The Happiest Place on Earth

I had big plans for my blog posts about Paris.  There was a compare/contrast between Disneyland Paris and Disneyland Hong Kong – maybe even a Venn Diagram.  But oh dear Lord, it was boring. So I wrote and wrote, and the more I wrote, the less interesting it got.  So instead I’m going to finish out the Europe trip in a typical half-ass manner with some photos and captions:

"Bienvenue" | "Welcome" -- so international.

Can't you just feel the magic??

The highlight of any Disney trip: Space Mountain

Boo doesn't do roller coasters, so I rode this bad boy solo.  Now this was my first time to ride a roller coaster by myself so I wasn't sure of the proper etiquette.  A girl about my age sits next to me and we're waiting for it to start.  We sit and sit and finally I venture some conversation:

Lori:  "Soooo... are you nervous?

Girl: Blank stare

Lori: "Soooo... do you speak English?"

Girl:  "No."

Lori:  "Welp, good luck!"

Serves me right for trying to be friendly.  

Hahaha - surpisingly there was a sudden drop on the Pirates of the Caribbean ride.  Our expressions demonstrate our surprise.

DISNEYLAND. PARIS. SERVES. DONERS.

(Unfortunately, it was probably the worst doner I have ever had, but I won't hold that against them)

Yes, Señora Henson! El mundo es un pañuelo! So much so, that I actually saw R@chel rh0des in Paris! Walking on the street!  (Sorry for the weird spelling, but I'm sure the last thing she wants is some future employer googling her name, and my blog being the #1 search result.)

I had to wait in line behind a bunch of children for this picture. Worth it.

Alice in Wonderland = my favorite movie.  Teacups = my least favorite ride.

Really fun Alice in Wonderland maze.  Boo and I def got lost as evidenced by her pose.

Parade!

You might be wondering, 'Jeez Lori, how did you get so cool?'  Answer: Years of practice.

Evidently, I had already uploaded some Hong Kong pics for my monumental compare/contrast analysis. Because it took me a long time to find them, and even longer to upload them - I'll give you a quick rundown on how Disney operates back East.

What brought me to Disneyland Hong Kong?  I did a study abroad trip ("study abroad" is kind of a stretch - it was a 2 1/2 week trip) with OU that toured China in 2009.  We had one free day in Hong Kong.  I did not hesitate at all in my decision to use that free day to go to Disneyland.  And I don't regret it one bit.  So sue me if I like bright colors, cheery music, happy people and images that remind me of my childhood. 

Special train that runs just to Disneyland, which is Disney themed.  Starts the magical experience even earlier.

Space Mountain: No lines. At all.  None.  This is unheard of.

it's a small world: still no lines.

Yay for Disney

Asian food at Disneyland 

The gang: Lori, Mickey, and Ford

So basically if you're deciding between Hong Kong and Paris (and assuming you're deciding on which of these destinations to visit solely based on their respective Disney parks - obvs), definitely go with Paris.  The great thing about Hong Kong is that there are no people (= no lines), but the Paris park is way bigger with far more rides.

Then again, it's Disney, and you really can't go wrong.

New City + Old Friend

So yes, Boo and I were headed to Eastern Europe, but we couldn't leave Pisa without first acting our parts of the ultimate tourists (see below). We're so clever.

So far, I am digging Poland.  We got to the airport and took a look at the bus that would take us into the city, got intimidated, and opted for a taxi instead.  Before we got in, I asked him approximately how much it would cost for him to take us to the city center.  He replied that it would be around 70 zloty.  I hummed and hawed, and then finally agreed.  The thing is, I had no idea how much 70 zloty was – it could have been equivalent to $7 or $7,000, but it sounded reasonable enough to me.

Along with the exchange rate, I didn’t do any kind of research before coming to Krakow.  I know JP II spent a good deal of his life here, I know St. Hyacinth (aka San Jacinto aka one of my fave villages outside of Piura) is from here, and I know Mirek is from here.  And that is the extent of my knowledge.  But I was loving what I was seeing.  On our taxi ride, we passed a church where dozens of little boys and girls wearing precious white outfits were leaving following their First Communion.  Gotta love Catholicism.  The taxi had these maps with history, culture points, common phrases in Polish, and tourist attractions all related to Krakow.  It was in English and it was free.  So my first impressions of Poland were: Catholic and informative.  So far, so good.

