oh yeah.

i am home.  

it is almost noon

When I get home to Portland I am probably going to sleep for ages. Today is my last day. I thought that I would wake up and feel almost happy about this...actually I am rather sad. The past two months have been so powerful, I cannot put a specific word on it. When I took off on the first of September, I sat across the plane and a few rows back from my travel partner. I sat there on the phone until the very last moment balling to my dad. I couldn't believe what I was about to do. I wasn't frightened of the first 20 days, just the next 40. Alone. There was a lot of fear in my viens that morning. When I saw Courtney that first morning in PDX I knew this was no mistake. I knew there was no turning back. I also knew that if I couldn't go on I could always come home early. It wasn't asthough I was taking off for some remote area with a population of cows and 3 people. It wasn't asthough the food was going to be green with mold. Or that no one was going to speak English. I don't know why but I was rather intimidated by the concept of traveling alone. I guess that was a little silly of me. When I planed the trip, well bought my tickets, it hadn't really dawned on me that I was going to be alone. But, I have survived. Well, so far. I still have a long journey home. I am leaving my magical bed and wonderful family this evening around 10.20 and heading on a night train to Oslo. Then flying back to Frankfurt and spending the night in the airport. Cetching my flight the next morning to Dallas and then PDX! I should get home in the early evening on the 29th, well see how that goes. When I said I would ''sleep for ages'' in the first paragraph I was refering to the fact that getting home is going to last from the 27th to the 29. I guess for most of the world that is pretty typical though.
I don't have much longer in Norway. It is now past noon and all I have done today is pack my bag for the final time, had a good breakfast, and picked out the clean clothes I am going to be wearing for the next few days. Incase I look different, they are the same ones I was wearing the morning of the first of September. Maybe this time I will appear slightly more confident in them, less teary. But, maybe not. I think it is now sweater time and possibly a visit to the oil museum.

I think that this will be my final post before I return to Portland. Then I will put a few pictures up... Courtney has already put some on facebook so, you can always look at my pictures there if you cannot wait. Most of them are just me looking at pornographic images at the sex museum. But... So yes, thank you for reading my blog.

To be continued.

Love,
Claire

updated

just to let you know, the following five posts were just added. i got a little behind..but, everything is up to date!

oh doesn't it feel nice to be soaking wet? du du du dud duuuu

Stavanger, Norway. After my bench, I mean bed...I think anything looks comfortable. But man oh man, this bed I have in this warm house, it has magic dust in it or something. When I sleep, I am in a deep and everlasting sleep, only getting up to post to this blog and eat a few bananas. Again, what can I say. Family is family, and family is wonderful. It is sad having relatives live half the world around, but at the same time they provide you a bed with magic dust in it when you arrive in their neck of the woods.

I am a little tired these days and art museumed out at the moment. I think home is in the frontal lobe. But, still I am content and happy to be here. Oh, but getting here...that was a wild ride. And I am not joking around. I was so happy that I played JV soccer for those two years at St. Mary's. If it weren't for my dedication to the Hail Mary with Allison freshman year, I think I may have died a few days ago. I opted to take the bus to Stavanger over the bus because of a reduction I recived with my Eurail is was slightly less really expensive. But, I got to take a boat for a short portion anyway. I was actually writing in my little moleskine, Alpine Black, when the captain came on an said something in about 45 different languages. I didn't really understand the English translation because he said that one last and I was distracted. All I heard was hold on to your bags. I didn't. Just kept writting away. Then my pens started flying everywhere. Then I started flying everywhere. I had to hold onto my seat with my weak arms, otherwise the floor would have become my spot. I felt like I was on the Titanic minius the romance and giant ice cubes. It was, I don't know. The boat would literaly fall. I would see a wave coming, grab my stomache and chair and clench my eyes and pray and feel the boat fall onto the next wave. Basically, it wasn't the ride I had in mind. I looked around it see if anyone was sick or dead or anything. They were all just sitting there watching movies and reading the morning paper. When the waves would calm down for a few minutes I would crawl around on the floor and retrieve my pens. I actually lost one.

But, I did survive. I was even dry when I got off the boat. But, I a afraid I am wet now. Have have tomorrow and the next day here then I start the journey back to my favorite city on earth, Frankfurt, Germany.

High School Musical 3, saw it! Good and colorful food. Little children who like to tell stories! Picking out the sweater.

Love,
Claire

i built a snow man in 10 second.

In his attempts to be the friendly famous man on the block, Petar suggested we take the train to Bergen. We already had our tickets but, we thanked him for the suggestions none the less. This is the ride everyone talks about, the ride from Oslo to Bergen. The bible even mensions it, Europe on a Shoestring that is... It wasn't a beautiful day. But, that is expected because I am in the country. I hae been told several time that I bring bad weather, a dark rain cloud follows me. That sounds like the title to a really cheesey song. I'll work on that at a later date. But, the ride to Bergen. I sat with my two new bestfriends. It was nice to have some clothed company on the long ride. It had been about a month.

I really cannot tell you about the ride with my own world. I am afraid I am not a writer in that regards...it was ___________ (fill in the blank with the most beautiful word in the world, probably my name). You pass by all sorts of country. You go into long and dark tunnels and when you pop out the environment has changed. We went from ran. To sun. To overcast. To a light dusting of white stuff. To a thicker layer of snow, with some falling. To a thick layer of snow with giant flakes falling. To a massive layer, just kidding. To no snow. To rain. To waterfalls. To Bergen, it was raining there too. That was mainly just the weather. I think my pictures will do the work for the shapes and other coatings of the lands. At one point I jumped off the train, while it was moving. Actually, it was stopped for a few moments- but, I built a snow man. I little man. And I ate some snow, about the same as home or Ohio I would say. It is nice to know the taste of snow is pretty universal, that has been a life long question of mine. What does snow in Norway taste like?

