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This is my love for you.

3/31/2015

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I am sitting here desperately trying to connect to the wi-fi. I woke up from a sad dream and I need contact with reality. It's around 4 in the morning and I am wide awake. I hate when I have a spell of dreams so vivid, sleeping becomes kind of scary. 

I am not expelling enough toxins. I know this, I have had this before. I have little bumps on my body and I think that all the water I drank yesterday is trying to wash me free. 

I haven't slept well in days and I may be reacting to the Lemongrass oil I've been using to cure my congestion. Our train leaves for Madrid at 6:45. If we miss it, I'll go the next day. I need to run. 

I have too much built up ness that I need to process. I saw a shoe store down the street and I know my way around Granada enough now to know where to go. I need to sweat, I need to exfoliate, brush my hair and shower. I need to find a bookstore, I need some colored pencils, I need to listen to all the music I wish was on my playlists. I would love to collage. I don't know what I would make, but a spiderweb just popped into my head. 




That could be cool. That could be done here.  I could sew it into the paper or I could use nails around a piece of wood with some string. 




(You know you are an artist when you miss the Home Depot.) 




I feel like I need to make a fraction of my time useful. It is interesting to meet people along the way that are waiting for passion to find them. They are good, smart, and valuable people, but comfortable with taking their time. I am not in a rush, trust me, but I've always been a fast walker. 

Maybe this is what I meant by missing multi-tasking the most...expelling the high strung creative side of me through serving, or bartending, or running, or collaging, or doing all of those things in one day. 

Writing has always proven useful to me, but it's only one outlet, and half the time it doesn't even leave your notes.

This Australian girl, who we met in Tarifa, is a Security Analyst in Milan (fancy)..."What do you do?" she asks. I tell her that, "I am an artist and I know how it can sound, but it's cool." She listens and says, "Oh, you sound self conscious about it."




(Naturally, I find her annoying, but she has made me think.)

I don't mean to make her seem mean, or demeaning, and I don't want to act like I was terribly offended or anything, but that never has crossed my mind. I see my description as though I have enough confidence in my art to defend it. I guess I don't want to seem like that person, waiting for their passion to find them. 

I just read this article about whether or not you are, "Waiting for your wish or living your dream?" I thought that it was a powerful idea and I still don't know. I think about my art studio and how alive it made me and now it's a place for Driver's Ed...someone else's dream. 

Maybe some of my pent up whatever-ness is due to that it's my time to choose if being an artist will be a wish, or a long lost dream. 



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Spain has been beyond beautiful to us. Friendly people and amazing scenery. Granada was one of the coolest places I have ever been. Mountains on mountains overlooking an old cobblestone town. A place where castles, gypsies, and tapas are normal. We enjoyed wine and surprise dishes with each glass. The idea is so cool, social, and delicate. It's a time to spend with friends, food, and lots of laughter.

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Madrid was cool too. Definitely more wide spread and populated compared to Granada. A beautiful hostel with comfy beds and a new friend, who we happened to call Mommy. A pub crawl showed us around town and a headache rose with the sun.

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A short stop in Barcelona never hurt anyone, yet I am excited to go to France in the morning. We definitely didn't hold up our end of the bargain and have continued to eat bread...a lot of bread...but it's okay. We found some (tacky) running shoes that do the trick. 

We keep talking about doing laundry and planning out the next week or two, but it never happens. We pick a place and we go, accepting new "X's" on fresh maps. 

Accomplishments of many kinds will rest in our memories of Spain. A month of travel approaches and new countries welcome us. I am not self conscious this evening, but I am curious. Curious where this trip will take me and who it will make me. 


Ps. If my cousins are reading this, someone please tell Grandmom I have been thinking about her and I am at her house in my dream!!

P.s.s. I want to give a shoutout to Kristin. I love you, I am proud of you, and I am lucky to be traveling with you. Keep singing songs and you stay beautiful! (I feel and I fear and YOU CAN break away!)


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My shadow...my shadow

3/24/2015

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It's such a circle, how we can feel so many ways, in a small amount of time.

(I dedicate this to the moon.)

