Day One in Paris

Paris is the best-connected city I've had the pleasure to step into. In the past, I was always a metro/RER girl. This time around, we decided to take advantage of the Vélib network: Paris' biking system. That might have been the single best decision we made in the city. I loved getting to know the city even better, and it made for some serious adventures; races against the 30-minute trip limit, run-ins with the cops, near-death experiences on Parisian roads, and getting lost in the vast city. High adventure, I tell ya.
After a quick trip to Monoprix, a supermarket, we packed our lunches (baguette sandwiches), and headed out for the day.
First stop: the Louvre
I had tried (and failed) to explain to Brandon just how massive the Louvre is. As much as I can appreciate the plethora of art pieces inside (35,000), I love the actual building just as much (which is nice, since admiring the outside is much cheaper).

What can I say? I'm a sucker for French architecture, and the adjoining Tuileries gardens are always magical!

Jardin des Tuileries

Fun at the Tuileries

 After relaxing and admiring the Louvre and Tuileries, we headed out to the Palais Royal. Brandon scratched his head over the purpose of this plaza, but I think it's a pretty cool place.

Atop one of the Palais Royal columns

Palais Royal

 When we headed to Notre Dame, hoping to go inside, I was blown away. I've been to Notre Dame dozens of times--during the peak of tourist season as well as during early November--and I had never ever seen it anywhere near as crowded as it was. Turns out we came on a national holiday (May 8--WWII victory day), plus they were holding the fête du pain--a celebration of the art of bread-making--in the courtyard in front of Notre Dame. It was hectic. And I hated it. We refused to stand in line, and instead took shelter from the rain under a bridge with a view to Notre Dame.

Brandon in his glorious Wal Mart poncho

Afterward, we grabbed two kebabs from the Latin Quarter. 

"Assiette" means plate in French. An unfortunate abbreviation.

 I hadn't had a kebab since my last trip to Paris (2010), but I realized that a few years is a good space between kebabs. One every four years is plenty.
Next stop: Luxembourg Gardens and the Palais du Sénat.

 This little fountain below is one of my absolute favorite places in Paris. The pictures don't even capture how green and beautiful it was.

Luxembourg Gardens

Last stop of the day: Eiffel Tower

The pretty rainbow we got to see behind the tower

 

If I look like a wet dog--which I do--I blame it on the rain, just like Milli Vanilli.

Regardless, day one was pure success!

Arriving in Paris--la Ville Lumière

After a layover in Copenhagen, we arrived in Paris late Wednesday night. We lugged our suitcases on the Orlybus to the metro at Denfert-Rochereau, on to the crazy Chatelet les Halles station, and then to Saint Paul. Even amidst the stress of squeezing ginormous suitcases through the metro ticket stalls, it felt surreal to be back in the city I regularly get homesick for. I felt anticipation but also a strange bout of nerves--I wanted Brandon to experience the Paris I love and to appreciate it. In my experience, people are usually hot or cold about Paris, rarely lukewarm. As an intern, I spent three solid months exploring the city on my own. After work ended at noon, I spent the rest of the day-- every day--visiting the nooks and crannies of the city. I loved it to start with, and it only grew on me. Sure, the metro smells like a mix of tobacco, urine, and a certain unidentifiable (thankfully) something; but the city it grants access to is chalk-full of beauty, history, and romance. As Hemingway said,

"If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young [wo]man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast."

Dang skippy, Hemingway. 

Thanks to airbnb.com, Brandon and I got to stay on the cheap in the 3rd district of the city--I took special care that we be well-located. Even though we were in the middle of the thriving French capital, we stayed with a Japanese host. Go figure.

Our host Azusa

That first night, despite the late hour, we decided to go on a stroll. Our stroll ended up being a few kilometers since I couldn't resist the pull of the city center. So we walked to Notre Dame and along the river where we saw fire dancers entertaining a group of youngens smoking and drinking the night away. As we walked down the steps to the riverwalk, I received a nice welcome surprise from Paris. And by nice I mean completely revolting. Something that felt like a wet Koosh ball hit my foot. If only it had been a Koosh. It was actually a rat. Rough start, guys. Rough start. But I brushed it off like a big girl (not really--I had periodic outbursts and shudders the rest of the night and for days to come). We braved the rodent and the party-hardy atmosphere to catch a glimpse of my favorite view of Notre Dame. I love love love the side view of Notre Dame from la Rive Gauche.  It was a magical way to start off our Europe adventure.

