Why Is it Awkward Turtle not Awkward Giraffe?

Looking outside my window, it looks like a pretty nice day in old Geneva. Unfortunately, it's been raining all week and even this seemingly nice day is forecasted to rain for a bit. I'm still determined to go outside for a bit because tomorrow it is forecasted to SNOW. SNOW, it is almost the last week of May and it's going to SNOW. I thought it was bad when it snowed on April 17th in Hamilton, NY. Geneva, Switzerland apparently takes crazy weather to a whole new level. I blame global warming.
While I'm wasting away inside and procrastinating, I decided to post some pictures from one of the few days I got to hang out in the park in a cute skirt....which is one of the few dreams I had about my life abroad. Unfortunately, due to the weather and workload here, my park time has been limited. Hopefully, I'll be able to make up for it as I constantly sip Banana soy milkshakes from Hammie Whole Foods this summer on the town green. BYE PAYCHECK!

 

I bought this skirt from Topshop while I was in London for my burfday. I decided to splurge a bit since it was my 21st birthday and basically bought a whole new wardrobe that I just wear on constant repeat. I was torn between this skirt and a denim circle skirt, but this one had giraffes on it so I clearly had to choose this one.

Outfit--Button Up: Banana Republic, Skirt: Topshop, Sandals: Sam Edelman

sup.

Photography: Morgan McCollum (well, not the giraffes)

There's a Fish on my Fish: Sushi at Uchitomi

Yesterday, I got sushi with Zoe after our final class with Hofmann and Krause. I vowed I would never get asian food while I was abroad, but apparently I crave that shit way more than I thought. Zoe and I already had a sushi craving this past weekend, when I looked up this place online. If you look up "Sushi in Geneva" a bunch of results pop up that are essentially a million Americans or Brits desperately craving their favorite cuisine from home. They are also craving the prices they had a home, but settling for whatever they can get.
One highly recommended sushi spot was uchitomi. It was described as good quality and cheap. I got two pre-made rolls for lunch and a water bottle, which came out to about 21chf. That's Geneva for you! It also goes to show how desperate people are when it comes to prices if they consider that lunch price reasonable and even cheap.

Look at this artsy angle of my sushi that makes it look absolutely amazing. Look at that spicy tuna! YUM!

 

oooo there's a fish on my fish! This is actually what they put the soy sauce in. It cost 20¢ extra -__-

I got a spicy tuna roll and a tempura roll (I finish things I don't like as much first). 

The spicy tuna was actually pretty good, the tempura roll could use some avocado or some kind of moisture

This is a more realistic picture of my sushi, basically a lot of trash.

Isn't it funny how food looks better close up while people always look gross and pimply

This is Zoe coming back to the table with two 20¢ soy sauce fish

I forgot to mention that my 21ch lunch was held in a grocery store. Oh Geneva.

Ô Calm: Monday Brunch in Geneva

It's the third week of May and it's 59º outside and raining. I feel that for this late in the year, I should be enjoying beautiful weather as I sit in a park shining with sunlight.... not this March weather. Well, I guess at this point in the year, I also shouldn't have the majority of my schoolwork to complete for all my courses either. Despite that, I have still left almost all of my essays to do.... sometime in the future? I guess I deserve this weather. Maybe the gods are trying to keep me inside so that I'll do work. Clearly, they don't understand the temptation and distraction of Hulu. I have a TV problem.

Yesterday, which was Monday and the last day of my four-day weekend, was a pretty nice day. Well, a nice day for March, not for May. It was just a little chilly, but looking outside it seemed nice. Thankfully, I didn't spend the entire day inside on my computer procrastinating, only part of it. In the morning, I went with Keith, Zoe, Alice, and Tara to get brunch. Although I thought we were going to the same brunch spot that Zoe’s family brought us to on the island, we went to another restaurant called Ô Calm.

The restaurant was pretty cute and had quite a home-y vibe. In fact, it could have easily been someone’s house. The kitchen was literally a kitchen I’ve seen in plenty of my friends’ homes—even with that island that I’ve played pong on. Moving into the main dining area, it looked kind of like a living room. My favorite element were the bookshelves, I don't quite understand why not every café has a library/book component because it adds a certain level of charm or coziness that can't be rivaled. 

