The Alps, Belgium, Strasbourg

I can't believe it's been over a month since my last post. I guess the time just got away from me. But rest assured, I'll try not to leave such a huge gap between this post and the next. This is likely to be a pretty long entry, though, so it'll be subdivided for your convenience. Feel free to take breaks or whatever if your eyes get tired. : )

To start off: skiing.

About two weekends ago (maybe three) some friends and I went skiing on a Sunday. Benjamin and Sarah R. are two students from Brown, and Aliya is another UVA student. We caught a bus at 4:30 AM for a three-hour ride (or a three-hour tour, if you wish) to some ski place in the Alps whose name I've forgotten. It's not important. What's important is this:

1) Benjamin and Sarah are ridiculously good skiers.
2) Aliya had never skied before.
3) I have, but only once or twice.
4) The Alps are gorgeous. This isn't really critical to the story, but they are breathtaking and I thought you should know that.

When we got there, we rented skis and Benjamin and Sarah set about teaching Aliya the basics- how to start and stop without falling, how to turn without falling, and how to fall without killing yourself. Because anyone who's just starting out skiing is probably going to fall. A lot.
So we were on a small hill at the bottom of the mountain, not far from where all the skiers coming off the mountain end up, and right next to the bottom of the lift. There were a lot of little kids on sleds and families where we were. Fortunately, Aliya figured out pretty quickly how to start without falling. Unfortunately, turning and stopping took a while longer, and she ended up crashing into a small family and completely taking out the mom. Nobody was hurt, though, and the family was really nice about it. The dad even tried to help out a little by showing her how to brake. So we moved to a different part of the hill and kept practicing, and she started doing a little better with not falling or hitting people. But about 15 minutes later (and remember, this is a completely different part of the hill), she lost control and crashed into another family- except when the dust settled and everyone was back on their feet, we realized that it was the same family as before. They had moved after the first time she'd crashed into them, and so had we, but she still ended up hitting them again. (In the draft of this story that I wrote on the train, I have some sentence here about Aliya being a heat-seeking missile and the poor French family being a submarine. I have no idea where that idea came from, but I think I'll leave it out.).
Needless to say, this whole episode was pretty hilarious to everyone except Aliya.

Before you start wondering why I'm making fun of my poor friend who's never skied before, let me tell you- what I did that day is not quite as funny, but far more embarrassing. It's the story of how I got lost in the Alps and had to be rescued.
So like I said, I've only been skiing once or twice before, but I wasn't too worried because I'm pretty coordinated in general. I was doing fine on the little bunny slope at the bottom (as long as I didn't go too fast, that is), so when Benjamin and Sarah said they were going to go up to the actual trails, I decided I'd go tackle the green/easy trail. The beginning was pretty far up the mountain, so I had to take two lifts to get to the top. I was doing fine for most of the way down, though I did fall more than a few times. It wasn't that cold, though, so I didn't mind.
Eventually I came to a place where the easy trail crossed the red/difficult trail and I took what I thought was the right direction- a trail that sloped gently and was quite wide. I was pretty sure that if the trail was like that all the way down I'd be fine.

Then I came to The Hill.
The Hill was steep.
The Hill was high.
The Hill was steep and high and I could not see the end of it. There was actually no real end- just a place where it became slightly less terrifyingly steep.

This was obviously not the easy trail.

After my legs stopped shaking (I am mildly afraid of heights, for all that I worked on the high ropes course at camp. I'm fine when I'm strapped to something, but teetering at the edge of The Hill is different), I went over to the side of the trail, pulled out my map and tried to figure out where I was. I knew I'd taken the wrong turn at the crossroads, but there were about four places on the map where the easy and difficult trails crossed, and I had no idea which one I'd passed. While I was trying to figure that out, I decided to take off my skis because my shins were hurting. I took my right boot out of the ski, stepped onto the ground- and promptly sank nearly thigh-deep into the snow.

What followed, of course, what about 20 minutes of struggling to get my stupid foot back into the stupid ski. There was nothing to grab onto with my hands, and every time I tried to push myself up on my left leg the ski would start sliding out from under me. I'm still not entirely sure how I finally managed it, but when I had both my skis under me I went over to the other side of the trail, farther away from The Hill and the certain death that awaited there. Being the logical person I am, I immediately came to some conclusions:

1) 10-15 minutes of downhill skiing means that walking up will take much, much longer.
2) I cannot ski down The Hill without dying.
3) Apparently I have perfect cellphone reception in the Alps.