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It was always in the plan to go to Tangier, and then some advice given to Kristin and I made us question a deeper trip into Morocco. I was feeling fine about it, but people were always 50/50. I expected beggars and annoyances, but...get me back to the ferry.

We are lost and children are trying to lead us the way for money. A man tells me, "To put my hand back in my pocket where it belongs," as I ask him, "To leave us alone!" 


I want to begin a trip with risk, not fear. 

I want to lead with curiosity, not annoyance. 

Its innate to me, worrying about what you can't control. 

(What I should of been able to.)


Kristin saves the day and gets us to the hostel. The guy asks how many nights, I say none, get me back to Tarifa. He looks at me with sadness. I am just tired, hungry, and a little seasick. 

One night. 

I feel disappointed in myself, as we get settled. I walk down the many staircases with a faint smile and thank him for his kindness. 


(I feel like a brat.)


We leave the hostel and begin walking down so many paths it is like one of my favorite childhood games, Labyrinth. 

If I don't focus on the people's words, spirit finds me. 

Beautiful details, cobblestone streets, patterns on patterns, saturated in beautiful patterns. 

We are a little lost, yet a nice lady, with what seems to be her grandmother, leads the way. 


Thank you so much. (Maybe it is not so bad.)


We walk around the square, just saying, "No!" to everyone. After lunch, or just a couple bites of food for me...kids steel our tip from the table, and one clings to Kristin's side. I see an older fellow, promoting a restaurant look at the kids in disgust.

Our map is at the hostel, and I am just in culture shock. 

We have an idea of where we are going, but just make a minor wrong veer to the left.  All of a sudden a man approaches me and I just say, "No thanks."


"Fuck you...Don't treat me like an animal. This is my country, be polite. I hope you get AIDS."

I never even saw this man before he says this to me. 

I don't agree with the disrespect and I want to look past it. 

(Chefchaouen is a beautiful place.)

A new friend in Spain, was Moroccan. The night before in the hostel, music from the Arabic culture played and it was more than beautiful. Advice on places to go was thorough and I just felt so bad that I couldn't get myself to do it.


"Spice girls," people yelled at us down the alley, "Yes, Spice girls," I think.  

Girl power. 


(We walked to the beach and restaurants later, getting kisses, winks, and close follows back to the hostel.)


I didn't sleep much that night between guilt and anxiousness...(and a little lack of wine.) 

In the morning, I laid in my bed listening to the beautiful music and prayers from a Mosque down the street being played for all to hear. I am mad at myself for steering us away from culture and chaos, but I am happy to find my way back to Spain.


(No way we could go to the beach in Tangier!)


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We settled back to our friends in Tarifa and watched the surfers that afternoon. I decided that waves crash too, to cycle back for a moment of peace, before they experience another journey to the shore.   

I understand Tangier is not the best place to experience Morocco and the kindness from our new friend is reassuring. He hates the beggars as much as we do, but to remember the artistry and passion of their culture. 

I don't want to acquire more baggage with the decision of only staying one night. I am not sure if I place it with the organic, glass, or the plastics, but I hope it goes to a place where it's repurposed.

One day I'll meet the heart of Morocco, but mine is just not there yet.  

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Kristin and I are now on a train to Granada. We know there is a castle and we have an urge to "fike."

We spent this morning watching the sunrise over Africa deciding that we are quitting bread until we get to France...(yeahhhh).

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Given that our blood is just like the Atlantic.

3/20/2015

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Kristin is laying in bed, not feeling well and I am walking down an off the beaten path type of road. The rain is starting to fall again and I am thinking about the last couple of years of my life. 


The sky is growing cloudier and a darker shade of grey. 


My energy has been low all day. We had in depth conversations with a new friend Ben, and something about it is bothering me. 

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I want Kristin to feel better, but I am okay with the alone time. 


I'm really proud of myself. 


(The stars shined really bright last night.)


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I am proud of all I have forgiven myself for, for all the tears and smiles. For the triumphs, money, and new friendships. In honor of the growth of my friends and family. In excitement for the summer of weddings, music, and warmth. 


I'm not sure if it is a tear or a raindrop but it makes me look up...a rainbow.

