A Vacation, Part IV: Germany

France, Italy, and Croatia had been a whirlwind of organized chaos amidst figuring out public transportation, airbnb contacts, and what to see/eat/do in relatively short timeframes. Four days here and four days there, the thrill of a nomadic life is indeed thrilling and a bit exhausting. We had traveled by plane, train, bike, bus, and boat by this point (I think our transportation record in one day was: shuttle to train to airplane to bus to boat. Europe!) The main reason we headed across the pond, (besides a romantic adventure), was to visit Daniel's sister, Lana, and her husband, Chris while they are doing the whole expat thing. We had originally planned for one additional stop in Italy but decided to split the rest of our trip between Chris and Lana's flat in { Regensburg} and an upcoming short venture to Prague. AND I'm so glad we did! Germany was a breath of fresh air. Literally.

They welcomed us with open arms into their new home, which quickly became our home-away-from home. Family, food, and an insane mountain climb during a thunderstorm (Lana, we need to post those GoPro videos!), what more could you ask for?

If only Germany wasn't so far away. I'd ask for that.

We did it! And then we got drenched. 

(this hike HERE) 

Everyone. EVERYONE at the top was over the age of 40 and looked like they stepped out of an REI catalogue. 99% had those funny ski pole things, used for, well, hiking. 

Look at us. We conquered. We flew up and down that thing. In tennis shoes and basketball shorts. 

The motivational power of prosecco and pasta, my friends. 

xoxo

{Bon Bon}

Want more Germany photos? Check out Lana's IG: @lanamarie23

Want more (boring) Oregon photos? Check out my IG: @bonifous

A Vacation, Part II: Venice

"The Vegas of Europe"

After a bit of a scramble from Paris to Beauveaux to the check-in for our RyanAir flight, we landed in Treviso, Italy with rousing fanfare. Literally, fanfare. Applause. Trumpets. Mariachi music. The woman seated next to us lifted her gaze Heaven-ward, kissed her rosary and made the sign of the cross. "Are we excited to arrive or excited we, ya know, didn't not arrive?" I quickly scanned the cabin for a "We've been accident free for             days," plaque. Anxiously ticking away the list of multiple take-offs and landings (and all the in between jazz that happens 30,000 ft. up in the air) we had left in our trip.

Thankfully, we switched up our mode of transportation to something more down to earth. Down to earth's water level, that is. Gondala, water bus, yacht, cruise ship, and ferry, oh my, welcome to Venice, the "Queen of the Adriatic," "City of Water," "City of Masks," "City of Bridges," "City of Canals," "City of George 'It's About Time' Clooney's Wedding" and "The Floating City," although by the looks of the Piazzo San Marco,  I think we were most definitely on the verge of sinking every afternoon. Damn tourists. Oh, tourists. Oh the approximately 47.7 million tourists that anchor in every year, in a city of 60,000! For the record, I'm a tourist but I'm not a tourist. Venice is beautiful, but if I were a resident trying to ride the vaporetto to run errands or get to work on a daily basis and I saw one more selfie stick or umbrella or large meandering group of people overpaying for Murano glass made in China and serenaded tours of the Grand Canal, I would probably throw myself in front of a very swiftly moving gondola.

With some careful research and consistent prayers lifted to the almighty TripAdviser, we carved out a pleasant visit in the maze that is, Venezia.
The magic of Italian gelato, pizza, pasta, and spirits quickly made up for any tourism claustrophobia.
If I were a resident, I'd probably survive on a diet of cappuccino, chocolate croissant, and bellini. Then I'd proceed to get old and wobbly and angrily wave my cane at the Carnival ships blocking my house.

Ahhh, the sailing life for me.

...

Stay: Giudecca Island/Haven Hostel
Save: Buy a 48/72 hr. water bus pass!
See: You'll easily zoom by a majority of the major landmarks as you walk (get lost) through the streets of Venice. Escape the crowds and jump over to Lido for a day at the beach, Murano for the real-deal world-famous glass, and Burano for colorful neighborhoods.
Savor: Best-Practically-Portland coffee at Torrefazione Marchi/Hole-in-the-wall hipster pasta at Dal Moro's Fresh Pasta to Go/Kinder Sorpresa eggs at the supermarkets. You'll find the best selection in Italy, where they originated! Take some home to your kids...or don't...cough*illegal*what?*

xoxo

{Bon Bon}

A Vacation, Act I: Paris in September

"Paris is the New York City of Europe" -says me

Early on, we had determined to fly into Paris as the kick-off to our European holiday. And if that ain't a bougie statement...
Onward to the CDG it was! And pronto, before the Kardashians invade!

The Oregon to France trek isn't all that bad. Daniel and I have both flown to Africa on separate occasions, and if that flight haul doesn't put hair on your chest...
With approximately twelve hours in the friendly skies toward the City of Lights, you have precisely enough time to enjoy any and all beverage services, two meals, one snack, several bathroom breaks, a 30 minute cat nap, eight prayers during turbulence over London, and four movies. Landed.

Step out of the metro and breathe that fresh, city...ozone layer. Yes. Let me begin with this. Paris stinks. In a totally stereotypical Pepe Le Pew sort of way. I was instantly enveloped by a cocktail aroma of perfume and smoke whenever anyone walked past me. Anyone. A three year old on a scooter whizzed by and I'm almost positive I smelled a faint hint of Thierry Mugler. My nose is used to some reeeeeeeeeel good Pacific Northwest air and in America you mainly see someone smoking, gosh, I don't even know, in their car, maybe? Behind a building, hidden in the bushes of shame and lung cancer, while on their lunch break? Towards the end of our time in Paris, (and Europe in general) after witnessing countless 102 year old men and women seemingly thriving on a diet of red wine and cigarette butts, I finally came to the conclusion: It must be the walking? Or the fromage? Or the chocolate croissants? Maybe they take their holiday in Portland, Oregon and fill up the internal reserve oxygen supply? These people are fabulous and fiesty and all La Vie en Rose and c'est le vie. I just might want to be like them when I grow up. Minus the smoking. Unless they invent a macaron flavored cigar. Ok ok, so of course we didn't travel across the pond for an anthropology study.

(As parents of a toddler, we obviously went to eat, drink, be merry, sleep past 7AM, and enjoy a Paw Patrol theme song free zone!)

We wined on wine and we dined on the four main food groups: chocolate, bread, cheese, and meat. We lived in a teeny Parisian apartment in the clouds. We walked past the Arc de Triomphe on our way home every day like it ain't no thang. We asked, "Parlez vous anglais?" so many times, as proper Americans should do. We marveled at the (cheap!) price of Bonne Maman jam at the supermarket, (and also failed at smuggling some into Italy, as improper Americans would do). We saw a whole bunch of naked statues, naked paintings, and naked photos, as one typically does in an art museum, and tried not to laugh too hard because we are actually 13 years old. We searched high and low for a (free) bathroom to use at 10PM, and finally found the free-est most grossest bathroom right by the twinkling lights of the Eiffel Tower, the smell of perfumed urine wafted through the air as an accordion wheezed La Valse d'Amélie. 

Paris IS for lovers.



xoxo

{Bon Bon}