However, when we got there, the whole dining/living room area was too full to accommodate  group of five and they offered us a table outside. When we walked outside, I was almost glad that there wasn't enough room for us inside. Despite the slight chill factor , sitting outside was a very enjoyable experience. I actually think that the patio was my favorite aspect of the whole restaurant. Probably because it vaguely reminded me of the outside seating at Zazie (only Zazie is slightly cuter with flowers everywhere), and I relish every opportunity I spend time outside these days. 

 

 What I was disappointed by however was the food. Now, the rest of the crew seemed to think it was really good and were impressed by the wide selection of jams and spreads. But I can get that at Migros and put it on some toast myself. I can also make better scrambled eggs, the pancake wasn't even near the best pancake I've had in Europe (let alone the US), and my cappuccino was gross for practically the same price as Boreal. So basically, I could have either made it myself or gotten the same thing in Geneva. Yet I paid 27F. WHAT!?

 Now, you should all know that I'm allll about my brunch and I'm willing to go pretty big for it. For example, at the formerly mentioned Zazie, I have easily dropped $27 several times. But do I leave Zazie upset? Of course not because not only do they have a great ambiance, but they also have absolutely AMAZING food. My $27 brunch at Zazie would have beautifully poached eggs sitting on prosciutto, covered with heirloom tomatos, and with a side of home fries with garlic. Not to mention the fluffy pancake for dessert and the latte the size of my face. 

Ultimately, ô Calm was cute and it was nice to get brunch with the crew instead of just staying inside. But I'd rather go someplace else (even in Geneva) for brunch  next time. I'm for ambiance and all, but you're going to have to give me something a little bit more to demand that much dough....even in a city as expensive as Geneva.

Wow, this post made me really want to get Zazie when I go home. Expect a post, hopefully from the patio, within the next two weeks.

HP

I think I'm one of the worst procrastinators of all time. I can say with a good level of certainty that I am one of the biggest procrastinators on my study group. You say you want proof? Yesterday, after coming home from Boreal where I was attempting to do work but probably spending half the time on facebook or watching Ted talks, I decided to change my scenery and come home. Did I then continue to do work, even at that same slow and distracted pace? Of course not, I proceeded to watch both the Hunger Games and Harry Potter. Now just watching the Hunger Games, I feel, would have been a merited 2 hour break. But the part that was really out of control was continuing and watching Harry Potter.
What convinced me that I just had to watch Harry Potter was Pinterest. Stupid pinterest. While pinning away while watching the Hunger Games (yes, I can't even fully focus while watching a movie) I found this really strange Harry Potter Workout. Since I hadn't worked out for a while, I decided it was totally worth spending like three hours watching Harry Potter instead of doing my homework. Here's the list:

Everytime...

• a spell is cast: 10 jumping jacks
• anyone is awarded points: 10 lunges
• points are taken away: 10 squats
• hagrid says "i shouldn't have said that": 30 jumping jacks
• a painting talks: 15 crunches
• someone says "he who must not be named" or "you know who": 15 mountain climbers
• ron says bloody hell: 10 butt busters
• someone cries: 20 crunches
• someone says voldemort: 5 push-ups
• anytime is pet is shown: 10 bicycles
• a ghost talks: 5 push-ups

This exercise really made me notice things about Harry Potter that I had never before. For example, there are constantly animals in the movie! I'm surprised my abs weren't more sore this morning after all those bicycles! Another observations? for a name that no one is supposed to say out-loud, they sure say Voldemort a lot.

But this workout wasn't the only Harry Potter gem I found yesterday. As I continued to pin between jumping jacks, I was looking at pictures of tattoos. While purusing, I came across one that says "expecto patronum." Now I have to admit, that I had already seen this tattoo and not thought much of it. There are a million Deathly Hallows tattoos and other Harry Potter themed tattoos on tumblr and Pinterest that I've never really understood. Harry Potter might have been an integral element of my childhood, but I'm not sure if I want it inked on me.
But this time the caption of the photo caught my eye. "I await a guardian." It had never occurred to me that the spells in Harry Potter meant something, but the etymologies are quite interesting for some of them. Suddenly, expecto petronum is more than just some silly Harry Potter spell, but actually is quite meaningful. See the explanation for this girls tattoo here.

Expert Sledding: The Alps

I had a near death experience sledding. I can hear you laughing, how bad must I be at sledding to make that a dangerous activity? Well, sledding in the alps is a whole different experience than that innocent race down the nearest hill with some plastic disk. In Switzerland, they take sledding to a whole new level. But let's start from the beginning....

