cliff face with falling rock tightly to our left, and went into a sheer drop without a guardrail abruptly to our right. Around the last turn of the fjord, our jaws both dropped when a wide rainbow touched down on the road in front of us. As we pulled into Djúpavík around 9pm, on the longest day of the year, we were both shaken and awestruck. We were shown our room by our kind host, Eva, then unpacked and decided to take in some of the midnight sun.

Laura Kicey is a photographer and artist based just outside of Philadelphia, PA. Her work has been shown in a number of galleries regionally, and has appeared in numerous publications internationally. Laura can generally be found lurking in dark alleys and other places she likely should not be. For more of her work, visit her website at: laurakicey.com. Laura’s email is: lk@laurakicey.com.

To read part one of Kicey’s travelogue, click here.

Several months ago we connected with Ambler photographer Laura Kicey by a cool twist of fate. I was thrilled to learn that Kicey was gearing up for an exploration and photo journey through Iceland. Kicey worked closely with kickstarter.com, a website offering a very innovative and productive way to fund creative endeavors. Through kickstarter.com, individuals across the United States can communicate an interesting, creative idea to a network of people who offer a tremendous source of encouragement and potential funding for the project. Kicey raised all of her funds for her trip thanks to a group of 32 strangers who pledged a total of nearly $3,000. She returned with thousands of images – 260-plus of which are now available on Flickr. Kicey stated she is considering a trip to Alaska next year because “I love cold, icebergs, remoteness, etc…so it is right up my alley.” And, after looking at her captivating collection of photos, we could not agree more. The following is part one of our three part series following Laura Kicey’s Icelandic adventure.

Enjoy!
Sarah Lockard
AroundMainLine.com ePublisher

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Valley Haus
Kicey and her travel companion, Sandra, enjoyed a lunch picnic their first full morning in Iceland overlooking this mountainside cabin and lake.

Every step leading up to my adventure in Iceland meant moving forward without any sense of what was to come. I was not sure I could afford the trip at all, which prompted me to launch an art sponsorship program. Likewise, although we have been friends for years, my travel companion Sandra, (who lives in Stockholm) and I had only met once in 2005. And, despite having seen many photographs and some movies of Iceland, nothing could truly prepare me for what I was to experience. Similar to the all-too-common sign we would eventually see on one-lane roads in the more rural areas of the country – BLINDHÆDIR, which indicated that you were about to crest a hill blind, without any sense of what was approaching from the other side, this trip rested on a hundred leaps of faith occurring on an almost hourly basis. It had been several years since I had traveled beyond North America and the need to venture outside the country was becoming quite strong. While planning for the week-long trip, I realized that even though I had a companion to share the costs and I was going to keep myself to a strict budget, it would still be a financial stretch. One of my friends, joking that she would like to live vicariously through my trip, offered to become my sponsor as long as she could have a print of one of my photos from the excursion. At first I scoffed at the idea. But, soon it started to become clear that I couldn’t afford the trip on my own and might have to take my friend’s offer seriously.

Around the same time, another friend alerted me to the launch of kickstarter.com, a website serving as a platform for users to gain sponsorship for creative projects, so I was one of the first people to sign on and present a project. In return for financial backing, sponsors would receive their choice of a print from the trip. Because of the generally turbulent economic climate, I was not anticipating a great deal of interest in such a project – and was genuinely surprised when I ended up raising close to $3,000. Sure, most people could not afford a huge contribution, but so many people – friends, family, complete strangers, even kickstarter.com staff members – all became intrigued enough to become involved, with the result that the trip essentially paid for itself. The added dimension of sharing my trip and the images I would create with my backers created a certain level of excitement for me, and even posed a challenge to my abilities. Once I reached Iceland, I realized that the beauty of the country speaks for itself; for a photographer, it was more a question of being able to do it justice in the limited time I had.

“Once I reached Iceland, I realized that the beauty of the country speaks for itself; for a photographer, it was more a question of being able to do it justice in the limited time I had.”

While driving to JFK, I received a constant flow of text messages from my traveling friend, Sandra, who had arrived in Reykjavík much earlier in the day than I. Though she had made it quite clear in advance that “Iceland is PURPLE!” – the whole island seemed to be carpeted in purple lupine flowers (the Nootka Lupin or Alaskan Lupine) by the time I was looking out the plane as we landed. As the midnight sun sat low on the horizon, the sky, the mountains, and the earth – everything was truly glowing violet. To all appearances, I was landing on another planet.

The Flybus, an airport shuttle service well-equipped to handle the influx of travelers coming into Reykjavík, ferried me and the other stragglers on the last arrival of the day through a delightfully lavender but scarcely populated lunar landscape to drop off each of us at the door of our respective hotels. As one of the last two riders to be deposited outside Hotel Cabin on the waterfront around 2 a.m. local time, I was able to watch the single hour of Icelandic night pass – more of a twilight than a real darkness – and then track the sun as it went back on the rise immediately. Across the water, I could make out a huge, looming, deep purple mountain, with a thick, cottony indigo cloud obscuring its peak, and a sliver of moon hanging low in the sky… and the air was filled with the scent of flowers. Despite my delirium, I wanted to grab someone off the near-empty streets and dance from the thrill of this sight. Instead, I tried to keep my composure and checked into the hotel to find Sandra sleeping in our tiny room with paper-thin walls. She awoke and we talked excitedly until our eyelids grew too heavy.

