Lucerne + Oktoberfest = Final Stretch

Hello. Welcome back to our continuing adventures around Europe. Thank you for joining me. I realize that it probably gets a bit tedious to read about every walking tour we've taken in every major European city for the past three months and I would like to thank you for your dedication and interest thus far. And, since I shouldn't make assumptions, I would like to thank you for being here now and reading about this intermission in our trip.

That's a bit like what this week was: an intermission. Or maybe a 2^nd intermission since it isn't exactly the halfway point anymore. Six days spent between the big attractions of Paris and Rome, where we didn't do very much except a bit of walking and a lot of watching Season 3 of House, M.D.

Last Sunday (the 20th) we arrived in Lucerne, Switzerland and stayed for three nights in a really nice dorm-turned-hostel. We didn't do too much during our two days in Lucerne, mostly because I'm not sure if there really is much to do. We walked around the town, enjoyed the cute shops, strolled the river banks, and ate some local “traditional” bakery fare (see pic of Kane posing happily with these foods; it wasn't as bad as he is making it look).

It was nice; it was relaxing. We didn't get to see much of Switzerland, but it appears to be a fine place. There are no homeless people. Drivers are habitually and extraordinarily accommodating to each other and pedestrians. All signs and labels are in three languages: German, French, and Italian. And since most people seem to speak at least some of each of these languages, it is not uncommon to find most people knowing a good amount of English also. They're like Germans but without the attitude and with large amounts of disposable income. I suppose being rich probably would put you in a good mood. Can't fault the Swiss, can you?

After our tiny stint in Lucerne, we dropped our beloved car off in Strasbourg and caught a train over to Munich. We had our little Clio III for 70 days and put exactly 10,667 kilometres (6628 miles) on her. She was a fine car and we treated her well. She will be missed.

After our goodbyes, we said hello to Jon, yet again, as we bunked down in his house in Munich for four nights. We spent one day getting serious about Oktoberfest, staking out a table in one of the tents early in the day with some of Jon's friends. While they planned to stay all night until closing (11pm), Kane and I were quite ready for a nap around 5pm after being there for over four hours.
Kane managed to drink two liters of beer during that time (they are sold in liter glasses, a bit more than a quart, and way, way too much for me) and he was down for the count. The burly security personnel who so kindly encouraged us to remove ourselves from the table we were occupying at 5pm (by picking up the ends of the benches we were sitting on and growling angrily in German) left Kane no other choice but to guzzle the last 1/3 of his 2^nd glass. Which pretty much did the trick.

Twenty minutes after leaving Oktoberfest Kane was unconscious on our air mattress in his undies. He remained this way for three hours, getting up to pee twice. At 8pm Jon came home unexpectedly early, which worked out since I thought I might starve to death shortly thereafter. Kane arose with an early onset (albeit mild) hangover and we had pasta with our House. At least one of us got to receive the full Oktoberfest experience, eh?

The next two days we spent mostly sitting around in pajamas with Jon*, finishing up Season 3 of House, and screwing around on the internet. We did make it back to Oktoberfest just to walk around and take some pics and we also went to see the movie District 9 at the English language movie theater. All three of us enjoyed the movie. And, I even got all our hotels booked for Italy; I am sparing no expense at this point. But don't tell Kane that.
Which brings us to now: the final stretch. It is Sunday the 27^th of September and we're on our way to Rome (upon writing; now we're in Rome). We will spend three weeks touring around Rome, Naples, Florence, Cinque Terre, and Venice before returning to Munich one last time to see Jon and collect all of our stuff (we keep leaving select items there so that we don't have to carry unnecessary things on each leg of the trip) and heading to New York.

This, ladies and gentlemen, is the end! It's been a long journey and we're pretty ready for it, but we're also looking forward to Italy. Kane has set ambitious pizza goals that he will need to work hard to achieve. We are taking an Italian language class for five days in Rome. Our accommodation budget has gone heinously over allowance. This will be a good end to our epic Europe travels.