I finally cordinated with my couchsurfing host and we met up by about 7. I actually didn't save anyone money staying with her becaus she lived far away from the city center and had me go to events with her. This is nice, I guess. I saw a pretty bad movie and an interesting concert. The concert was free for her, 13 USD for me! So, I was a little bitter. And my bed, I mean bench. It was fine though. You win some you lose some.

The most calming church in the world. It rained. Saw some blue sky for .21323423 second. Had a Frankfurt-esque breakfast. Hmmm. Family in Stavanger.

Love,
Claire

Petar

I sat in a swirling cafe with my two new best friends. We had just seen some old stuff, followed by an expensive bus ride, followed by a visit to the nearest Kiwi. We were in Oslo. The two girls are from New Zealand and surfing the same couch as me. I must have looked lonely because they intived me to explore with them. Ironicly we were taking the same train to Bergen the following day. But, that is not important. So we sat at a metal table stuffing our faces for the day. We talked about all sorts of topics. However, our conversations were rather circular and kept returning to home and food and sheep. These two girls live on farms, one of them lives in a small town of 31. Not 31 billion, million, or thousand. Just 31 people. It was nice because they are my age and also taking a gap year, two things in common right from the very start. I don't know why but we really hit it off. They were completely absorbed in excitement and curiosity about halloween. I had lots of questions about sheep.



There were other people at near by tables, concidering we were in a corner and my back was to them I wasn't in a prime seat for people watching. We talked for sometime. I have problems sitting still and continualy shifted in my seat. Eventually I decided that it was most comfortable to lean against the wall, this exposed my profile. We continued to talk. Then I glanced and noticed an artist of some sort out of the corner of my eye. This glance sparked a life long friendship. My newest best friend was painting me. Actually, he was in the early stages. He was only sketching me... He started to talk. And talk. And talk. He is famous. There is an 1.5 hour documentary about him. Everyone knows who he is and he doesn't know them, just that famous. a book just came out about him. What else, what else? As soon as he signs the painting it is worth 10,000 kroner, before that-it is worthless...his name is just that big. Petar P. Tale, do you know that name? I didn't. He gives excellent compliments. When I smile, "it looks like 100 teeth are coming out of my mouth." And there is something in my eye...I can't remember what though. I almost lost it at the teeth coment, i mean compliment. And then I looked down at my face. This was after he asked if people paint me often. ''Only in the nude,'' I said. Not really, still haven't warmed up to that topic. But, my face, i looked like a man! Complete with facial hair. And this man was calling himself famous? What else. I started crying when we finaly left I was laughing so hard. It felt so good, haven't laughed like that since a fine meal home from Lowry when Chelsea declared she used to cover herself in mud...had to be there. He gave me his web site. He is also a collector, has a museum named after himself! Bought his first Picasso at age 17. We looked him up and he is legit. Real legit.

Next time you're in the MoMA look for my face, this version may or may not have facial hair...I have heard traveling can change you...your gender?

The famous ride to bergen, yet to come. Ran. Wind. Cheap, yet expensive chocolate. Running shoes cost about 250-300 USD in this country! A bus ticket, eh. 6USD for an hour.

Love,
Claire

Walking to Sweden

Getting to Stockholm was not easy, a train to a place that starts with an ''F.'' Take a vintage bus, probably used in a war-there were bullets shots in the rusty tin- to Torino. Walk to Sweden. reset clock and exchange Euro. Get on a double decker bus to Lulea. Walk around for a few hours-locate bread and cheese. Finally, board night train to Stockholm. From leaving Rovanemi to actually arriving in Stockholm lasted from 9am on the 15th to 7am on the 16th. I was a little tired and welcomed into Stockholm by some nice showers. honestly, it felt good to be rained on. I was in need of a bath- probably could have just taken one in the street. I don't think anyone would have minded or have been bothered by my nudity.

I have relatives in Stockholm. Not just the ones from 100's of years ago who are now in the earth. Living ones. I am not sure how we are related but, family is family. According to the books there is a connection. When Gunilla bought me lunch the first afternoon I wanted to start crying, there was so much food...a very balanced meal too. I think that maybe I will go off brown foods when I get home. bread, chocolate, cheese- i guess this generally isn't borwn, but in norway they have some special cheese, brown cheese.

Stockholm was wonderful. I sat on the water studying a lone rose in front of city hall. I couldn't help but imagine myself living there, or atlest a similar city. It is clean-despite Gunilla's remarks. It is fall now, the leaves are so fresh and the air almost spicey crisp. It is historical and modern. Outdoorsy and urban. Bike and bus friendly. It is a comfortable place. Perhaps I felt some sort of calling because of my Swedish roots. I don't know. I think I was influenced by the warm home and the company of another human being.

Autum. A ship that sat in the baltic sea for 333 years. Coco ball. Architecture museum. Churches and lots of pillows.

Love,
Claire

carrot cake with santa

Let's begin with the polar express. I had highly romantised my ride on the polar express. Well, that wasn't actually the na,e of the train, I think it was 637 or something. Regardless, I was taking a night train from Helsinki to Rovaniemi, Finland. About 8 K from the city center one finds the official home of Santa...so, I was pretty convinced upon boarding my train that the headlights would startle some wolves in their tracks. We would wing Christmas carrols. Melted chocolate would coat my mouth for the extent of the ride. The conducter would stamp my eurial was atleast red and green ink-if not a holly leaf stamp. And perhaps he would be wearing something which resembled Hannah Anderson pajamas-a Christmas edition of couse.

Before my smoker roommate arrived I played cards on the stiff sheets of my bunk. I allowed my shoes to permiate the plastic walls of the small cubical. My vocals made attemps at Dar Williams and Tracy Grammer. Then my roommate arrived. She was rather old. We had a major cultural difference, or maybe it is just a personal difference. I am a modest person. She liked to sleep in only her underwear. She was a little flabby and didn't pull the blanket up snug around her neck. I guess nakedness is just a trend. Maybe Finland was trying to hint something at me...