We rose in time to catch the tail end of breakfast downstairs: simple but traditional Icelandic fare. Well before I had left Iceland, I had become addicted to the tangy yogurt-like breakfast staple called skyr – actually a traditional Icelandic cheese – so I was overjoyed to be greeted with a full bowl, topped with fruit and cereal, alongside toast with cheese, boiled eggs and cucumbers, and a much-needed cup of coffee. We set off towards downtown Reykjavík to collect our rental car, pick up something for a picnic lunch at the ‘big’ (though by US standards quite diminutive) Kringla Mall, and then indulge in what would be the most touristy of our day trips: the Golden Circle, which includes Geysir and Gullfoss – a full day of geysers, glowing blue pools, and waterfalls in the southwest region of the country, on the Reykjanes peninsula.

“As our time there wore on and we spent more and more time among such landscapes, it became easier to understand why the Icelandic people…believe in what they call “hidden people” – trolls, gnomes, elves, fairies and the like,” documented Kicey.

Travel on the Ring Road, the main highway around the coast of the country, as well as most other roads on the Golden Circle area, is fairly smooth and fast-paced, and gave us our first taste of both the scenery and the experience of driving in Iceland. The roads both inland and coastal are generally punctuated by roundabouts, and on either side you regularly see clusters of tiny native horses, long stretches of flat ground carpeted with the vibrantly purple lupines, otherworldly stretches of lumpy volcanic rock thickly covered with gray-green moss, or distant snow-capped mountains. The contrasts and colors can’t be compared to anything I’ve ever seen, but if I had to draw a comparison, I would liken it to the Pine Barrens of New Jersey, the deserts of the West, the moors of England blooming with heather, the surface of the moon, and Alaska, all rolled into one. Iceland offered a cornucopia of vibrant lime greens, chartreuse, black, purples, sage greens, rich blue-greens, hearty rusts and deep reds. As we spent more time among such landscapes, it became easier to understand why the Icelandic people for the most part believe in what they call “hidden people” – trolls, gnomes, elves, fairies and the like. The strange rock formations, the traces of brute natural forces, the flora and the fauna are all so entirely unique and possess strongly anthropomorphic and supernatural qualities, one cannot help but be charmed by the notion.

Our first stop was at a massive crater called Kerið. On the face of it, it seems difficult to muster enthusiasm for a large hole in the ground. When the powerful geo-forces of the island go to work, however, this particular hole in the ground becomes an intensely blue-green pool of water, ringed in gold-white mineral deposits and black rocks, surrounded on all sides by volcanic earth of a warm maroon hue. Neither Sandra nor myself being keen on heights, we redirected away from perilous drops back to the safety of solid land.

Kicey entitled this photo ‘The Comedian.’ The Icelandic horse is the descendant of the horses from the Scandinavian countries, Scotland, Ireland and The Isle of Mann.

In our few hours on the road it appeared that there are no longer any truly wild horses left in Iceland, as every herd we came across was fenced in, along with much of the burgeoning sheep population and scant numbers of cattle. Even from a distance, it was obvious that the demeanor of the Icelandic horse is quite different from your typical thoroughbred or even wild pony from any other part of the world. We pulled over to admire some and they ran off towards their feed trough, apparently expecting us to fill it. When we caught up with them, they were inquisitive and playful, jumping, rearing, scrunching up their remarkably expressive faces, with thick manes whipping in the strong winds. Though we didn’t have time to take a ride this trip, I know I will find time for a tölt (a gait that is unique to Icelandic horses- a fast and very smooth ride) on my next visit to Iceland.

Laura Kicey is a photographer and artist based just outside of Philadelphia, PA. Her work has been shown in a number of galleries regionally, and has appeared in numerous publications internationally. Laura can generally be found lurking in dark alleys and other places she likely should not be. For more of her work, visit her website at: laurakicey.com. Laura’s email is: lk@laurakicey.com.

Continue on and read part two of Kicey’s travelogue.

Close to 90% of the Polish population is Roman Catholic. Pictured is Wawel Castle, where Pope John Paul II presided before becoming Pope in Rome.

The past couple of weeks have been so very hectic. First, my magnificent adventures in Morocco–then just three days later Amsterdam and now another weekend away from Leuven. This time we headed east towards the cities of Warsaw and Krakow in Poland. We landed late on a Thursday night in Warsaw and the moment we got off the plane we immediately felt the biting cold and the strong wind. Our group took a bus from the airport to the train station where we waited about an hour to wait to board an overnight train to Krakow…this is where things got interesting.

There were eight of us traveling together and we were spread among seven different compartments. I was fortunate enough to be in a compartment with one of my friends but, still, when we found our seats we were the only girls with four guys. Since it was so bitterly cold outside, one of our compartment-mates had the idea to turn the heat on as high as possible so I spent the night taking off my jacket, followed by my scarf and sweater. I finally was able to get some sleep and was awoken at around 4am to a woman screaming in Polish in my compartment, wearing a fur coat and stiletto heels about 4 inches high. She seemed very out of place among all the other travelers. I’m not exactly sure what she was saying but as she jumped across me and out the door and down the hall, I figured she missed her stop. We pulled into Krakow around six in the morning and we jumped on a tram and made our way to our hostel where we were politely informed that check in wasn’t until 11am.

