tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-84923579723795604972023-12-12T15:06:51.589-08:00Places To Go, The World To SeeUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger81125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8492357972379560497.post-73120978951998761172013-05-11T17:42:00.001-07:002013-05-11T17:42:23.815-07:00The Perils of Being YoungSo, I had this grand plan to arrive home from my trip and finish the blogging I was hoping to maintain while I was away; however, the insanity knows as work and life has kept me from being able to do so. Being able to share my travels with so many of you, it is was fuels me to continue my pursuits of the world. I just apologize that my ability to keep up has seriously lacked since my return.<br />
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Some of you may understand this...the craziness that is life. Ever since I returned, my life has been a serious roller coaster of emotion, both physical, mental and even spiritual. Don't get me wrong, I haven't and will NEVER lose the desire to travel, but much soul-searching has taken place that has led me to question my ability to travel as often as I would like.<br />
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There are multiple opportunities out there for me to take advantage of, where travel is related. Of course, I am talking about opportunities that would allow me to travel (not on my dime necessarily). Unfortunately, I have come to the realization that in most instances, I will never receive this chance. Although I am uncertain of the actual reason, I have a firm belief that due to my young age, many believe I am unable to fully plan and execute a successful trip. Yet, somehow I have planned and executed THREE major trips (i.e. France and Italy, Ireland, and Germany, Poland and Austria). From the airfare, hotels, tours, train rides, inner country flights, and more, I have planned each aspect with no issue or problem whatsoever.<br />
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As a young person, this is something I struggle with all of the time...not only with travel but in all facets of life. But in particular with travel, many people believe that you must be older (and wiser) to be able to plan and take a trip like I have. My age apparently makes me "incapable, less mature, and less knowledgeable" about the world around me. This mentality disgusts me.<br />
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How many people do you know who look back on their life and say, "Gosh, I really wish I would have done that" or "Man, why didn't I do that when I was younger." Well guess what, I AM doing all of this while I am young. As I've said before, people should not wait until they are older to travel. SO many circumstances can occur that might possibly hinder your ability to do all the things you wish you would have done while you were young.<br />
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I realize this has become a soapbox for me, but I feel the need to make this statement...anyone who is young and is being made to feel like you are incapable of doing what society says your older and more "mature" peers are better prepared and equipped to do, don't listen to them. They are jealous that you are living and doing exactly what they have craved for so long but are afraid to admit, and they fall into the mold that believes responsibility means getting a job and paying bills, not "wasting" your money on traveling - a "luxury" that should be enjoyed when you're older and more "mature." <br />
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When it comes to traveling, all ages should embrace its power to change a person's viewpoint, thought process, or even one's life. Just because someone is younger does not lessen their credibility. I will never stop traveling this wide world and I am damn proud of my ability to plan unforgettable trips. Yes, things happen on trips that can be detrimental (i.e. getting robbed, assaulted, etc...); however, although many in the older generations would push that off on being "naive," I am certain that naivety occurs throughout all generations and bad things don't only happen to young people.<br />
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So, to anyone out there who believes we are ridiculous for pursuing our dreams, or who believe I am irresponsible for wanting to travel, grow up. At least I won't be the one at the end of my life saying, "Man, I wish I would have done that when I was younger." Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8492357972379560497.post-32579915975037771152013-04-01T18:15:00.003-07:002013-04-09T19:59:06.003-07:00First Day in Berlin....A Flop You know that feeling you get when you arrive in New York City?<i> </i>It's that feeling of knowing you've "finally arrived." Buildings surround you, people rush by, and the only thing you are currently focused on is getting to where you want to be. That is exactly the feeling I felt while visiting Berlin. The one difference though -- I didn't feel like a tiny ant in the middle of the three-ring circus.<br />
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Coming from the south, New York can be well...overwhelming, but in Berlin, the only thing that is overwhelming are the massive structures and statues that you pass, not the crowds of people hurrying by and sometimes bumping you out of the way like the tourist you are.</div>
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Staying only minutes away from many of Berlin's greatest attractions, we wasted no time in whipping out our map and hitting the pavement. Thankful for the somewhat "warmer" temperatures that first day, mom and I were eager to make our first stop at the Berlin Cathedral. Getting us there rather quickly, we rounded a corner to see this unbelievable sitting near the river. It's green dome shown high in the sky and the bronzed exterior glistened beautifully thanks to the setting sun. </div>
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Now, don't get me wrong, there are some impressive churches here in the U.S., but in all honesty, they can't hold a candle to what we were looking at, at that moment. If the inside was as grand as the outside, we were in for a big treat. But, as our luck would have it, our first attempt at seeing the inside of this cathedral was a loss. Here's a tip: whatever your guide book may tell you regarding the opening hours of an attraction you'd like to see...it's not always 100% right. Although my guidebook told me it didn't close until 7 p.m., they stopped allowing visitors at 5 p.m. Go figure. A bit aggravated, we dealt with the change in plans and set off for our next point-of-interest, Bebelplatz.</div>
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What is that you say? Bebel-what? For those of you who have some knowledge into Nazi history, Bebelplatz was the site where the massive book burning took place in Berlin during the 1930s. Great authors and poets books were burned in a massive heap, all due to the Nazi's idea that specific teachings and ideas would be corruptive to the Nazi ideologies. </div>
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I spotted the location on the map and watched the street names as we walked by. My mom could tell I was growing frustrated because the area in which it was supposed to be was between two small side streets on the map. Probably wondering where in the world I was taking her, we walked around scaffolding, buildings, through covered walkways and along side streets to come to....nothing. Everything that pointed to Bebelplatz was hidden behind the large amounts of scaffolding that surrounded the area near Humboldt University. </div>
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Now, not only had we been turned away at Berlin Cathedral, but we were now unable to get to Bebelplatz....aggravated? That's putting it nicely. We were at least going to get to go back and see the cathedral, but I wasn't going to get to see Bebelplatz at all. To say I was disappointed was an understatement. Luckily, my mom was cheery and in awe of the architecture surrounding us that it was hard to stay in a bad mood for long. </div>
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Opting that since our first day in Berlin was a flop, she suggested we go for dinner. Sounding like a good idea, we stumbled upon a Mexican restaurant and quickly grabbed a table near the heater. (It had grown chilly outside at this point). Ordering German beer and a drink that had me salivating for more (a lady's sidecar), we ate our cheesy meals and asked for our ticket. Now, anyone who has traveled to Europe knows that they often do not get in a hurry when brining your ticket. So we waited, and waited, and waited.....and waited. Telling three separate people that all we wanted was our ticket, one waiter noticed our tapping fingers and brought us over two tequila shots, with lemon. Happy by this kind act of generosity, my mom quickly asked me, "now how do I do this?" Finding humor in showing my mom how to do a proper tequila shot, I sprinkled some salt on my hand, licked it up, took the shot and bit into the lemon wedge. </div>
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As I watched her, I came to the conclusion that I have never seen anyone take a more dainty sip of tequila in my life. She didn't even take the whole shot! Just as she finished the substance, her phone rang. Her attempts at answering were humorous as her face contorted due to the strong taste of the tequila and sourness of the lemon. <br />
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All in all, our first day in Berlin may have been a flop and may have ended on a "sour" note, but looking back, it was all a part of the experience. I love Berlin and I'd grow to love it even in more in the coming days.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8492357972379560497.post-8752320699619645742013-03-16T12:01:00.003-07:002013-04-09T20:00:23.960-07:00Trains -- A Time to Sleep or a Time to Reflect?<br />
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Finding myself on a five hour train ride from Warsaw to Berlin, I am finding it awfully difficult to try and sleep. In an effort to try and watch the last episode of season two of Downton Abbey last night, I didn't go to sleep until after midnight. All the more reason why I am fighting to keep my eyes open as I write. </div>
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I've learned through my travels that there are pros and cons to traveling by train, but for the most part, I like to think of it as a time to take in the scenery, and depending upon where you are in your travels, a time to reflect. </div>
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Anyone who has ever planned a trip to Europe, or anywhere outside the United States really, understands the difficulties one can face when searching for hotels, flights, trains, etc... I like to think of it as the pre-trip torture session. Even for me, as much as I love to travel, the planning stages can be a bit aggravating and well, let's face it, extremely time consuming. However, I always manage to find the silver lining. Before I left, everyone kept asking me, "Are you counting down the days?" I was, but only when it was a few short days away. Often, my mind is pre-occupied with last minute packing details, making sure all of my confirmations are printed out and in order, and well, making sure that everything that can be caught up at work, is caught up on. </div>
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I'll admit, usually, and it's always about 2 days before I leave, I get a small hint of hesitation....always. Although I've traveled many times before, I believe it to be a small sense of fear that hits me just shy of my departure date. So many world travelers jet off without feelings of homesickness or fear, but I guess that is what makes me somewhat different. Close with my family and friends, I do get somewhat homesick while I am away. Granted, I've always had a traveling companion, whether it has been my sister or my mom, but knowing that I have family, friends, and of course, my pets waiting for me, keeps me yearning for home at times. </div>
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This hint of hesitation may always appear, but it always dissipates the day of departure. Stepping onto the plane and knowing that within hours (many hours usually), I'll be on the other side of the world, experience a culture far different from my own, now that's why I travel. There is so much left to the imagination when you are at home. We turn on our TVs to see what people in other parts of the world are experiencing when we could be experiencing it for ourselves. </div>
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Before leaving on this trip, I had many people ask me, "Why Germany and Poland?" My answer... why not? Why not step outside my day-to-day bubble of home, work, and gym, and take 2 weeks to see, experience, and learn about another country? </div>
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I'll admit, I had an agenda when planning this trip, and that was to see where much of the Holocaust happened. Everywhere I go, I want to know more about the history of a place. When I traveled to Ireland, I knew very little about the country and its past; however, because of that trip, I learned more than I could imagine. Not only its history, but its view on life, its traditions, food, and its people taught me that Ireland is a true hidden gem of Europe. </div>
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Back to the train though. Here I am, sitting across from my mom, who is desperately trying to sleep and being forced to sit next to a man, who although nice enough, provides a bit more of a cramped atmosphere than the open seat next to me. </div>
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Snow covers the ground in Poland this time of year and with each turn of the wheel, we pass homes that look as if they should be condemned, trees that are waiting for spring to bring them back to life, buildings that are charmingly decorated in colorful graffiti, and railway cars that sit on abandoned train tracks. Traveling to towns that have steeped in so much history and devastated by war, it makes me appreciate the life I have back home, in a country that has been so fortunate to have escaped the trials that war can bring upon a country and its people. Now, this is not to say that I have forgotten about the Civil War, Pearl Harbor, or 9\11, but to stand in a city like Warsaw, having been completely in ruins at one time, you are a fool not to appreciate that life you have been given. </div>
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Each city I visit brings has its own character, whether charming or depressing. Munich is a city of life and full of fun. Expensive in its cost of living, the people there know how to have a good time and appreciate the tourists who visit their lively city. Although portions of its history prove dark, it does not overshadow the way of life for people today. </div>
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Krakow proved to be much different. A beautiful city, in parts, one can feel the remnants of a city torn apart by war. I found myself wondering if every elderly person I passed on the street had been involved, or witnessed, the horrors of what occurred in World War II. When traveling to Auschwitz, I wondered if the young people living in the small city nearby knew or even cared about what took place more than 75 years ago. </div>
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Then there is Warsaw...a city that will literally blow you over if you're not careful. At night, I tried to imagine what it would be like to travel to this city during the summer months. Its hidden streets full of boutique shops and bistros, and open squares full of people, I have no doubt that in the warmer months, it would be an enjoyable place to visit.</div>
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The weather can play a huge role in your ability to enjoy a trip like this. Although it may be significantly cheaper to travel during the winter months, it can often make for a bitterly cold time, which can often be somewhat miserable. However, as cold as I have been, and as sad as traveling to places like Auschwitz have made me, this trip has been a blessing. I have seen first-hand what so many only read in textbooks. I have yet again, checked off a few more destinations on my personal bucket list, and most of all, I have shared my experience with one of the most influential women I know, my mom. While I don't expect her to share my deep-seeded passion for all things history or travel-related, she appreciates the passion I posses and encourages me to pursue it every single day. </div>