Look at that dude

When choosing to study abroad in Geneva, it didn't occur to me that I would be studying abroad in Switzerland but more Europe in general. Therefore, it didn't occur to me to travel within Switzerland. However, when my friend came to visit for a weekend and her sophomore year roommates planned a whole trip to Interlaken to show her our new home-country of Switzerland, I decided to join in on the fun. So the weekend before my study group left for a week-long adventure "Westward," we headed up to the alps.

The very train trip to Interlaken was beautiful, as is every train and plane ride to/within Switzerland. The country is just full of beautiful countryside and landscapes. Although I am usually resentful of the snow, a quality I have gained since attending school in Upstate New York where the winter is six months long, I couldn't help but find the winter wonderland before me absolutely breathtaking.
When we got to Interlaken, we stayed in this hostel called Balmers. Apparently, it's the place to stay in Interlaken because two other girls from Colgate who are studying abroad in Dijon also happened to choose this hostel for their impromptu trip to the alps that weekend.

Why you may ask is this hostel the place to stay? As seems to the pattern with highly recommended hostels, it has very little to do with the cleanliness or bed quality but everything to do with the social life. Balmers has a lively biergarten for post-ski socializing and drinks, which was unfortunately unavailable while we were there. They also have a club attached to the hostel called Metrobar, which is apparently one of the hottest spots in town. The seven of us (five from my group, two from Dijon) met up at the club on our first night. It was probably the biggest sausage fest I have ever been to in my life (well, besides that one time I visited an all boys high school).
Looking around the room, there was the sense that people were attractive. Fitter and broader shouldered than any of the guys we had seen in skinny France, these skiers and snowboarders gave off the look of attractive. Upon closer inspection, we had realized that none of these guys were Swiss, but rather the entire club was full of American college students studying abroad, just shoveling out cash to go skiing in the alps. Upon even closer inspection, none of these guys were even cute, but yet they all seemed immediately more attractive than the hoards of Europeans we had seen all semester. This was the first time we experienced the American attraction phenomenon. (As Americans, we are more attracted to other Americans).
While we were at the club, Daheuin and Allie (the two girls studying in Dijon) said that they were going paragliding the next day. Staring at the screen which advertised this adventure, I was immediately pulled in. I starting sending emails to my mom, begging her to let me drop 170F to go paragliding in the alps! The next morning, I checked my email for my mom's verdict. You need to look at your expenses and see how much you are spending on your basic necessities. That sounded like a passive aggressive "No" to me.

That could've been me!

I was heartbroken; I had been certain that paragliding was going to be one of my crazy study abroad experiences to tell for years to come! And with that email, she had deprived me of having an experience of a lifetime. Perhaps inspired by my desire to have some nature-related adventure in the alps, our group decided to actually go up into the mountains. Now, we had not fully prepared for this, since we thought we'd just be wandering around the town of Interlaken. Therefore, we were not all ready for a nature adventure....well none of us were properly prepared, but we were all screwed to varying degrees. I had thought to bring some athletic spandex, running shoes, my parka from Aqua, and my super cute jackalope sweater from Madewell--the perfect clothing for snow! So I layered as much as possible, and we took the train to Grindelwald and then then up to the mountains!
 When we got off the gondola at the top of Männlichen mountain, we looked like complete idiots. Everyone else around us was doing serious Alp skiing and decked out in ski gear, while I was wearing a little jackalope sweater and running shoes. We wandered around the mountain and grabbed some food from the stands and headed over to the tanning area of the mountain. Yes, there were tanning lounge chairs on top of this mountain, since despite the snow everywhere, it was probably 70 degrees up there. After finishing our delicious food and taking some beautiful shots of the Swiss Alps, we went looking for the sleds.