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I go back to the hostel in awe. Kristin needs some ginger tea and I would like a glass of wine. Errands are ran and I settle down to read my book. The rain has cooled things down and the clouds are tired. The sun's siesta is over and I move my chair to it. 


The rainbow again. 

Our hostel mates have turned on a movie, but I decline the invite. 


I kind of chug my glass of wine, and I go. I don't really know where I am going to go, but I go. 


My heart is so full, I am hanging out with the sun and colors.

I head to the beach thinking of all that both Kristin and I have overcome and all that we have. How lucky we are to have each other and for a day like today...to experience homesickness mixed with passion. 

I get to the most beautiful beach, and do the best handstand of my life...

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Buses and an unexpected night in Seville await, but it is okay. Old playlists comfort and inspire me. 

We finally made it to Tarifa...(I am on the bus, praying its an actual place)...it is, and it's beautiful. 

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Mountains hug you and the beach tells you it's alright. 


We practice more handstands on the Atlantic, yet, watch waves crash in the Mediterranean. 


I don't have a story to tell this evening, but it is nice, to just share my bliss

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Are you dead or are you sleeping?

3/17/2015

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I am deep into my dream. I'm putting my backpack into my locker and I am happy to be in the company of my friend. Bob is explaining to me about how the new counter girls are slow, but we have oatmeal milk...




I wake up thinking about Gregory, a nice gentleman that passed on my last journey to Europe. 



I get out of my bed thinking (in real life), where is my phone?



A text, from Bob. 



Mr. Shaffer has passed. 




Intuition is real.

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Tears, which I allow to flow freely from my little eyes, don't come.

They want to, but I am in shock. 

Grandfathers are foreign to me....friends are frequent. 

I feel bad I didn't get more information out of him. He was so dapper, charming and alive. 

We sit on this beach, chatting about how death is always associated with tragedy...not today...

It is such an honorable sadness.

Thank you Mr. Shaffer, for kissing my hand and making me feel important.

Thank you for teaching me that charm requires substance. 

I believe we return to the sun... it makes sense now why no one bothered our view. 


(Being human is the real fear.)


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Lisbon has been beyond beautiful. The sun warmed my skin and we adopted a friend named Nathanael. We went to the beach each day and watched the biggest waves I have ever seen crash upon the shore. 


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Kristin cooked spaghetti that Italians are jealous of, and I washed the dishes. The sun has taken most of our energy and we discuss our need for b-12.

Today we are going to Sagres, 3 hours from Lisbon. I know we take a bus, but my sense of urgency is still putting its stuff in a locker on the loading dock.

(I contemplated putting sand at the bottom of my boots, so I am just always at the beach, but it doesn't seem like a great idea.)

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My creative side is trying really hard to be quiet but someone stole my notebook...so we are out of outlets. (I should of bought 2 adapters).

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I can hear the rain falling now and I love the rain. Kristin and I have been laughing so hard, just about everything. It may be nice to experience a little grey. Maybe we will limit ourselves to only like 8 jokes a day...(I am working hard to only eat 3 pieces of bread at our beautiful breakfast hosted by the hostel).


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It's cool to know this trip has already changed my life. 

I have met kind people and my dad asked me to lead with kindness.

It has made me realize, I am growing up...(stop pestering me to go to the pub crawl...I hate that it ends at a night club).

Most importantly, it has given me time to practice my handstands, which I value...maybe I'm not grown up?

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It has given me the chance to be saturated in  rain on a Tuesday in Lisbon.

The coast of Portugal is my path, and please, no one tell the Appalachian.

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I hope everyone is doing well...I miss my friends...(and family)...but I keep thinking how lucky I am to have such good friends...


Talk to you in Sagres...we are staying in a beach hostel. 

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Where did all the passion go?

3/14/2015

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I felt bad disturbing the nice gentleman in the isle seat. I can't tell if he loves or hates my knotty pony tail, but I stand up to use the restroom anyway. He and his friend converse from across the isle and his nicely maintained bald spot bothers me as he so graciously replies, "Your welcome," as I sit back down. I don't mean to make notes on his looks, but my own. 