After food and coffee, things seemed to settle down and we had a very nice morning. We walked to the center square in Krakow, which is the largest square in Europe, and explored the cloth market vendors and a majestic, beautiful church. We then walked in the direction of our hostel and visited the Wawel Castle. Wawel Castle is perhaps most well-known for its cathedral, where Pope John Paul II presided before becoming Pope in Rome. We were unable to see the famous dragon that is supposed to guard the castle. But, we toured the breathtaking, grand state rooms–but we were all getting quite tired so we walked the quick walk back to our hostel and took a nice, long nap.

When we woke up later in the early afternoon, our group made our way to a bus stop and headed out of the city to visit some of the salt mines that reach depths of over 100 meters below the ground. The salt mines are comprised of a series of tunnels that connect cavernous rooms, even churches and chapels, all under the surface. There are several underground lakes, one of which is used for medicinal purposes due to its constant temperature and dry humidity. There are sculptures, chandeliers and altars constructed entirely of salt. As if our guide thought we didn’t believe her, she advised us to lick the walls just to prove how truly salty the mine is! The mines were unlike anything we had visited before and the temperature (which was constantly in the mid-50s) was a very pleasant break from the frigid temperatures above ground.

The Gate House at Birkenau, also known as the Auschwitz II concentration camp.

Saturday was an incredibly somber day and one that I will not forget for a long time. Infamous for the cruel treatment of the prisoners that arrived by train through the now, universally-recognized gates and watchtower, we visited the concentration camp of Birkenau, also known as Auschwitz II. The former camp now serves as a museum to educate the public about the atrocities that occurred during the Second World War, as well as a memorial for the millions of lives that were lost during the Holocaust. It is difficult to put into words what it was like to be in a place that serves as a grave for so many innocent souls. But, I must comment on the thoroughness and the extensive knowledge of the guides who lead the three hour tours. Our guide was able to describe the horrendous and inhumane conditions of life in the camps, and what the experiences of the prisoners would have been like. As we saw the rubble of the crematoriums and entered the barracks in which the women of the camp lived, I believe we all experienced a sense of disbelief that such acts occurred. Much of the camps remain intact. As disturbing this reality and piece of world history is, I support the preservation of these areas so visitors can be reminded that such crimes should never be allowed to occur again to mankind.

Poland differed from other trips of this semester, but it most definitely stands out to me as one of the most important trips I’ve been on in my two semesters abroad. The historical context of the trip reminded me that, while I want to have as much fun as possible this year abroad, there is more to relish and learn from my study abroad experience. It is so important to me that I learn more about this fantastic world in which we live and understand what has shaped European culture and history. I am very much looking forward to my upcoming adventures to Budapest and Prague—there is no telling what these last few months hold for my two amazing semesters abroad that have offered me an education of a lifetime.

Amsterdam is known for its beautiful canals which weave through the city, earning it the nickname “Venice of the North.”

It is exam time here in Leuven and I have spent many hours reviewing all my notes including those for one of my courses entitled: Institutions and Policies of the European Union. One of the important treaties of the E.U. is The Amsterdam Treaty, which was signed into effect on the 2nd of October in 1997. Honestly, I don’t know if I will be able to remember all the details of this particular treaty six months from now, but I’m sure that I will still have great memories of my trip to the city of Amsterdam in The Netherlands.

We arrived in Amsterdam on a Friday night. After a delicious dinner of pancakes, our group visited the Van Gogh museum, which had evening hours that night. The Van Gogh museum is open in the center and visitors can work their way upwards looking at some of the artist’s most famous paintings. What made the museum most memorable was the eclectic jazz concert that was going on in the center atrium. As we looked at the art, we were provided with our very own soundtrack in the background. Starry Night, one of Van Gogh’s most well-known pieces, will be on loan to the museum from February of 2009 until June.

Environmentally-friendly bike lock...

Amsterdam is famous for its canals that seem to lie as a grid–as the city opens up into the ports leading to the Northern Sea. After waking up early on Saturday morning, we crossed over one canal and walked about one block further until we reached the Anne Frank House. The house, former storehouse, and office space is now entirely a museum and cultural center dedicated to honoring the memory of the Frank family who hid in the small space in the annex during the World War II German occupation of Amsterdam. Otto Frank, the father of Anne, was the only member of the family to survive the concentration camps. Upon Otto’s return to Amsterdam and after discovering the diary that Anne had kept, Otto opened the building to the public. Having learned about the “secret annex”, it felt surreal walking behind the bookshelf and climbing the narrow steps to the teeny apartment. The small space in which eight people lived is left unfurnished but the wall in the bedroom that had been Anne’s remains covered in her movie posters and magazine clippings.

At the end of the museum, in a newly opened wing, there is an interactive poll that asks visitors questions regarding social and moral issues of freedom and liberty. I was very impressed by my visit to the Anne Frank house. Not only does it tell the story of the young girl who wrote one of the most famous accounts of the experience of WWII, but it also manages to honor the memory of the Jewish population of The Netherlands. My experience at this historic building also demonstrated to me the social influence and importance of recognizing the people who resisted the occupation and bravely went out of their way to help others during this time in history.

