Chocolate, waffles, chocolate waffles, waffle chocolates, and flavored beer.

I didn't drink the beer. But I did buy it because I owed Ericka a couple of euros. The bottle looked like a soda bottle, so I didn't even feel rebellious at all. But it was raspberry flavored, which is why Ericka wanted to try it, because she doesn't really like beer. But she does want to be a wine connoisseur. How pretentious.

Bruges



The minute we got off the train, we walked into the station and saw a waffle stand, a fry stand, and three chocolate stores. We chocolate hopped everywhere. Finally in Brussels we found a store that had samples and two locations. We went there three times.

I convinced Ericka that we needed to try every version of the mocha-flavored Leonidas. Of course she liked the dark chocolate. And of course I liked the white chocolate, because that is what I have been eating for the past like seven years.

we struggled so much to take good pictures:

Ericka ice skated in the market square in Bruges. I took pictures of her. We both enjoyed our respective activities. Plus there was about a fourth of an inch layer of water above the ice. So if a slip happened...well, I didn't even bring different pants to wear the next day. SO.

look it: socks.

Pretty Church in Bruges. Their relic: a vial of Christ's blood that you can touch for a small donation. We weren't there when they were having a viewing though. Unfortunately.

Ericka taking her Senior Pics:



So excited to eat my Belgian waffle. For the third time.



I was so tired in Bruges it was embarrassing. When we were both so tired that we stopped talking and started walking really slowly, we went to a bar that was established in 1515 and played Boggle.

Bruges

Brussels

Pretty gazebo in the park in Brussels:

I told you. An aMAZing trip. But actually, yeah. It was pretty good. :)

Chartres last thursday.

adam doing what he does best...

liz and angela doing what they do best.

marc doing what he does best...

and cami doing what she does best.

I fell in love with a new artist at the Musée d'Orsay today.

This was painted for the library of the Princess of Bassiano. I have no idea who she is, and google doesn't really either. But she was a princess. And this painting is enormous.

Isn't it beautiful? I'm going to be a nerd and say that I like the whole thing about Adam and Eve, about gaining knowledge, about the fact that they are in a library. The colors and texture of the paint are just really gorgeous.

And all of the figures that are so colorful in the background, those women with furs and expensive fabrics, and the man and his daughter talking, and the woman who has just finished her tea, and the little cute dog at the bottom and the newspapers that have spilled on to the floor. All of the things are so colorful, and then you realize that what your eye has been aching to go to after looking at the color and the shapes and the almost naked painting, is that one girl in the front, the girl that is black and somber and beautiful.



And you realize that that is you, that is you when you're watching, when you're learning, when you're reading, when you're thinking.

and you wish you had that beautiful profile of hers, and you know how she feels, and you know that really, you are actually her. And you feel like you need to sit down next to her, or you wish she had written a book so you could read what she was thinking, but you can't do any of these things, so you stand there for a while with your mouth open and just look at the flat canvas, and people walk behind you and to the side of you and look at the painting for a few seconds, and then look at you, and then back at the painting, and then of their maps and they keep walking. And then you pull out your camera and take pictures and fake swear in your head about the fact that the colors are totally off.

That painting that I'm going to have copied for my library when I grow up was painted by Edouard Vuillard, and so are these little beauties that I went rabidly searching for after falling in love with that first painting and needing more of Vuillard. I was pleasantly surprised:

The second one was painted after the chapel at Versailles. Isn't it lovely? If you get a chance if you visit the Musée D'Orsay, please see these. Or try to plan some time to spend looking at paintings and painters you have never heard of. I realize that not everyone has time to do that with limited visiting time in Paris. So, I am thankful for that. Very much so.

And that I didn't die when I almost got hit by a bus because I was an idiot. I am very grateful for that.

Favorite Things about our trip to Ireland:

almost missing our flight because line one was down. Especially bad because no one else in the group knew where we were going, staying, how to get there, what to do, etc. Realizing only as I was walking out to the plane from the gate that we had indeed made the flight.

realizing we couldn't make our connection to Dingle because there was no bus going there that night. Non-summer hours are a lot more limited than in July. Woops!



listening to "Elephant" by Damien Rice until my ears wanted to fall out. I never realized before how satisfying that one part in the bridge is. Please listen.

Listening to Damien Rice in general while we spent long hours on the bus.



Eating a lot of bourbon creams and corners yogurt...

coming into Dingle, renting bikes, and taking five other girls on a 30 mile bike ride that they thought was going to be about eight miles. I never insinuated this. Someone talked to someone on the plane who said they did an eight mile loop. So, no one had any idea what they were getting into. Except for me, but I had forgotten how long it was except for a last grueling hill. Woops! They were all grateful later that they really had no idea what that bike ride entailed. Except for Kirsten would still have done it even if she knew. She would have done it twice.

Taking this picture SOLELY for the purpose of trying to make Whitney jealous (compare here):

a few photo shoots:

Rachel, senior pictures anyone? and...yeah.

I legitimately thought that Cami was going to kill me right here. She was a bit angry that I led her to believe differently than she felt...we were about 25 miles into the ride. She was considering turning around at mile number four.

Cute animals. Especially because they aren't all dirty and gross
like the pigeons and dogs here in Paris.

With ridiculous luck, it was a beautiful day on Saturday, and the man at the hostel tried to convince Cami and I to ride our bikes to the base of Mt. Brandon and then hike the mountain. Cami had vowed the day before that she would never again ride a bike. When we proceeded to go out the door to visit shops, he offered to drive us up in his car and then we could walk back to Dingle and enjoy the beautiful, clear view. He had room for four people in his car. We had six. Kirsten and I sat in the trunk. We all went. There was a hill higher than where the hostel guy (I really wish I knew his name) took us, so Kirsten and I climbed it. Obviously.

it was that hill. And then we walked from the top along the ridge back to Dingle.

Then we completely soaked our chacos and feet into basically the bog of the peak of the mountain, and made our way down through sheep poop and over about ten fences and did some unintentional sheep-worrying. It was ABsoLUtely BRILliant.

marshy summit and ancient ruin of really old shelter...called a beehive or something?

Rachel being groped (on accident) by the B&B lady whose place we stayed at last night. I stood awkwardly in the corner while Cami and Rachel talked her down from 25 to 20 euros.

Never Having to use my rain jacket.

Getting to know these girls better:

Kirsten, Caitlin, Cami, Me, Camille, Rachel.

Yay!