Onions

This has to be a layered post. An onion post. Because onions have layers, and so does this entry, and onions make you cry sometimes, and so will this entry. (No? It's just me? Okay.)

When I think about blogging about the past 12 days, it is overwhelming. Because the last 12 days have been adjective-defying. Or maybe my vocabulary is just not big enough to think of the proper adjective. Or maybe I'm too lazy to spell out Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.

It started last last Friday when 5 of us girls got on an overnight bus to Paris. Nine and a half hours of driving later, I looked up to see the Hollywood Tower of Terror. And although we couldn't stop in Disneyland Paris (we totally could have but my friends said we had a more important tower to see. Pshhh.), it was so fun to see the "Disney Skyline" so far away from California.

One walk to the Louvre, one viewing of the Mona Lisa, one trip to Notre Dame, 700 steps up the Eiffel Tower, two baguette picnics under the Eiffel Tower, one trip to Versailles, and a couple naps later, Monday was already there. I had to say goodbye to Alana and Hannah then, and it was the least fun part about Paris. Everything else about Paris was just about as good as it can get. I found myself eating my words for breakfast, lunch, and dinner for having ever said anything bad about the French, which is a lot. I thought they were quite a nice lot, actually.

My friend Sammy and I headed to an airport in Paris, and flew over to Edinburgh, Scotland. This is where blogging gets tricky, because I can't quite explain what happened but basically, I love Edinburgh, Scotland. There was something in the air and Sammy felt it too as both of us started planning our future lives in the city.

...Yep, can't type. Speechless.

Of course this doesn't do it justice, but feast 'yer eyes.

We had the full Scottish experience. We tried Scotch. We tried Haggis. (Do you know what Haggis is? Then don't find out before you eat it.) We tried White Bait. We tried Scotch Pie. We woke up to bagpipes. We ate shortbread. And we started saying things like "I need a wee rest for a minute." Scotland-- Go there.

Though reluctant to get on the plane, I finally got back "home" to Frankfurt and no more than 12 hours later was picking up a long-time friend from the airport to tour her around, then go to Munich to meet up with a mutual friend we met at Cal Poly, and of course, my Leigh Loo!

"Say, why don't you go somewhere new?" Yes, yes, this was the 5th time I was in Munich. But it was nice to not have too much of an agenda, especially since the 90 degree heat meant going straight to the Alp-melt river and relaxing in the water. We then found ourselves at the rapid part of the river, decided to jump in, and just floated crazy fast for half a kilometer or so while we died laughing at our spontaneous decision that turned to pure childlike excitement over fast-moving water. It wasn't until the 3rd go around that we saw the "Swimming Forbidden" sign. Oops. 

Leigh and I left each other in tears on the train tracks. And now I'm in my final hours in Frankfurt. Pathetically, I foreshadow that I'll be listening to songs like GreenDay's Good Riddance most of the day.