Our weekend trip to Amsterdam happened to be during one of the most festive seasons of the year. Sunday afternoon, after we spent the morning in the Rijksmuseum, we were able to see Sinterklaas (the Dutch name for Saint Nicholas) arrive in Amsterdam! As legend tells it, Sinterklaas, along with his Zwarte Piet, arrive by boat from Spain and then Sinterklaas gets on his horse and parades through the streets of Amsterdam. Zwarte Piet, meaning Black Pete, is a companion of Saint Nicholas and an important part of this yearly tradition in the Netherlands

The Zwarte Piet dance and entertain as part of the spectacular holiday tradition of the Netherlands. In western cultures, the Piet are akin to Santa’s elves.

Sinterklaas is similar to the American version of Santa Claus and Dutch children are just as excited about seeing Sinterklaas as kids are back home about Santa. The Zwarte Piet makes the old tradition very unique! The Piets dress up in jesters costumes, paint their faces black (to demonstrate the soot from the local chimneys) and hand out candy and ginger snaps to all the good children. I didn’t know what to expect with this party that was evolving before me in the streets of Amsterdam. My classmates and I couldn’t get over the number of Piet—from roller-skating Piet, drum-playing Piet, dancing Piet, singing Piet, Piets doing somersaults from wires off of buildings (seriously!)…they just kept coming with more and more candy and from every direction. It was such a festive celebration and so entertaining I didn’t even realize Sinterklaas had ridden by on his horse until he had already passed me!

All in all, I so enjoyed my weekend in Amsterdam, it’s such a beautiful city steeped in history, rich culture and wonderful people. I would love to experience it again in warmer weather, especially when the tulips are in bloom. Next weekend my classmates and I are on to experience central Europe and the vast country of Poland…brr!

On The Way To Tangier

I don’t think that it is unusual that every student studying abroad has a mental list of the destinations they would most like to visit. For me, the list includes Greece, Italy, Scotland, and one more that might be thought of as a little more off the beaten path. So much off the beaten path, in fact, that it’s not even in Europe. Curious? It’s actually not that far away geographically, at one point it’s only four miles off the Spanish coast…it’s Morocco!

I’m not quite sure where exactly my interest in visiting this Muslim country in Northern Africa came from, but I was already planning a visit there when I was still home this summer. After reading an article in the New York Times Travel section one Sunday in August that focused on Assilah, a recently revitalized town about 40km south of Tangier, I became even more determined. The article had mentioned a home-rental website, www.homelidays.com. So, once I knew the number of people who would be going on this trip (13 was the final count – in fact it was all the Loyola students studying in Leuven), I began to look for a house which could accommodate us all. In the end we settled upon l’Etoile d’Asilah, an absolutely gorgeous five-story home within the medina wall, complete with a rooftop deck which had the most incredible views of the Atlantic about 50 yards away.

Looking Across to Spain from the Strait of Gibraltar

It’s easy to say that Morocco was the biggest culture shock I have experienced thus far. As a Muslim country where Arabic is spoken, I quickly realized that our Spanish, Dutch, English and French skills weren’t going to be as useful as they had been in other countries. Yet, I think that made the trip even more rewarding as we were forced out of our comfort zones.

We flew into Tangier on a Thursday afternoon and successfully met up with the drivers I had contacted before we had left who drove us to Assilah. Upon reaching the house, Sophia, our housekeeper, welcomed us. She had prepared a traditional dinner of couscous, vegetables and chicken for us. We watched the sun set over the Atlantic that night from the top of the house; it was the perfect start to our long weekend.

On Saturday we headed to Tangier for the day. We first visited the caves of Hercules and from there took a ride on some camels. We followed the road north until we reached Tangier, where we walked around the market inside the Medina. It’s not quite the same as the Strafford Farmer’s Market back home, that’s for sure! It was a little unsettling to walk past the butchers and see whole calves hanging there ready to be made into filets (I think a couple of the girls have since considered becoming vegetarians). At one point I was waiting for some of our group who had fallen a little behind, when a man walked past me carrying half a dozen chickens upside down on a string. I assumed they were dead until they started clucking and flapping their wings. I was definitely not expecting that!

After spending a couple hours bartering over Christmas presents for my parents and getting lost in the maze that is the Tangier market, we drove on further through the port and up into the hills until we reached the most northern point in Tangier. As we stood on this narrow strip of land with cliffs to either side, we could see Spain across the Strait of Gibraltar in one direction; in the other was the Port of Tangier. It was absolutely breathtaking, a view I will not forget for a long time to come.

Missy in Chefchauen

Sunday presented us with another adventure, all thanks to Sophia (our adopted mother by this point) and her son, Mohammad. They organized a van to drive us four hours through the mountains to the town of Chefchauen. I must clarify that when I say ‘van’ I mean something that is most likely an old, converted ambulance—seriously! We left Assilah early and headed away from the beaches and up into the mountains of Morocco. The mountains seemed endless; occasionally off in the distance there was snow on the peaks and for miles at a time it seemed like we were the only people. Chefchauen is known for all of its buildings which are painted blue. It’s a beautiful, striking blue, almost periwinkle. We saw women washing their clothing in a stream that flows down from the mountains. And, as we sat eating lunch, we could hear the men at mosque. This was an intriguing, unexpected look at a unique and lovely side of Moroccan life and culture.