So I called Aliya, who was down at the bottom of the mountain, told her I was a) lost and b) stuck, and she somehow communicated this to the people in charge and then told me that they were coming to find me. So I waited there. And waited. And waited.
Every 5 minutes or so someone would go by and stop to say "whoa" before going down. That did not make me feel better about my chances of surviving the trip down.
About 20 minutes went by and I had still seen nobody in yellow ski patrol clothes, so I called Aliya again. She was a bit worried that nobody had found me yet (and so was I), but about 10 minutes later Benjamin and Sarah got back, and they knew exactly where I was. So they said they'd come get me themselves. By the time they got there (two lift rides, remember), I'd been standing on that spot for a good hour and 20 minutes, maybe more. And being the good friends they are, they announced that they would definitely help me off the mountain.

They made me go down The Hill.

I wish I had a picture of it- it was probably steeper than 45 degrees, maybe 30. It took us an age to get down because a) I am a wimp and b) I was scared. On the steepest part of the trail I just turned to one side and slid down, instead of skiing across, turning, and skiing across the other way, like you're supposed to. There was a very kind French man who tried to help us- he told me to stop leaning towards the mountain and shift my weight forward, at which point I laughed, because leaning forward would lead to death, obviously. But eventually (finally) the hill flattened out a bit and I was able to actually ski instead of sliding.

So now that I've told you the epic tale of Sarah Getting Lost in the Alps and Being Rescued, you're caught up to about last Saturday, the beginning of Winter Break. At this point there will be a brief intermission, because this next part will be long. Loooooong. Looooooooooong. So go ahead- get a snack, stretch your legs, whatever.

Ready? Here we go.

Day 1, Feb. 16
I took a train to Brussels early Saturday morning- my former Young Life leader and good friend of my family Jessica Pereira lives in Wavre, just outside Brussels. She's doing YL there now and I was pretty excited to see what it's like in Belgium. She and two of her friends met me at the train station- Noora, who's from Finland, and Joanna, who's American. YL Belgium was having "interclub" (all-area club, essentially) that night, so all we had time for was a quick lunch and then a stop at the grocery store (nothing's open on Sundays in France or Belgium).

Side note for those who are unfamiliar with YL (if you know about it already, feel free to skip this paragraph): Young Life is a ministry targeted at high-schoolers. The basic idea is that the leaders (volunteers, often college students but not always) go into the school and spend a lot of time with the students there, sort of as mentors. Club is the organized weekly event, and it involves lots of games, singing, skits, and general hilarity. Usually each HS has its own club, but once or twice a year the schools have a combined all-area club, and that's what interclub was, but Belgium style.

Interclub was pretty awesome- it lasted four hours! We met up at the rec center and played games for two hours, then had dinner and songs and a short talk at the church. Not that different from club in the States, except of course it was in French.

Day 2, Sunday, Feb. 17
Church in the morning with Jessica. We met a Ukranian woman and Joanna and I spoke to her in Russian (though I mostly listened, since my Russian is woefully out of practice). Then Jessica took us to a beautiful chateau outside of the city. It was sunny- rare for a Belgium winter, everyone said- and gorgeous out. Then we drove around the city and saw a lot of of the sites- I don't even remember everything we saw. At first Jessica was just driving us around, since we couldn't find parking- she'd pull over somewhere and wait for us to take quick pictures, then we'd jump back in the car and keep going. But we finally found a parking spot and walked around a bit and saw the beautiful Palais de Justice. Then we met up with some friends and had dinner at a pizzeria .