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So, I guess in answering my question, I'd say trains are a great time to reflect. Besides, sleeping is overrated when you've got a warm seat, a beautiful view, and another destination just waiting for you to arrive.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8492357972379560497.post-79119644356159482702013-03-15T14:15:00.002-07:002013-04-09T20:00:58.815-07:00Warsaw: The Other Windy City<br />
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I've decided that I can sum up Warsaw in just a few words: windy, cold, and blistering. Now, this may sound as if I am saying that I dislike the city...not true. However, I am saying that for anyone who is thinking about traveling to Poland in March, please wait until April or May. That is, unless you like walking around a city bundled up like Ralphie in "A Christmas Story."</div>
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From the moment we arrived, the temperature has never gotten above 28 degrees F. My lips are wind burn, as well as my cheeks, and my thighs look as if they have been beaten with a wooden paddle they are so red. The wind cuts like a knife and the cold will chill you to the bone. Unfortunately for us, our hotel dates back to the 16th century and if there is heat, we can't find it. The only way to warm up is to take a hot shower...so needless to say, we have been taking at least 2 showers a day.</div>
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But apart from the cold, Warsaw is a city of history -- a true tale of ruin and what can become of a city so destroyed by war. During the Second World War, Warsaw was completely demolished by German bombings. The people of the city rose up to fight against those who literally destroyed their homes and livelihood. Thousands upon thousands died in the Warsaw Uprising, and many more perished at the hands of Nazi SS guards in extermination and concentration camps. Never could I imagine my city being in complete ruin. To see Warsaw today, one could never imagine that at one time, it was nothing but a pile of rubble; however, sadly, it was. </div>
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Our time spent in Warsaw saw us visiting the original Gestapo Headquarters, where members of the uprising were brought for interrogation, or death. Torture devices were used to get people to talk, and if that didn't work, death was always the other option. I must say though, as a woman, it makes me proud to know that so many women during that time decided to take up arms to fight for their city. Women fought right alongside men, learning to aim and fire at the enemy. Everyone worked together for a unified cause...much unlike today. </div>
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The Gestapo Headquarters was not the only remnants of World War II that could be found in this city. Small portions of the original Jewish Ghetto wall serve as reminders of the exile that so many felt during days of uncertainty. Feeling cast out from the rest of society, the conditions in which the Jewish people lived were unthinkable. </div>
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Of course, their lives inside the Ghetto were not long lived when they were forced to line up at the Umschlangplatz to wait for the railway cars that would deport them to camps throughout Poland, Germany, or other portions of Nazi-occupied Europe. </div>
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Even for those who are not captivated by history, it is hard not to understand why as humans, this would not capture the attention of anyone who sees the injustice that so many faced during the Second World War. </div>
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In an attempt to make our time in Warsaw less gloomy, we visited Holy Cross Church. Here lies the heart of Chopin, and the sight of which Pope John Paul II spoke to the masses. Inside, its altars shined with gold and brass, depicting images of the Virgin Mary and Jesus Christ. The images alone and the enormity of the altars were enough to make us sit for a few moments and thank God for allowing us to make this trip a reality -- for the many blessings he continually gives. </div>
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Staying in the heart of Old Town Warsaw, our hotel is situation next to the Royal Castle, which, from the exterior, is beautifully built. Set afire during the Warsaw Uprising, by enemy bombs, it is impressive how the Polish people devoted their time and money to helping rebuild such a beautiful structure. The sounding of the clock bell rings each night while the citizens and tourists stand outside in the square, admiring its beauty at night. </div>
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Unique shops and quaint cafes line the street with lavish pastries and homemade breads capturing the eyes of onlookers. Buying a baguette and various pastries, including the famous Warsaw Cake, we managed to treat ourselves to a post-dinner dessert each night. However, I must say that the Warsaw Cake looks like a meringue and it tastes like what I would imagine almond-flavored packing peanuts to taste like. So if you're interested, I wouldn't bother...it's not worth it. </div>
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All in all, Warsaw is definitely a city I would revisit...in warmer weather of course. The buildings, memorials and structures are beautiful to look at, but unfortunately, the chance to enjoy it all has been hindered by the bitter cold. </div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8492357972379560497.post-48674913485622022062013-03-13T11:23:00.002-07:002013-04-09T20:01:37.206-07:00A Day of Sorrow and Remembrance<br />
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Auschwitz is not a place only for history buffs like myself. It is a place that each and every human being should see first-hand. It is about humanity, humility, perseverance, and ultimately, mortality. </div>
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An hour outside of Krakow, our bus led us to what would become a day full of sadness, despair, and shock. Knowing through textbooks and memoirs, the horrors of Auschwitz-Birkenau, nothing anyone can read can truly capture the feeling one feels when stepping on the grounds of this horrific place.</div>
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We started at Auschwitz, inside the museum. Walking towards the entrance of the camp, we were met yet again with the infamous words, "Arbeit Macht Frei." A replica, the original was stolen in 2009. Our guide led us to various buildings, informing us that many of the blocks feature exhibitions; however, it would take more than a day to see every aspect of Auschwitz. </div>
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Electrical barbed wire could be seen to the right of us -- the immediate death for so many prisoners who sought death inside Auschwitz. Walking along the pathways, the large, red brick buildings surrounded us on both the left and right. Each building was labeled with block numbers.</div>
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Providing background details on the number of prisoners inside Auschwitz-Birkenau, more than 1.3 million people were in Auschwitz: 1.1 million Jews; 140-150,000 Poles; 23,000 Gypsies; 15,000 Soviet prisoners of war; and 25,000 other ethnic groups. </div>
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Individual cards containing inmate information could be found under plexiglass within the rooms we entered. Each prisoner was given a number (which was tattooed on forearms and for younger children, on their leg). Photos showed Hungarian Jews filing off one of the railway cars, unknowing of what lie ahead -- selection. Making them believe that this was a temporary place of residence, a sense of calm was portrayed by the guards. Two lines formed -- women and children in one line and men in the other. Often, the women and children were immediately directed to the gas chamber. Told they would be taking a shower and would receive food and water after the shower, none of them hesitated, but actually felt somewhat relieved. After traveling in such horrible conditions in the railway car, the idea of getting a shower seemed heavenly. Little did they know, they were walking to their death. </div>
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The camp doctor threw his thumb left or right to determine those who were fit to work and those who were not. </div>
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Continuing on our tour, our guide gave us more insight into the chemical that was used to kill so many -- Zyklon B. Seven kilograms was enough to kill 1500 people. Originally used to kill rats, the Nazi's believed that if it could be strong enough to kill rodents, it could be strong enough to kill humans. Before us stood a large pile of zyklon-B canisters, emptied of their contents.<br />
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Entering another block, we were shown the various personal items that prisoners carried with them upon entering the camp. When exiting the train, they were told to discard their belongings, that they would get them back at a later time. Of course, within half an hour, many were either undressing or already in the gas chambers. Inside the exhibition, glass separated visitors from walls of Jewish prayer shawls, eye glasses, bowls, suitcases (complete with the names and addresses of those who arrived at Auschwitz), thousands upon thousands of shoes, and even hair and shaving brushes. </div>
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It was an emotional experience to see all of these personal belongings on such a massive scale. What was even more haunting was the hall in which we saw rows upon rows upon rows of inmate photographs. Each inmate was photographed in the blue and white clothing, complete with date of birth, arrival date to Auschwitz, and of course, the death date. Many only lived within the camp 3-4 months, many much less. </div>
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Coming down the stairs, we passed a group of girls, maybe four. One was sobbing and weeping heavily and we wondered if maybe some of her family had died inside this place. I could never imagine, nor would I ever want, members of my family enduring this type of tortured living.</div>
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Exiting each building exhibition, my heart felt heavier and heavier. I realized that although my tears were not evident, my emotions grew stronger internally. Being inside Auschwitz changes a person. In some way, you are not the same person as when you entered the gate. Arriving at Block 11, we were told this was the camp prison. It seemed odd that a prison itself would have an actual prison for "criminals." Inside, we saw the small "courtroom" where inmates sentences were delivered. Many entered the room unknowing that the decision had already been made. There was no "innocent until proven guilty." It was usually automatic death.</div>
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Our guide informed us that this was the only block within Auschwitz that was in its original state. What we saw inside is what the camp prisoners saw in the years they were here. That made this all the more eerie. Passing by various cells, we were told about 3 rooms specifically: the starvation cell, suffocation cell, and the lastly, what I would call the exhaustion cell. </div>
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A famous priest, Saint Maximilian Kolbe, died in the starvation cell, opting to take the place of a married man. Those imprisoned in the suffocation cell were forced to sit in a small area where the fresh air was constricted, and lastly, as many as four individuals were forced to stand in a very small area, upright, all night with no food, before going to work detail the next morning -- proving to be exhausting for those who endured this punishment. However, for those who received immediate death sentences, they were taken to the execution wall next to the building. Here, a concrete wall stood before us. Today, flowers and candles lay at its base, honoring those who were shot. While viewing this horrible scene, a small group of girls lay candles in remembrance. It was a beautiful sight.</div>
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A short walk, we came to the only standing gas chamber and crematorium in Auschwitz-Birkenau. The chimney stood high as we made our way around to the entrance. Much like how I felt at Dachau, my apprehension to enter was great. This gas chamber was only used for a short time, mainly because Birkenau became the main extermination camp, not Auschwitz. Entering the building, my inner emotions became almost overwhelming. The room where prisoners undressed left a horrid images of thousands of people standing and waiting for death. As I stepped inside the gas chamber, I literally felt as if my body temperature dropped drastically. The concrete walls surrounding me, my imagination providing me with the sounds of screaming men, women, and children, and my eyes looking around, imagining lifeless bodies before me...it all became a bit too much. People snapped pictures all around me, but I could not find the ability to lift my arms to do the same. In my mind, this was a place of respect...I could not take photos of a place where so many died...I just couldn't. I felt the same the moment I passed into the crematorium. </div>
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Exiting the gas chamber, I felt my tears welling, thinking of how lucky I am to leave this building when so many did not. Our tour finished at Auschwitz and were told to gather back on the bus and prepare for the short ride to Birkenau. </div>
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Most people who read about Auschwitz-Birkenau have seen the infamous image of "The Gate of Death" and the railway tracks leading into Birkenau. Rounding the corner of the road, my eyes were fixated on this image. Before me was the large brown, brick building. Directly in the center was what looked like a tall tower with an archway below. On both sides lay two long brick buildings. Railway tracks followed straight ahead through the archway -- leading to a camp so full of misery and despair.</div>
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The ground at Birkenau was wet and muddy, much different than at Auschwitz. Prisoners dug drainage ditches to prevent the grounds from flooding -- backbreaking work for many exhausted souls. The railway tracks were old, yet, maintained their solid structure. A railway car sits on the tracks as a reminder of what prisoners traveled in -- cramped and undignified conditions. </div>
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On our tour, we passed by a group from Israel. Each member waving the Israeli flag with pride. It made me feel good to know that they wanted to see this place. </div>
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Standing on the tracks, our guide told us a story of one mother who exited the train with her son. Two lines were formed and she hurriedly pushed him into the other line. Saddened at the fact that his mother was pushing him away, he kept trying to come back to her but she continuously pushed him back into the other line. Finally staying in the other line, he looked at her and she said, "I hide you." Hearing this, it was almost more than I could take. That boy's mother was taken immediately to the gas chamber, along with others in her group. </div>
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Famous author Elie Wiesel, arrived at Auschwitz with his mother and sisters. Once separated from his mother and siblings, he admits he never got to say goodbye due to the hurried nature of everything going on. He later tells that his mother and sisters were marched to the gas chamber -- he never saw them again.</div>
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Far in the distance, our guide directed us to the gas chambers and crematoriums -- their ruins. Torn down and bombed in the weeks before liberation, all that exists are mounds of rumble. </div>
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What seemed to be more disturbing was the nearby barracks -- both men and women's barracks. Brick barracks remain standing as a reminder of where the women of Auschwitz lived. Stacked three high, new incomers had to fight for their place. As many as four to five women slept in one bunk area and nothing but a concrete floor lay beneath them. The men did not have much better conditions in their wooden barracks. The heating systems within each barrack served as more of a decorative feature because there was never any coal to fuel the fireplace-like heating systems. </div>