I felt annoyed as I got set aside to be searched at the airport. It was even more annoying to be given back my own bag, comforting it's embarrassment, as we waited for Kristin's.

Ironically, it was the conditioner that held up hers. The girl, about our age, searching her bag was probably thinking to herself, "Why carry this if you don't even use it?..."

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Today we are tired, we indulged in a little too much champagne, and I am definitely a little delusional about the idea of prince Harry. 

An order of fish and chips has interrupted are vegetable based diet, and I just feel kind of sad.

It is a healthy sadness.

(Kristin's brother and my sister are a couple, and their family is moving to NC).


It is hard to just say, "Peace out", as our niece Sage says. 


(I go back to the bald spot, which is so symbolic.)


My dad struggles with this idea, but it just happens over time, and time has gifted us with good memories and a renewed respect for each other.  I feel so much admiration, happiness, and pride for my sister as her family prepares to move, but I also mirror the sadness of my parents.

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It's cool, thinking about an essay I wrote in high school focusing on the "extended definition" of a certain subject...I chose distance.

(I think this is why I am a runner...it's a circle.)

I have never felt so close to my mom, my sister, Sage, or my dad. We are strong enough now to know that this distance is what we need..."it's the time we took." It bonds and inspires us.

My heart doesn't hurt for any of us, it feels proud that we have each other.

Thank you distance, for teaching me.....I have no idea how to use a compass...

Thank you distance, for reminding me that love is reciprocated. I don't only thank you for all that I am, but all that you will make me. 


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Back to London...

It is expensive. Kristin and I explored the first day, seeing the Parliament buildings, Buckingham palace, and a ton of side streets on our "fike".  We got back to the hostel early-ish and settle down to play cards and chill.  The hostel is nice. Big brick walled areas with a bar. It's a rustic feel, with huge screens to watch soccer...how nostalgic...

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Yesterday, after some research, we found our way to a "free" beer tasting event. It was so cool, local beer from London, Britain beers, and even some imports....Flying Dog made the cut.

 As we stood in line, we couldn't help but crack up, we were the youngest people there. Kristin insisted it was Fifty Shades of Grey, yet no movie theater in site. After a few drinks and many, many, many stares from grandfathers, we found some friends. This cute gentleman was holding a beer, while drinking another. I asked him if it was necessary at an event like this to be double fisting beers, but his brother was soon to catch up with us.

We listened intently to the history they shared....their dad was born in like 1881 or something crazy! We also laughed as they mentioned the red lights in a near by area, enlightening us about the looks we were receiving...


It was a fun afternoon and I felt good about finding unexpected tour guides

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Today we were feeling sluggish and hungry...we have decided traveling would be much easier without this nagging feeling. 

We set off to a beautiful breakfast place we found down the street. Farm fresh eggs, poached with hollandaise sauce and avocados. Our tea steeped, and we committed to going to see the actual Fifty Shades of Grey, before language interrupts our opportunity. Yeah yeah, that's not what we should do in London, but we were so busy preparing our lives for two months away, we didn't get a chance before we left. 

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The people at the desk in the hostel are essentially useless and I would love to give them some advice about the service industry...but I smile and think, "thanks for nothing..."

With a tiny circle on my map, we decided to walk to the movie theater/cinema. Our freshly brushed hair was conquered by the wind, but we were so happy to walk over beautiful bridges and by the water. We found our way to London bridge (not so beautiful) and by a parade. A lady we passed was on the phone, telling someone that, "She just saw royalty!"  My heart sank a little...what a bummer for Prince Harry...he missed me and my perfectly wind blown hair...

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We passed Saint Paul's Cathedral and more beautiful streets with urban people enjoying beers at the pubs. It was so cool, I felt terrible about my outfit, but I envied their city lives...making money and friends. 

