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