The Ether Bunny

So after the wonderful adventure in Rome, Mike came back to Vienna with me, where dear Emily was waiting for us.  We had the most lovely spring break week juggling and looking at Important Buildings and enjoying the weather and eating kebabs.  Mmmmm!  (Pictoral Evidence for Various Blog-Reading Moms here)

On Thursday night, the three of us plus Nikki hopped on a bus to Prague.  We spent all of Friday there, exploring and drinking Pilsners and getting sucked into tourist traps.  We also spent a significant amount of time trying to get a good jumping picture in front of the John Lennon wall.  Sigh... 

Guess we all know who's the weakest link.  Anyway, Prague was pretty darn cool (and here are a few pictures to prove it).  We walked across Charles Bridge, juggled in front of Wenceslas Square, and so on.  Unfortunately, since we were only there for the day, we had to nix the pilgrimage to the Prague Metronome, a giant metronome overlooking the city.  A giant, functional metronome.  Don't worry, Prague.  I'm coming back!

Later Friday night, we took the night train to Krakow.  Funny story about the Prague-to-Krakow night train: it's pretty sketchy.  As in, a "Best Places to Lose Your Valuables" list includes this very train among its top 6 sketchiest places.  A few travel forums offer helpful tips like keeping the window cracked so that you don't get gassed (!!!) and pillaged by notorious train robbers.  Others suggest fashioning complicated MacGyver-style anti-lock-picking devices to keep the train conductor (who is almost certainly in cahoots with the thieves and being bribed to betray his passengers) from opening your door while you sleep.  

Despite not knowing whether or not we would wake up in the morning (and with or without our moneybelts), I think it's safe to say the four of us lived up the night train experience.  We played MASH, folded and unfolded the seats with reckless abandon, ate Czechoslovakian cookies, told stories, stuck our heads out the windows, and generally fell in love with the gold-and-maroon 4' x 6' space that we made our home for the night.  

The very best thing about night trains is... you wake up in a new country!  When 6 a.m. came, completely well-rested and not at all stiff, grumpy, disoriented or smelly, we happily bounded from our little bunks.  "Good morning, Krakow!" we chirped like little Polish birdies.  Well, basically.  And we didn't get robbed!  Or, as my dad put it, we didn't get a "visit from the Ether Bunny."  

To Be Continued...

Can I Call This Post "When In Rome..."?

Or maybe "Roma!" or "Rome-in' Around?"  

Or maybe not?

Anyway, I went to Rome.  It was more wonderful than I ever could have imagined.  I saw beautiful old things, gawked at beautiful people, ate delicious food, saw nuns, visited museums and churches, walked a lot, saw the Colosseum and the Forum, drank wine in piazzas, climbed St. Peter's, and ate gelato after (and sometimes before) every meal.  Including breakfast.  

Pictures hardly do it justice, but if you are so inclined please click here and take a gander.  And I could write about the trip until I get carpal tunnel and your eyes dry out, but there is just simply too much to say.  So instead of giving you a play-by-play of my itinerary, I instead present to you:

Rome According to Whitney:

A Short Collection of Miracles

The Miracle of the Coronas

So the first night in Rome, Ellen and I were at the Trevi fountain (which, as a side note, seemed way less "ancient Rome!" than it did "Sea Woooooorld!" but that's okay) awaiting the arrival of the rest of our fellow Roman travelers.  The weather was perfect, there were people all about, the water was splashing in the background, and we were so content to sit on the ledge and dangle our feet.  

"Do you know what would be perfect right now?" Ellen asked. "Two ice cold Coronas." (I know, I know, Coronas in Europe?  But the setting called for them.  I promise.)

"Brought to us on a platter by two beautiful Italian men!" I added.

We sighed.  

Approximately three seconds later, Ellen turned her head.  "Are those... Coronas?"

No.  Way.

We turned around, and seating directly behind us were two men on a bench.  

Dark, handsome men.  

Tall, dark, handsome, young, Italian men.  

Holding Coronas.  

I wish I could say "and the rest is history!" but we were feeling bashful/jet lagged/non-Italian-speaking, plus I promised Mom I wouldn't come back from Europe married and/or with child... so the following clandestine picture is all I can give you as a resolution to this story.  But what a story it is!