Eventually, I decided that maybe I wasn't on the polar express. but, the train would arrive in a winter wonderland and Santa would be waiting there to lift all the good girls and boys up onto his lap. The minutes were gorwing nearer and nearer to our 8am arrival. I opened the rubber window blind and a dark, wet morning light pour into the small chambers. I put my Christmas glasses on and the world suddenly became oh so Christmasy. The factory lights turned into a flashing reindeer. The lot of dead trees were in fact Christmas trees. They looked similar to the tree of character from a few years back. the one coveyted by the nieghbors...the one we wrapped the spine in golden ribbon. That one. Except, all these ones had slightly less life in them. But, Christmas trees-right? Rovaniemi, Finland thrives on tourism. The month of October is the ''ugly'' month, the tourism magazine suggests one go to the spa and eat meat, good options for the buget and veggie traveler.

Talked to Santa, the real man. Have been in the artic circle. Pretended to see the northern lights. Bread cheese? Sour berries-couch surfing.

Love,
Claire

alive

so i know that i haven´t written in a while. sorry mom and dad. i am rather tired now and don´t really feel like typing. so i think i will write something tomorrow night if i have internet. but, i am in stockholm and heading to oslo tomorrow afternoon.
i am in a home! a real HOME!
Love,
Claire

kelly harrold is a brave woman.

(The title is a little personal there, I hope you understand it kelly. The rest of the world, just pretend this entry doesn have a title). So, Helsinki. I arrived and fell in love. My flight was interesting. Hmm, well I ordered my tickets through STA (don`t do this again) and the airline printed on my order confirmation does not exist. Sweden Airways, actually it was Baltic Airways...I think it was just a small typo because I mean those two names are so similar, right? But, I made it and that was the important part. So. My hostel was on the northern curve of the 1952 olympic stadium! I was only slightly excited, I arrived and decided that all I was going to do in Helsinki was run. Unfortunately I am in terrible shape, as you all know, so that didn't happen. However, I did get some mighty runs in. I think running is a wonderful way to see a city, providing you don't get lost and I was fine because of my excellent direction senses...haha. But, really I didn't get lost.

It is fall here. The leave are falling and turning to deep and beautiful colours. The air is crisp, just how I like it. My scarfs are becoming more and more functional and not merely an effort to look like a native. It is colder, but I am still warm. Laudry at my hostel was not too expensive so I did a real load...wash and dry. It was probably the most statisfaction I have had in a long time. I put on my sweat pants and got into bed when they were still warm. It made me feel so at home, except I am in Finalnd.

I feel that when most people travel their bag gets larger and larger. Maybe the number of bags even increases. Some how that is not the case. My bag is getting smaller and smaller. I am not even trying. I think part of this is because I am becoming and more efficient packer however, really I am just depositing items at various homes. I have lost two items which I am kind of sad about. My sweater which I left on the subway in frankfurt right after getting off the plane and now I have lost my ski socks. I think they ended up in someone elses bag at my first couch surfing experience. I love ski socks. They just make me feel so at home. However, I guess my warm sweat pants fill that void. Except they are no longer warm and it would kind of be nice concidering I have my third sinus infection of the year right now! I am pretty good at having them. Mmm. My pants. So, one item which made my bag shrink in their death were my jeans. I only brought one pair with me...I brought my least favorite pair so that if I really didn't want them I could just leave them some where. I almost left them in Austria but, threw them back in at the last moment because I thought Finland might be cold. Which it is. Then, I did the wash and to my surprise the zipper snapped so I guess that solved my problem. Except I kind of want them now. I am down to a pair of sweat pants, two skirts, and a pair of shorts, and many layers of leggings. I figure if it becomes too cold I will just increases the number of leggins to three. I will have to max out at 5 I believe.

So. For the title. So, I loved my hostel in Helsinki. But at night...hmm. That is another story with a slightly different ring. So, I woke at 4;34 so the sound of my bed hitting aginst another bed. I though someone was dieing. However, I dont think that people generally make sound effects when they die and if they do they are probably not saying ..oh god.. .AHHHHH.. and ..yeah, one of the 9 girls in my room was putting on a sex show. Except none of us had paid and I don think anyone really wanted to see or hear it. I surely did not. It took me a few minutes to figure out what was going on. I was a little scared. I looked over to see what was going on and quickly returned to my covers for hiding. At one point the guy she had brought home (TO A DORM HOSTEL) got up and went to the bath room. I thought about jumping up and closing the door as to lock him out of the room. But, I was affraid I might contract an STD for touching the door knonb. Ms. Rob told us that they can be transmitted from hand to hand.... Then he returned and they went back to it. This was sick. I paid a lot for my bed, I guess you might pay more for porn, I would not know. I should have asked that Aussie guy how much his porn costs. Then I could have paid them, even tipped because this was live, not recorded. So, the sounds and ticking of the bed started again. I thought about throwing up on them because I was about to. or throwing something at them-but, I probably would have missed. So, I used my words, just like my mom always told me. Words have power... I declared that they were disgusting and that we are in a hostel and could they please go to the lounge. To which they stopped. I think they were maybe sober enough to understand me at that point. So, night one in Helsinki was not great. The next night I thought about putting a sign of the door which said please no sexual activity...but, judging from the ages of my roommates I though I was going to be okay. And really I was. No men came into the room. However, I did wake up with a tan bra and black underwear on my pillow. Sick. Apparently Helsinki is the sexiest place on earth, not Paris or where ever they say it is.

And now I am about an hour away in a little town called Porvoo. I will stay here two more nights I think, I got in later last night, and then I will catch a night train up to the Lapland, where I will freeze with Santa and see the artic circle. Then I will head down to Stockholm.

It is nice to be in a small town again. Pasta and garlic for 2,40 euros makes 4 meals. Lots of tissues, I love my sinuses. No one thinks I am American, a canadian asked if I was from canada...it is strange. Water. Gloves and Hat.
Love,
Claire

skipping around.