The Lock Bridge

Memories of Maile

I write this post for myself as much as for anybody else, because I want to remember the Maile I knew until I get to see her again down the road. I definitely didn't know Maile best of anyone out there, but I knew her enough--enough to have been influenced by her in a number of ways. Love you, mi hermanita!

I little realized when I first met her how quintessentially "Maile" our first meeting would be. Nor did I understand how much I'd come to love that Hello Kitty-adoring ball of fire and fun. Even though it was a long time ago, I can clearly remember my feelings on meeting Miles--and that's not standard procedure for me. I have an awful memory for where I met people and what their names are. But Maile made quite an impression on me from the get-go. It was at a dance, and a mutual friend introduced us to each other as we all boogied on the dance floor. We hugged, and then I said to her, "I like your earrings!" What I really liked was that this short, beautiful, spunky girl could pull off these unique, giant, silver hoops. Thickest, heaviest hoops I'd ever seen. And they totally worked for her.

Without any kind of hesitation at all, Maile began pulling the earrings off her ears. Slightly confused about the reaction my compliment had elicited, I didn't understand that she was actually giving me her earrings until she put those hoops in the palm of her hand and offered them to me with an expectant smile--expectant in that she was clearly expecting me to take them from her. Those earrings were easily the size of her palms. I felt embarrassed and flustered. It seemed to me that I had come off to this stranger Maile as one of those annoying kids who looks at you while you eat a popsicle and says, with a dramatic sigh, "I love popsicles. I wish I had one." And then the child stares you down with puppy dog eyes until you can't possibly do anything but grudgingly give them your popsicle. 

That totally wasn't what I was going for. The earrings weren't even my style. She just made them look good. But Maile's attitude in offering them to me was anything but annoyed. To her it was just natural to give me--a virtual stranger--what she thought would make me happy. Where I was used to my compliments being received with an, "aww thanks!" or perhaps a faux-modest, "oh what, these old things?", Maile was apparently accustomed to flipping compliments back around into gifts and personal bequests. All I could think was, "Who is this girl?!" and accept her offering.

I got to see a fair amount of Maile after that. Our paths crossed pretty regularly because of the time I spent around her tight-knit extended family. Seeing Maile for the second time was nothing like those awkward situations where you're not sure if someone you met once will actually acknowledge you, let alone remember you. I think the second time I saw her, she spread out her arms for a hug and said, "Maaawtha, dahhhling!" And just like that, she wiggled her way into my heart and made me feel like a long-time friend. No need to earn or deserve her friendship. She gave it without question, without requirements, without qualms. Maile always made me feel like a million bucks.

A few years later, I had another important "Maile moment." It was four years ago, and it was a bit of a humiliating situation for me--not the type of situation I'd choose to be seen in by anyone, really. Miles popped up at a moment when I was feeling like a big nothing. Someone she was very close to was doing something that was hurting me a lot, even though I was doing my best to hide how it was affecting me. I tried to match Maile's enthusiastic greeting, but without any explanation at all, she saw what was going on, understood the situation, and then proceeded to chastise that person. Right then and there. Miles wasn't one to sit on the sidelines and watch something she disagreed with. She stood up for me in a moment when I didn't know how to stand up for myself. And I've never forgotten it. When I saw her later that night, with makeup streaks on my face from some unwelcome but unstoppable tears, she hugged me and gave me a pep talk. Somehow she combined compassion with chutzpah. And it was exactly what I needed.
A year later, Maile and I went on to serve Spanish-speaking missions at the same time. I remember keeping my eyes peeled for Hermana Tua'one in the MTC and how excited I was when I saw her my second day.

Hers was the first familiar face I saw, and such a welcome one! Friends serving Spanish-speaking missions at the same time would normally seem like mere coincidence, except that Miles and I left on our missions almost three years later than most girls do. And our birthdays are just a day apart. And I mean our literal dates of birth. I always call Maile my "hermanita," or little sister, since I was born a day before her, to which she has always said, "C'mon! It's only one day!"

Regardless of who was the big sister, we were birthday neighbors, and we turned 24 in the MTC. We were "abuelitas" among all the 19- and 21-year olds. We got to simultaneously laugh and roll our eyes together at the antics of the younger elders who used bananas like telephones and made Towers of Babel out of cups. Feeling like kindred spirits and with so much in common, Maile said we were "living parallel existences." I loved living a parallel existence with my hermanita. One of the most spiritual experiences of my life was singing with Maile in the MTC missionary choir and then crying buckets together as Elder Holland spoke to us missionaries in the most life-changing talk we had ever had the pleasure of attending. I will always treasure that memory--even more so now.