The Miracle of the Orange Tree

Later the same night of the Miracle of the Coronas, we met up with Mike and decided to stroll around the city some more.  I'm sure Rome is great at any time of the year, but Rome is especially great in the springtime.  The flowers were blooming, the weather was phenomenal, and there were trees just dripping with oranges everywhere!  

There was one particular row of orange trees that Ellen and I had passed a few hours before.   The oranges looked so delicious and juicy, but of course any that were within arm's reach had been snatched up already, leaving only the ones at the very tops of the trees.  Seeing as we are neither giraffes nor Jerome Jordan, we were resigned to walking back home empty-handed.  As we wandered by again with Mike, I pointed up to the trees.

"Gahhhh I wish one would just fall!" I said.

We took approximately two steps.  

"Thunk," an orange said, as it fell to the ground.

We all stared stupidly until Mike finally said, "One just fell down!" (thanks Mike!) and scooped it up.  We then attempted to recreate the magic via digital camera, but it's good to know that I have the power of making fruit fall from trees.

The Miracle of Papa Benedetto

So we were in Rome during Palm Sunday... pretty exciting.  I was disappointed when I read online that your bishop has to request tickets for papal Mass months in advance, but I thought perhaps we could still attend the blessing of the palms on Sunday morning.

"Do you know anything about the blessing of the palms or Mass at St. Peter's?" I asked the hostel-guy.  

"No," he said.  ("Oh," I said.)  "Except I do have these extra tickets to attend, if you want them or something," he said.  ("Uhhhh," I said.)

So basically, five beautiful yellow tickets to Palm Sunday Mass with the Pope landed in our hands.  Just like that.  

Mass itself was incredible.  Two bazillion people were squished into St. Peter's square and we all celebrated together in every language and dear Papa Benedetto took a victory lap around in the Popemobile afterwards.  

The Miracle of the Nutella Latte

Scene: Afternoon, in a park outside the Borghese Gallery in Rome.  Ellen and Whitney, having had to forgo breakfast in order to participate in a ridiculous art-gallery-searching-goose-chase that morning, are famished.  They order sandwiches and are just about to pay when something else catches their attention: Nutella lattes! "Yum," they think, and order one apiece.

Scene: Five minutes later, at a cafe table.  The waiter gives each girl a mug of frothy steamed milk.  Smiling deviously, he produces a 5 kg (no really) jar of Nutella.  (Five kilograms.  That's like eleven pounds.  That's like... a baby.)  Using both hands, he unscrews the hubcab-sized lid and inserts a giant ladle.  One man-fist-sized blob of Nutella splashes into Whitney's mug, one into Ellen's.  He hands them spoons and smiles.  

Scene: Twenty minutes later, in the grass.  Whitney and Ellen lay paralyzed by hazlenut-overdose.  They smile.  "We like Rome," they decide.  

It's Pretty Outside

and I am too busy being warm for once in my life to blog.

How was that for the worst post ever? More to come soon, I promise.

Cookie Girl Storms Germany

Some of you may remember dear Tobi, our lieblings-exchange-student-ever-in-the-whole-world who stayed with us when he came to Tulsa for a couple of weeks in high school.  

Tobi always promised that I would have a place to stay if I ever found myself in Europe.  Well, ladies and gentlemen, it just so happens that, five years later, I have found myself in Europe!  So I sent Tobi an e-mail, booked myself a ticket to Stuttgart, packed up my trusty neon-orange duffel, and headed west for the weekend.  

Tobi was so kind as to pick me up at the train station, and we picked up right where we left out.  Not too much has changed in five years.

By "not too much," I mean that Tobi has not cut his hair since we saw him last.  

It's officially longer than mine by several inches.  

Why the long hair, you may ask?  Wellllll, there are lots of things that long hair is good for.  Braiding, for example, or combing.  OR HEADBANGING.  

True story: Tobi is in the most hardcore band in all of the provincial town of Böblingen, I am pretty sure.

Tobi's the guitarist on the left.  I'm the girl in front of the stage with the corset.  Hah!  Just kidding.  But I sure wish I was her.

Anyway, don't let this hardcore facade fool you.  Tobi is still as sweet and goofy as ever and was a great host.  We walked around Böblingen, hung out with the love-of-my-sixteen-year-old-life Andre, ate deeeelicious Schwäbian food and drank deeeeeelicious German beer, and took lots of juggling pictures.  We even got to visit his sister in Tübingen, the cutest little university town about 20 minutes from Böblingen.  Look how precious!