So I guess I have been a little busy or something because i managed to skip an entire city on here, a lovely city too. I guess seeing the world can be time consuming. So back to the Sound of Music or Salzburg, Austria. Actually, I think I will go all the way back to Innsbruck. So, I got out of my little travel funk and looked towards the hills. I wasn´t really up for locating a specific trail head so I decided to just walk until I found one. This was a rather irrational decision. I actually just started walking and then thought ´´maybe I should keep walking up-I am seriously in need of some increased-heart-rate-walking.´´ I walked up and up and up, for about an hour I was walking up, never down. I guess that is generally how it works when you are in the Alps. I walked past some neighborhoods but soon there were no more houses, then there was a trail. I walked on that until I came to a clearing which gave me an amazing view of little Innsbruck below me. This was not a hard core hike or anything considering I was wearing a skirt. But, I guess I cannot just be surrounded by mountains, I also have to be in them-
Then I went to Salzburg.
I have my own hills and the rest of the world has these hills, my hills are full of music and these ones are too...
So, yeah, the Hills are alive with the sound of music. I think it would be impossible to be in Salzburg and not be aware that this is the location for the sound of music. I saw Motzarts house and birthplace and what not...and some rain...and a fortress...and some hills...and ducks...and ate some killer chocolate. I also had my first couch surfing experience. It was nice and cheap. Luckily there were 4 other people surfing with this same guy so I guess it was not too obvious that I didn´t really know the customs of couchsurfing. Like, are you supposed to make them dinner...I guess some people do. Then again there this not a rule book to couch surfing. I guess I liked to but at the same time sometimes I feel a little young. I enjoy walking around and seeing the culture and eating chocolate while most others enjoy sitting in smoky bars. I felt obligated to socialize so I did-but now all my clothes smell like smoke. There was also a couch surfing event while I was there and this lady from New Jersey whom Thomas was also hosting request that we all goo! I was thrilled! Not really. But, yeah that was interesting it was in a giant beer hall which is still owned and operated by monks apparently. Again, that was interesting. When my host found out that I was coming to Vienna next he picked up his phone and declared 5 minutes later that he had a couch for me to stay on...which brings me to where I am now. Vienna, Austria.
I really like it here. Colourful. Lively. Not too touristy. Art! When I talked to my parents the day I departed for Vienna they listed off a handful of artists. I managed to forget all of them since I was not too familure with their names. So I turned to the Lonely Planet (my bible) for advice. I went and saw this Hundertwasser Haus which I loved. I honestly had never really heard of him before. Now he is on my favorite list. He is an artist or was an artist with everything. I almost enjoyed his simply writings more than his actual art-but it was pretty amazing too. Here is a little sample...

Our real illiteracy is our inability to create.


If we do not honour our past we lose our future. If we destroy our roots we cannot grow.

Man is a guest of nature and should behave.

A church should be beautiful, one should like to go inside, should feel at home inside. One should find in it a bridge to God, to nature and to creation.
God should like to go into this house of god, built by men to meet with him there.
God is creator, if man wants to fulfill his purpose as god´s image he also has to be creative.
If man is creative he comes nearer to god.

So. Yes. I was really very in love with him. I think I am off to see some more art today and probably my next post will come from Helsinki, Finland (I am flying there tomorrow morning).

I am sorry that this post is very unorganized and kind of all over the place and probably makes no sense...I will try to be better about updating it for the next 3 weeks or however long I have left. Until the 29th of October.

I am going to be cold, chocolate with have to come in a hot and liquid form. Still on the bread and cheese diet. With a few bananas here and there. Art. Style. Metro stations.
Love,
Claire

sit. write. sit. think. sit. wander.

I have started to notice a pattern. Everywhere I go, people want to kniow who I am, so I tell them. I am Claire....Actually, this is not the case. Rather, everywhere I go I find a place to sit. Usually it is just one spot and I go back there several times. Today my spot was along the Inn River. I sat amd ate lunch and later dinner. Jornal. Threw rocks in the river. A few people passed-walking their dogs. But, for the most part it was just me and the river. In the Cinque Terre I found a spot where I would watch the sun go down. In Siena, it was the Piayya Del Camp. there were lots of people there. In Romw it was Basilica Di Santa Maria Maggiore. In Florence it was under the giant white marble doors of a church I have failed to remember. Or, maybe Francos arms..I don´t know, that one it a toss up. The Duomo was nice too. I cannot say I sat much in France. In Lyon the chruch perched on top of that hill looking over the town was wonderful. Paris, Place de Bitche. Just kidding, we just liked the name-it was a place right across the street from our hostel. On top of the Eiffle Tower was nice. Luxembourg, my animal free bed. Amersterdam, Anne Franks house. Koln, the beautiful ride there on the train along the Rhine River. these places are not always my favotire tourist destination, simply a nice place I like to go and unwind. Some days I´ll sit there for hours. Others, Just 20 minutes or even 10. I generally have a meal there. Twice dumb tourist have taken a picture of an Italian student hard at work in her natural enviornment. That Italian girl would be me. Yesterday I think I was sitting on radio active rocks. As I sat along the Inn a small news crew arrived with a giant camera. I kept turning to investigate. At one point the man they had been fillming for some time was out of the shoot and the camera was pointing right at me. My 125 minutes of Austiran fame-throwing rocks in a river-wow, i must look like sucha loser.
I did´t set an alarm this morning. Instead I woke to a cry of terror. ´´It is raining!!!´´We´ll see where my legs take me today. Perhaps Old Town, I am affraid not the mountains. I was able to escape the smoke yesterday so I feel much better this morning. I just need to down a little more Vitamin C, I think I have a little cold coming oin.