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As cold as we were on this day, bundled up, I simply could not imagine the cold these people felt in those days. Our guide ended our tour in the wooden barracks, reminding us that this place changes everyone who enters its gates. The fear and possibility of the Holocaust remains today and should never be taken lightly. His words, reminding each of us that something like this could very easily happen again, resonated loudly within me. "Do not treat others as if they are beneath you. We are all human beings," he said. </div>
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Stepping outside, I immediately saw white snow falling to the ground. Immediately, my mind went to the scene in "Schindler's List" when someone looks at the sky to see what looked like snow. An SS guard looks at them and laughs, telling them that it isn't snow, but instead it is the ashes coming out of the chimneys -- ironic that it was never in the forecast for it to snow here, yet, it served as a reminder of the souls lost here.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8492357972379560497.post-72490961597642420572013-03-12T10:24:00.000-07:002013-04-09T20:01:58.830-07:00First Impressions of Krakow<br />
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Arriving in Krakow three hours later than we had anticipated, what we saw upon arrival was darkness, which meant we were too tired to make our first attempts at Krakow <a href="x-apple-data-detectors://0" x-apple-data-detectors-result="0" x-apple-data-detectors-type="calendar-event" x-apple-data-detectors="true">at 10 o'clock</a> at night. </div>
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Getting up this morning, we went downstairs for breakfast, enjoying incredibly strong coffee, bread, cheeses, fruit, and ham. Knowing that we had a full day ahead of us, we sat out for the other side of the Vistula River. Home to Oskar Schindler's Factory, the Jewish Ghetto, and Plaszow Camp, we went in that direction first. Planning to walk, we quickly learned that it was much too far, and well, since it was raining and cold, we opted to take a tram. </div>
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One of the main reasons I chose to visit Krakow because of its place in history concerning the Holocaust. Here, you had the infamous Plaszow Camp where Amon Goth was the horrendous Nazi guard [portrayed by Ralph Fiennes in Schindler's List]. You also have the original Jewish Ghetto where so many were herded out of their homes and into a small area of town. Lastly, Schindler's Factory at Lipowa 4. </div>
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Oskar Schindler was born in Czechoslovakia. Joining the Nazi Party early on, he decided to come to Poland to make his fortune. An entrepreneur, he took on the opportunity to fund an enamel factory. Hiring poles to work for him, many in the area were Jewish. Inside, factory workers created pots, pants, armory, and more. </div>
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During the occupation of Krakow by the Nazi's, Schindler made sure that his workers had proper documentation that would not allow for any of them to be arrested by authorities. However, Plaszow Camp was not far, and if any workers were caught without papers, they could easily be picked up and sent to the labor camp, under the rule of Amon Goth. </div>
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Providing his workers with a place to sleep [in barracks], running water, bread, and extra food, he also paid them depending on their skill sets. Because of this factory, many Jews were saved from the horrors of the Holocaust. Their lives were saved while so many were lost in the ghetto, at Plaszow, Auschwitz, and others nearby. </div>
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Oskar Schindler was viewed as a hero to many of the Poles and Jews because of his willingness to save lives during such a difficult time. Some of the products made were meant for the German Army; however, they were meant to be sabotaged so they never properly worked.</div>
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Entering the factory, you are given a background about Krakow and life long before the Nazi occupation. Jews played chess, children played in the streets, Jewish shop owners flourished, and men and women walked down the street without being hassled. </div>
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As we moved forward, we watched a short documentary featuring some of Schindler's workers, some Polish and some Jewish. Providing a deeper look into the time period, these people's stories told of the true conditions which so many lived, yet, the opportunities they were provided because of Oskar Schindler.</div>
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With each room we entered, the closer we grew to the Nazi occupation. Replicas surrounded us of what a normal room in the ghetto would look like -- 5 or more people sharing one room; the material items that were taken away from the Jewish people during the liquidation of the ghetto; the ransacking of rooms as Jews were rounded up and either shot in the streets or taken to various camps. </div>
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Even quotes from Roman Polanski could be found on the wall. Eight years old at the time of the Jews moving into the Ghetto, he remarked of his sadness and fear. </div>
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Learning more of Schindler's motives, we entered his office. Before us stood a floor to ceiling plexiglass mold, filled with the pots, pans, and cups made by his workers. Stunned by the amount inside, it was just a small portion of the overall creations. Pots were not a common item that could be found in the area. Given the opportunity, Schindler gave coupons to workers who wished to sell some of the items made within the shop, for extra money. </div>
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By the time we finished the tour, we walked into a memorial room, complete with polish writings, many of which were translated to English. People shared their thoughts and feelings of those who provided bread, water, cigarettes and blankets in times of need, as well as their thoughts of Schindler. </div>
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Leaving the museum, there was no doubt that people praised Oskar Schindler. By employing so many Poles and Jews, he saved thousands upon thousands of lives. </div>
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One of his final wishes was that when he died [in 1974], he wished to be buried with "his people," which means, if one travels to Jerusalem, his grave can be found in a private Catholic cemetery. </div>
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Walking the streets of Krakow, outside of the museum, it was as if the government had done nothing to improve this area of town. Streets remained broken, trash covered areas of the road, and buildings continue to look run down and even abandoned. </div>
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As we walked to the Jewish Ghetto, I looked down and thought to myself, "I could be walking in the steps of those who died in the streets at the hands of the Nazi's." Thinking back to the videos I had just seen, I looked around and envisioned luggage scattered, bodies laying lifeless, and soldiers screaming orders -- an eerie feeling in a part of town that looked as if these things could have happened just yesterday. </div>
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Stepping onto the street of the former Jewish Ghetto, we spotted what looked as if it might have been the former wall of the ghetto. Although not marked, it was the only wall that looked as if it could have been what kept Jews from the outside world. </div>
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On a cold, rainy day, I remarked to my mom, "Look at us. Here we are, complaining about how cold we are and we're bundled up in heavy coats, scarves, gloves, and hats. Think about those who were stripped of almost all of their possessions, made to walk miles and miles, and those who spent winters in much harsher conditions, with much less...I can't imagine."</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8492357972379560497.post-54284526344700202942013-03-11T11:39:00.001-07:002013-04-09T20:02:24.857-07:00Sleeping Beauty's Castle: Neuschwanstein<br />
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Taking a two hour bus ride to Bavaria, our tour group was led by Mike. Mike was from Minnesota but had married a German girl and had been living in Munich for 9 1\2 years. Having visited Neuschwanstein multiple times, I honestly wish we could have had a bit more enthusiastic tour guide. After all, we had been spoiled with Alun and Keith on our two previous tours. </div>
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Arriving in the small village where Neuschwanstein resides, the Alps could been seen all around us. The castle sat nestled in the mountain, standing tall with its high peaks and white, limestone walls. Before making the trip up the large hill to the castle, we arrived around lunchtime. Opting to take Mike's suggestion and eat at his friend's small place, mom and I consumed a delicious bratwurst sandwich, complete with french fries and a refreshing coke. </div>
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Given only thirty minutes for lunch, we met back up with the group to wait for the bus ride, which took us 3\4 of the way up to the castle. Grateful for the opportunity to ride a bus, the other option was to pay 6 euros per person for a carriage ride or walk. Now, even for the most fit, this would have been exhausting. The looks on the faces of those climbing the hill looked as if they might pass out or throw up the white flag. </div>
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Although it didn't take us all the way up to the castle, it dropped us off only 1 minute away from the bridge that Ludwig built for Mary, his mother. I never realized my sincere fear of bridges until I stepped onto Mary's bridge. Although the metal felt sturdy, the wooden planks did not. Overlooking the wooded area, beneath us lie water...not exactly what anyone wants to see when feeling uneasy about the bridge they are standing on. </div>
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Informed that I had nothing to worry about, it didn't ease my mind as I stood there and looked down to see that I could see between the planks, as well as feel the planks give just enough with each step. Quickly handing over the camera to a fellow tourist, we snapped a few photos with Neuschwanstein in the background before I hightailed it off the bridge as fast as possible.</div>
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Feeling much more comfortable on solid ground, we began our ascend to the castle. Snapping photos left and right inside the courtyard area, we had to wait until our scheduled tour time to enter. As unfortunate as it was, we were unable to take photos inside the castle; however, the interior was filled with murals from various legends and myths, including: Tristan & Isolde, legend of the Holy Grail, and more. Each room was comprised of ornate woods and brass. King Ludwig was very interested in current technology and gadgets, hence the up-to-date kitchen for its time with a rotisserie, and copper pots and pans. </div>
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Upon exiting the castle, the only way down was to walk, and the descent was enough to tire anyone out. Managing to make time to talk more with Mike, I still was not impressed by his demeanor. Everything we asked about, he played down. He was an odd duck as I would call him. </div>
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Stopping at a small cafe, we had an hour before we needed to leave this quant, little village. Eager to get off our feet, we each enjoyed a latte macchiato, an apple streudel, and a strawberry marmalade mini pie. The pastries were delectable, savory, and sweet...exactly what we needed. </div>
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Many people believe that Cinderella's castle is modeled after Neuschwanstein, but it is actually Sleeping Beauty's castle at Disneyland. Stepping inside and taking a tour, you certainly felt as if you were in a fairytale. </div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8492357972379560497.post-28307670928666742292013-03-10T14:35:00.002-07:002013-04-09T20:02:49.837-07:00Beer Flows at Hofbrauhaus<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;">After our trip to Dachau, it was obvious that we needed an evening of uplifting fun and enjoyment. Opting to take advantage of being in Munich, we did one of the most touristy things you can do -- visit the Hofbrauhaus. </span><br />
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Walking in, we were met with extreme heat due to the massive amount of people inside. Each table was full of beer drinking, sausage eating people, each with a smile on their face. Beers raised high above ones head, a German orchestra played while visitors cheered and sang loud and proud. I laughed at the hilarity of it all. </div>
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Lucky enough, we were approached by a couple from San Francisco who asked if we would like to join them. Eagerly taken them up on their offer, we sat down and began looking over the menu. Now, anyone who goes to Hofbrauhaus knows that you drink beer, so, without question, we ordered one dark Bavarian beer and one light beer. Although the man with us tried to order for my mom and me, we took him up on his suggestion of ordering the crackling pork knuckle, but because we do not eat veal, we decided on Bockwurst [a smoked sausage]. Mom also decided that we needed a side of Bavarian kraut and red cabbage. </div>
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Receiving our food and beer, we did not touch one item on the table until both parties finished taking photos of what lie before us. The man at the table positioned the food and beer on the table with precision before taking each photo. Mom and I on the other hand, were not so particular, but instead, snapped a few photos and began to dig in. </div>
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I never imagined myself liking a pork knuckle, but the moment I tasted it, I was in Heaven. Moist and tender, it provided an incredible taste once it hit my pallet. The red cabbage provided the small bit of sweetest needed and the bockwurst was everything I knew it would be -- flavorful and filling. </div>
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Now, to the most important part, the beer. I have never drank that much beer in my life. A full liter, I found myself enjoying my beer far more than I should have. Having never been a dark beer fan, this beer was different...and I liked it. Of course, I had fully planned to stop after one liter, but the kind gentleman with us ordered he and his wife another beer, as well as my mom and I. Splitting it between the two of us, I ultimately drank 1.5 liters of dark Bavarian beer. Needless to say, I was feeling quite happy by the end of the night. </div>
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Spending four hours inside Hofbrauhaus, the couple, my mother and I carried on great conversation, talking about where we come from, our reasons for traveling, so on and so forth. Before leaving, a young man, Antony, approached our table. Greeting us with a smile, he raised his beer glass to provide cheers to each of us at the table. The man sitting with us informed him of my marital status -- a single, 27-year-old female who he believed to be "beautiful" and searching for a mate. </div>
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I literally laughed out loud at his attempts to set me up, finding it humorous that even on the other side of the world, people continue in their attempts to find me a date. Coming over to me, Antony shook my hand and said that he agreed with the man, calling me beautiful, but reminding me that he was "a nice guy" and would never try to impose on an American like myself. </div>