so sporty

A little sunbathing in the Alps

Although this had been our entire plan when coming up this mountain, as we were coming up in the gondola, we realized that this was a real mountain, not a hill. Suddenly, this little adventure seemed a lot more risky and scary. When we got to the sled desk, they looked at us with some amusement. We told them about our concerns and they told us we would be fine...until they saw our shoes. "Shit shoes" they called them. We would have no traction in the snow, unless we rented snowshoes that all of us were too cheap to rent. After fifteen minutes of freaking out, we decided to do it and grabbed our old-school sleds. The guys' final piece of advice was to be sure to avoid the difficult trail, since with our shit shoes, we wouldn't be able to handle it, and it was for expert sledders. Expert sledders?
We started down the first hill and it was pretty mild, I can handle this. As we kept going, the real declines approached. The first one was terrifying, as I mildly lost control, futilely trying to dig my heels into the snow to slow down. Thankfully, the hill leveled out, naturally slowing me down. That was amazing! I thought to myself, I can totally handle this.
Exhilarated from that experience and the shot of adrenaline, I went for the next hill with confidence and didn't even dig my heels in as early. And then I kept on accelerating and accelerating. I began to dig my heels in as the first hill was followed not by a flat period, but another hill. The next thing I see is a "Slow Down!" sign followed by a even steeper drop. Slow down? At this point, I'm desperately digging my heels into the snow but with no affect. I let out a high pitched scream as my heart hung, suspended in my chest and then dropped as my body continued to accelerate. Soon I was going too fast that I knew there was no chance I was going to make it and my sled raced completely out of control straight towards the curve in the trial. I was thrown off my sled as it continued forward, only to be caught my the ankle attachment. I opened my eyes and found myself at the edge of the trial with my sled dangling over the side of the trial, half-way over the edge.

As I lay in the snow, waiting for my heart to stop racing, I watched the trial as I heard some shrieks. One by one the rest of my friends came screaming down from the hill and crashed into the snow (or one another). Suddenly, this sledding experience seemed really scary (and dangerous) all over again. After sitting there for a while to recover (and watch the experience sledders make it through that point with such ease), we decided to continue on. The hills only got steeper to the point where I gave up on sledding and tried to just walk down the hill. It was still too sleep. I scooted down on my butt. I still went down pretty fast. It was a really steep hill. In case you don't believe me about the intensity of this hill, we were directly parallel to the ski trial, coming from the top of the Swiss Alps. It was that steep.
It took us some time to realize that there was a reason why the trial we were on was so steep. We had accidentally taken the "expert" trial, instead of the safe, gradual trial for those with "shit shoes". When we finally got back to the regular trial, the whole experience was quite enjoyable and not dangerous at all. There were beautiful views with a nice, easy descent. If only we had just taken the right trial....well, if we had, I wouldn't have gotten my crazy abroad story from the alps! Oh, I almost forgot to mention the craziest detail of our sledding adventure. While we were struggling down this mountain on the verge of tears (well that was basically just me, but we were all freaking out), these parents with their babies trapped down would be whizzing down no problem in perfect luging form. Crazy Swiss families.

The Alarm from Hell: Florence Day 2

I woke up the next morning to the sound of a blaring iPhone alarm. I reached for my phone and it was 6o’clock in the morning. Who in the world set an alarm for such an early hour? I looked around our eight-person hostel room (which was comprised of seven of us and some asian dude next to me), waiting for someone to shut off this evil sound. No one. The sound continued on for a couple minutes until the iPhone snoozed itself. We realized that it was our dear friend Keith’s phone. “KEITH!” We would yell. “TURN OFF YOUR PHONE!” 10 minutes later it would go off again. “KEITH! TURN OFF YOUR PHONE, DON’T JUST SNOOZE IT!” “Yea, Yea you guys. I got it,” he would reply. This went on for about an hour. Finally, after the asian guy next to me had just left out of frustration, I got up from my bed, walked up to Keith’s bed and yelled “GIVE ME YOUR PHONE.” He handed it over begrudgingly, and I turned off the alarm.

The next morning, all of us yelled at him for his alarm. He looked at us confused, What were we talking about? Apparently, all those times he responded to us, saying he had turned off his alarm, he had been sleep talking. His only recollection of the entire fiasco was me, standing over his bed yelling at him, as he wondered why in the world I was so angry.

For breakfast, I tried to lead the group to some “Secret Bakery” my friend had told me about. For directions, she had taken a screenshot of a sketchy alleyway from Google Streetview. We wandered around alleyways for about an hour until we finally gave up. Apparently you need to do some secret door knock and its only open at night for a late-night snack. My friend had not informed me of any of this until after I told her I couldn’t find it…. If you do find yourself in Florence though, apparently this place is amazing. Good luck finding it though.

After this fail, we picked up some croissants from a bakery and headed over to the Piazza del Duomo to climb the Cattedrale di Santa Maria del Fiore. We had to mount the thing to a) say we had some exercise to burn off all the Italian carbs b) see a pretty view c) get a closer look at the beautiful paintings on the dome d) there’s no better way to cure a hangover than climbing up a tall building. Climbing up cost us 8E, but the class before us told us that paying those extra euros to see the cathedral views are definitely worth it. While most of the advice the earlier class provided us with was complete and utter crap, this little gem of advice was one worth following. But as a warning for travelers venturing to Florence, if you are claustrophobic, scared of heights, or clumsy you might want to find another viewpoint in Florence. Summiting the dome was pretty scary because the pathway is extremely narrow yet is magically supposed to accommodate both those ascending and descending AND the steps get really steep and small when you are at the dome spot. (The descent is far scarier by the way.)