colorful pens. what should I do when I get home? Salzburg tomorrow. Lots of garlic and good peaches.
Love,
Claire

water bottle toss

I am affraid these past few days have been a little rough. Not in any dramatic sense though. Rather, more just my state of mind and maybe slightly my physical well being. Mpre that, all my clothes are dirty, I ran out of shampoo in the shower this morning, and you have to pay to use the stove. -50 Euro per 20 minutes and of course I bought slow cooking brown rice. And physically...I woke this morning with a terrible headache. I think smoke was the culprit. You can smoke pretty much everywhere in my current hostel, excpet in the rooms. This sucks. I woke with a bloody nose, puffy eyes, plugged head, and a voice which sounded much like a carrtoon characters. I didn´t really know what to do with myself. So, I started to walk. My original goal was to go on a hike todaz, but, concidering mz sate when I woke I thought ´´NO.´´I guess the past few days have been more weary than rough. The first few hostels post Courtney were great. Plenty of people to talk to and wxplore with and cook with. But, when I moved in with a two year old and his father (who I am pretty sure is my age) and the mother-grandmother things started to head slightly down hill. The grandmother was a smoker, this was an understatement. Every breathe she took sounded like a jam on a sewing machine, a really bad jam. I didn´t really sleep and I didn´t want to use ear plugs because I needed to hear my alarm in the morning for my train. Luckily that was only two nights. And this hostel or current crowd, they are all smokers. That is the only way to have friends. They sit around all day and night and smoke and go online on their lap top computers. I don´t think they have even seen the mountains. I am in Innsbruck, Austira.
I have always thought of mýself as a pretty independent and slelf entertaining person. So, the prospect of becoming lonely seemed slim. I suppose when I came to and realised that my new best friend was two years old and we would spend the next few hours throwing a 1 L water bottle-I wont lie, I became a little lonely. So, this morning as I walked around in self pitty I found a rocky spot on the river to sit and watch the clouds lift until they were high above the mountains. I will spend the next two nights in Innsbruck SMOKE Ausria, I think most of thiat time will be spent on this river bank. Then, jump on a train to Salzburg, then Wein, before I cetch a flight to Helsinki.
Skirts abd scarfs-my clothes are all dirty. A new flavor of gum. Plums. Mountains, rocks, water, bijkes. Still bread, cheese, and chocolate.
Love,
Claire

what i have learned (a running list)

so, this is a list of things i have learned, been told, and what not.
1. wear a long sleved shirt running-that is just what they do
2. Not all porn ,kloving Aussie´s have heard of Rebecca Wild. Sorry Mom. Google Her.
3. Never go hiking with Germans
4. I cannot give the bird
So, I have never flicked someone off or as Bret and Jerome would say, given the bird. I guess the point of this story is rather lame. And that my hand does in fact look like bird, one with only one wing. A few nightsd ago in Siena I got a little bored or something. So, I decided to flick myself, my imaginary roomate, the wall, the door, the sink, something off. This is a novel gesture for my hand and too be very honest they sucked at it. My hangs are physically not capable of giving the finger. This is good to know incase of a real life situation in which this gestiuure would be appropriate. I now know to save myself from looking like a complete idiot. You see. I have alwaxys had challenged hands. Besdies from being verz smallö, most of my fingers are bent to one side, and my thumbs do not go anywhere close to hitch hiking. But, my middle fingers. You see, they struggle too. When I trz and make the gesture a)it is very painful and b)my index finger only goes half way down. I would like to think my failure in this motion is just saying something about my personality...right?
5. Aussie´s wear sun glasses always, even when it is raining-they are too hung over to see other wise
6. Americans. SHUT UP. Please.
7. Americans think other Americans are idiots. I had a college senior explaning to me what face book was. Yeah, I have this fancy website that I upload pictures on and add comments and captions....FACEBOOK YOU IDIOT.
8. Italian men are creepy. and maybe a Greek one too.
9. They don´t hate us, just Bush.

soon the rocks were not smooth from their feet

We woke early. Well, around 9. Ate breakfast on the balcony of our hostel. Grapes, yogurt, carrots, bread-an off asortment. But, lovely under the Italian morning sun. The two German guys whom I was rooming with had invited me to join them on their 2.45 hour hike. Keyword- I was invited-I did not invite. Unlike a situation in Florence in which my someone wandered around with Courtney as I walked behind...another story for a different day. The Cinque Terre is composed of five small towns. It is common for travelers to make day hikes between the different towns. We were embarking on the toughest of them all-although it seemed reasonable.
I was hiking with one guy who is 6'6'' and the other 6' 1'' or 2.'' They had a good foot on me- and I would say most of that came in their legs. So, I was taking 3 steps to every one of theirs. I suppose I had a slight advantage going up hill, with a faster turn over and all. But really, the rest of the time I was running to keep up. The hike started with a beautiful view over the Mediterranean Sea with some fine Italian mountains to our backs and cheesey recorded -supposed to be-romantic music for the tourists who like to make out on the edge of the salty sea. We continued to climb, drink wasser, snap a few photos, rest, eat a second breakfast. Apparently the whole men not asking directions only plagues Americans-Germans poke fun at those who look loast but refure to ask. Or atleast that is my current thought. So, as we walked-by the way we were going in the opposite direction of the rest of the world. We continually asked other where we were going, what the terrain is like---only 12k to go! Maybe. We climbed. and circled mountains. Went on excursions. Saw the Sea. Ate enegy cookies. Listened to Simpson's quotes. Talked about language and life. Watched the sun peak out from the occasional cloud. We walked, followed the ''red-white-red'' pattern painted on various rocks and trees. We grew weary at times-but still we walked. It was odd to think I had only known these people one day. It generally takes me so long to get to know people. I guess traveling has pulled me away from my dislike-awkward appraod-stance I generally have when meeting new people- Someone always asks where you're from. If the tone of their voice in their response did not drive you up a wall then generally the conversation continues. Somone always asks: are you traveling alone? where are you in school? where next? what subject are you studying? still don't know. and so the conversation continues. Sometimes you sit around until very late. go hiking the next day-which is where I was at. Towards the music at the beginning of the hike we passed a sign which pointed towards Levanto and stated tthat it was 12 hours to that destination. We were not hking to Levanto. an hour later the exact same sign appears. Still reading the exact same number of hours. That should have been an indication...we laughed. But still we hiked. A sharper wind began to hurl for a few moments. I put on a jacket and we walked. At points the trail was flat, other times a little steep, ocassionally down hill- Directions were still being asked. It seemed we were going in the correct direction. At one point we walked through a town and filled water bottles. In the middle of the woods we walked past a bar. Then atop many hills various excerice-play structures appeared. The oddest being two curved ladders joiing at the top. Perhaps our hike was so long because we got distracted and took various ilmarked trails. Althougj, I think not. Our pace was fast-atleast for my short legs. Finally, we came to a major fork in the road. This is where we went wrong. Instead od walking stragiht down to the town- we walked on what appeared to be the main road. We walked almost the entire border of the town. The red-white-red markings vanished for a solid 1.5 hour. The trail snaked on itself. We knew at some point we would come to the road-a paved road-one with cars and people. We passed a trap. Not a tourist trap, well it could be. No. Just wild boar trap. The markings reappeared at a gate with read...keep gate shut to keep wild bpars out. Hm, wild boar country. Does this mirror cougar country? Sp we walked. I learned about my American accent and the Koln accent. We came to a road and we walked. A thumb was put out and we got a ride for a short distance. We walked. We arrived. Ate a pizza for 5 with 3. Tooks a train back to our little home, showered, played 66, and met our new roommates.
Two girls from New York- I tired to stop the conversation when their voices continues to banter about their boyfriends and vodka. But, they kept at it. Do you go home on the weekend to visit your boyfriend, ''no. i go to shool 36.4 hours from home.'' every time they left the room i would restate how annoying americans are. '' I spent 5£ on this bottle of wine. eeeecccckkk- eeeeeeeeeeccccckkkk.'' Shut up. Then there were the 3 Texans named Patric and other things too. They had big bellies, grey hair, and a good Texan humor. We generally sat in the corner and played 66 and laughed at their ''i am a texan statements.''' texas' population...3.6 billion. Land mass-eh, about the size or Europe, maybe larger. ''We hire people to drive out other two cars.'' It went on. They took our picture-with their camera-at the train station this morning. The GPS system was named Robert.
I guess that brings me to today. Well, yesterday.
European hitch hiking. Wild boars. olives and grapes. Wine making. Train rides. Cards and SPF 75 sun block.
Love,
Claire