Another interesting outing was soon to follow. While I was planning this trip, I had read about a beach about 5km south of Assilah called the Caves of the Doves that is most easily reached by horse cart. So my friends Dan, Megs and I decided to somehow get there. We ventured outside the medina and down towards the beach. We found some men about our age bagging sand and loading it onto carts. We decided to try our luck. Being the only one who had any experience with Spanish (even though I haven’t spoken it since freshman year); I tried to speak to the one guy who spoke Spanish as well. We settled upon a price and he told us to wait and that he would be back in 10 minutes. We waited and some minutes later someone approached me and told us to get on his cart. I mistakenly assumed it was the same cart and off we went. Now imagine this, three students sitting on a flatbed cart that is being pulled by a galloping horse across the unpaved streets of Morocco. The situation was so ridiculous and surreal that I couldn’t help but laugh!

A Sensational Sunset!
The beaches of Morocco are considered some of the most breathtaking in the world.

We headed down the road and soon turned into a field that had a single dirt path that led to the beach. It was at this point that I noticed someone galloping up behind us. I quickly realized that it was the driver we had originally spoken to. He caught up and our cart stopped and the drivers got off and started yelling at each other in Arabic. As we were standing alone in an empty field with the equivalent of about 20 Euros on us, I was scared for the first time. The drivers settled it and we got onto the cart of Braham, the driver we were supposed to go with from the beginning. This ended up being a good thing because Braham was very nice and waited for us as we spent nearly an hour on the beach. As we drove across the field, we got glimpses of the beach that lay at the foot of the cliffs. It was an amazing view as it was by far the largest beach I’ve ever seen and it was nearly deserted. I struggle to put into words how awesome this special part of our Morocco trip was, it was easily one of the most dramatic scenes I have experienced! We walked along the beach, which took a while since it was so long, as the sun set and then headed back on the cart to Assilah.

After putting much effort into organizing the trip, it was so rewarding to have it end up being a great success and a more than memorable experience. I would go back to Morocco in a heartbeat if given the opportunity because I feel there is so much more to see and enjoy. Assilah was the perfect place to relax mid-semester, and I’m glad I was able to experience such varying types of towns and landscape which provided a diverse view of Moroccan culture. I would recommend it to anyone who is planning a trip to this North African gem. What an amazing experience it was for me and my Loyola University classmates; it is certainly one of the highlights of our exciting first semester abroad. And now, we are setting our sites on our next adventure…off to Amsterdam!

City Hall of Leuven, Belgium

I realized the other day that in all my write-ups about my travels outside of Belgium (since I arrived here over two months ago), I’ve failed to write about my home base — Leuven. A large part of my childhood was spent in the heart of the Main Line in Wayne; it was amazing to travel thousands of miles to another country and discover another small town that felt just like home.

Leuven is about 30 minutes west of Brussels. A large university town, the city is lined with cafes and faculty bars. The streets are taken over by bicycles—in fact, just a couple weeks ago I was pulled over on my bike and threatened with a 75 euro fine for going the wrong way on a one-way street…they take bikes very seriously here! Perhaps the most well-known part of Leuven is the Oude Market, which takes pride in the claim that it is the longest bar in Europe.

The Market Square is a popular hangout for the students of Katholieke Universiteit, the largest Belgian university and the oldest Catholic university in the world.

Aside from the occasional night out, I’ve nestled in to my ‘home away from home’ in the Loyola College residence. The state-of-the-art building is home to 13 American students and about 60 Belgian and other international students. Living in the house with this diverse group has been such a positive experience. I’ve grown close with my roommate from Spain, as well as many of the Belgians. Living in close quarters with students from all walks of life and, literally, all corners of the globe, has made me realize just how similar we all are. I’m looking forward to all the parties, dinners and fantastic adventures that are still to come!

People who know me back at home know that when it comes to doing work, reading, or relaxing, I enjoy doing so in a coffee shop. In Wayne, I favor the popular Starbucks. In Baltimore, it’s the Evergreen Café. But, my European coffee shop of choice in Leuven…is, well, undecided. It’s a toss-up between Dwerf and De Dry Coppen. Dwerf is a funky café and restaurant known for having tables outside with blankets for cooler days and (my personal favorite) warm milk with chunks of dark chocolate you mix in yourself (resulting in the most delicious hot chocolate). But De Dry Coppen offers some serious competition — the French Vanilla Latte is like none other and the ambiance reminds me of my favorite book shop in South Carolina. The walls are lined with classic novels mixed with travel books, and best of all, there is an entire section of English-print books. It’s certainly nice to know that I’ve found two places to escape to when it is crunch time during exams and I’ve got to hit the books.

Life in Leuven is exciting and full of life, since a majority of the town is made up of young students like me. Recently, I’ve been lucky enough to show Leuven off to a number of my friends from the states who have come to visit. At the end of September two friends from Loyola who are studying in Alcala, Spain came for an overnight stay. They really lucked out because when they arrived it was sunny and in the low-70’s, a real fall treat here in Belgium.

Leuven boasts the Stella Artois brewery and main offices of Anheuser-Busch In Bev, the world’s largest brewer group.