*Yes, Jon does have blue hair. Isn't he so hip and alternative?

Best Decision of the Trip

It started to get bad in London.

We knew this trip would be expensive and we tried to organize a budget that was tight but realistic. We thought we cut ourselves enough slack, but the UK was throwing everything off. One meal out would spend all the money allotted for an entire day's food. Forget buying a beverage; cokes and spirits are outrageous and not worth it. Every activity costs about twice what we had anticipated (example: a half hour ride on the London Eye costs £17! That's about $27 USD or $36 AUD per person – ridiculous!). I was spending hours upon hours, day after day searching for our upcoming hotels to find places that were under budget but weren't completely horrible. We were getting very bogged down.

And then we went to Ireland. Ireland, though thankfully on the Euro instead of the stupid Great British Pound (doesn't seem so Great to me), is even more expensive. Our first night we had “gourmet” hamburgers for about $20 AUD each ($15 USD). A non-refillable coke in a restaurant, say 12 oz, will run you about 4-5 Euro ($7 or so USD or $8-10 AUD). We were freaking out. The trip all but came to a stand still.

We were eating at grocery stores and still breaking the budget. The hotels were all over budget no matter how hard I tried, and I was getting worn out looking so hard. Fortunately there isn't much to do in Ireland, so our budget for “activities” was doing ok. But still, we were stressed.

And so, in Cork, we decided to forget it. We had been discussing it pretty much constantly for the past week or so. What do we do? Do we just spend more money? Should we just forfeit eating the food we want to and staying in nicer places to save? On the one hand, we already have the money, it's not like we're racking up the credit card bills; we had, in fact, saved it specially for this. On the other hand, we didn't need to be traveling so luxuriously; we could cut back on the restaurants, hotels, desserts and just see what there is to see.

I remember specifically having a conversation with Rhonda about it (Kane's mom) over Skype and discussing how we should be spending more and worrying less. What I was saying was true, but I was essentially arguing against myself. Then, in the restroom at the Jameson Distillery outside Cork, I made a decision.

The decision was not to go crazy and spend it all, but to spend more and stop worrying; to listen to my own arguments. Our collective anxiety over this was really destroying the fun of our trip. Eating at restaurants, staying at cute hotels, and nibbling fancy desserts are my favorite things to do. We're not hardcore travelers; it's not worth it for us just to be in a place. I want to enjoy the tastes and sights of a new city without eye blinders and handcuffs stamped “BUDGET” on them. The concern for money was significantly inhibiting our enjoyment and I was done with it.

I would still try to find budget accommodation and we wouldn't eat at five-star restaurants or anything. But we would not freak out when dinner cost $60 AUD, which is what a normal meal with no frills costs at a decent restaurant in Ireland.

It was amazing how quickly the change happened. Kane embraced it right away too, he's good about stuff like that. We'd both been mulling over what to do and when I concluded, not illogically, that we either need to sacrifice more money or more enjoyment (and only one is replenishable), he was right there with me. We were enjoying ourselves more already.

This might be one of the reasons I enjoyed Paris so much; we were encumbered by nothing in a wonderful city. And that's why we're here, not to save for a plasma tv for when we get back to the US. We can save for the rest of our lives (and we probably will), but for the next month, we will SPEND and we won't worry!

Incompatible

You know we spend every moment together. Kane and I have pretty much spent 24 hours per day, 7 days a week for the last 5 ½ years at a distance of no more than 20 feet from each other. We live together, we work together, we have breakfast, lunch, and dinner together. We go to the gym, volunteer with the cats, and wash our cars together. Obviously, we're pretty damn compatible. Either that or we're using up all the time we're supposed to spend together for the rest of our lives before we even turn 30, and will be breaking up in the next couple of years. But since that explanation doesn't really make any sense, I'll stick with the compatible thing.