i am sorry if you are in class today. 24 and 25 september 2008

when i got off the phone with my parents last night my dad said, ''you know it is okay to just sit?'' I replied with a standard-well duh, ''i know.'' Really, just sit? That was a novel idea. Just sit in bed? On a bench? On the beach? That is what I did. I am currently situated in a little place called Levanto- the Lonely Planet doesn't evem mension it. It is not exactly in the Cinwue Terre. However, it is only a five mintues train ride to the first of the five towns. None the less, it is a beautiful 28 degrees today. I put my feet in the Mediterranean Sea. And today I sat. I stopped at a few markets on the way to the shore. Picked up various viamin rich-gelato free fruits. Then, I sat and watched and waited for the city to arrive. Slowly familes tricked onto the course sand beach. So, I left and found a bench-then back to the beach when my back was in need of more UV warmth. Then back to a bench. I was craving to be semi production since I had spent most of the day spitting grade seeds onto the sand. There are between teo and three seeds in the grades here. So yes, i pulled put my Moleskine and organised the reamainder of my European adventure-I cannot wait to be chilled in the Lapland. As I sat, the grey haired-gold-and-silver teeth man joined me on my bench. He invited me to have a drink later that night. I pulled the ''i can't i am having a drink with my boy friend card.'' He awkwardly sat there-then rode off. You meet interesting people traveling. Last night as the bell struck 11.45 the lights went out. And yes the bell does ring every 15 minutes. It was silent for a few minutes until someone cracked their knukles. Someone else came in with another crack, once the cracking was out someone started snapping, then a clap, pound on the bed board, floor, a shuffle of the sheets. Then. the ultimate, a hand-mouth generated fart. then one which tested ones lung capacitym lasting 20 seconds probably. It wasn't real. I then decalred how happy i was to be rooming with three 12 year old boys. Then the Aussie said, ''wow, we're mature''-he was 24.
English is a great language to speak and understand. Last night prior to the musical body episode...I sat around and shared stories-political statements-reavel tips and what not. Our room made for nine was only occupied by two german guys and the giant farting Aussie. On one of my highlites of the day, my search for a peach. This time of year and in this region fruit is abundant- little fruit stands intermingle with the show store, designer hand bag shop, and the restaurants. Generally, it is not too hard to find a peach. I pocked my head into various stands. But, none of the peches were up to my sunny farms par. As I walked I decided I wanted some bread too. I walked into one shop-spotted a prune or a peach and attempted to uscita. It was too late, the old lasy who shuffled her feet and wore a mustacche was conversing in italian. After many attempts at the question-gesture she discovered i spoke english. She motioned for me to wait as she crossed the street without lifting a foot. 5 whole mintes passed, could have gathered the store and ran. it was the type of place in which they pull and item forward and dust the surface after ever item purchased. It was stocked with toilet paper and water with gas. EVentually she returned with a twin who aalso had many grey hairs growing from above her upper lip. They walked around the store pointing to items which they also knew the enligh translation for: bread, cheese, roll, egg. Others entered the store in the same manner as me. They were imediately asked if they knew both English and Italian. No one did. The lady who could list her feet kept repeating ''don't understand.'' I asked if they spoke french, they counted to 3. Then for the next 15 minutes they dug out dictionaries. It was missing the entire alphabet after C. The word bladder was not going to help me out much. If I actually had a problem. Then, they started combining items. Roll and cheese. I thought I might be cetching on. They were trying to figure out what I wanted. I wanted a peach and bread. They had a prune peach and toilet paper. I didn't want theit pesca. So, I put a small chocolate bar on the counter, handed them ,45£ and walked out the door as they tored to sell me brick-hard-bread. I am not sure how I walked in the door-but, aparentyòy it provoked two old ladies to believe i had a problem. I wanted a cheese sandwhich or something.