We finally made it to the theater, and the movie was good, true to the book. I thought about the author and how happy she must feel, and we began our walk back to our hostel. We commuted home with people, over the London bridge and by the water again. The sun was setting and it feels good knowing we are heading to it tomorrow. Portugal awaits us, if we can find the airport

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Last night we got caught drinking wine from mugs in the bar area, so this evening we are confined to the kitchen area. We will play cards, talk, and feel proud of ourselves. Our families are experiencing change and we embrace it. We are fortunate to be here, to be supported by friends, family and each other. So thank you to everyone, and thank you to distance for the inspiration we feel and see as we travel.

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p.s..stay tuned to see what happens with our train tickets...they should be fine, but we didn't get the appropriate "activation stamp" before our first trip.

p.s.s....we made it to the airport.

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Rick Steves says, "Drink two glasses of ice less orange juice a day!"
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Plants need water to grow..

3/9/2015

8 Comments

 

Here we sit wrapping mushrooms, green onions, and avocado in spinach leaves. Our boxed wine is refreshing after another day of hiking, or "fiking" as I am starting to call it.......fake hiking (Kristin has a different term then fake...)

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Bergen has been kind to us so far. The rain hasn't saturated into our shoes and jackets just yet.

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Bergen is young and stylish. There is so much character. The colorful houses make the weather seem less grey. Yesterday the sun tried so hard to shine and when it did we found our way to it. The brief moments of blue sky connected all the dots...this is why they accept the challenge of winter and a rainy spring...

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As a lover of hiking, part of me is mad at myself for visiting at this time of year. Mostly everything is closed and all you can look at are brochures of beautiful trails or summer activities. Part of me is happy though. It has created an absolute desire to come back, but it has allowed me to see it how it truly is. Our train ride was a little more than 7 hours from Oslo to here and it was wild. We started in greenery and went through so many landscapes, I was seriously glued to the window. Every twenty minutes you were rounding another bend to a whole different setting. At one point a snow covered fjord was home to a lake hidden beneath snow, through the next tunnel, a warming green mountain, with its water source shedding its winter skin. We passed through the highest train stop in Europe, which happens to be a ski resort, and the next town, with houses literally covered in snow...I saw someone get off the train, thinking they are insane for living there.

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 Which brings us to Bergen, a vibrant, artistic city working hard to conquer the current season. They have insulated their scattered gardens with pine tree branches, and sure enough, little flowers are starting to grow. Stone walls line the twisting and turning roads. We spent our first day working our way to a path in the mountain that we saw people on. There were series of steps that led to other paths and some led to houses. It was a challenge to get to the maze of trails, but we finally made it.

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Even the slate is alive on these trails.  The moss insulates them and keeps them warm. They help the melting snow navigate their way down the mountain. We hike along side locals breathing in the clean, but cold air. The paths are established, they are heavily traveled.  I was thinking about home a little bit, but I kept going back to the same thought. Who would be scared of this?

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We were talking about how Americans are at such a disadvantage because we don't grow up with more than one language ( I get it, some do, but speaking for Kristin and I). I think it creates a fear to explore. I don't want to undermine violence, theft, or responsibilities that inhibit the get up and go, but if you are able and don't allow yourself to take a risk, what are you doing?


The idea can be intimidating, but to me the unexpected is intriguing. Traveling is diving into the unexpected. 


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You never know who you will meet, where a path will take you, or even how to get back to that path. I told Bob before I left that I would miss multitasking the most, but I am understanding now, that is all traveling is. It's trying to balance who I was, what I am doing, all my things, and what I envision. It is about keeping busy, compromising, and being okay with surprise.  It's letting go of your ego and taking picture of something you think is pretty, even if it makes you look like a tourist.


It's about laughing with these Chinese girls about how big the crabs are here, and then them giving us each a claw to try. 


 It's about trying to bring a box of wine into a museum and searching through change for 10 Kronos to lock it in a locker, so you can be mesmerized by Picasso.


 It's about budgeting, time management and vulnerability.


It's about stumbling upon a rally in honor of Women's day in the main square.


It's about inviting our hostel-mate to hike up to the capital with us and for her to say she felt inspired by us and to verbalize why our friendship has lasted 12 years. 


It's about recognizing that inspiration is mutual.

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The sun is shining now and I am thankful I have seen Bergen in literally, so many different lights. I thank you Bergen for reminding me that traveling is so much more than going to a place, and that nice people are all around you.