I’m looking around at all the signs and I’m just amazed of how many consonants they can fit into a word.  And how Zs there are! Any Pole would be fantastic at Scrabble.  One of my favorite things to do is point out a word and ask Mirek how to pronounce it because it always turns out to be completey different than I imagined.  It turns out my Polish, excuse me, I mean Polski, is actually quite good.  Anytime Mirek has a conversation with someone I guess what they said and I am always right.  I mean, it’s usually things like, “Can we have some menus, please?”, “You can keep the change,” “Yes, I’m finished, you can take my plate.”  But still, I’ve never guessed incorrectly (unless Mirek is just humoring me which is very possible).

Background story on Mirek:

When I studied abroad in Spain, I lived in an apartment with four other international students – 2 boys and 2 girls.  One of the boys had to move out within the first week or so because it turned out his credits wouldn’t transfer.  Our landlady quickly filled his space with “El Polaco.”  No one knew who he was, what his name was, when he was arriving – we only knew a guy from Poland was taking Sergio’s place.  When he finally came, at first I thought his name was Mark, and then I thought it was Eric – and then I finally realized it was a mix between the two: Mirek.

Mirek and I immediately bonded because for both of us, our English was far superior to our Spanish – the preferred language of the rest of our roommates.  Mirek and I would frequently go to Mass together and we were just the bestest of friends.  But sadly the semester ended, and Mirek returned to Poland I to ooosa.  That could have been the end of our story – but no! I have come to Mirek’s home country to reunite at last!

Mirek no longer lives in Krakow, but another city three hours away, so he graciously took off work, and came to see us and be our personal tour guide!  He was amazing.  We did not have to worry about where to eat, how to talk to anyone, how to get somewhere, what to do – Mirek took care of everything.  And he didn’t mess around – we saw Market Square, St. Mary's Basilica, tons more churches, the Archbishop’s residence where John Paul II lived (that was my request), Wawel Royal Castle and Cathedral, and the Jewish District.  That kid wore us out!

 St. Mary's Basilica.  We went inside and it is one of the most beautiful churches I have ever seen.

 Market Square

Precious little church in Market Square - just a couple hundred feet from St. Mary's

You can't throw a cat in this town without hitting a church.  Seriously, here's two right next to each other.

Wawel Royal Castle from afar

 Lots of fun things to do at Wawel Castle - but something in particular caught my eye.

 Am I reading that right?! DRAGON'S DEN?

 But alas, no dragon.  Without a dragon, I think they should just advertise it as "Den."

 Zygmunt Bell in the Cathedral of the Castle dating back to 1520.  It's only rung on important occasions like the end of World War II, when John Paul II was named pope, when he died, and when he was beatified, and on the death of Poland's President and First Lady

Apparently, it's good luck to touch the bell, so Boo had to get in on the action

Late Polish President and First Lady buried in the crypt of the Cathedral

 What I love about Poland: they have pictures of John Paul II everywhere

Really, everywhere.

 The Archbishop's residence in Krakow - where John Paul II lived before he became pope

 JP II would address the public from this window

Mirek and Boo at our lovely terrace lunch

my little meer-kat :)

 Kazimierz, the Jewish District

 Jewish cemetery (obvious caption)

While walking around Kazimierz, we saw everyone was eating these big pieces of bread with all kinds of toppings on them (looking back, I guess it's basically just pizza).  Mirek told us that late at night, after a night of drinking, you can end up waiting an hour to get one of these things.  Well I'm always down for drunk food at any time of day.  So we took the plunge and ours was an interesting mix of tomato, mushroom, feta, corn, and green olives.  Loved it.

 The original city walls

Mirek's university - I don't think he wanted to be in the picture.

 Enjoying a beer at the end of our very long day (ignore the bison fingers)

Lech tops Żywiec anyday (I am so Polish)

And we even got to enjoy some sweet break dancing

One final thing about how fantastic Poland is - everyone is paler than me!  For once, my skin does not blind passersby. 

Now to Paris - yes, sure, we'll go to the Louvre, Notre Dame, Eiffel Tower, Musee d'Orsay, Arc de Triomphe like your everyday, normal, run-of-the mill tourists, but we've also set our sights on something much more exciting and dare I say, magical:  Disneyland Paris.