When we finally made it up to the top, it was beautiful; the red roofs were a welcome change from all the grey I had been experiencing in France. While there, we had to take a group photo. While taking a group shot is not usually something worth noting, this was particularly funny since Zoe had her Colgate sweatshirt on and someone came up with the idea that this would be the perfect moment for us to take a (cheesy) Colgate study abroad picture to land us in the Colgate Scene magazine. I think the photo came out pretty good (besides the fact that I look gross), so I’m going to look out for this photo the next Scene that comes out. 

After, we headed to the other side of the river to get some pizza. My friend had recommended a place called Gusta Pizza. very casual, take a number place. fucking awesome pizza, def the best I had there. very inexpensive. its on the other side of the arno though so a bit of a hike. So as we headed over to find Gusta Pizza, that’s all I knew about it. It was on the other side of the Arno, but I had no address. Somehow we magically found someone that knew where it was, and he pointed us in the right direction. I am so glad we found it. I got this spicy sausage pizza and it was incredible. As usual, I finished the whole thing and tried some other peeps’ pizzas who apparently can’t handle as much food as I can. At our table, there was a bunch of papers and various currencies hidden under the glass with tourists name’s written on them, so we signed one of our number slips with Geneva Spring 2013. The Americans at the table next to us asked if they could borrow or pen. They also wanted to leave their trace in Florence. So if any of you head over to Florence, definitely go to Gusta Pizza and then go to the back room, sit at the table in the left far corner and try to find our paper! GO! NOW! 

After, we had to wash our pizza down with something and since we were in Italy, we chose some gelato. Faith had been to Florence before and said this place called Grom was amazing and my friend Sarah had also recommended it. Once again, we had very limited knowledge about where exactly it was. What I knew about Grom? In terms of gelato, it is all amazing. Grom is supposed to be the best, right next to the Duomo. Faith said it around around the Duomo, on the Arno side. At this point, it had started raining and we were aimlessly wandering around the streets of Florence, hoping to stumble upon this gelato spot. When we were about to give up, I decided to see if I could catch any available wifi (pronounced WeeeFeee) in the middle of the street. Surprisingly, I did and led the crew heroically to Grom. The gelato was amazing. The Asian tourists in line after us thought the same thing. 

For dinner that night, we went to this fancy place called Zaza. a huge place with a ton of outdoor seating and a massive menu. really good food, had a great truffle risotto, my sister had steak tartar. eggplant parm is supposed to be good. Since it was winter, we sat inside. And since we were in Italy, we just gorged ourselves on pasta. I actually got an artichoke appetizer and pasta for my main course, accompanied by multiple bottles of red we had ordered for the table. The six of us just sat there eating, drinking, and talking for hours. Although we didn’t go out that night, we didn’t have to. We got tipsy enough off our classy red wine and just chatted away until 11pm. Sometimes, just talking with friends is so much better than going out. 

Just a Little Stalking: Florence Day 1

My first weekend trip after arriving in my new home of Geneva was Florence. As per usual, I had very little to do with the planning of this expenditure. I am pretty sure some people were planning on going and then some more people jumped on the idea and the next thing you know, almost the entire crew was heading to Northern Italy. Three of the five guys headed to have a romantic weekend in Milan and Venice (I so desperately wanted them to take a canal ride together, but unfortunately they didn’t); two other girls went to Florence to visit a girl in their so-rawr-ity. And me? Well, I was in a crew rolling seven deep that was also heading to Florence. 

I am not quite sure why, but Florence has never been on the top of my priority lists for Italy. When I was younger, I stayed in Rome for six weeks for an Opera and fell in love. I’ve always wanted to go to Milan for Fashion Week (which was the same weekend as this trip to Florence, but no one wanted to go to). Venice has been on my bucket list to see before it sinks. But Florence had never even crossed my mind until two of my friends studied abroad there. Both of them had loved it, and one of them had come back after having gorged herself on amazing Italian food a little plumper, inspiring her mother to starve her last summer.