The following weekend, three Loyola students who are spending their first semester in Paris came for a long weekend. While they were here we spent one day in Brussels and went to a chocolate making demonstration — so cool! I also ate the most delicious waffle topped with chocolate and strawberries. The next week I had yet another visitor… my best friend flew over from the States for a long weekend during her fall Pacing break. Sara and I met four summers ago when we both did a summer program at Cambridge University in England. It was so exciting to be back in Europe with her once again. We took at day-trip to Antwerp to do lots of shopping with two of the Belgian girls who live on my floor. We ate plenty of good food, drank lots of coffee, and she experienced her first Belgian beer (which I’m certain she thoroughly enjoyed!).

I must admit it’s kind of weird to be all the way across the ocean—thousands of miles from my familiar surroundings in Wayne, yet to see so many of my friends from back home on a regular basis. It’s easy to forget how far away I really am when it seems half of the Main Line is right beside me experiencing these fantastic European cities and adventures! I regularly use Skype and call my parents; I also get weekly letters in the mail from my grandmother just like I did at Loyola.

The transition to life in Europe has been incredibly smooth and I’ve been lucky not to be homesick at all. My first semester here is just over half-way done and I couldn’t be any happier that I have decided to be here for the whole year! There is just too much to see and do; I haven’t even made a dent in the list of places I would like to visit. These next few weeks will be incredibly hectic with lots of traveling but I’m ready for it. My most anticipated trip yet is coming soon – watch out Morocco!

Mom and Dad, as always I miss and love you.

Saint James’s Gate
The Birthplace of Great Beer

Cheers from the land of Guinness and U2! What an awesome, whirlwind weekend I had! I spent this past weekend in Dublin, Ireland sight-seeing and catching-up with two of my roommates from this past year at Loyola who are spending their junior year in Newcastle, England. After waking up at six in the morning, I caught a flight (by myself) to Dublin to meet up with Trish and Laurie Ann.

Dublin is a great city for students. There are plenty of affordable hostels, enough tours and sites to fill a weekend trip, and a lively nightlife. My only complaint is the bars are much more expensive than I am used to. I guess I’ve become spoiled by the student prices I’m accustom to in Leuven. But, from the moment we arrived, we embraced Irish culture. We spent Friday afternoon at the Guinness Storehouse, which is totally worth the 11euro admission. The museum is very well done, its interactive and there is so much to see and learn. Did you know that Guinness Stout is same Guinness that compiles The Guinness Book of World Records?!? I never realized that! By far the best part of the museum, however, is the Gravity Bar on the top floor. Here your admission ticket can be exchanged for a complimentary pint, which is enjoyed while taking advantage of 360° views of the city of Dublin.

When Irish Eyes Are Smiling
Missy Digging Dublin!

We woke up early on Saturday to visit Trinity College and see the Book of Kells. The tours are led by Trinity College students so Trish, Laurie Ann and I were a little more enthused to learn about the history of the university when our tour guide ended up being a handsome Irish lad that was our age! Handsome tour guide aside, it was a very interesting tour and by the end, it was pouring rain so we were glad it was time to go inside and see the Long Room Library and the exhibit about the Book of Kells. For a book-worm like myself, the two-story tall, wood-paneled library was awesome. The books are not arranged in any traditional way, like Dewey Decimal system, but instead are organized by height and width. Imagine trying to find the one book you need!?

The perfect place for a pint
Temple Bar, Dublin

We then went to Christ Church Cathedral and St. Patrick’s Cathedral. We ended up that afternoon on Grafton Street, the shopping street in Dublin. Despite being tempted by earrings and bracelets in Accessorize and many cute tops in Vero Moda, I didn’t buy a thing (so unlike me). And to wrap up a fantastic day, that night we went to the world-famous Temple Bar. We were lucky enough to catch some live Irish music while enjoying a pint of Guinness, it was everything I could have hoped for while in Ireland.

Sunday we only had a half-day (since we had flights to catch) but we went to the National Gallery, an awesome place for students since admission is free. I’m so glad I made it to Ireland and I hope I’m able to return in the spring to visit other parts of the country. Most likely I will go to Cork, where I will have a number of good friends studying during the second semester. I was exhausted by the time I was back in Leuven. But, I couldn’t believe it only took three hours, once I boarded my flight in Dublin until I was back in my bedroom in Belgium.

As for everyone back on the Main Line, the Phillies have made the World Series. Lets go Phillies!! Next weekend I am headed to Aachen and Monschau, Germany. Look for my next entry on my new home away from home, celebrating the beautiful city of Leuven.

Count Siegfried’s Bock Casements

Despite being a history major, I must admit before coming to Europe last month, I knew very little about the small country of Luxembourg. Once part of Charlemagne’s empire, Luxembourg is a very wealthy European country. To give you an idea of its scale, its about half the size of Delaware with a population around half a million. After spending a long weekend in the Grand Duchy not only did I learn loads about this great gem, I was also tremendously impressed with everything I saw. Luxembourg City is located in the southern part of the small nation and is only a three hour train ride from Brussels. After a slight mishap of not having my confirmation number and missing my train and having to purchase another ticket to Luxembourg (luckily my friend, Dan, also forgot his so I wasn’t alone) I arrived in the small yet gorgeous capital city.