The other day, however, we discovered something. We were on a four hour train ride from France to Germany with nothing to do and motion sickness a constant threat. Neither of us wanted to read and it's a bit crap when one of us bogarts the computer. The only two-person card game we know besides Go Fish (Speed) has gotten tiresome.

Were there any little games on the computer that we could play together? Indeed there was: pinball. I took the left Shift button and he took the right; we each had a flipper. We took turns launching the ball into play. And here is where the differences between us shine like a hundred-watt eco-friendly light bulb.

Kane is patient, calculating. He likes to hold the flipper up when the ball comes down the side chute so that he can stop the ball and put it back into play at his leisure. He will let the ball bounce off his flipper, thinking it is going to bounce over onto mine where I would have a better shot, and let it accidentally fall down the middle. He pushes the flipper one single time just as the ball lands where he wants it, always aiming each shot toward whatever area of the board is lit up for bonus points.

I mash the shift key like it's got a cockroach under it. If the ball is somewhere in the vicinity of my flipper, including heading for or currently touching Kane's flipper, my flipper is flapping wildly. I smack the ball away the second it touches my flipper, regardless of which direction the ball might fly.

I'm a spaz. Kane is a damn guru.

When Kane does the thing where the ball bounces off his flipper and down the gutter (he stopped doing this after a while when he got the hang of how the physics of the game worked – thank goodness) rage rises in me as though he's just slapped my mother across the face*. How could a person possibly be so patient?! We played probably 20 games before tiring. Our scores increased steadily during our practice and we actually seemed to be working well together despite our radically different techniques.

I like to hit the ball as hard as I can** all the way up to the top of the board where it pings around for a while, giving us extra time on a play. Kane likes to follow the lit up arrows on the board to activate extra points. We ended up with a high score on one round of about 1,600,000. This is a good score, trust me. Kane played alone for long after I was sick of the game and in about an hour of solo play, he never broke a score of a million.

And so, I conclude, the sum of our talents is better than one of us alone even when we seem completely incompatible. Isn't that cute?

*He would never do that.

**I could not get away from the idea of this being an actual pinball machine that responds to how hard you engage the flipper, when, in fact, I'm fairly certain that the Shift key only flips the flipper at a set speed when you hit it.

Paris

Ahh, Paris. We did well in Paris. We spent 5 nights there but, unlike London, we actually got out and enjoyed the city to the fullest. It felt like we walked a million miles – our feet complained as such. But that didn't keep us down, oh no.

Before I get into the thick of Paris, I'd like to make mention of our trip over to France. We took a 19 hour ferry from Roslare, Ireland to Cherbourg, France. This was our 3^rd ferry of the trip (with automobile in tow, of course) but it was by far the longest. It also by far had the least access to the internet. By which I mean that there was no internet. Nineteen hours overnight on a rocky boat with no internet - not exactly a paradise. The kicker was that the website quoted about €120 (US$175 or so) extra for a room for the night on-board, or, you could not pay anything extra and receive a luxury chair in which to sleep (read: struggle) the night. You can probably guess which option we went with.


We had pumped ourselves up for it – it's just like being on a plane, right? But once onboard, one look at the sad, salmon-colored attic on the ship where our seats were hidden away and we ran crying to the on-board concierge. Apparently, for those of us who are horrified by our overnight seats and are suddenly willing to pay any price for a room with a bed, they have mercy. It was only €53 to upgrade from our chairs to a room. Four fold-up bunk beds (no room mates though), a tiny bathroom, no windows, and everything made of the same smelly plastic as on an airplane – totally worth it. And so we slept normally and both managed to restrain from vomiting even during the rough patches of water. Crisis averted. Welcome to France.