Noting that last comment, one of the major highlights for both of them was the food. So I obviously had to get some recommendations. The first place I headed to after getting off the train from Geneva (well technically my train journey was Geneva>>Milan>>Florence) was to get some lunch. My friend told me about this sandwich shop that called All’Antico Vinaio. Sandwich place where you tell them what you want, AMAZING. huge line but so worth it, but also no seating, but still worth it. Cheap-around 7 euros for a huge sandwich and theres wine!

 When we stumbled on this small hole-in-the-wall sandwich spot, it was packed with people. Going up to order, I realized I spoke absolutely no Italian and neither did anyone with me. I desperately asked them if they spoke English, and they said very little. So I just yelled, make me whatever is good! ANYTHING. Now, I’m still not quite sure what I was given that day. I think there might have been eggplant? Proscuitto? Some sort of sauce? I don’t know but it was AMAZING and served on this delicious and gigantic piece of foccacia bread. The four of us sat there, stuffing our mouths with the deliciousness. I was so in love with it, I kept eating far past being full and had to take a couple breaks so I wouldn’t vomit. I just couldn’t stop eating; it was so good! The one strange thing I noticed about this small hole-in-the-wall sandwich spot was that everyone around me was American. The family next to us was visiting their daughter who was studying abroad in Florence. And as we left, the entire line was comprised of American students around our age who didn’t seem to speak any more Italian than we did.

That night, we decided to go out. Our hostel hosted sangria pre-games, so we met up with the rest of our crew at that lovely social event. In case you aren’t aware, I am not the most social of people, especially when meeting random strangers. My theory is that I merely absorbed the phrase “Stranger Danger” a little too well. So I was not expecting good things from this sangria party, but I actually had fun. About half of the group was my crew (we were rolling eight deep that night after all) and the rest were primarily English speakers who knew how to play drinking games. Although the sangria probably had no alcohol, we also added some hard liqueur to the mix. All the Europeans were beyond impressed by Keith’s ability to take it to the face (even though I’m pretty sure I’m the only person from Colgate who can’t do that). Unfortunately, Keith might have been a little too aggressive because he poured rum all over the only pair of jeans I brought for the weekend.

When we made it out, we had no idea where we were going. We ended up finding the Ponte Vecchio and had a spitting contest, which I lost to such a horrible degree that I vowed right there and then never to spit again in my life (at least competitively). At this point it was 12o’clock, and the crew was pretty beat and wanted to go home. I was not down for this plan. The GSG crew had been pretty weak on the nightlife, especially for a study abroad semester, and I had been getting a little frustrated. So I proceeded to throw a small drunken tantrum at the two remaining players: Zoe and Keith. But we all decided that the three of us were determined to go out that night. 

Unfortunately, we had no idea where we were and without 3G had no hope of finding anything. After wandering around for some time and almost giving up, we heard hope. We heard American college students. We knew that these kids were going exactly where we wanted to go (obviously a club, what else would they be wandering around looking like that at that time of night?), so we followed them. I was so worried they would see us that I was ducking behind cars and trying to keep at least a half block distance. Zoe and Keith didn’t find that spy tactic necessary.

Now, you are probably reading this and thinking that I am a straight crazy person. It was 1o’clock in the morning, and I was essentially stalking a group of American study abroad students. But before you go judging, it worked amazingly. It brought us to the club “21,” which my friend had even listed on her nightlife recommendations. The whole scene was pretty much like an American frat party with less alcohol on the floor, but even provided me with my elevated platform to dance on (it’s not a good party without elevated platforms after all). I had fun and Keith and Zoe apparently had an absolutely fucking mindblowing night because the next morning they dubbed it “the best club they had ever been to,” which I still find to be a hyperbolic statement.

I am still uncertain about how the three of us managed to find our hostel that night, since we are almost always the blind-followers in our travel groups. But somehow we stumbled onto the plaza right by our hostel. Of course, just finding our hostel and getting to bed would be too easy of a story. While in the plaza, these guys starting heckling us, and drunk Keith needed to fight them. There were five of them, one of him; let’s just say that was not a good idea. I literally had to attack him and bear hug him for a while so that he wouldn’t get the shit beat out of him. After we finally convinced him to go home, we got up to our hostel and couldn’t figure out how to open the door. We tried for like 20 minutes, until we went downstairs to call the hostel manager. He finally walked down the stairs, clearly having just woken up, and opened the door with ease. The next day, Alice also opened the door within 3 seconds. Clearly, the three of us cannot function by ourselves….but we did find a club!