My hermanita Maile and I were pen pals for those next 18 months. I loved getting her letters. She always sent me a preparatory email to let me know a letter was on its way. And those letters were not your run-of-the-mill missionary letters with a play-by-play of lessons and investigators. But then Maile has never been run-of-the-mill. Her letters were little creative masterpieces. Nothing Maile did left her without the distinctive Maile trademark on it. Her personality couldn't help but radiate through everything she did. And what a personality!

When my wedding came around, I knew Miles was genuinely happy and excited for me, but I wasn't sure that I would see her at my reception. Life is hectic, and I had always thought that on people's wedding days, they'd be too busy, too surrounded by people, too enveloped in their own happiness to actually notice who actually came to the reception. I was wrong. I remember all the friends of mine who came. Seeing Maile there with Rosemary and KJ added that much more happiness and gratitude to an already-amazing day. I didn't realize how much it would mean to me to see who showed up that day, but it sure meant a lot. Once again, Maile left me feeling like a million bucks. 

 

That was the last time I saw Maile. But Miles and I had longstanding plans, just like she did with so many of her family and friends. Miles was full of such goals and dreams. Our plan was to travel to Rome to attend the temple dedication together--Italian adventures plus an incredible spiritual experience. We won't make it to that dedication, but it makes me happy to think that she will be able to be spiritually present at the dedication when it happens next year. For now, I can picture her in her new home, walking around with a bounce in her step and that quintessential half smile she always wore on her face.

I'm sure going to miss my hermanita!

Travel Awards: Slovenia

Slovenia/Slovenija

I didn't know much about Slovenia when we went there. Definitely didn't know how to pronounce the capital city name: Ljubljana. I knew that my cousin was serving a mission somewhere in the country and that a friend of mine had told me it was beautiful. And I trust my friends implicitly. Plus, Croatia and Slovenia are counted as one country in the Eurail Select Pass. So why not?!

As we approached the train station there, I remember thinking, "Dangit. This looks ugly." Apparently I have high standards for train stations?  Regardless, my first impression couldn't have been further from the truth. If ever there was a more pristine, charming city, I have not yet come across it. Look at this place!

Triple Bridges

Ljubljana is pretty small, as far as European capital cities go--population 272,000 (compared to Copenhagen's 560,000 or Paris' 2.2 million). After my experiences in London, Paris, New York, and other big cities, Ljubljana's quiet and slower pace was almost surreal. All Emily and I did was walk the city and admire its beauty.

  It looks like a fairytale city, in some ways; kind of like the type of city a theme park would build for a mini-Europe attraction. And yet 100 times more magical because it's real!

 

 

 I hereby award Ljubljana, Slovenia:

Cleanest & Most Charming City Award

 As a side note, our trip to Slovenia wasn't entirely uneventful. Being chocolate fiends deprived of real (European) chocolate and having a craving that had to be filled by whatever happened to be at the train station shop, Emily was charged with the duty of finding us some snack chocolate. Her choice? "Rum Kokos." Before you judge Emily on her Word of Widsom-breaking candy choice, I ask you to consider our innocence. Having grown up without ever tasting even a drop of alcohol, and also being American and, thus, under some vague impression that alcohol must be cooked out of food prior to sale to the general public, we popped a couple of the Rum Kokos into our mouths. They were disgusting--with a taste neither of us had experienced but that smelled suspiciously like alcohol. Beginning to put two and two together, we checked the ingredients.

Because of yet another naivety-induced experience later on in our trip which I will mention in another post, I only award Slovenia as host to:

Biggest Naïve Accident

Honorable Mention

Travel Awards: Croatia

Croatia/Hrvatska

When my sister Emily and I planned our trip to Europe, we didn't have a particular desire to go to Croatia. I think, in the end, we chose Croatia because it was the cheapest airport to fly into and it sounded like an adventure. Croatia didn't disappoint us. We spent our first day exploring the city--botanical gardens, beautiful Eastern European buildings, parks, cathedrals. Despite our jetlag and our inability to read any sign whatsoever, we thoroughly enjoyed the capital city Zagreb. However, I'm afraid the first award I must give to Croatia is....[drumroll]...