So, back to Paris. We drove straight there from Cherbourg on the 15th; about a five hour drive. We spent 4 glorious days treading up and down every adorable alleyway. Here's the rundown of our visit:

Day 1: 1pm: Free walking tour. Our tour guide was a totally adorable Aussie girl who reminded me very much of Jolene. She introduced us to all the best sights around town, witty commentary included. 6pm: Meander around the Louvre for a couple hours when admission is cheaper on Wednesdays – score one for the discount! 8-9:30pm: Wander around the city in search of a famed falafel stand that apparently does not exist. 10pm: Settle on pizza and salad dinner near our hotel which was delicious.

Day 2: Leave hostel almost too late to make the 2pm Monmartre tour with the same tour guide from the day before (we really liked her). This is a famous artsy district of Paris where people like Van Gogh used to hang out. Now it's mostly cutesy boutiques, people hounding you to draw your portrait, and restaurants aimed at tourists. Still cute though. 4pm: re-walk most of the Monmartre district looking for a cute place for dinner; settle for pizza and salmon with french onion soup and a crepe from a stand afterward.

Day 3: First sunny day! See the sights in depth that we only passed by on the first day's walking tour! Climb the 284 steps to the top of the Arc de Triomphe, photograph the Eiffel Tower from the gardens out front, soak up the Gothic architecture of the inside of Notre Dame, and have a stroll through the famed and funky Pompidu Centre. Find cute, casual cafe in the middle of the Latin Quarter in which to feast on a gigantic tuna sandwich and delicious slice of quiche. Follow it up with a strawberry tarte and, of course, a crepe at the end of the day.


Day 4: Drive out to Versailles but decide that we're not excited enough to actually pay to go in the Palace of Versailles. Yeah, that's how we roll. Have a little lunch in Versailles, enjoying the warm sunny day. Drive back to the hostel for a nap and some reading. Take to the streets again just before sunset and stop by my favorite tart shop (chocolate tart tonight) and then on to enjoy the Eiffel Tower and the Arc de Triomphe lit up for night time. Return to hostel at 1am!!


Those were our four fantastically fun* days in Paris. Tally this onto my top 5 list; Paris knows how to show a girl a good time.

On a more cultural note, I would like to state for the record that Parisians are a bunch of fine, friendly folks. We had no problems with people being snooty or refusing to speak English, and everyone we encountered was very friendly and nice to us. I know the French have a bit of a reputation for being jerks to foreigners, but as far as we experienced, they have long since turned over these obligations to the Germans.

Additionally, not to hate on Germany constantly, but I would also like to mention that French is significantly easier to read and understand than German. When looking at a restaurant menu, French (like Spanish or Italian) actually looks very similar to English. There are so many common cognates that menus and signs are often about half-understandable even when I don't know any of the language.

This is a huge contrast to German where the only cognate we have readily found is “tomaten” for tomato and "milch" for milk. Other than that, very few words look the same and most words have their modifiers crammed together with the nouns to form huge, unwieldy words that further intimidate the non-native speaker. As an example (in English), they might say something like Cheeseburgerbaconavacado instead of separating the words out to be less confusing. Probably a bad example, but you can see where I'm going and why that would be even worse for me and the three words of German I know.

Anyway, to summarize: Paris is fun; French is a fine language; French people are quite personable; I love pastries (from previous entry but I'm not getting over it any time soon). Please have a gander at the rest of our pics from Paris.

Next stop (well, the stop has already been made, but I need to post about it) Switzerland, then Munich for a few days to drop off some of our crap with Jon and Oktoberfest it up. Then, the final stretch: three weeks in Italy!

*I love alliteration and I hope you do too.

Patisserie

This is my new favorite word. And my new favorite place. Patisserie. It even sounds beautiful, if I can say it correctly. We were in Paris for four days and I'm pretty sure the only site my eyes really took in were these lovely shops. Eiffel Tower? Arc de Triomphe? Louvre? These do not hold my interest*. But tartes, pies, croissants, cakes, coulis - these are why I like French people so much. They know how to deliver, oh yes they do.