Ohhhh nooooo

Getting to Siena was an ordeal.   Our room in Riomaggiore was at the very tip top of the town.  So high up, that Boo and I didn’t even eat dinner one night because we didn’t want to bother going into the town to get food only to have to climb back up.  Justifiably, we were worried about getting our luggage down to the train station. (I don’t think I’ve ever been on a trip where I thought, ‘Wow, I sure didn’t pack enough.  I wish I had gobs more things to lug around’  No, it’s always, “What the H-E-double hockey stick was I think packing all of this crap?” Among countless other profanities directed towards my oversized suitcase). So we asked Maria (the owner of our room – Emiliano’s mother, who abandoned Melissa at the train station) to drive us to the train station in the morning.  She agreed and said, “No problem! I drive you!”  Great! Well the agreed upon time rolls around, and Maria is not to be found.  So Boo struts up to her house (she lives directly above us), uses her great Italian skills to tell Maria’s mother for Maria to get her butt in gear.  (The room renting business is apparently a family affair).  Crisis averted: we make our train.

BUT! I forgot to validate the ticket beforehand! You have to stamp your ticket at these little machines or else it’s not valid.  We’ve been doing this the whole time, Rick Steves even warned us about it, but I just plumb forgot to do it.  So at each stop – for 3 stops – I would jump out of the train to find one of those little yellow machines to stamp our ticket. The first one was out of service, and I couldn’t even find a machine at the second two stops.  Each time, Boo would fret that I wouldn’t make it back on the train in time.  And she had good reason – I had all of our cash and credit cards. She would not have gotten very far.

After the third stop, I had finally had enough and decided to just give up.  Just when I had surrendered, here comes the train official strolling through our car asking to see everyone’s ticket.  Well shit.  So I hand him our unvalidated tickets, play dumb (funny thing: playing the dumb tourist is not so much acting, it’s just my life), and he writes us each a ticket: 5 euro a piece, which we pay on the spot.  Not a big deal, but our tickets were only 10 euro a piece, so that’s half the price right there.  Whatevs, we managed that debacle with only slight embarrassment.

The blow to my pride hurt more than the ten euros 

When we arrive to Pisa, we have to change trains.  Not our strong suit.  Our train was already delayed so we really had two minutes to get on our next train.  But we did it! Success! But the train is incredibly crowded.  We’re forced to stand not even in a car, but the little compartment with the doors that joins two cars together.  It’s croweded, there is absolutely no airflow, and it doesn’t smell too pleasant.  Well we’re speeding along, suffocating the entire away, and another official asks to see our ticket.  He looks them over and says, “Oh no!”  And I’m like I know, I know, we already got in trouble – here’s the citation we received.  And he replies, “No, you were supposed to get off at the last stop.”  Well shit, again.  The whole compartment collectively replies, “Ohhhh nooo.” – including Boo.  He instructs us to stay on this train to Florence, and buy new tickets there for Siena.

So we do that.  We arrive to Florence, successfully buy new tickets, find the correct train (this one’s direct – no changing train confusion), and 10 minutes outside of Siena – The. Train. Breaks. Down.   This Italian guy sitting behind us is all hot and bothered by the situation – shouting “vaffanculo!” (which incidentally,  is the only Italian I know).  Turns out he speaks English, and is trying to be Boo’s best friend explaining to her what the train problem is and suggesting that we all just walk to Siena.  Eventually, the train is up and running and again and we finally make it to Siena. 

When we get to our hotel, our luck finally changed.  An American woman, who was leaving, offers us a ticket that she had bought that gets you in to all of the sites in Siena.  She didn’t have time to see the Duomo and a couple of other things so she gave it to us as we were checking in.  That was about the nicest thing anyone had ever done for me! We were so pleased that we immediately set out to explore Siena and visited The Duomo, Piazza de Campo, and the St. Catherine of Siena’s House and Church. We saw St. Catherine of Siena’s head (and finger, but the head was way more impressive).  Mom didn’t believe and she was like, isn’t it just a painting?  And I said no, that’s the real deal.  It’s a miracle!  And then we realized - that’s about all there is to do in Siena. 

Our room - part of a converted convent.  

Lori: Hey Mom! Since we're staying in this convent, are you pretending to be a nun?

Boo: No.

Lori:  Cool.  Me neither.

View from our room

 A calzone that would have even impressed Steinbrenner

Interior of the Duomo

 Yeah - that's Boo in there.  Loving life.

Oh guess who else has been here - THE POPE.  See below.

The Holy Head of St. Catherine of Siena, Patron Saint of Italy - nbd.

Tomorrow we leave for Krakow and I get to reunite with Mirek after three long years!!!!! Cannot wait.