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Incredibly friendly, he invited me to a festival that occurs during the Lenten season. Although I cannot remember the name of the festival, it is much like Oktoberfest, but not many tourists can be found in attendance. Never once did he ask where I was staying [I was fully prepared to provide him with a different hotel...I don't tell people where I am staying for safety reasons], but instead, encouraged me to attend the festival as he would enjoy my company.</div>
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Thanking him for the invitation, I told him I would think about it. If I would have had more time in Munich, I would have gone as I have heard it is a wonderful festival, full of people drinking, singing, and dancing. However, due to time constraints, I was unable to attend. In a crowd of thousands, I doubt I would have spotted Antony anyways; however, I must say, I was quite flattered that he asked. Who would have thought...I get asked out in a country on the other side of the world!</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8492357972379560497.post-23101721751212036542013-03-10T14:33:00.000-07:002013-04-09T20:03:16.859-07:00Difficult Day in Dachau<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;">We knew the time spent in Dachau would not be one that would provide us with a sense of happiness nor excitement. Instead, it would be an eye-opening experience -- a time of reflection.</span><br />
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Keith, our tour guide, was Irish. He was an archeologist with a strong interest in Third Reich history and all things Holocaust related. Short in stature, most of us towered over him; however, his knowledge of what occurred at Dachau was leaps and bounds higher than any of us. </div>
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Arriving at the Dachau train station, we were informed that prisoners arrived at the same exact station more than 75 years ago. We waited for the bus to take us to the camp. Keith informed us that some tours prefer to walk because after the prisoners arrived through the station, they were made to walk 40 minutes to the camp. Throughout their walk, villagers were made by the Nazi's to come out of their homes, hurl food and other items at the prisoners, as well as insults. For fear that they may be pulled into the line if their insults were not harsh enough, villagers spewed hatred at those who passed by. </div>
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At the entrance of the camp, Keith provided a short bit of history regarding the rise of Hitler and the Nazi party, as well as how Dachau came to be. A camp solely for male prisoners, many who were political enemies in the beginning, it was made to house only 6,000. By the time of liberation in 1945, more than 30,000 men could be found in the camp. Also, Dachau was never meant to become an extermination camp. It was only in the years of the Final Solution [<a href="tel:1942%20-%201945" x-apple-data-detectors-result="0" x-apple-data-detectors-type="telephone" x-apple-data-detectors="true">1942 - 1945</a>] that the gas chamber and crematorium became of use. </div>
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Standing on the same brick road that the commander walked on to enter the camp, we slowly made our way through the iron gate that read, "Arbeit Macht Frei," which means, "Work Makes One Free." To say it was chilling to step through this gate is an understatement. So many lives passed through here; however, for many, it was a one-way trip. </div>
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Entering the camp, you see a large, massive area where roll call took place. Surrounded by barracks, every building was white and\or gray. Told that the guard towers were inaccessible to visitors, Keith reminded us that the only reason was because it was meant to experience the camp through the eyes of a prisoner, not a guard. It is to discourage anyone who may enjoy or exhibit feelings of power over another...it made sense. As he spoke, I asked if any survivor had been on his tour. Answering that he had not, he did say that he once met a Hungarian man who had survived four camps during the war. His mother and sister were immediately taken to the gas chamber and he was examined by Dr. Josef Mengle himself. I immediately felt tears well up in my eyes. Having read about this infamous doctor of death, I knew of the experiments he performed, and the charismatic ways in which he portrayed himself. </div>
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Our journey through the camp led us through the museum area, providing us with information about the Weimar Republic and the time from World War I to World War II, the rise of Nazism and Hitler himself, Nazi propaganda, and the beginnings of what we know as The Holocaust. In each room, Keith provided vivid detail of the occurrences, including the check-in, the dehumanization of the prisoners as they were made to shower and change into the blue and white work clothing, as well as the fear that possessed most prisoners upon entering some of these rooms. Many men would enter the shower area to see other men hanging with their hands and arms strung up [behind their backs]. A form of torture, these men could be heard screaming out in pain as their shoulders dislocated and the suffocation process began to occur. Guards would splash cold water on them, or slap them if they showed signs of passing out...it was an image one cannot fathom. </div>
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Shown a whipping post, prisoners were made to lie across the wooden plank and endure the beatings of not only a guard, but a soderkommando [a fellow prisoner who received special treatment for aiding guards in various ways: disposing of bodies, ashes, herding prisoners to the showers, etc... They met the same fate as many of their fellow inmates eventually]. A prisoner was made to count each blow and if they slurred their words or miscounted, the process would start from the beginning. Sometimes, the prisoner received up to 50 blows. </div>
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With each room we entered, the feeling of hope grew lighter and lighter for me. Entering the barracks, we saw wooden bunks stacked three high. Although some had a ladder attached, prisoners were made to crawl over each other in order to get to their bunks. Ladders later became a luxury item and were not found on each set of bunks. What we learned is that as the prisoners grew more tired and lifeless, their abilities to make it to the bathroom grew more slim. You can image the outcome for those on the lower bunks. </div>
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Having seen the life of a prisoner through the camp, we entered the last phase of the tour -- the gas chamber and crematorium. Finding ourselves on what was called "The Death Ditch," Keith reminded us that prisoners were never allowed on this strip of land. Many committed suicide by stepping onto the area, knowing they would be shot. However, on liberation day, thousands could be seen standing along this strip of land, cheering and smiling. </div>
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Passing four religious memorials: Catholic, Protestant, Jewish, and Russian, we walked along a gravel pathway to a large, red, brick building, complete with a tall, daunting chimney. Informing us that he would wait outside for us, we entered the building, retracing the steps of those who would never leave Dachau.</div>
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First, we were met with the disinfecting room, complete with white walls and a long pipe along the ceiling. Next, we stood inside a large changing room where prisoners were made to disrobe. Our steps took us then into a large waiting room. This room sent chills as I could only image the fear that so many felt standing in this room, waiting for their fate. Next, the word "Brausebad" greeted us [It means "shower"]. Stepping inside, I looked up to see "shower heads" and a coldness grew over me. What these people must have felt...I can never imagine. The bodies that lay motionless after 15-20 minutes of struggle and pain. Leaving the chamber, we made our way into a large crematorium where oven doors stood open.</div>
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Leaving the building, I could not control my emotions. My mom walked ahead of me and went straight to a bench...she couldn't handle it. I found myself walking towards a small memorial with a menorah standing tall. A large, grassy area made up of ashes, complete with a cement marker, read, "Grave of Thousands Unknown." I broke down and wept as I stood before the final resting place of so many. </div>
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At the end of our tour, Keith reminded us that it was not up to him to determine how we should think or feel, but instead, it was up to us to take what we had learned and seen and form our own conclusions. </div>
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You read about the Holocaust in textbooks and watch it in movies, but neither can truly depict the horrors of war until you step inside a concentration camp. Human dignity and life was lost because of the power of one man. We can never image what these people really went through, but, I believe, it is our responsibility and duty as humans to visit and understand such places. Not only to make sure it never happens again, but to see the horrors of what one human can do to another. A statue stands outside the gas chamber at Dachau that translates roughly to something like "Remember those who died, warn the ones still living."</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8492357972379560497.post-76049991333065001592013-03-07T13:29:00.000-08:002013-04-09T20:04:19.500-07:00The Hills Are Alive in Salzburg<br />
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The train ride to Salzburg took two hours. However, those two hours flew by while staring out the window, looking at the backdrop that Germany provides, the closer you get to Salzburg. The beautiful Alps, complete with snow-covered peaks, found me in complete awe of their beauty.</div>
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Our tour guide, Alun, provided our small group with interesting information, preparing us for our day in Salzburg. Not only the home of the famous The Sound of Music, but also the home of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Salzburg was the most unique small town I've ever visited. Passing by one of Austria's large lakes, Alun informed us that homes in this area of Bavaria run close to 400-500,000 euros simply because of their location. Yeah...one can only wish to own a home with the Alps as its backdrop.</div>
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Arriving in Salzburg, Alun led us on a 1.5 city tour before letting us go on our own for 3.5 hours. Outside the train station, the buildings did not look baroque like we were expecting. instead, they looked quite modern. Informing us that the reasoning behind this was due to the U.S. bombing Salzburg during WWII. Once the war was over and once Austria received its independence, it was necessary to rebuild quickly, hence, the modern looking buildings.</div>
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Our first stop found us at the Mirabell Gardens. Yes, a small part of me grew excited at the fact that we were standing in the same spots where Julie Andrews sang and danced with the Von Trapp children in The Sound of Music. Not only were the gardens beautiful in themselves, but the popularity made them all the more exciting. In fact, two women from Spain, in our group, grew extremely giddy as Alun talked more about the movie. Yeah, I LIKE the movie, not LOVE it.</div>
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Moving on, we found ourselves in front of Mozart's museum and the famous Doppler house. This is the same Doppler that we know as The Doppler effect...a famous physicist. Although I enjoy Mozart's music, I opted not to spend the 8 euros to tour the inside. </div>
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Now, here's where it gets good. Coming to a small shop, we must have looked like hungry puppies because inside the window setting was a chocolate cake that looked mouthwatering. It is called Sachertorte. Covered in chocolate frosting, inside lies a sponge cake and apricot filling layer. I must admit, I have yet to try it but will shortly as I am now back in the hotel and managed to buy two pieces of this famous cake. Apparently, the recipe is a country secret...go figure.</div>
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Crossing a bridge over the Salzburg river, both sides of the bridge were covered in padlocks, each with confessions of love written on them. Although a unique "thing" to do, Salzburg isn't the only city to do this...try Paris as well. Over the bridge, we walked further, reaching Mozart's birthplace, which is now a museum. Again, the option to pay 7.5 euros didn't tickle my fancy. The man was a child prodigy no doubt, and I have immense respect for him and his music, but I knew I wanted to spend my time doing other things in the city. </div>
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On the same street, visitors were surrounded by shops, bistros, cafes, street music, and cobblestone streets. Being transported by into medieval times, it was the epitome of a true European village. </div>
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Leading us into a large square, Alun showed us the large Catholic Church, St. Peter's. giving us a bit of history, the church was built in 774 and was damaged during the WWII bombing, but only the dome was damaged. Making a mental note to revisit, we kept walking towards the last stop, the might Fortress. Standing at its base, the fortress overlooking Salzburg was breathtaking.</div>
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Deciding to take the lift up to the top for 11 euros, we stepped out to see a 360 degree view of Salzburg. Cameras were snapping pictures left and right and my video camera was rolling, capturing the city below and the mountains above. One photo looked as if God was shining his beautiful rays of sunshine down upon the city. </div>
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Unbelievable in size, the fortress stretched far and wide, leaving visitors multiple options of hidden nooks and crannies to stumble upon. No corner of the fortress provided a bad photo of the city below. </div>
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Making our way down the steep, gravel pathway, I wondered if we'd ever hit street level. I was also playing guide to my mom as her shoes were prone to slipping on the loose gravel beneath us. </div>
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By the time we hit bottom, it was agreed that it was time for lunch. Stopping at a small cafe, we had grilled cheese sandwiches and a deliciously good apple streudel...with cream. I could have eaten the whole thing, but realizing I shouldn't, I decided to share. </div>
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Stopping in a few shops, we bought handmade ornaments, postcards, and of course, that yummy looking cake. I mean, come on, it was a must-have!!</div>
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Quickly making our way back to the Mirabell Gardens, I was planning to run through them, singing "Do, Re, Me" but considering there were several people sitting around and who would have looked at me like I was crazy, I opted to just pose in front of the Pegasus Fountain with may arms extended much like Maria did in The Sound of Music. </div>
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Leaving Salzburg, I felt like I had just stepped back in time. Like I had experienced Europe in a whole new way. It is cities like Salzburg that remind travelers of the beauty of Europe. Often, we can get caught up in the fast-paced lifestyle of bigger cities like Munich, but Salzburg, it brought about a more slower-paced, laid-back lifestyle...perfect for transporting yourself back into history.</div>
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Much of which we will do tomorrow when we visit Dachau...trust me, I've already packed the tissues. It's going to be an emotionally exhausting day.</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8492357972379560497.post-13347849175929258112013-03-06T13:25:00.001-08:002013-04-09T20:04:37.102-07:00First Day in MunichLanding in Munich at 9:30 this morning, to say that we were tired is an understatement. Of course, who can actually get a decent night's sleep on a plane? Not me. Not only did I have a woman kicking the back of my seat the full 7 hour plane ride, but attempting to position your head with the pillow provided...yeah, I might as well try my attempts as a contortionist.<br />