8 Comments

A short stop-so others can embark.

3/6/2015

7 Comments

 

The double espresso was bitter and the wifi was slow. We finally made it to Oslo...now what? I can't remember passwords I never created so I must be patient. I wait for my email to buzz so I can continue to the next step. Our energy is low, it's like the plane has used us for fuel. The drinks in Boston probably didn't help, but I really give it to the baby screaming behind us. I wanted to tell him it was okay, and that I too, was disappointed the wing blocked most of the view from the window. 

We finally got a screen shot of where we needed to go, but we decided to take a loop around the city first. We bundled up, buckled in our backpacks, and picked a direction. The trees were first to grab our attention. Their silhouettes stood strong and proud, welcoming us to the city. Then the architecture, the detail on the doors and buildings is so intricate. Every place has large windows, I envy the natural light. The city is quiet, there are very few cars, as there are so many forms of public transportation

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We walked all the way to what we later find out is the King's castle to take a rest on the steps. It was impossible not to unzip your jacket and be surprised by the amount of green grass. You can see the port in the distance and the air was clean and warm. We laughed, expecting grey skies and mounds of snow, it was a nice day to meet spring. We along with so many other people looked to the sky and embraced the sun's nourishment. The beautiful day was what we needed and the time outside was rejuvenating.

We toured a fortress that overlooked the water and watched ferries make their way to the fjords. Lunch was overdue and then we journeyed to our hostel. It was nice to get settled in, get some groceries, and some pear cider. The no alcohol sign hiding at the hostel desk was a little disappointing, but two mugs never felt more important

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A hike in the morning couldn't come soon enough, but first I must battle sleep. I am laying here, surprised it's only midnight, I swear I went to sleep hours ago. Worry finds me in these moments and I try not to let it. My heart feels a little guilty when I think of all the time I am taking off. I understand that empowerment has created a connection, but also a weakness. I must remind myself that breaking routine holds so much value. I have moved from my bunk to the common area, where I happen to sit with the moon. Tonight it is full but I know it's ever changing, and I realize so am I. 

I am ready to continue exploring, but I appreciate moments like these...moments when you realize that, you are the journey. 



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Today's hike was beautiful/Norway is beautiful. We took the subway to a place called Sognsvann. Not knowing what to expect, it was reassuring when people with skis kept boarding the train. Surprisingly, we found it is a campus for a local university, a frozen lake, and many paths of cross-country skiing trails. 

In the beginning we are on the same path with the skiers and are secretly following a lady that looks like she knows what she is doing. We follow her into woods with super tall evergreen trees and one that I swear to be the child of a willow and a sycamore tree. Creeks with mini waterfalls and the sun peeking through trees created a magical quality. I was convinced that we were crossing paths with the set of Twilight...but Edward Cullen doesn't have a man bun, so he wouldn't fit in here... 

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I felt so happy to be outside and hiking especially after tossing and turning all night (refer back to the double espresso). The path led us deeper and deeper into the woods and snow. We eventually lost sight of the lady...or she ditched us...but we just kept following the red trail. We hiked higher up into the mountain, but the footsteps never faded.  There were paw prints of little dogs and one massive shoe print every once and a while. I found comfort when we popped over each hill to a path already set for us, until I convinced myself one print belonged to a bear.

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Eventually we accepted we were lost. A nice gentleman just taking a stroll through the mountains helped guide us to the right path.  We followed the cross country skiers the whole way back to the lake. It was amazing to see these people work their way up the hills, and then fly down them. People of all ages, just taking their time, breathing in fresh air and working out their bodies. I admire the outdoorsy active mindset, it makes me crave a good run.

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We headed back to the hostel and got settled, showered, and organized. We took the tram into the city for a few last hours. It was nice to sit at outside tables with heaters and watch the people go by. I enjoyed my time in Oslo...even though we learned that practically everyone is from Sweden...it was like a small New York City...expensive yet exciting.

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We are on the train to Bergen now, still hunting for the northern lights and still trying to understand Norwegian money.  


p.s Matt Manning...if you are reading this, we met your twin. 

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