Patisseries are everywhere in Paris. They adorn every block. They are truly appealing places all by themselves with their artistically displayed and well-lit offerings, cute seating areas, and cozy entrances. My main questions is: why are they not everywhere? Paris is certainly unique, but there is nothing holding these establishments from, say, the upscale streets of Berkeley or Fitzroy. I will submit this request to the powers that be; this needs to change.

Fun fact from Wikipedia: "In France, [patisserie] is a legally controlled title that may only be used by bakeries that employ a licensed maître pâtissier (master pastry chef)". They really are serious about this stuff. Fortunately, so am I.

And let's not forget the Creperie. Sometimes situated as an odd outcropping tacked onto a streetside restaurant, other times parked as a stand-alone kiosk in high-traffic (i.e. tourist) areas, the creperies in Paris are ubiquitous. As they should be. I can see why Parisians are such happy people, how could they not be with a sweet supply like this?

*We actually did go to these Parisian favorites and had a great time too. Just needed to drive my point home about the desserts, you know?

Ireland

So, apparently we call the entire island Ireland*, including the Republic of Ireland (the bigger one to the south that uses the Euro) along with North Ireland (the smaller area in the north that is part of the UK). The confusion never ends. But our trip there did!


We arrived in Belfast via ferry from Scotland (2 hrs, internet access on board, excellent) on September 1. We had a rainy, cold two days and three nights in North Ireland during which we took a bus tour around the city (screw a walking tour in this weather), and made a trip out to Giant's Causeway which is the only UNESCO heritage sight and the most popular tourist attraction in North Ireland (and is, incidentally, worth a visit).

On the 4th, we headed down into the Republic of Ireland, which we duly named Regular Ireland. As in, "Where is this place? In North Ireland or Regular Ireland?". And whatever the question was, the answer is probably Regular Ireland since there is far more down here to look at and eat. We spent three days in Dublin, which was not nearly enough but was still certainly fun.

During our travels we have encountered many cities (obviously) and a select few of them just jive with us right away. Dublin is one of these cities. Compact, easy to navigate, friendly, full of restaurants; this is a good place to be.

It is, however, an expensive place to be. We realized this almost immediately and were dismayed to find that this trip just keeps getting more expensive. I thought London would be the height of overpriced lunches and hot chocolates, but I was mistaken. Ireland takes the cake, or perhaps, the beer, as it were.

But moving on from our continual and mildly obnoxious fear of spending our own money, we had an excellent time in Dublin. We met up with my cousin Monique's husband's sister, Maria (a diagram would help, wouldn't it?), who graciously showed us around the city and gave us handfuls of advice on where to go's and what to do's. She's an exceptionally intelligent, interesting, and sweet person and we clicked immediately (at least Kane and I thought so...). And she helped with quite a few recommendations for foods, bars (yep, we went in bars!) and activities around the city. We could certainly spend some more time there; a way cool city indeed.

Then it was over to the west coast to stay in a town called Galway where we did a bit of relaxing and made sure to hit up the magnificent Cliffs of Moher as a day trip. The weather had turned sunny and (relatively) warm and we were happy as seahorses (clams are over rated - and rubbery).
Our last stop in Ireland was the best - Cork, in the south. We had a really great experience in Cork for these reasons: 1) The weather was sunny and warm; 2) Our hotel was plush and had a great view and I got it on sale; 3) The entire region is very beautiful. Granted, 2 of 3 of those reasons were circumstantial, but we won't complain. We spent our days kissing the Blarney Stone at Blarney Castle, taking in the famous views along the Kerry Ring Road, and becoming master whiskey tasters at the Old Jameson Distillery. We meandered through the odd little town of Cork, bought some new books, read, used the internet to our heart's content from the comfort of our hotel room (this is key), and even ordered room service. A truly luxurious end to our stay in this gorgeous country.