<br />
Arriving at our hotel, we were unable to check in, so we checked our luggage and went on our way, facing Munich head on. Grateful for the sunshine, we stepped outside to be greeted with the sun on our faces and a warmth that I was hoping for on this trip. Walking past the Hauptbahnhof (the main train station), we pushed forward to the city center.<br />
<br />
A little miffed that my good Fossil sunglasses decided to lose a screw, I walked the streets squinting and attempting to guide us there via two maps. Entering the main city center, we were surrounded by shops (many of which were laughable at the possibility of entering because of its high priced content) and caves, each offering authentic German delicacies. However, no scene was quite as impressive as the Viktualienmarkt. A large, open market, visitors were surrounded by food (sausages, breads, pastries, vegetables the size of my head, and cheeses), flowers that emitted the most fragrant aromas and bloomed brightly, as well as teas and hand-made novelty items for tourists and locals.<br />
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Housed in one large area, we walked away from the market and stepped inside St. Peter's Church. A 14th-century church, it's beauty shown through the massive altar at the front of the church. I don't know about anyone else, but visiting churches in one of my favorite things to do when in another country. To some, once you've seen one, you've seen them all, but I highly disagree. I have seen some amazing churches, none of which resemble another. Each has its own atmosphere, reasoning and history. St. Peter's provided a beautiful setting for those wishing to spend some time in playful solace.<br />
<br />
At this point, our stomachs were grumbling. The last thing we had eaten was a few slices of deli meat, part of a blueberry muffin, and a roll, which was our "breakfast" on the plane. Speaking of the plane, although the loss of sleep was unfortunate, the ability to enjoy a glass of white wine, receive a handy-dandy personal kit complete with an eye mask, toothbrush and toothpaste, socks, earbuds, and ear plugs, Air Berlin did well in keeping its fliers content and happy. It also helped that come 6 a.m., a warm towel was placed in my hands :)<br />
<br />
Since out stomachs were making themselves known...loudly, we stumbled upon the Hard Rock Cafe. For those of you who know, I collect HRC shirts from each place I visit. Happy to be sitting down, we split a plate of their infamous nachos before moving on to our next stop. Of course, I had to buy myself a t-shirt since that's sort of my thing.<br />
<br />
Noticing that Hofbrauhaus sat next to the HRC, we opted to revisit the area in the next few days. After all, you simply cannot visit Munich without going to Hofbrauhaus, sitting down and throwing back one of their infamous boot beers.<br />
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Back in the room at 4 p.m., our intentions were not to fall asleep, but unfortunately, jet lag had its own agenda. Waking up at 7:30 p.m. There was no doubt that we were in for the night...after all, we have a full day ahead tomorrow -- we're going to the land of the Sound of Music and Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart -- Salzburg, Austria!!!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8492357972379560497.post-59674590772464965342013-02-27T10:56:00.001-08:002013-02-27T10:56:36.059-08:00Critics: Don't Listen to ThemA good friend of mine is in the starting leg of an amazing 140 + day, world trip. Bitten by the travel bug, much like me, she is far more experienced and "worldly" than I at this point in our lives. Having studied abroad while in college, and currently studying in New Zealand, she has traveled far and wide, and yet, her hunger for travel continues, much like mine.<br />
<br />
In a recent blog article, she wrote about her critics and those who find her passion for travel to be shall we say, an excuse to get away from the troubles of life. In response to her blog article, I wrote her with full intentions of showing my support for her passion. <br />
<br />
You see, the two of us became friends because a dear and close friend of mine was dating her. Once I discovered her intrigue for traveling, we clicked instantly. Ever since, we have remained close and often talk about our future travels and how we will one day run into each other while gallivanting around the world. <br />
<br />
I would like to share with you what I wrote, in hopes that, for any of you who wish to travel but have many of those same critics, that you will not give up hope, but instead, travel anywhere and everywhere.<br />
<br />
"Casey - I have been told that I am irresponsible and immature for
wanting to spend my money on traveling -- that I'm not taking the
"responsible" route and money for an apartment, etc...<br />
<br />
I find it
deplorable that people would stomp on my dreams simply because they
cannot bring themselves to enjoy the wonders of this world. Traveling is
not meant to wait until we are old and retired...it is meant for all
ages, at any stage in life. <br />
<br />
Of course, my philosophy is "do it
while you're young." Thankfully, I have the support of my family and
close friends who witness my irresistible urge to travel and actually
support me in this. <br />
<br />
Never listen to those critics...they'll
never understand or appreciate the art of traveling and its ability to
mold us travelers into well-rounded people who 1) don't take for granted
the earth in which we live 2) can see life for more than its pithy
arguments and differences, but instead, find the similarities that bond
us together, and 3) love to experience life outside the normal routine
of every day life.<br />
<br />
You and I were given a gift, the gift of wanderlust. To travel the world is to learn, live and most of all, love. <br />
<br />
I
know my mini-rant here may sound cheesy, but it's true. Not many people
are given this gift, and to those who have it, it will never be a gift
that is taking for granted. It will never be satisfied. <br />
<br />
One
thing I've always told myself, since I've been bitten by the travel bug,
is when I die, I want to look back and say that I stepped outside my
comfort zone, that I faced the world and all its beauty, that I
experienced a world that despite all of its differences, is a world of
hope and adventure. <br />
<br />
No country or culture is meant to be learned through a textbook, instead, it was meant for us to see and experience first-hand. <br />
<br />
Safe travels my beautiful friend. <br />
<br />
Travel buddies for life -- Nicole"<br />
<br />
For any of you who follow my blog and would like to follow hers, visit http://gallivantology.blogspot.com/<br />
<br />
I promise, you won't be disappointed :)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8492357972379560497.post-44473560309548733582013-02-10T16:00:00.000-08:002013-02-10T16:00:05.926-08:00So Embarrassed....I am so incredibly embarrassed. I have never let myself go this long without blogging. Life sometimes takes unexpected turns, creating less and less time for "pleasurable" activites and "reflective" activities like blogging. <br />
<br />
In 23 days, I will be leaving for 2 1/2 weeks to Germany and Poland. To say I am excited is an understatement. The chance to see even more of this wide and amazing world, I'm forever grateful and humbled. However, as excited as I am, there are still so many things left to do before I leave...like book my tours, buy all the necessary items needed when traveling, plan my days, etc...<br />
<br />
My devotion to planning may be extreme to some, but the way I look at it, if I'm spending the money and the time, I'm going to make sure every single moment of every day is filled with doing something and seeing something I may never get the chance to see again. <br />
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I will be lucky enough to take my iPad with me on this trip, and fully intend on blogging while I am away. I will keep all of you up-to-date on my trip and look forward to sharing my amazing vacation with all of you.<br />
<br />
Thank you for being so loyal and understanding during my time away. I hope to provide you with a look inside another part of the world here very soon!!!!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8492357972379560497.post-68882363361027173172012-12-05T19:24:00.002-08:002012-12-05T19:24:58.395-08:00I Will Appreciate This...I am so ashamed and saddened at the fact that I have not blogged for more than two months. Blogging is my source of relief, my way of sharing my emotions and feelings towards something I love. It allows me to express my ideas, opinions, and promises, even if it is only me reading it. <br />
<br />
To be given the ability to share my experiences and pictures with others, I can't think of a better way to spend my time. Unfortunately, life sometimes gets in the way, making it difficult to make time for the things we love and enjoy. <br />
<br />
Since my last blog post, things have gotten quite hectic at work and within my own personal life. While work has occupied most of my time, I have been suffering from some medical issues that have left me feeling somewhat...unmotivated, which I absolutely hate!<br />
<br />
However, as this year comes to an end, I look forward to the newness that 2013 will bring. Hoping it will bring good times, good news, and great company, one thing is for sure, 2013 will bring with it a trip that I have been looking forward to taking for as long as I can remember. Although plane tickets are not booked quite yet, all of the wheels are in motion and come March, I will be traveling through Germany and Poland. Experiencing all the wonders and history that these two countries possess, the history nerd inside of me can hardly wait.<br />
<br />
So, as 2012 comes to a close, I will appreciate the memories and opportunities that have been given to me. The opportunity to travel to Ireland with my mom and see a part of the world that beholds so much beauty and peace that it can only be appreciated when fully immersed in its landscapes and countrysides. I will appreciate the every day redundance that life can sometimes bring, whether it be through work or at home. <br />
<br />
Most of all, I will appreciate the opportunity to do all of these things, to see the world, to have a job, to have a family who loves me and friends who do the same, to have pets who bring so much joy into my life, and to have a God who has blessed me with all of these wonderful pieces of life that I am much too unworthy of receiving. Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8492357972379560497.post-17714214263892909902012-10-03T20:06:00.001-07:002012-10-03T20:06:18.358-07:00Time for Some AdviceOkay everyone, it is that time again that I call upon all of my lovely readers for your expert advice. I am in the beginning stages of planning my next trip and I would love to hear your do's and don'ts, the must see's and the can do without's. <br />
<br />
So, here's my plan: Someone around February or March, I plan to travel to Germany and Poland. My route will be something like, landing in Munich and spending a few days (3-5) in the city and taking day trips to Nuremburg and the Bavarian Alps area, then taking the train to Krakow and visiting Auschwitz while I am there. After Krakow, I am looking to take the train to Warsaw and then finish my trip in Berlin. <br />
<br />
I have already looked up numerous tours in various places and keep in mind, I'm a HUGE history buff, so any historical museums, sites, etc...that you think are worthy of my time, please offer them up! <br />
<br />
Also, any restaurants, shops, hidden treasures, as well as travel tips in these areas, I would appreciate any and all advice!!!!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8492357972379560497.post-7186726018595823042012-09-15T19:45:00.002-07:002012-09-15T19:46:51.004-07:00Wicklow Mountains of Dublin<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Natural beauty can be found in so many places. To say that
it exists in only a few small areas would be absurd, and in the country of
Ireland…it can be found in the masses. Dublin is a prime example, or maybe more
so, the city of Wicklow.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Taking a tour through the Wicklow Mountains, we were given a
little slice of Heaven. First, our tour guide, Stephen, made the experience
well worth our while. Second, although Galway remains my favorite for
sightseeing and countryside beauty, Wicklow remains second best. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">In fact, I’m going to let you see for yourselves….<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The "Guniness" Lake. It sits on the Guniness Family property.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is the bridge featured in "P.S. I Love You" where Gerard Butler meets Hilary Swank for the first time.<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0Co. Wicklow, Ireland53.0000259 -6.41036452.6942549 -7.042078 53.3057969 -5.7786500000000007tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8492357972379560497.post-19098752920569710272012-09-11T18:06:00.001-07:002013-04-09T20:05:05.338-07:00Birds of Prey<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I’m not a huge bird lover. It’s not that I don’t like them,
but I’m more partial to cats and dogs. That is, until we visited a bird of prey
sanctuary in Galway. Opting to take a tour to the Cliffs of Moher, we traveled
through The Burren area, which lies in Northern County Clare and Southern
Galway. One of the stops on our tour was to visit the Birds of Prey Sanctuary
and Educational Centre. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Now, I’ve been through other educational/animal attractions
(i.e. zoos) and I love them, but I have to admit, I wasn’t too excited about
this particular stop off. Getting off the bus, we entered the sanctuary to see
various birds awaiting our eager eyes…or at least <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">some</i> eager eyes. It was quite chilly outside so, getting indoors
was nice and pleasant. </span></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-X5BllyazetE/UE_fAkLThRI/AAAAAAAAAbI/fbQF5lsjyNc/s1600/DSCN0940.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-X5BllyazetE/UE_fAkLThRI/AAAAAAAAAbI/fbQF5lsjyNc/s200/DSCN0940.JPG" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Rounding the corner of this outdoor sanctuary, I was shocked
at the beauty of these gorgeous creatures. Hawks, owls, vultures, and other
exotic birds stood behind these cages just watching and waiting. Screeches from
various owls could be heard throughout the enclosure and I quickly found myself
grabbing for my video camera. Turning it on, I was enamored with each
individual bird. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Coming up on a snow white owl, I looked at my mom and
remarked, “It’s Hedwig!” Laughing at the hilarity of my comment, I couldn’t
help but wish that it was coming home with me. Sitting on the ground, it sat
there with its eyes closed and looking content. </span></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6V1uLcSPvCo/UE_fBgDhljI/AAAAAAAAAbQ/0d0ikxsEEcI/s1600/DSCN0944.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6V1uLcSPvCo/UE_fBgDhljI/AAAAAAAAAbQ/0d0ikxsEEcI/s200/DSCN0944.JPG" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Vultures splayed their wings for us and owls played
peek-a-boo as we struggled to get them to look at us, only to take the camera
away from the readied position before they turn quickly enough as if to say “Ha
Ha, I don’t think so, tourist!” </span></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sPoyCPZMEwk/UE_fSraADCI/AAAAAAAAAb0/_AU5b5smzJ0/s1600/DSCN0946.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sPoyCPZMEwk/UE_fSraADCI/AAAAAAAAAb0/_AU5b5smzJ0/s200/DSCN0946.JPG" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Before entering the sanctuary, we were told that we would be
watching an owl demonstration. After seeing all of these gorgeous birds, I
quickly made my way out to the demonstration area and took a seat in the first
row of wooden bleacher s. Out walked the “bird whisperer” as I like to refer to
him. After giving his speech about the owls in their enclosure and how they go
about training and raising them, he yelled for Jenny.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Suddenly, this white owl (not Hedwig, unfortunately) came
flying out of a cage and onto his arm. Prepped with food, she was eager to eat.
