No hablo español.

I could not have imagined that 36 hours in Spain would have turned into the adventure it did...

We landed in Barcelona (unbeknownst to me) without the address, telephone number or directions to our hostel. For my mother's sake I won't tell you about our first few hours in Barcelona but when the police officers attempted to give us directions to the hostel and pointed to the back of the map and made a worried face, I marched to the nearest hotel on La Rambla and booked a room for the night. Outside the hotel street performers were drawing crowds into the late hours of the night but we were happy to be safe and sheltered.

The next morning we met up for cappuccino and then headed to the TravelBar for a free walking tour of the city. We saw some interesting things most tourists miss out on and as the tour ended, we headed back to the pub and were treated to a beer. (A free tour that ends in free beer! What!?) We met some great people on the tour and decided to join up and head down to the port for some paella and sangria. The weather was beautiful and we soaked up the sunshine. Afterwards, we walked down La Ramba and enjoyed the performances and the dancing by our own crew that drew the largest crowd on La Rambla. We visited some of Gaudi's architectural achievements and took a coffee and sing-a-long break. 

Bree, Miya, Allison and I then went to a Flamenco show and had tapas and more sangria. The night was amazing but it was too short. We said goodbye to our new friends and made the long taxi ride to our hostel in the mountains of Barcelona for one last night. 

It was a short journey and only a little taste of Spanish culture but I will remember that trip and the friends I made forever. 

Paris

A strange thing happened when I emerged from the chunnel (the tunnel built beneath the English Channel to allow for travel between the UK and France), I became a hated person - hated simply because I was an American. But I reasoned with myself and the poor egotistical people of Paris and I decided that it's okay if they despise me and prejudge me - I don't like them either. 

All in all, I did have a delightful trip to Paris once I learned the secret. If you need help or assistance, you must ask for it in French. Many French do speak English but if you ask them in English they are noticeably rude with you. A simple greeting (Bonjour) and question in French (Parlz-vous Anglais?) will take you far. 

Here are the highlights (or at least memorable points of the trip):

• Day 1: Picture it: you're huddled around the Mona Lisa - the most famous painting of all time - listening to an art professor detail the history of Da Vinci as well the painting. Tour groups behind and to your side talk in hushed respectful tones but a group of four men at the front of the painting are speaking so loud that the students in your group cannot hear the professor. The four men are the security guards at the post but at that moment I could have busted through that plexiglass and run off with the painting without them having any idea. Our professor turns to the guards and hushes them but they are aggravated (because we're Americans and we just told them to be quite). They start speaking loudly to her in French telling her to move and such. And she refuses and goes about her lecture. A moment later someone snaps a picture and the guards go wild - yelling and accusing us of taking their pictures and demanding we show our cameras. The cooky old professor starts yelling back at them and students start leaving. I was concerned we were about to be kicked out of the Louvre and then the guards start accusing my flatmate in French. (I heard them speaking English. Now they're just refusing to do it). It was a disaster. Long story to say that if you ever go on a tour of the Louvre don't go with a crazy professor because you might end up in Louvre-jail. After the Louvre we went to the top of the Eiffel Tower. It was beautiful at night and I could see for miles.
• Day 2: Museums, Museums, Museums. And we stayed away from the professor's tours due to post-traumatic stress. Later in the day we went to Montmartre, sat on the steps of Sacre Coeur and watched the sun set over Paris. We then walked down through the artist's square down to Moulin Rouge.
  
• Day 3: Beautiful day in Paris! We had recovered by this time and the professor led a great tour though Musee Picasso. There were a few moments I was worried though when she mentioned she wanted to "Spray the children" who were on class assignments around the museum. After the museum we conquered Notre Dame, the Arc de Triomphe, L'Orangerie (with Monet's Waterlilies), and the Pompidou Centre.  
  