I have to give serious credit to the Tourism Office conveniently located in the train station, for 45 euro we were able to purchase a “Go Pass” which gave us access to all public transportation and every museum and tourist spot we visited (winery included!!). We used our Go Pass to reach our hostel which was immaculate! It was myfirst experience staying at a hostel but I have heard stories and I can tell this place was top-notch. We had our own room for the five of us with our own bathroom and shower, a yummy breakfast was served every morning as well lunch and dinner offered in the cafeteria and the view was gorgeous! We spent Friday exploring the Bock Casements which are a series of caves and tunnels built into the ancient fortress of the city originally built by Count Siegfried. These casements have been used in the past as everything from housing for armies and citizens to being used as a slaughterhouse. Walking inside the rocks offer some of the most panoramic views of the Grand Duchy. We really lucked out as well because the weather was gorgeous on Friday so it was perfect for exploring the Casements and the city as well.

Afterwards, we walked to the Musee d’Histoire de la Ville de Luxembourg. Located close to the Palais Ducal, I learned all about the construction of the city beginning over 1,000 years ago and its involvement in European history. While Friday was a perfect day for exploring the city and learning about Luxembourg, Saturday was by far my favorite day. We woke up early and went back to the train station to visit Vianden, about an hour north of the city). Vianden is most famous for the castle that sits up high in the hills and has been perfectly restored in the past thirty years. Vianden also prides itself on being home to Victor Hugo during his exile from France.

View from the Bar
Vianden, Luxembourg

We were dropped off in the center of town along the river that flows through only to have to turn around and crane our necks upwards to see the castle that we would have to hike to. The walk through town and up towards the castle turned out to not be so bad (ormaybe it was just welcomed after all the baguettes I had been eating) and the higher we climbed the more spectacular the view became. The restoration that has been done to the castle is incredible and was well worth the walk. We enjoyed our time out in the sun but we also had big plans for the afternoon so we were eager to walk back down. Besides itsfamous castle, Vianden can also claim to be home to the only chairlift in Luxembourg. Thank goodness for our ‘Go Pass’ because we were able to get right on the chairlift after showing our card. My friend, Meggie, and I rode up together and after initially freaking out because it was so steep we quickly became absorbed in the beautiful scenery thatsurrounded us. If the view from the castle was amazing, than this view was indescribable!Being the frugal travelers that we are, we had brought our own lunch which we enjoyed from the top of the mountain. But, the bar located at the top proved to be irresistible. Now realize I am in Belgium, home to many bars. I am studying in Leuven which is famous to being home to the largest strip of bars in the entire world, the OudeMarkt. Yet, this bar takes the cake—seriously!! The views, the sun…we were in heaven!

Winery in Remich

We spent our last day in the wine-region of Luxembourg in a town called Remich. It was a relaxing last day as we walked along the Moselle, shopped at a flea market and visited St. Martins (a winery which still uses the traditional practice of hand-turning the bottles). St. Martins is made up of a series of underground tunnels in which the sparkling wine is produced. While having some previous knowledge about wine production would have been helpful, it was still interesting and the glass we sampled at the end was delicious.

This trip was a great first experience as far as planning trips goes. It was simple enough to reach and now we all feel more comfortable traveling on our own. I learned the importance of always knowing your train confirmation number so that you don’t get stranded at the station. If I didn’t have the luxury of a year here in Europe, I’m not so sure if I would have ever visited Luxembourg but I am so glad I did!

Classes have started here in Leuven and we are sure keeping busy. I had to wake up early this morning to continue the registration process of becoming a resident at the City Hall and I have reading to do for my class tonight (Institutions and Policy of the E.U). Also, visitors are already coming to Leuven! This past weekend two of my good friends from Loyola who are spending the semester in Spain spent the night at the huis and on Thursday we have three more girls coming from the Loyolaprogram in Paris. I can’t wait to see them all–hope all is well back home on the Main Line! Miss you Mom and Dad!

Love,
Missy

September 2008

Eiffel Tower

This article is a few weeks overdue but like the beginning of any school year we have all been incredibly busy since arriving three weeks ago! The Loyola students and I have landed on the morning of August 26th. As we approached Brussels, we descended through the endless clouds that I’ve come to associate with Belgium. But one thing I’ve learned is that no Belgian is going to let a little rain ruin their parade. As we arrived at baggage claim, we came face-to-face with the BELGIAN OLYMPIC TEAM arriving home from Beijing! So, we were welcomed to Belgium with fanfare and a party, maybe not for us exactly, but exciting none the less. After five days of adjusting to the time change, unpacking our clothes, registering at the stadhuis and university it was already time to depart for France!

We began our week long adventure in Paris. Our first day was a walking tour of the city in stifling 90 degree weather. We climbed to the top of the Arc De Triomphe, visited Notre Dame, the Eiffel Tower, Invalides and so much more. We then had a scrumptious dinner with our Loyola director and his wife at a restaurant close to Notre Dame and enjoyed some of the most delicious cheeses I have ever eaten. We spent Sunday morning at Saint Chapelle, which was probably my favorite church we visited during the trip. Did you know that in the 15 stained glass windows 1,113 scenes are depicted?!? It was full of light and GORGEOUS! We then took the Metro to Sacre Couer which offers one of the most incredible scenes in Paris. That afternoon, a group of us bought some baguettes, wine, cheese and apples and had a picnic at the foot of the Eiffel Tower! It was so picturesque, like something out of a dream. That night we took a boat ride down the Siene. Paris is such a romantic city. The banks of the river were lined with people enjoying the warm evenings, dancing the Salsa and watching the light show that illuminates the Eiffel Tower every hour.