Please view the rest of our Ireland pictures here, which shows a bit more thorough run down of our trip through Ireland. For now, we've braved the 19 hour ferry directly from Ireland to France and are enjoying the lights and sound of beautiful Paris (say: Pair-eee)!

*Map courtesy of http://www.teachersparadise.com

Back in Time: Edinburgh Fringe

Let's step back in time for a few paragraphs...to about a month ago when we were in Edinburgh, Scotland. You may recall me discussing our excellent experiences in England and Scotland along with the differences between the terms "United Kingdom", "Great Britain", and "England". Ring any bells? If no, the wonders of bloggular technology will allow you to be whisked back in time and read all about it. Either way, it is a fact that I mentioned the Edinburgh Fringe Festival, albeit briefly, in my exposition about this part of our trip and I had meant to expand a bit.

The Edinburgh Fringe Festival is noted as the world's largest arts festival. It is a city-wide jubilee, if you will, of theater, dance, comedy, music, and anything else you can conceivably do on stage (don't use your imagination too much). To give you a feel for the monstrous size of the event, Wikipedia informs us that "Fringe 2009 sold 1,859,235 tickets for 34,265 performances of 2,098 shows in 265 venues, over 25 days, for an average of over 74,000 admissions and 1,300 performances per day. There were an estimated 18,901 performers, from 60 countries."

So, 1,300 performances per day. Not too shabby for a city of just under half a million. As you might imagine, this thing takes over like Oprah in a bakery. The city is bursting with people passing out fliers, signs pointing to hundreds of venues, and thousands upon thousands of visitors who travel from all around to be entertained by the plentiful performers. And, as luck had it, our visit happened to coincide with all this madness.

I originally thought this might be a bad thing since this festival drives up prices of everything from hotels to happy meals, but I now realize that this may be the best time of year to visit Edinburgh. The city is alive day and night. People are everywhere and are frolicking in a festive kind of way rather than bustling in a business-as-usual fashion. The vibe is electric. Street performers coax you from around every corner. The smell of food fills your nose, the call of street-side vendors fills your ears, and tiny, colorful 4x6 fliers for every kind of show imaginable magically appear in your hands. Artists, actors, mimes, acrobats, comedians - they all converge into one tiny city for three short weeks as the rest of us scurry to gorge ourselves on the open buffet of revelry. It's quite an experience.

Though the "big" shows are sold out far in advance, Kane and I had our eye on a couple shows that we wanted to see. We bought tickets just before they sold out for Stephen K. Amos and then, in typical Kangie style, scoured the internet for someone with extra tickets to Jimmy Carr who was willing to part with them at a reasonable price. And so, we saw these two fine British comedians one night after another, with good seats to boot.

Stephen K. Amos also played at the Melbourne Comedy Festival earlier this year (which we attended heavily) but we were not able to acquire tickets to see him there. He also frequents one of our favorite Aussie shows Good News Week, so we had high hopes for him. Jimmy Carr is relatively famous (mostly in Britain but also some in the US) and was performing in a larger theater that was sold out far in advance. They were both pretty funny, but I have to say that Stephen was the better of the two in my opinion. He had a very personal show and I think, since this was one of his last shows of the festival, he was winging it a lot that night. He even said so. There were some really classic lines and I even got to be made fun of for being an American (I had to cheer when he asked if any Americans were there...).

Jimmy Carr's show was definitely good; it was a very planned, regimented show where you could tell he had everything (except the one hysterical heckler-laugher in the audience) very well rehearsed. Though he did deal with crazy laughing lady quite well, so he can obviously hold his own with the improv. He does happen to be more prone to dirty, uncouth jokes which, though they can be funny, tend to not appeal to me as well. He was still very good and Kane and I were really happy to have acquired tickets.