Go figure, an animal influenced to do tricks with the usage of food. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-R5Yft1pjGDI/UE_fR_RDMAI/AAAAAAAAAbs/uCGTiMnGxKE/s1600/DSCN0947.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-R5Yft1pjGDI/UE_fR_RDMAI/AAAAAAAAAbs/uCGTiMnGxKE/s200/DSCN0947.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Telling us a bit more about Jenny and her specific breed, we
learned that she is in fact, blind to objects up close. Using her beak, she
sought out the food in his hand. Soon enough, he asked for volunteers to see
who would like to hold her. After a few people, I threw up my hand and found
myself in front of a crowd and suited up with a large brown glove on my left
hand. With one quick call, Jenny flew from the short wooden stump onto my hand.
There I stood, an owl sitting perched on my hand…something I can now officially
check off my bucket list. </span></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ioUWJq2JefM/UE_feP2FbrI/AAAAAAAAAcA/4eeBwvK2Ors/s1600/DSCN0951.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ioUWJq2JefM/UE_feP2FbrI/AAAAAAAAAcA/4eeBwvK2Ors/s200/DSCN0951.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">My mom eventually decided to volunteer after me persuading
her to do so, saying, “When are you ever going to get to hold an owl?” Taking
my advice, she too, invited Jenny to take a seat on her covered hand. However,
by the time my mom held her, she was tiring from all the excitement. Opting to
fly back to her cage, we applauded Jenny for her time, as well as the trainer. </span></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nvgFbh6c0wU/UE_fhHZ6nGI/AAAAAAAAAcI/-y1LhEkPYis/s1600/DSCN0953.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nvgFbh6c0wU/UE_fhHZ6nGI/AAAAAAAAAcI/-y1LhEkPYis/s200/DSCN0953.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Leaving the bird of prey sanctuary, I felt I had a new
appreciation for birds. Excited that I had actually held an owl, I felt
appreciative of the fact that we stopped at this hidden tourist gem. It is stop
offs like these that create some of the greatest memories from a trip such as
this one.</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8492357972379560497.post-91584560076493343462012-08-28T17:28:00.001-07:002013-04-09T20:05:33.169-07:00Discovering Our Heritage<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Looking through my photos from Ireland, I couldn’t help but
smile at the moment I spotted our photos from the Cork Heritage Museum. Known
for its content that contains artifacts from the Titanic, mom and I opted to
visit while in Cork. However, there is a little bit of a backstory, so let me
start there first.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">On the train from Belfast to Galway, mom and I sat across
the aisle from a man. He lived in New Jersey but was full Irish. Seated across
from him were two elderly women from England. Naturally, the three struck up a
conversation and well, mom and I couldn’t help but do a bit of eavesdropping.
Asking if the man had visited the new Titanic Exhibition in Belfast, he said
that he had in fact visited the site. </span></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TkFV9XLAhVc/UD1heB_jaeI/AAAAAAAAAZ8/Du4hm7r0KZ4/s1600/DSCN1274.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TkFV9XLAhVc/UD1heB_jaeI/AAAAAAAAAZ8/Du4hm7r0KZ4/s320/DSCN1274.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Grinning at each other, mom and I thought the elderly women
to be sweet and “chatty;” however, the next thing that came out of the man’s
mouth had even my mom and me eager to hear more. Out of his bag, he pulled out
black and white photos of his great uncle. Explaining that his great uncle,
Jeremiah Burke, had been on the Titanic, he went on to say that his great
uncle’s cousin was also aboard with him when the ship went down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Before leaving, his mother had given him a
bottle of Holy Water to take on his journey. When learning that the ship was
sinking, he emptied the bottle and inserted a hand-written note. Corking the
bottle, it went down with the ship – both he and his cousin perished in
sinking. Years later, the bottle washed ashore in Cork and now sits within the
Cork Heritage Center. </span></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zg_hFUbVWj0/UD1heUhkMUI/AAAAAAAAAaA/wJxnLxa4IrU/s1600/DSCN1276.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zg_hFUbVWj0/UD1heUhkMUI/AAAAAAAAAaA/wJxnLxa4IrU/s320/DSCN1276.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">After hearing this story, mom and I both agreed that if we
had time, it would be quite amazing to go and see this infamous bottle. When
arriving in Cork, we looked at our schedule and discovered that unfortunately,
there would be no time to see this part of Titanic history. However, all of
that changed when we woke up one morning, got dressed, and walked to the bus
station. Planning to travel to Kinsale to visit one of the large forts there,
we quickly learned that 13 euros for a bus ticket, one way mind you, was a bit
too much for a fort that we may not even see because of the rain. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Hey, why don’t we see how much it would cost to go to
Cobh,” mom said. Agreeing that it was a good idea, we hopped on the train and
traveled to Cobh. Pulling into the station, the Heritage Center was just steps
away. Paying the fee to enter, we readied our cameras and prepared to be
transported back to 1912. Making our way through the museum, we passed by story
after story of passengers and their belongings. Fascinated by all of the
articles held within this tiny museum, we came to the notorious bottle. </span></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6d-E1tXM6oI/UD1hmCGCVOI/AAAAAAAAAaU/SZMc-cENThk/s1600/DSCN1286.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6d-E1tXM6oI/UD1hmCGCVOI/AAAAAAAAAaU/SZMc-cENThk/s320/DSCN1286.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Goodbye All” is what the note read – a sorrowful message by
a young man, only 19 years old, preparing to meet his fate in the cold waters
below. </span></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CZ0dgMQB_l0/UD1hm5Khq9I/AAAAAAAAAag/I4M__T5LF4E/s1600/DSCN1290.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CZ0dgMQB_l0/UD1hm5Khq9I/AAAAAAAAAag/I4M__T5LF4E/s320/DSCN1290.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Looking at the pictures of Jeremiah Burke, we couldn’t
believe we were actually seeing this bit of history. After grabbing a few
photos, I turned to see my mother staring at a photo of a man. Just as quickly
as I spotted her, she turned to look back at me. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zbcX8hc88Uc/UD1hnciQVyI/AAAAAAAAAao/fIeI7YFVIKs/s1600/DSCN1292.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zbcX8hc88Uc/UD1hnciQVyI/AAAAAAAAAao/fIeI7YFVIKs/s320/DSCN1292.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Who does this man remind you of,” she asked me. Within
seconds, my eyes focused on the man in the photo and I couldn’t believe what I
was seeing. The man my mother was fixated on looked just like my
grandfather.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Walking towards the photo,
we read the caption, saying it was Frank Browne, a famous photographer of the
Titanic and its passengers. Browne was in seminary school at the time. While on
the Titanic, he snapped photos of its passengers and the lives they led on
board the ship. Wishing to continue on the ship’s journey, he was told by his
mentor to disembark the ship immediately. Getting off in Queensland, Browne did
not suffer the fate that so many did when the ship went down. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Staring at the photo, I was shocked at how similar this man
looked to my mom’s father. Her maiden name is Brown and to know that when
immigrants came over to the U.S., the “e” on his last name could have easily
been dropped. His forehead, eyes, ears, and nose were all the same.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Standing there, mom almost began crying,
completely in awe of what she was seeing. To think that we had come to Ireland
and found our heritage, it was unbelievable. It was like everything fell into
place just like it should – the decision to go to Ireland, the seat and
compartment on that train, the story of the message in a bottle – it all led to
this discovery. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Y7VNzOvye24/UD1hp_uhQqI/AAAAAAAAAaw/QxcNVGrWAiM/s1600/DSCN1301.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Y7VNzOvye24/UD1hp_uhQqI/AAAAAAAAAaw/QxcNVGrWAiM/s320/DSCN1301.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Since seeing that photo, we have attempted to find out more
about Frank Browne and how we may be related. Convinced that there is a
relation, mom and I are determined to get to the bottom of this…who knows, it’s
like they say…life has a funny way of presenting these types of things to us. I
knew there was a reason I chose to go to Ireland!</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8492357972379560497.post-14612159424407578232012-08-07T19:06:00.001-07:002012-08-07T19:06:40.918-07:00Birthday Wish ListIn a week's time, I will celebrate yet, another birthday. The big 27 this time, so although it isn't a milestone, it's another year older. <br />
<br />
So, what is on my lovely birthday list you may ask? Well, not much to be honest. I'm not one for new technologies (my co-workers can attest to that); however, I am one for travel (surprise, surprise). One of the first things I always ask for, whether it is for my birthday or for Christmas is air miles. My sister so graciously bought me air miles as part of my Christmas gift this past year - a gift that proved quite beneficial in the purchase of my airplane ticket to Ireland. <br />
<br />
So, guess what? Air miles top the list again this year! I'm already formulating where I want to go next and have decided that my next trip (God willing) will be to Germany and Poland. If you've followed this blog, you know that I am a history fanatic, so naturally, these two countries are ideal locations for my next trip. <br />
<br />
First of all, my sister traveled to Germany many years ago and spoke nothing but good things about the country. My main points of interest will be Berlin and Munich, but I want to visit the Bavarian Alps as well. Of course, I couldn't leave this country without seeing and visiting the concentration camp, Dachau. I've known numerous people who have visited this humbling site...needless to say, I want to see it as well.<br />
<br />
Secondly, I have planned to visit Poland for many years now. After doing extensive research, I have learned the extent to which the Polish people have gone to make their country appealing to visitors. Naturally, visiting Krakow and Warsaw are my two main points of interest, and well...if I'm there, I must see Auschwitz-Birkenau. <br />
<br />
Since it will be some time before I can make this trip a reality, in the mean time, my birthday wishes will be receiving air miles as my gifts. The more, the better obviously, but I'll take as many as I can get. <br />
<br />
Of course, I could always use a day at the spa too!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8492357972379560497.post-33399342331583034352012-07-20T22:44:00.001-07:002012-07-20T22:44:34.002-07:00St. Anne’s Glorious Bells<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I sincerely apologize for not posting sooner. I have been
terribly busy and well…a bit under the weather for a while now. However, I am
back and hope to post more frequently! So, hopefully all of you are doing well
(or at least those of you who are still reading my blog!) <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Since I last left you with my amazing experience at the
Jameson Distillery in Dublin, I have been mulling over my photos and video from
my trip. Recounting the two weeks I spent there, I find myself wishing to see
more. Don’t get me wrong, I am whole-heartedly grateful and blessed to have
seen what I did; however, after trips like these, it only fuels the urge within
me to travel more. It is experiences like the ones I had with my mom in Ireland
that make me want to see more of God’s great creations. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">For instance, while in Cork, we visited the small, yet stunning
Church of St. Anne. Overlooking much of the city, the church was built in the
16<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">th</span></sup> century, complete with its famous bells, which can be heard far
and wide. Stepping inside, we were the only people visiting that day. A nice
break from the bit of drizzle outside, the church provided a serene environment
for reflection and gratitude. That was one thing about this trip…with each
church we visited, I found myself taking time to pray and give thanks to God
for allowing me to be there in that moment, and to see what this world has to
offer. With each prayer, I felt more and more humbled. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zPYnVrup3a4/UAo_fStnLAI/AAAAAAAAAZU/6-NDo0yccUs/s1600/DSCN1263.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zPYnVrup3a4/UAo_fStnLAI/AAAAAAAAAZU/6-NDo0yccUs/s320/DSCN1263.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Although the sanctuary was small, the history that lay
within was tremendous. Books that dated back centuries and centuries lay
beneath glass and a small podium allowed visitors to write the name of a loved
one in need of prayer. White walls surrounded us as we walked the perimeter.