Maybe iìll have another musical night. I found a peach and pear and grades. I don't have a boy friend, that was just a cover.
Love,
Claire Riggs

INTERNET IS 4,80£ per hour so i am not proff reading anything. i hope you can understand! Sorry about that.

homeless for a few hours

Siena, Italy. Hm. Where to begin, Courntey is on a plane. Atleast I hope she is. I am in an internet cafe in Siena, Italy. Rome was nice. However, I am much more comfortable in this small city. I arrived via the train yesterday and just started walking around this morning. The train was a little difficult. I think I will begin with the fact that I didn't sleep much my last night in Roma. I was staying in a hostel that advertised itself with three words, drink, drink, and drink. So, obviously you can tell why I stayed there. Really, it was the cheapest place in Rome, atleast according to hostelworld.com. 12,50£ a night, not too bad. There were lots of Americans there, as usual-which was a little disapointing. However, I was the only one from the northwest, so i just pretended everyone else was from another country-because they are. I met two girls from WI who later invited me to go get icecream at mc donalds, I pointed them towards a gelato stand. see, they really are from another country. i recieved more proff that you should never talk about people behind their back and that indeed this is a small world when i found out that the girl sitting next to me (she is from york, penn) is best friends with the girl who sat one row in front and one seat to the left of me in psychology last spring. I guess even in a city as large as rome there are moments when this world feels really very small.
Siena is small. Not too small, really the perfect size. Yesterday I was so tired when I arrived. All the drinking of others the night before had kept me awake until late hours of the night...and i got up at 6. When I finally arrived I just wanted to curl up in my hostel bed and sleep. To my good fortune the hostel was not opening until 3.30pm. It was 1. So, I wandered around looking for a grassy spot to sleep on. There were none. My hostel is kind of removed from the city center, well, really removed from the city center so there are no parks. Finally I found some grass beind a bank. A little sketchy? yes. But, it was sufficent. Until I realised that there were ants and dog poop everywhere! At that moment I realised I was truely homeless no bed, no food...nothing. dramatic, i know. some how i managed to pass the time, and it wasn't too bad. i checked into my hostel right at 3.30, found my nice bed, have a nice american roommate, we both went to bed at 9 and woke at 8.30am. so, i am feeling much better today.
I have been roaming the city. i see a sign pointing to something interesting so, i walk towards it. works well. i am trying to make it to the big cathedral, well see if i make it there today. i walk about one block, stop for some food, journal time, a nap, a cite. just something. i guess since i am alone, people assume i am not a tourist. really, i am not. i am a traveler. again someone last night asked me if i knew how to get to the pam supermarket. i didn't so i flagged down an acutal italian and he helped us out. most people think i am a student here, and ask what school i am atending. really, you know...i am a temp college drop out. which, by the way is really nice. also, when i get home on october 29 you probably will not recognise me. this will not be because i changed my style dramaticaly or something along those times...really, i am just going to be obese. i actually looked into buying running shoes today, they were way to expensive, so i went and ate a third breakfast instead. yes, i am become obese. it is really sad. i told myself no gelato today, hmmm. that lasted until about 1pm. no pizza, nope. no chocolate, hahah NO. i have been doing ab work outs, but, i think i am too fat for those to do any good. Since courtney is not with me i have no reason to move my mouth, but, it still needs to move, so i eat instead. makes sense? plus, everything lookds so good. not all of it is, i still haven't had bread as good as portland bread..pearl bakery...great harvest...grand centeral...they need to teach this country a lesson in bread making. but, everything else is amazing, such as the pizza. maybe when i get to austria i will stop eating gelato, but for now i cannot. that would just be wrong.
warm weather. lots of churches. joe biden was at wooster and i wasn't.
love,
claire

just use this one

Starting tomorrow, September 20, 2008 I will just be using this blog.
But, Courtney will be posting pictures to the other one as soon as she gets home on the 22 of September 2008.

EXcuse me Wooster, hey your team is fine.

The weather these past days has been scorching.  Friday morning as I lumbered out of bed and into my typical sweat ridden jean and into my favorite hurdling tee, I realized I needed to get away.  The heat, work, the city...there was just too my on my mind.  With a little good fortune Clare called at lunch with an invitation to hit the Oregon coast.  Perfect.  Though the coast was not exactly was I had been scheming up in my mind in the last few hours at work; over cast, windy, highly populated, foggy...it was sufficient.  A nice get away from the "veggi patti's" that have dominated my summer.  This morning Clare and I rose early to beat the traffic and rode highway 26-E home, getting Clare in, in time to spiffy up before pursuing her wonderful summer occupation outside being adventurous with me.  I checked my watch as a rounded another coastal curve at 60 mph.  It said "8:43."  The same digital font that revealed the time, delivered me with the realization that I have been secretly dreading all summer.  After grimacing at my stop watch for a moment and forgetting that Whitney and I have the same one, I told Clare that they all arrived at Wooster yesterday.  They probably met at Kate house for baby cakes too.  They are moving in.  Setting up their rooms.  Moving their belongings out of climate controlled storage units. Hugging each other.  Laughing at themselves.  Possibly planing a trip to Hurslers.  Maybe Whitney and Chelsea will wear their thrift store purchase, I mean milking uniforms.  I bet they blared "Excuse me Mama" in the locker room.  And maybe the first years went back to their respective dorms and listened to "Ironic" as they bathed modestly.  I bet they did that same loop on the golf course.  I bet coach stood their and smiled, arms crossed, eyes pondering, then his hand might have moved to his pockets as he loomed over the first year girls that gathered in a circle, leaching in every awkward one.  The girls who thought about wether to arrive in running clothes or their typical street garb.  We want to do everything right the first time.  Make our first impression.  I remember what I wore on that first run.  As I rounded more curves, I think it became apparent to Clare that I wanted to be there.  She said it will be fine, or something like that.  Then I remembered oh yeah...I am leaving for Europe on the first of September.  By then I presume I will have forgotten my pity sorrows this morning.  But for now I'll listen to "Hand" and cry.  Just a little, not trying to be too dramatic here...