Creepiest Children Award

I admit that this award is perhaps unfair, seeing as I only interacted with one group of kids. However, if, in our short 36 hours in Croatia, the only kids we happened upon were creepy, I don't feel too awful presenting this award. Here is what happened:

Emily and I were exploring Zagreb by night--and it was amazing! Jelačić Square is right in the city center, and it's beautiful! 

Afterward, we continued walking around aimlessly exploring, and happened upon a cute and quirky little playground. We enjoyed ourselves playing on the strange park toys, as exhibited here:

 

 However, as you can see in this (not very good) photo, there is a young boy looking at us in the background of the picture--top left.

And that's fine. Playgrounds are for kids, and not only were my sister and I not kids, we were foreigners. It's natural to exhibit in interest in the doings of foreigners. He and his friends were laughing and saying things we couldn't understand, and I didn't think much of it. But as I grabbed the camera to take a picture of Emily, the little twit twerp kid sneakily came near me and then grabbed me--and I'm not talking about my elbow, my friends. I stood in shock for a second, and then, in outrage and disbelief, told Emily what had happened. That was the night Emily became a true heroine.

 Because she ran after him.

We chased those little boys up stairs, across a couple pavilions, and then down some more stairs until we came upon a policewoman. And, although she spoke no English, we communicated with charades why we were chasing after a group of 10-year-old boys. It was probably a pretty amusing night for her. Thankfully, she took it from there--by which I mean she took off after those icky boys. 

Hence Croatia's first award. 

Despite that jarring experience on our first night, Croatia still had much to offer us. On our second day, we took a trip to Plitvička jezera--or Plitvice Lakes National Park. It was absolutely pouring rain and barely 50 degrees; not the makings of a miraculous or even enjoyable day, in my book. But even on such a cloudy, rainy day, the park was stunning.

 Waterfalls both big and small, turquoise lakes, and bright green vegetation everywhere.  

It's one thing for water to look this color in sparkling sunlight, but another thing entirely to have such color on a dull, gray day.

 For this, I present Croatia the award for:

Most Beautiful Freshwater Award

and

Greenest-Place-I've-Ever-Seen-In-All-My-Livelong-Days Award

 I mean, look at it. Look at it again.

 Amazing.

 Lastly, due to the delicious breakfast I had on our departure day, I award Croatia:

Most Delicious Breakfast Pastry Award

I still think about that pastry sometimes.

I would highly recommend any of you take a jaunt over to Croatia if you have the chance. As long as you are wary of innocent-looking children and have a strong, protective sister, your experience is sure to be lovely!

Night with Miranda Sings!!!

So last week was my birthday, and even though I was sick, I got a great birthday present from some of my siblings--a VIP night with Miranda Sings!!! 

Now if any of you aren't familiar with Miranda, you're missing out. Big time. If you need a little intro into the world of Miranda, here are a couple videos:

I'm a big Mirfanda myself, and have shamelessly attempted to impersonate her in my own video.

Anyway, now that we all know and love Miranda, let's talk about Brandon's and my VIP night at her show! When we got in line for the show, we basically just watched all the Mirfandas arrive in their Miranda pants and shirts, complete with bobby-pinned hair and lip-enhancing sloppy red lipstick. And they were all talking in Miranda voices. The whole time. Miranda has quite the fan base! I was surprised to see so many little girls there.
The show was pretty awesome. It started out with Colleen Ballinger (the girl who plays Miranda) singing a couple of numbers. She has a really good voice and she's really beautiful. The second number she sang was Defying Gravity, and I caught some of her transformation occurring.

Everyone loves when that lipstick comes out! Once Miranda was on, she told us all how happy she was to be with us in Salt Lake City, Mormons. It was pretty awesome to see how her family works together with her. Her sister introduced her, her brother was part of her show, and her niece and nephew got up and sang a little bit, as well. It's crazy to see how big Miranda Sings has gotten when it all started with a joke between Colleen and her friends.
Basically, her show was a seminar (or cinemar, as she says it) for her fans on how to be better people. She covered "selp helf" topics of love, haters, porn, and talents: all of her favorite topics.

When she sang the Nat King Cole song "L.O.V.E.," she came and sat on Brandon's lap and serenaded him. 

Her face probably looked more like *this* when she was singing to Brandon, though:

After the show, we got an awkward Miranda hug, an autographed picture, and this lovely snapshot with her.