Making our way out of the sanctuary, we asked to go up to the viewing deck,
with the hopes that we may be able to ring the infamous bells.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Before we were allowed up, we were given large ear
protectors for when the bell is rung. Climbing the stairs, we came to a wooden
platform. Looking to the right, we spotted eight long ropes, each connected to
eight separate bells. Each rope had a number and before it was a small podium
with a book full of songs. Looking to my mom, I was unsure if we were “allowed”
to play, so, deciding to bypass the bells, we continued our trek to the top.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Y2r4FoYwysc/UAo_erJouAI/AAAAAAAAAZM/M8ePgypAFrs/s1600/DSCN1265.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Y2r4FoYwysc/UAo_erJouAI/AAAAAAAAAZM/M8ePgypAFrs/s320/DSCN1265.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">As the stairs grew steeper and more confined, I felt my
backpack beginning to rub against both sides of the wall. Now, I am not a claustrophobic
person; however, the closeness that this staircase presented was making me a
bit nervous. Arriving at what looked to be like a large attic, the massive bell
sat waiting for its next visitor. My mom, the eager woman that she is, moved
forward and rung it loudly, sending a smile across her face. I was up next,
which I gladly took my turn….thankfully, the ear protectors were there to save
us from the massive “gong” sound that rung out only inches away from our
precious eardrums. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Spotting a rickety ladder, complete with a make-shift sign
with an arrow pointing up, I followed my mom up to what soon led us to the
viewing deck. Stepping out, it wasn’t the wind that nearly took our breath
away, but the view. Standing at the top of St. Anne’s, we looked out to see the
beautiful city of Cork beneath us. Never could I have imagined that I would be
standing in such a place. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vAivlTIvKHs/UAo_gZe8LOI/AAAAAAAAAZc/wnozduisjGY/s1600/DSCN1266.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vAivlTIvKHs/UAo_gZe8LOI/AAAAAAAAAZc/wnozduisjGY/s320/DSCN1266.JPG" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Although the sky above us was cloudy, there was no way I was
going to let a little rain ruin the feeling I was having in that moment. That
is what I find so humorous about people. We look around us every day and feel
nothing about the environment we live in and the places we see...it is a luxury
that we take for granted each day. I am just as guilty as everyone else;
however, when you stand atop a church that has seen the horrors of war and look
out onto a land so full of life and wonder…you can’t not be thankful for what
God has given and presented to us. To see things that many only read in books
and to see the expression on my mother’s face…now that is what makes traveling worthwhile.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ap2inCd_jDw/UAo_jQlnYaI/AAAAAAAAAZk/HZDUgBAx_2Y/s1600/DSCN1269.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ap2inCd_jDw/UAo_jQlnYaI/AAAAAAAAAZk/HZDUgBAx_2Y/s320/DSCN1269.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Climbing back down the stairs, we arrived back on the wooden
platform; the bells once again luring us to play. Opting to not pass up this
chance again, we both walked towards the ropes and prepared to play. Thumbing
through the booklet, we settled on the beauty that is “Amazing Grace.” With
each word assigned a number, we began to play the sweet words.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Amazing Grace<br />
How Sweet the Sound<br />
That Saved a Wretch Like Me<br />
I Once Was Lost<br />
But Now I’m Found<br />
Was Blind But Now I See<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">My mom was so excited that she made me get out the video
camera and film her as she played the song once more. To watch her as she rang
each bell, I knew that this was something she would never forget. Her
determination to play each word, it was like nothing I’d ever seen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This opportunity was that “sweet sound” that
is talked about in the song. As the song ended, she grinned wider than ever,
turning to camera and giving a proper thumbs up. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Exiting the church, I knew that playing those bells would
become a memory that she would tuck away forever; one that she will revisit
often as she looks back on our time spent in Ireland. The words to that song
truly speak volumes when visiting new places….blinded by the normalcy that
everyday life can bring, visiting new places causes us to open our eyes and see
the beauty that lies around. </span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8492357972379560497.post-1274283748402164132012-06-24T20:10:00.000-07:002012-06-24T20:25:50.001-07:00Whiskey Connoisseur? Yep, That’s Me<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">This weekend, I was lucky enough to have a night out with my
friends. One in particular, I haven’t seen in a few years. While out a local
club, he ordered me a shot of Jameson, claiming that I would not shut up about
how it was my whiskey-of-choice. Feeling as if I had inhaled a ball of fire,
the great taste quickly took over and I was taken back to my time spent at the
Jameson Distillery in Dublin. </span></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LvYTvLPh54M/T-fVAwp6nyI/AAAAAAAAAYI/iWlGlUyt2Rg/s1600/DSCN1725.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LvYTvLPh54M/T-fVAwp6nyI/AAAAAAAAAYI/iWlGlUyt2Rg/s320/DSCN1725.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Our last day in Dublin, mom and I had booked a tour of the
Jameson Distillery at 4 o’clock. Finally arriving after walking what must have
been seven or eight miles, we took a seat and waited for the tour to begin. Our
feet were killing us seeing as we were not expecting to walk those seven or
eight miles. However, after misjudging the map and being 10 euros short for a
bus ride, we were left to walk. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Once the tour began, we were led into a large room where we
watched a How-to on how the Jameson Distillery began. After the video, our tour
guide asked 10 people to volunteer for a whiskey tasting at the end of the
tour. Women were asked to volunteer first, so I threw up my hand thinking…you
only live once. When else will I have the opportunity to do a whiskey tasting
in Ireland? Receiving a small, short green cylinder, we were led on our tour,
beginning with the first steps toward true, authentic Jameson Whiskey. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Triple distilled, John Jameson’s delicious whiskey has a rigorous
creation process: malting, milling, mashing, fermenting, distillation, and
maturation. Each step holds vital importance and ultimately, creating the
smooth taste that is Jameson. </span></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-E_mUljebay0/T-fVAw-Fz2I/AAAAAAAAAX8/v5YiBwQKxJg/s1600/DSCN1726.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-E_mUljebay0/T-fVAw-Fz2I/AAAAAAAAAX8/v5YiBwQKxJg/s320/DSCN1726.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Probably one of the most unique portions of the tour was in
the final stage: maturation. Seeing the casks, which hold various amounts of
whiskey for years, it is believed that while some of the alcohol evaporates, it
ascends towards the sky and is received by the angels in Heaven as an offering.
By the end of the tour, we were shown the true process from “barley to bottle”
as the folks at the distillery like to say. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Entering the final room, we were told to hand over the drink
ticket we were given at the beginning of the tour. There before us were
numerous glasses of Jameson whiskey, each mixed with a different beverage:
sprite, cranberry juice, ginger ale, and of course, just plain ol’
Jameson.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Since I like cranberry juice, I
grabbed my glass, yes, an actual glass (not shot glass), and moved over to a
large table, complete with what looked like a placemat and various shots of
whiskey. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PN63m_bLgto/T-fVIYN7LCI/AAAAAAAAAYY/ngBIA1b8ADk/s1600/DSCN1728.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PN63m_bLgto/T-fVIYN7LCI/AAAAAAAAAYY/ngBIA1b8ADk/s320/DSCN1728.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Shown which whiskeys were which, we moved them to their
appropriate place on the placemat. Before me was not only my Jameson and
Cranberry juice, but a shot of regular Jameson, Jack Daniels, and Johnny Walker
Black. A glass of water sat off to the side so that we could cleanse our
palates in between tastings. Taking a sip of Jack Daniels, we quickly took a
sip of the Jameson. This allowed us to taste the significant difference between
the two drinks. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We then moved on to the
Johnny Walker Black before taking another sip of Jameson. Each time, the
Jameson won, providing me with a smooth and delectable taste. When asked to
push forward our favorite, everyone at the table selected Jameson…only the
best. Asked to down our remaining shots, we did so with gusto. Looking around,
everyone seemed to be polishing off their other two shots and remaining
drinks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I too, took care of my whiskey
and cranberry, enjoying its taste thoroughly. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Before leaving the table, our tour guide came back to give
each participant a certificate with our names donning the front, claiming us to
be qualified whiskey tasters. Can I say, check?! There’s something I can now
mark off my bucket list! </span></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CzKzoa6vxcM/T-fVAmHQHnI/AAAAAAAAAX4/zQ6-0rh6kGs/s1600/DSCN1721.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CzKzoa6vxcM/T-fVAmHQHnI/AAAAAAAAAX4/zQ6-0rh6kGs/s320/DSCN1721.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Leaving the distillery, I looked up to see probably the
coolest chandelier ever. It was composed of nothing but Jameson Whiskey
bottles. All I could think of was how many guys would kill to have something like
that in their apartments. Okay, well I wouldn’t mind having it in mine either. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">While many would recommend that visitors go to the Guinness
Distillery, I would <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">highly</i> recommend
that people go to the Jameson Distillery. I promise you won’t be disappointed. Even
if you aren’t interested in becoming a “qualified whiskey taster,” the tour
itself and the atmosphere of the distillery is enough to justify a visit. Great
Irish Whiskey…there’s no better place to find it!</span></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvKRGdCqnx0/T-fVI7nT3AI/AAAAAAAAAYU/YkvMW_QN0m8/s1600/DSCN1733.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvKRGdCqnx0/T-fVI7nT3AI/AAAAAAAAAYU/YkvMW_QN0m8/s200/DSCN1733.JPG" width="150" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1Dublin, Co. Dublin, Ireland53.344104 -6.267493753.268267 -6.4254222 53.419941 -6.1095652000000005tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8492357972379560497.post-57838744215751134302012-06-03T19:14:00.001-07:002012-06-03T19:16:58.184-07:00The Sign Says “Do Not Climb”<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It is apparent that when people see signs that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">strongly</i> suggest that visitors stay away
from the ledge, not climb over walls, or better yet, the ground beneath you is
eroding…they simply throw caution to the wind, say, “Nothing bad will happen to
me,” and ultimately, go near the ledge, climb over the wall, and forget that
the ground beneath them is eroding.</span><br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GkqmqU2q-6A/T8vaCFNWnwI/AAAAAAAAAWM/IWdpqANt4-U/s1600/DSCN1012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GkqmqU2q-6A/T8vaCFNWnwI/AAAAAAAAAWM/IWdpqANt4-U/s200/DSCN1012.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Just imagine, you are more than 600 feet above the ocean
below, you have a breathtaking view of the sea and the skyline, the birds are
flying frantically around the sea bottom in search of food, and you’re in
Ireland. This was the scene in Galway when my mom and I visited the Cliffs of
Moher. To see them from a distance, if you are lucky and it is a good day, they
look almost like stairs…for a giant. However, like Ireland weather tends to be,
if it is a bad day, the fog and rain can cause the Cliffs to disappear as if
they never existed…a giant fairytale. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GRxUhHDtxD0/T8vaCx-kT9I/AAAAAAAAAWU/Vi-vsctIVqs/s1600/DSCN1015.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GRxUhHDtxD0/T8vaCx-kT9I/AAAAAAAAAWU/Vi-vsctIVqs/s200/DSCN1015.JPG" width="200" /></a><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-F_KieQswRjo/T8vaDWlLpqI/AAAAAAAAAWc/4ZnTfJzPN_o/s1600/DSCN1013.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-F_KieQswRjo/T8vaDWlLpqI/AAAAAAAAAWc/4ZnTfJzPN_o/s200/DSCN1013.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Luckily for us, we went on a good day. To see these iconic
cliffs, it is an experience that words can never fully describe, nor can a
camera fully capture. The walkway split two ways, right and left. To the left,
one can walk what looks to be five miles out onto the cliffs. We opted to go
right. Upon seeing the stairs before us, I knew I could handle it. Having a
personal trainer tends to help; however, my poor mother…well, we had to stop
once or twice so she could catch her breath. In her defense, anyone who isn’t
used to climbing numerous stairs often would have a difficult time. These short
stops however, allowed for great photo opportunities. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-W9Qxw2b_FL4/T8vaKebLv9I/AAAAAAAAAWk/7W9QDsqyswE/s1600/DSCN1020.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-W9Qxw2b_FL4/T8vaKebLv9I/AAAAAAAAAWk/7W9QDsqyswE/s320/DSCN1020.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me at the Cliffs of Moher and the safety wall behind me</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Along the side of us, a chest high concrete wall lined the
cliffs. Obviously, this is where my title comes into play. Signs were posted
everyone, reminding visitors of the dangers of climbing over. The weather in
Ireland can sometimes be unpredictable and our tour guide warned us that one
strong gust of wind could knock you off balance, sending you over the cliff and
into the blue abyss below. However, he did mention that if that were to happen,
to look to the right and we would have a fabulous view of Galway Bay. </span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-03Kk8ZRb3Lw/T8vab7HG-PI/AAAAAAAAAXM/45WdRwhi-GE/s1600/DSCN1065.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-03Kk8ZRb3Lw/T8vab7HG-PI/AAAAAAAAAXM/45WdRwhi-GE/s320/DSCN1065.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Crazy visitors posing on the Cliffs ledge</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Opting to stay on solid ground, we both agreed that the view
we were currently seeing was just as beautiful behind the wall. The weather
that day was sunny, but the wind was whipping around us, making us glad that we
had our heavy coats. Reaching the top, we looked back to our left and there
before us were the Cliffs. Extending out into the sea, I had hoped to be able
to compare the sight to others I have seen in the past, but I couldn’t…this
sight was one of its own. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Chiseled and jagged rock built more than 600 feet into the
air, grass that was alive and well standing high at its top, the edges so
terrifying, yet, so inviting. I couldn’t help but wonder how many people had
come to this place to spend their last moments of life…so peaceful and calm.