The rest of the weekend was spent eating his mom's delicious food, going to the Stuttgart zoo, visiting museums, listening to music, and speaking Germanglish.  

Tobi also got a new guitar while I was there, so of course we needed to break it in.  What better way than to teach Tobi "Cookie Girl?"  Well, one thing let to another, and before I knew what was happening, it was being translated into German.  And you can't just make something that beautiful without recording it... so I now present to you the international sensation "Keksmädl!"

Baaaahahhaha.  And then when we were done, we translated one of his hilarious German songs about a bearded lady into English.  We are really the poster children for inter-cultural exchange.  

It was obviously just a most wonderful weekend, and I was quite sad to leave.  However, Tobi's mom had just the thing to make my train ride home absolutely magical.  Did I mention she works in a chocolate factory?  Well, she does.  And not only does she work in a chocolate factory, but she was so kind as to send me home with some chocolate.  And not only did she send me home with some chocolate, she sent me home with a TOTE BAG full of chocolate.  I kid you not.  "Here's one of every flavor ever," she said sweetly as she handed over the most magical gift in the entire world.  

Cookie Girl and her roommates, of course, are pleased.  To put it mildly.  

Whitney And Her Mom Eat Vienna

 

My mom visited me last week!  It was just wonderful.  But she also brought bad weather with her.  THANKS A LOT MOM.  We had such a lovely time, though, truly.  She took lots of pictures (here!) and bought me lots of groceries.  She might be the best mom in the whole world.  I am sure she can tell you all about it, but we really did just have the loveliest time:

eating cookies 

drinking tea 

eating Wiener Schnitzel 

drinking wine 

eating apple strudel 

shopping at the Naschmarkt 

eating dried coconut

visiting castles 

eating pineapples

drinking Radlers 

eating Mario's pizza 

watching operas 

eating kebabs 

drinking Glüwein 

eating strawberries 

shopping at H & M

eating pretzel bread

cooking lots of yummy food

eating Käsekreiners...

Good thing I made her walk so much this week, or she might have had to get a sealtbelt extender on the plane home.  Mmmmm God bless Vienna.

A Battle of Wills

Scene: Vienna train station, afternoon.  It's snowing.  A young woman, WHITNEY, steps up to the ticket counter, eyes shining and crisp bills clenched tight in her hand.  A ruddy-faced Viennese railway worker, RICHARD, is on the other side of the counter sporting his official vest, tie, and train-shaped-tie-clip.  

WHITNEY (in painfully slow but clear German): I would like to please purchase a ticket to Stuttgart for tomorrow morning.

RICHARD (in normal-person-speed German): Blah blah blah, important details, et cetera.

WHITNEY: Ja, ja, okay.

RICHARD: [unintelligible, convoluted, and supersonic-speed German]

WHITNEY: Huh?

RICHARD: [same thing, only I'm pretty sure faster this time]

WHITNEY: Huh?

RICHARD: [same thing again.  Lightning speed!]

WHITNEY: Uhhmm.... ja?

RICHARD (smiling knowingly, leaning forward, and whispering in perfect English): You know, we could actually speak English if you like.

WHITNEY: [cries]

Curtain.

But seriously, this happens all the time.  The Wieners are truly kind and will listen to me butcher their language up to a certain point, but there inevitably comes a time when their desire to conduct business and/or life at a normal pace surmounts my desire to practice my German.  Sigh.  

Super-Freunde

Just in case anyone was wondering, I have the most fantastic friends in the whole wide world.  

Exhibit A: Every time I open my mailbox or my e-mail inbox, there is some wonderful note from some wonderful friend halfway across the ocean.  This is the Hall of Fame that is (illegally) taped on my wall so I can look at it every single day.

Exhibit B:  My beautiful friends wake up early in the morning on FRIDAYS and WEEKENDS even so that I can see their beautiful faces on Skype.  

Sometimes I get to talk to lots of people at once and even occasionally dogs like Lester...

and even though sometimes they don't seem too happy to see me...

and other times they just plain fall asleep...

...I am still infinitely grateful for their love and know they will just smile and laugh when they find out that their web-cam-captured faces are plastered across the World Wide Web.  

Exhibit C:  They will forgive me for the small number of blog posts lately.  I blame midterms and the visiting mom.  I promise wonderful, magical updates soon.  Love you all!