my life be like

If you haven't been in touch with my lately, I am sorry.  You, my friend, are missing out and I think you should immediately rekindle our relationship.  Yes you, that is not my obligation.  I find myself ever so interesting and encourage you to read about my life on this blog.  Well, not really.  However, for the next year I am going to be gapping.  In other terms, I am taking a very deep breathe off school or I am taking a gap year.  For those of you whom I have really lost touch with; I will brief you on my years.  In short, this is my life story.  After being promoted from Village Play School to Stephenson Elementary School and then to St. Mary's Academy I finally received a diploma.  It was beautiful, framed in blue and complete with Pat Barr's autograph.  That piece of paper tucked under a smooth sheet of plastic was definitely worth the 15 years of intense schooling.  I graduated from St. Mary's with a masters in knowing how to be a student and have no life and decided to become a member of the class of 2011 at The College of Wooster.   Proceeding my first two days at Wooster I was passionately in love, with the college.  Then I was faced with  a series of questions and a plethora of deep thinking sessions I decided that I wanted to take a gap year.  I don't know too many people that have taken one, but, at the time it sounded like a good idea.  And well, after about three months of summer workacation I am still passionate about pursuing the objectives set in my noggin when I signed that pink sheet of paper that declared my leave of absence from Wooster.  So, here I go and please follow along if you feel so inclined (but really this blog is for me to keep track of what I am doing with these months).  

Dear Diary, today

March 26, 2008

To Claire and Any Else In The World Who Cares To Read This,

As I meandered through the halls of New York University (NYU) and smelt the perfuse scent of-pot I knew that I was in the right place.  Not at NYU, but at Wooster.  As I sat in a dorm room in front of a Hoya basketball game at Georgetown University and listened to a guy in the room say “oh, we already have one of those” when a Mercedes commercial came on the television; I again knew I was in the right place.  Not at Georgetown, but at Wooster.  Back here at my little prairie like oasis we know if people are in their rooms if the door is open.  And we watch car commercials longing to one day own a vehicle that is propelled by something automatic and not our feet, everything we ask for does not show up on our front lawns.

Recently I have given myself time to allow my mind to aimlessly wander.  Maybe I have given myself too much space.  This past September on the first day of class my advisor had us write a short piece discussing two questions; how we chose Wooster and why we came.  The first question was easy, but the second questioned remained unanswered.  I receive a check rather than a check plus on that assignment.  A failure, I know.  However, now reflecting back on it I am sure those few lost points did not affect me too much in the grand scheme of my first year seminar.  And maybe that check will allow me the time and space I need to determine why I am in college.  As I rode greyhound buses from Wooster to New York to DC to Boston this spring break, I sat and gave myself countless hours to think and let my mind wander.  I suddenly found myself smiling and squirming in my seat.  In the midst of the soda stained floors, which you had to pry your feet off of after every step, I had come one stride closer to determining why I am at college.  My answer was anticlimactic, I am sure, but it made me uncontrollably excited.  I honestly have absolutely no reason as to why I am in college.  I want to be here and I have absolutely loved being here for the most part, but still I have no reason as to why I am here.  I do know one thing and that is that I need space and time to mature.  Maybe in another year I wont know why I am in college.  But, the same innate instinct, which, told me to come to Wooster, and not Earlham or Gettysburg is telling me that I will know or have some inkling.  Maybe I will even have an idea of what I want to major in.  But, I am not counting on it.  The essence of the idea that made me so excited in that highly uncomfortable seat on the way to DC is that I need time to explore, think, branch out, live, work, grow, and again mature. 

            I have noticed recently that there is a lot going through my mind, not just social issues and not knowing what I am going to major in conflicts but larger and more significant problems.  I don’t have time to simply think forever.  I have noticed that sometimes I walk past a heads up penny on the street and wont event change my path to pick it up.  I once raced down a mountain to pick up a dollar bill that I had spotted from the chair lift.  Maybe other people noticed that dollar bill too however, no one else toke the time to claim it as there own.  I use to pass pennies on the street and spend time making a complete fool of myself flipping the penny over with my foot, if it was tails up.  Recently I haven’t been giving myself time to flip the pennies.  Think of all the opportunities I could have created for myself if I hadn’t passed up on all those pennies, I might have saved enough to buy myself a pack of gum.  In my current state it is not pennies, which are going to make me grow, but it is time.  Time is what I need and want from college.  Time is going to create opportunities.  I feel as though Wooster has countless opportunities but I don’t know how to take advantage of them because I don’t know what I want. Wooster has even made me appreciate the “Times New Roman” type font and not the clean cut “Arial” which happens to make papers a little longer and is also the font I always selected in high school.

            Last year as I eagerly mailed in application after application to various colleges I thought about taking a year off.  My Mom and Dad had encouraged it and were very supportive of the concept.  But, I couldn’t get my mind off of anything besides arriving at college and arranging my room.  Red, pale yellow with accents of plum is the color scheme.  At that point I was only ready for college and not ready to take time to expand my horizons.  And looking back on it I really wasn’t ready to explore the streams of my life.  Last year I stood before my class at Baccalaureate and said a prayer in which I encouraged people to allow their minds to wander and to always remember to take deep and conscious breathes. I wasn’t ready to do that then, but I am more than ready now. 

            I don’t know what I want from the next year of my life.  However, I don’t see that as a problem.  I know I want to work for different people, walk unknown territories, and sit in new seats.  And I know I now have the confidence to do just that.  I am an independent person who is often happiest alone in unfamiliar areas.  As long as I only make right turns I will always find my way back home. 

Love,

Claire Riggs Miller

ps.

I am not going to be in college next year.  I am taking a one year leave of absence and will return in the fall of 2009 as a member of the class of 2012.