Delacroix at the Louvre

Monday we spent over five hours in the Louvre. One of my favorite paintings was Liberty Leading the People painted by Eugene Delacroix in 1830…it’s on the cover of the new Coldplay album, that’s probably why. It was an exhausting experience but so worth it. I can’t get over how many pieces of art are contained in one place. That afternoon we found the most incredible English bookstores. I have never seen so many books in one place! I bought Edith Whartons’, An Age of Innocence and we had yet another picnic, this time in the Luxembourg Gardens. Tuesday was spent at the D’Orsay contains countless paintings by VanGogh, Degas, Monet, Serat…ahh soo incredible! I remembered being impressed by the D’Orsay when I went for the first time about eight years ago and the second visit was just as memorable. That afternoon I met up with three friends from Loyola who study in Paris and I indulged in my first crepe and cider of the trip along the Champs Elysees.

Wednesday we went to Versailles and then continued on to the coast town of St. Malo. Versailles is breathtaking but it was disappointing because it was raining and we couldn’t explore the gardens much. St. Malo is on the coast in a fortified city. We had dinner and then walked the ramparts at night. The best part was when we saw a shooting star. Sometimes I can’t believe all the incredible experiences I had in just one week.

Mont St. Michel

The next day we awoke early to visit Mont St. Michel, a church located on a mountain that I cannot begin to explain how magnificent it was. The view goes on for what seems like forever. The water surrounding the church is so vast and leads into lush, green fields. We went exploring around the island at low tide and stumbled upon a chapel that jutted out on its own. From the windy point at the bottom of the mountain we looked directly upwards towards the steeple on top, this proved to be one of the most memorable perspectives of Mont St. Michel.

The last two days of our trip were mostly about WWII and the invasions at Normandy. I didn’t have as high expectations for Normandy as I did for Paris. However, the beaches of Normandy and the town of Arromaches were so stunningly beautiful and so rich in history that I couldn’t help but become absorbed in the important role this region played during the liberation of Europe beginning in June, 1944. We visited Pont de Hoc, the American Cemetery at Omaha and some of the German forts that still remain. The open fields that end in dramatic cliffs overlooking the English Channel were not only beautiful in the setting but when standing in the American cemetery at Omaha beach I couldn’t help but be overcome by the events that took occurred at that very place. For anyone who ever visits Normandy, the Normandy American Cemetery and Memorial contains a very-well appointed museum detailing the events leading up to June 8, 1944 and the cemetery commemorates those who fought so bravely in the most respectful way possible. We spent our final night in Arromaches, where there are remains of the port built by the Allies to be used as an entrance point for supplies after they secured the Normandy beaches following D-Day. And, I SWAM IN THE ENGLISH CHANNEL!! It was a tad cold but very much worth it. Who knows maybe the Mediterranean will be next!?!

While France surpassed everything I could have imagined, I’m so glad to be back in Belgium. Since having rented a bike for the year, I’ve taken advantage of exploring the town while the weather is still nice out. I recently learned that Belgium has more restaurants per capita than any other country in the world. So, the very nature of Belgium is one of socializing over a meal (and a beer perhaps) in a market square or maybe on a more quiet side street–but everyone seems to really enjoy themselves and their friends. I have seen this not only in Leuven but also in Bokrijk and Bruges. Once the school year starts I am sure I will continue to learn more and from yet another perspective, I can’t wait!

Next stop, Luxembourg!!!

August 16, 2008
Great Anticipation

Missy on the Rocks

It is hard to believe that in about one week I will leave the comfort of Wayne and Baltimore (where I have gone to school for the past 2 years) to spend a year studying in Belgium, a nation in continental Europe that is about the size of Maryland and whose entire population rivals New York City. When I applied to study at Katholieke Universiteit I didn’t know much more about Belgium than its reputation to being home to some of the world’s finest waffles, chocolate and beer. Since then I have learned not much more and it’s hard to believe that in just a month’s time I will have taken two weeks of intensive Dutch and have spent time in the town of Leuven where K.U is located.

These past couple weeks, when I’m not at my internship in Philadelphia or seeing friends, I have been making trips to many of the shops in Wayne, Bryn Mawr and Ardmore trying to find those early fall pieces that are making their way into the stores. In addition I have purchased a large rucksack to use for traveling and nights spent in hostels across Europe, downloaded Skype so I can stay in touch with my friends and my parents, experienced the fun in using “Space Bags” to suck all the air out of my clothes to take advantage of the lack of space in my suitcase and (most exciting of all) begun to poke around the internet looking for affordable flights, inexpensive hostels and fun tourist attractions.

As the trip approaches I am getting more nervous, the thought of not going back to Loyola with my friends is overwhelming. It is difficult to leave a place where I am so happy but I know the experience I will have in Leuven is truly once in a lifetime. I am going to stay as busy as possible in the upcoming days (I have my 20th birthday and a Rascal Flatts concert to look forward to) but its impossible to overlook the huge life change in front of me. All anxiety aside, I’ve never been more excited for anything in my life. Next stop, Leuven!

Tot volgende tijd,
Missy