That thought was fleeting and terrifying all in one. The grass around us showed
so green in the sun. The Ireland rain kept it smelling so fresh and crisp. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ScGJgDsqxPk/T8vaL_IYPkI/AAAAAAAAAW4/hxT7ZDvxIs8/s1600/DSCN1025.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ScGJgDsqxPk/T8vaL_IYPkI/AAAAAAAAAW4/hxT7ZDvxIs8/s320/DSCN1025.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-a6T9Ly9VPTI/T8vadua_iKI/AAAAAAAAAXU/JCtV9nlxCQQ/s1600/DSCN1058.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-a6T9Ly9VPTI/T8vadua_iKI/AAAAAAAAAXU/JCtV9nlxCQQ/s320/DSCN1058.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Taking more photos than what is “normal,” we simply stood at
the top and stared out onto the ocean and the Cliffs standing high above it. I
couldn’t help but wonder what my mom was thinking, seeing as she had never seen
any sight like this before. I felt blessed to have her standing there with me,
experiencing that moment. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Q1XW9PS5lzc/T8vaLJubyMI/AAAAAAAAAWs/ydkQ-cW4Pog/s1600/DSCN1022.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Q1XW9PS5lzc/T8vaLJubyMI/AAAAAAAAAWs/ydkQ-cW4Pog/s320/DSCN1022.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Spending two hours at the Cliffs, we ventured back down to
return to our tour bus. The time we spent at the Cliffs was one I will never
forget. Seeing sights like this is what quenches my thirst for traveling. These
are sights that only in person can it truly be cherished and appreciated. As a
believer, it is amazing what God has created. I feel completely humbled to have
seen these great Cliffs – a place that holds much importance to the Irish
people, but much joy and beauty to any and all who visit.</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0Galway, Co. Galway, Ireland53.2737969 -9.051779953.1978344 -9.2097084 53.3497594 -8.8938513999999991tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8492357972379560497.post-78089867344821409282012-05-18T17:57:00.002-07:002013-04-09T20:05:58.192-07:00Our First Day in Belfast<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MsWK6_KTLNo/T7bulBAZ-xI/AAAAAAAAAU4/tcNXmQrhzLg/s1600/DSCN0536.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MsWK6_KTLNo/T7bulBAZ-xI/AAAAAAAAAU4/tcNXmQrhzLg/s200/DSCN0536.JPG" width="150" /></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Our first stop was Belfast in Northern Ireland. Arriving by
train, from Dublin, we immediately called a cab to take us to our hotel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think at this point, everything still
seemed so surreal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From the moment we
got into the cab, our driver was nothing but nice. Offering advice as to where
the best dining and shopping areas were, my mom and I couldn’t wait to get out
and begin exploring the city.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Reaching our hotel room, we were puzzled as to how the
lights worked (crazy, I know). Realizing that you must insert your room card in
order for the lights and the air to work, I slid the card into the slot and
flipped on the lights before taking<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the
card back out. Suddenly, I hear a scream coming from the bathroom with my mom
shouting, “The lights went out!” Needless to say, we finally figured it out
that the card must STAY in the slot if you want your lights and air to work. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">At this point, the jet lag was starting to catch up with us.
Landing at 8 a.m. and then catching a train from Dublin to Belfast, which is a
little more than two and half hours, we were pretty wiped at this point.
However, we weren’t going to let that stop us from getting out and seeing the
city.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tu2qrIpmZxM/T7buj-4DJ8I/AAAAAAAAAUs/vsLc7vl1V5g/s1600/DSCN0537.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tu2qrIpmZxM/T7buj-4DJ8I/AAAAAAAAAUs/vsLc7vl1V5g/s200/DSCN0537.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uLhfe58K1zg/T7buk8miBMI/AAAAAAAAAU0/uFi05hw2yq8/s1600/DSCN0539.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uLhfe58K1zg/T7buk8miBMI/AAAAAAAAAU0/uFi05hw2yq8/s200/DSCN0539.JPG" width="150" /></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Our first stop was St. Anne’s Cathedral. I assumed it was
called Belfast Cathedral but the front desk hotel clerk quickly corrected me.
Grateful that (almost) everything was within walking distance, we walked towards
City Hall (which was gorgeous in its own right…but I’ll talk about that another
time) and made our way towards St. Anne’s. Beautifully erected, her doors
invited and welcomed us in. Within her walls, rows upon rows of chairs sat
facing the pulpit, each with their own individual kneeling pads. Each pad was
embroidered with its own uniquely decorated design; vibrant shades of red
providing the backdrop for each design. Archways lined the sides and front of
the church and stained-glass windows provided visitors with various Biblical
scenes and sayings – a fixture that is found in many European churches. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Her organ sat high, her pipes stretching towards the ceiling
as if the music that would sound from her could reach the Heavens. And plaques
were mounted on the walls, dedicated in memory of those who served in the Irish
Guard who had lost their lives during war.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pz7OhHIsXgA/T7bu5XWSppI/AAAAAAAAAVM/XCzx7EXM73A/s1600/DSCN0544.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pz7OhHIsXgA/T7bu5XWSppI/AAAAAAAAAVM/XCzx7EXM73A/s200/DSCN0544.JPG" style="cursor: move;" unselectable="on" width="150" /></a><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Kwm2my8FPR4/T7bu5nsxovI/AAAAAAAAAVQ/sFupvM-sLkE/s1600/DSCN0541.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Kwm2my8FPR4/T7bu5nsxovI/AAAAAAAAAVQ/sFupvM-sLkE/s200/DSCN0541.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Upon leaving St. Anne’s, a group of school children rushed
to her front steps, eager and anxious to enter, but were quickly gathered by
their chaperone and told to quiet their voices. Our next stop was to have some
lunch. After traveling all day, our stomachs were begging for food. Finding a
local restaurant called McHughes, we decided to have a taste of authentic Irish
cuisine. Opening the doors, we were met with the sounds of flutes, accordions
and guitars as Irish music filtered throughout the restaurant. Feeling as if I
was in the middle of a pub, we ordered fish and chips, both of us completely
unaware of just how much food we were about to eat. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IclTzozUZck/T7bvBb1MzQI/AAAAAAAAAVc/E7XUlpVvhO0/s1600/DSCN0551.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IclTzozUZck/T7bvBb1MzQI/AAAAAAAAAVc/E7XUlpVvhO0/s200/DSCN0551.JPG" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Bringing our order to us, my jaw nearly hit the floor when I
saw the size of the fish that was lying on my plate. Not only did I have fries
(a.k.a. chips), but there was also a small lump of mushy peas. Looking at my
mom, we both tried them but we both gave the same reaction… “Thanks, but no
thanks.” Deciding to delve into my massively large piece of fish, I was in
Irish Heaven the most my fork touched my tongue. Not only was the fish crispy
on the outside but it melted in my mouth the moment it hit. Not a fan of the
provided tartar sauce, I was asked if I would like some “red sauce.” Thinking
that I might get thrown out if I were to ask for “ketchup,” I said that I would
take the mystery red sauce. I quickly realized that “red sauce” is another word
for “ketchup” so my behind stayed firmly planted in the wooden seat beneath me.
<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bDp2vJhY1vI/T7bvCGWeRSI/AAAAAAAAAVs/ghzgf07usDg/s1600/DSCN0556.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bDp2vJhY1vI/T7bvCGWeRSI/AAAAAAAAAVs/ghzgf07usDg/s320/DSCN0556.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">After the both of us ate only half of our fish (because it
was way too much food), we left the comfortable setting of McHughes and visited
a nearby souvenir shop, Carroll’s. Inside we found everything you could
imagine, including t-shirts, key chains, boxer shorts, shot glasses, cds,
ornaments, cookies and picture frames. My mom even tried on a leprechaun hat
and beard. (I would show the picture here but she would hate me forever). After
buying a few small things, we headed back to the hotel for a bit of relaxation.
Full from our late lunch, we grabbed a small dinner and went in search of an
Irish coffee. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Stumbling upon Fibber McGee’s, we walked in to find that the
coffee had been turned on and the alcohol turned on. Patrons sat at wooden
tables, prepping themselves for the night’s entertainment, complete with their
Guinness in hand. As much as we wanted to stay and experience Belfast’s
nightlife, we really wanted an Irish coffee. Leaving Fibber McGee’s, we walked
to one other pub before finally settling back at the hotel bar where we
received a true Irish coffee. Of course, it was so strong; we drank it, but
struggled once we reached the bottom of the glass. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kpRz8XaJE60/T7bvMzsTO6I/AAAAAAAAAV0/ZEg0Ryj8Su8/s1600/DSCN0562.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kpRz8XaJE60/T7bvMzsTO6I/AAAAAAAAAV0/ZEg0Ryj8Su8/s320/DSCN0562.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">City Hall lit up at night</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Calling it a night, we showered and slipped into bed. It had
been a long day, but was a great start to our trip. </span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8492357972379560497.post-82760299716509768932012-05-14T19:15:00.000-07:002013-04-09T20:06:33.515-07:00The Colors of Ireland<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">First and foremost, please forgive me for not having written
in quite a while. As some of you know, I spent two weeks traveling throughout
the vibrant, wondrous country of Ireland and have been trying to recuperate
from the on-the-go physicality that the trip demanded. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">To answer your question though, yes, I had a wonderful time.
Ireland is a country full of friendly people, never-ending countryside, and…sheep.
Yes, there are sheep everywhere! I’ll get to that later though. When flying to
Dublin, one of the first things I noticed while sitting in the
ever-so-comfortable airplane seat was the colors that this country shown. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Out of my portal-sized window, I saw numerous shades of
green, looking like fabrics stretched out as far as the eye could see. I recall
turning to my mom and remarking at how incredible it was to see green
everywhere, yet, in so many different shades. Astounded herself, she simply couldn’t
get over just how <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">green</i> everything
was!</span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YuxbEWQvE48/T7GvGaGTKgI/AAAAAAAAAT0/ADcolV4D9Xw/s1600/DSCN0514.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YuxbEWQvE48/T7GvGaGTKgI/AAAAAAAAAT0/ADcolV4D9Xw/s320/DSCN0514.JPG" style="cursor: move;" unselectable="on" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Properties were divided by three things: trees, bushes, or
rock walls – most definitely impressive. As if the greens were impressive
enough, while we were on the train to Belfast, we spotted fields of pure
yellow. A bit confused as to what it could be, the train quickly sped by one of
these yellow coated fields and we saw the thousands upon thousands of flowers
nestled perfectly within their walls. I’ll never forget the look or reaction my
mom had – fumbling to retrieve her camera and the smile that never left her
face. She was in complete awe of the sight before her. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Of course, as I mentioned before, Ireland has <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">a lot</i> of sheep. So naturally, specks of
white popped up all across the greenery. The sheep looked like oversized cotton
balls, many with black faces. I’m sure every time I spotted a baby sheep, a
voice in my head made the “awe” sound. The entire trip, my mom continued to
say, “I want to hold a baby sheep.” Needless to say, that didn’t happen. </span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-004tKooqtbw/T7G04joucGI/AAAAAAAAAUA/W3E3jyF3Xds/s1600/DSCN0673.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-004tKooqtbw/T7G04joucGI/AAAAAAAAAUA/W3E3jyF3Xds/s320/DSCN0673.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">With all of the rain that this country receives, it is no
wonder that the colors of the fields and flowers bloom and shine so brightly.
In the states, everything around us dies during winter and takes a while for
our trees and flowers to bloom again during the spring, so it was refreshing to
see a part of the world that never “dies.” </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Seeing all of those colors, I knew that my mom and I were in
for a trip of a lifetime. Seeing a part of the world that provides so much
beauty and life, we knew Ireland would have a lot to offer. However, what we
experienced and saw later…we could have never imagined or expected.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">(I wanted to add so many more photos but Blogger is being incredibly slow when trying to upload photos...I promise I'll get them up here somehow!)</span></div>
<img height="72" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YuxbEWQvE48/T7GvGaGTKgI/AAAAAAAAAT0/ADcolV4D9Xw/s320/DSCN0514.JPG" style="filter: alpha(opacity=30); left: 643px; opacity: 0.3; position: absolute; top: 478px;" width="96" />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8492357972379560497.post-9671722853583115622012-04-20T20:41:00.000-07:002012-04-20T20:41:04.338-07:00While I'm AwayUnfortunately, while I am in Ireland, I will be unable to post :( I hate this because I was hoping to blog while I was away; however, the computer I planned to take does not work properly. <br />
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So, you lovely people will instead, view my photos and hear about my 2 week getaway once I return! In some way, I actually love writing AFTER the trip has happened. It allows me to almost relive my trip through my words and photos! <br />
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Please forgive me for not keeping all of you up-to-date throughout my trip, but I promise when I return, you will know all about my amazing Ireland trip!!!!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1