But, as for my very favorite part of Stephen K Amos's show? I wish I could find a video of it on the interwebs but YouTube is failing me...his intro was two girls doing Beyonce's 'All the Single Ladies' dance (if you don't know it, it's been excessively parodied by the likes of SNL and everyone else on the internet) during which he joins the dance as his segue onto the stage. It was unexpected and hilarious. He was brilliant. Here's a random clip of him since I couldn't find one from the actual show we saw:



And, unfortunately, that was it for our Edinburgh Fringe experience of 2009. I highly recommend visiting this fine city at any time, but the Fringe was definitely a special treat. Yeay for the arts!

On an Unrelated Topic...

My friend Alicia kindly offered to let me post on her blog, and my guest post has been published! I thought I'd brag all about it on my own blog so that everyone can read something that I wrote that is not pertaining to travel or Australia or my bodily functions. Granted, it is still completely and totally about me, myself, and I - so do not fret, it doesn't deviate from your standard reading too terribly much. Someday I will learn to write about thing that actually matter.

Anyway, please check out her blog (it's a good one - she is a damn good writer, what with Masters degrees and all) and check out my article about how I hate to run! Yeay!

Glendalough

Glendalough is a tiny town about an hour and a half south of Dublin. It was a real find for us as we drove across the country to get to our next destination, Galway. It is an old monastic site with an old stone church, a stone tower, and lots of old graves. It was really photogenic and just had a really cool feel to it; hence it gets it's own (albeit brief) blog post. The collage above includes some of the best pics of the small area. Ireland is so pretty!

Healthy Irish Diet

I drank an entire pint of Guinness beer. By myself. Under no duress except that it was free, which is, actually, significant duress for me. It was absolutely repulsive and I am totally amazed that I was able to do it. I hate beer. And, unlike most college students, I refused to rid myself of this innate distaste in my early 20's just so that I could be cooler at parties. I'm not cool and I'm ok with it. No need to torture myself to try to disprove it.

But, in my old age I'm getting quite adventurous. Keep in mind that this is more beer than I have ever drank in my entire life combined. You probably know that I rarely drink anything - it's just not worth the time, effort, or money to me - but never, ever have I drank a beer. But I did it and I hope Ireland can be proud of me because that was almost certainly the last time that it will ever happen. Ever.


On a more enjoyable but even less healthy note, Kane and I finally tried the infamous, the coveted...deep fried Mars bar*. This is where you take a candy bar, batter it in the same stuff that your fish (as in fish 'n chips) is lathered in, and deep fry the whole thing. It sounds a bit gross - and it is, a bit - but mostly it's just a melty ball of chocolatey goo covered in a thin layer of donut. Definitely good, but don't think I'll make a habit of it.

Needless to say, we're having a grand old time in Ireland and they're treating us well (or, at least, just like they treat everyone else). More later!

*A Mars bar is what we in America call a Milky Way.

Sharing with Strangers

There comes a time in every budget traveler's trip where the coveted double room is not available. Where the cost of a real hotel is far too high, and/or the desired town is fully booked. At some point, to save money, a room must be shared with strangers.

Depending on how much money you're trying to save, you may have been sharing rooms all along. Kane and I are far too old for this. We are not 18 anymore. We want our privacy even if it's in a bite-sized room with bunk beds. It's still better than sharing with strangers.

But, here in Dublin, we have arrived in our first quad-share situation. We have a lot of stipulations for the rooms we book (parking, free wifi, under $100AUD/night, etc) and sometimes we have to compromise. Lord knows I would prefer to compromise on price and just pay up the yin yang, but my frugal friend Kane leans toward a less luxurious solution. And so we sometimes stay at less-than-desirable locations.

We won't do a 20-share room with who knows how many drunk children trickling in at all hours in the night. We will, however, go for a 4 or 6 person mixed share room. We've done it before and it isn't so bad. Yesterday we met one of our room mates: a nice Aussie boy (from Sydney) who is traveling around Europe, not unlike us except that he is solo and has many tattoos. Fine with me, seemed like a perfectly nice guy. We have yet to meet our other room mate, all I know of him is that he crept in not long after we went to sleep and put himself quietly to bed. Yeay for nice room mates.