• Day 4: We woke up early for a half-day trip to Versailles. Unfortunately, it started to hail on us on our way there and once we walked through the palace gates it turned to snow. After two hours of touring the palace, the grounds were covered in inches and inches of snow. We were cold and unprepared but embraced one more day to throw snowballs at each other. 
  

We are back in London now and it feels good to be "home."

Who God Says I Am

This week has been an incredible struggle - from finding my place in my internship, to my physical and emotional health. London is an amazing city but this week I've felt a lot of resentment toward the cold, toward the rain, and toward the rude people on the streets. I've been questioning a lot of why I came here and if I made the right choices. This is a horrible and lonely place to be.

One of my goals when I planned this trip was to make sure I found a place I could worship on Sundays because I knew there would be struggles. This morning the flatmates and I attended a magnificent service at Hillsong Church. What a blessing!

It was refreshing to be reminded that in the midst of a place that seems so distant from God, there are others who are most likely feeling the same thing. I was reminded that I am not who this city says I am, or who people say I am - I am who God says I am. And God says I am made in the image of his son. I am redeemed. I am whole. And all because God says so. It's not our behavior that defines us, it's our definition of ourselves that shapes our behavior. We get that so mixed up!

Haggis, Kilts, and a Bum Knee.

This weekend was by far a weekend for firsts: my first time to Scotland, my first long distance train ride, my first stay in a hostel, and most importantly - the first time I tried Haggis. If you don't know what Haggis is I consider you to be a fortunate soul. I will not be so bold as to say that it's the most vile thing I've ever eaten. In fact, the first bite was rather harmless but from there, it got worse and worse. (You can see my reaction in the pictures below thanks to my flatmate, Jessica).

Edinburgh is a beautiful city and I regret that we only had the weekend there. We toured the city Saturday morning and joined a haunted underground tour that night. Unfortunately all the walking exacerbated my already sore knee and I spent today at the doctor's office and resting. Keep me in your prayers. We're off to Paris in 2 weeks and I need to be able to get around. I'm going back to my internship tomorrow and meeting with the director to try to get things moving forward. But as my mom reminded me, I don't know exactly what God's reasoning is for bringing me to London and to this agency. It's not always my job to ask why or demand my own ways but remain moldable to his will. It's in his timing that things will progress.

Blue Eyed Girl

Today I sat on the tube listening to my ipod (Brown Eyed Girl by Van Morrison). I tapped my fingers and bobbed to the beat as the train careened from station to station. On the morning and evening commutes it's common to see Londoners with headphones popping out of their ears. I find it strange and somewhat impersonal but I'm learning to embrace the experience. Today I got all the way from Tottenham Court Road Station to the Notting Hill Station, on and off my bus and to my pathetic little internship without taking my headphones out. I wondered what the man sitting next to me was listening to. If it was something I would like. And how the woman across the aisle would feel about my selection. 

Although on the tube we're all listening to our own music in our own little worlds, I think the music unites us. Around many corners in the tube station you'll find someone strumming a guitar or (for example today) playing a sax. We get on and we get off and we go our separate ways but we're all singing a song; I, however, am the only one tapping my fingers and bobbing my head. It must be an American thing =)

Frozen Toes

There are moments I just want to give up. Times when I am frustrated, homesick, disappointed, cold, tired, and just sad. Today, my body aches from walking up and down the stairways. My toes are frozen to the core. I feel relegated to suffering through this semester when only two days ago I was looking forward to my internship with bright eyes and a bushy tail. Maybe it was naivety to think I would be able to jump right in and obtain trust and rapport as I had in my previous agency, but it's certainly disheartening to find out that all I'd hope to learn from this agency will simply not be available to me. It's in those moments I want to pack my bags and souvenirs and head to warmer weathers. 

Lord, I know your hand is here in the building up and the tearing down. I look around and see a city much in need of your Light. Help me remember that you brought me here for your purposes - not mine. Keep my mind stayed on you and far from discouragement.

Tour of my Flat