But having nice room mates does not necessarily mean that all room-sharing problems are solved, though we can certainly not be thankful enough for this good fortune. There are still some...bodily function related issues that make room sharing difficult.

Let's face it, Kane and I have been dating for 6 years; we can keep our hands off each other for three nights. But as for unpleasantries such as...how do I say...well, passing gas - each person must do what he or she feels fit when controlling his/her bodily demands in such a situation.

Let's not be shy about it: I've had bad gas for the past 3 days. I'm not sure why but it's not been pleasant. I'm not usually so gassy, but I was dreading the 4-person share room based on this recent affliction, hoping it would pass (no pun intended) in time. And the worst of it did. But last night I still sat in my bunk bed faced with a dilemma.

To fart or not to fart, that is the question. How long can a person hold in gas of ever-increasing pressure? If I were out to dinner or in a public place, sure, I'd make the effort. But all night in my own room? Even if there are other people, need I kill myself for them? I know Kane's answer already: you do what you gotta do. For me it's not so black and white. Not only are his flatulents typically without odor, they are often silent. And even if he does choose to expel a classic whoopee cushion sounding toot, he works the "it had to happen, just ignore it" angle. Which generally works when you're a boy and there are no lasting effects of your indiscretion.

I, however, am a woman. A dainty soul. Ok, maybe not so dainty, but surely no stranger expects to be accosted by a smell so foul from a girl so well-mannered. And how unfortunate would it be to come home to your room after a night out and be forced to dwell in a smell that peels the paint? Here are my options as I see it: 1) Hold everything in, no matter the cost; 2) Let it out of your body but hold it in, sealed for all of time, inside your comforter*; or 3) Let it all the way out.

I'll be frank - I chose against pain for myself and shared with the others. When we went to bed our other two room mates were still out. Therefore my hopes were that one of these three would happen to the expunged gasses: a) They would sufficiently dissipate such that they could not be detected by others by the time they arrived; b) These kind strangers would not have the very keen nose** that I have and would simply not notice the odors that I have bequeathed onto them; or c) They would assume it was Kane. Now, I'm not proud of that last one, but who would you think dealt it - the tidy, small, blond girl peacefully sleeping on the lower bunk or the skin-headed, full-bearded brute of a man folded into the top bunk? Sorry honey, you're guiltier looking than I am for just about anything. But I still love you.

After all the inner turmoil (again, no pun intended though these are getting good) on this personal conflict, I finally fell asleep. Our room mates did come home throughout the night and I will never know if they detected any uncouth smells, or if so, if they would have attributed them to any earthly cause. Whatever the case, I did awaken to a...fully disclosed view of the front side of one of our room mates across the room, so I figure that we're probably even. Ah, the joys of sharing a room.

*This action has a contemporary nomenclature: it is known as the Dutch Oven. Doing it to yourself is probably not the most common of ways to administer this form of punishment, but the fact remains. This is a blog for learning too, remember.

**I have what is known in our family as "The Sommer Nose", which, aside from being bigger than the average nose is also very keen to detect scents. I have noted on many, many occasions being able to smell something that others around me can't. I think Kane's sense of smell (and vision, for that matter) is particularly dull, so I seem even more gifted around him. Haha, I'm better than he is at something! I say that lovingly as I typically live a bit in his shadow (literally and figuratively) as he is: taller, faster, stronger (the obvious), better at math, better at test taking, faster at getting ready in the morning, more patient, more frugal, less irritable, more flexible (not actually physically, I win in that department), more frequently rational, better at reaching high shelving and changing light bulbs, better at making things, fixing things, and troubleshooting, better with computers, cats, and fitting into small spaces, sleeps more soundly, regulates body temperature better, flips pancakes better, rides motorcycles more confidently, folds shirts more neatly...