Day 3, Monday, Feb. 18
Joanna left that morning, since she works and was only there for the weekend. Jessica and Noora and Jessica's roommate Claudia all go to an intermediate French class in Wavre three times a week, so while they were in class I explored Wavre. It's a really cute town, and it was sunny again so I enjoyed myself in spite of the cold. Did I mention that it was cold? Because it was cold. I wore several layers under my coat and was still a little chilly. But the sun helps. After walking around a bit, I bought some kind of pastry from a little shop and ate in in the town square in front of the Hotel de Ville (mayor's office). I was sitting on a bench and my feet didn't touch the ground, so I'm sure I looked slightly hilarious sitting there munching on my pastry with my feet swinging like a little kid.
After class we went home for lunch, and some of the people from the class came over. Claudia is Romanian and her mom was visiting, so she'd made us Romanian food for lunch. But her mom speaks only Hungarian and Romanian, so the only people she could talk directly to were Claudia, the Hungarian woman from class, and Claudia's daughter. With anyone else, we had to use gestures. It was a fun time.
After lunch Jessica and I went to Leuven, a town near Brussels but on the Flemish side of the country, so nobody speaks French there. It's a college town, so we didn't look too weird carrying around our backpacks. The architecture is beautiful, and one church in particular was just gorgeous. We stopped at a little shop and bought Pashmina scarves, and Jessica convinced me to buy a dark purple one that looks good with my black coat. Then we found a little Moroccan shop that Jessica likes that sells all kinds of good food and bought baklava and some coconut pastry thing and shared them. After that we went home and made baked brie for dinner (so healthy) and called it my birthday cake ("cake" is probably closer to the actual nutritional value of it).

Day 4, Tuesday, Feb. 19
This was my day on my own, since Jessica actually has a job and responsibilities. I took a train early in the morning to Bruges, a medieval town about an hour from Wavre. It was cold and damp that day- not quite raining but definitely trying to. Unfortunately, I forgot that I had to change trains at Leuven since it was the end of the line for the Wavre-Leuven train. So at one point I looked out the window and thought, "Why are we going backwards?" I ended up having to wait at the next train station for the next Leuven train. It was only a half an hour, but it was freezing. I'm sure the people in that town thought I was crazy, pacing back and forth in front of the station and muttering to myself.
Bruges was nice, but a little touristy- there are parts where you can tell it's been made to look old and authentic, but there are also parts that are old and authentic. My favorite part by far was this little cloister in the middle of town that dates from the 12th century and is still in use. It was really beautiful and peaceful. I also went to the Stadhuis (which is the town hall), which is now a museum. The "Gothic Room" in the Stadhuis is this gorgeous room covered in murals depicting various scenes from Bruge's past. There was also a really cool museum there.
After Bruges I went to Gent, which is, like Leuven, a college town, but bigger. It was already mid-afternoon when I got there, so I didn't have much time before things started closing. But by that time it wasn't damp and cloudy anymore and the sun was out, so I was able to walk around a bit. In the middle of Gent there is an actual medieval castle, so I went to that and spent probably two hours climbing around in it (there was a guided tour that you followed) and loved it. Then I went and saw the Cathedrale in Gent, which is absolutely stunning on the inside. Jessica's going to get married there, she says. : )
On the train ride home I noticed that my fingers looked dirty but I couldn't figure out why... until I remembered that I was wearing my new purple scarf. Apparently I should have washed it before wearing it, because the dye was staining my fingers. I decided not to take it off until I got home because it had probably done the same thing to my neck- and sure enough, when I walked in the door and pulled off my coat and scarf, Jessica took one look at me and burst out laughing. My entire neck, from my chin down, was slightly purple. It came off with water, but it was still pretty hilarious.

Day 5, Wednesday Feb. 20
I got up early (again) to explore the Grande Place in Brussels before my 1:00 train. Grand Place is probably one of the most amazing places I've ever seen. The Hotel de Ville is gorgeous- tall and white and completely covered in sculptures. (If you're wondering if every town in France/Belgium has a Hotel de Ville, the answer is yes. It's the Town Hall. Usually they're old and beautiful, so if you're in a French town, definitely see the Hotel de Ville.). Right across from it is the Museum of Fine Arts, and next to it are buildings that used to be guildhalls. It was sunny and warm that day and I was so glad of it. I also got to see the Galeries, which are some really beautiful half-enclosed pedestrian shopping areas, and the Mannekin Pis, which is a very famous statue of a little boy peeing. After wandering around that part of Brussels for a few hours, I was pretty ready to get on the train and be on my way to Strasbourg.

So now we're going to have another break- one for you and one for me. I'll talk about Strasbourg in another post, maybe tomorrow. But for now it's my birthday and I'm going to get off the computer. : )

I'm not posting pictures with this post because I took WAY too many to choose which ones to put here. If you want to go look at them, those of you who have Facebook can just go find them on my profile, but those of you who don't can still see them by clicking on these links. Be warned- there are approximately 400 pictures. And that is in no way an exaggeration. : )

Album One
Album Two
Album Three
Album Four
Album Five
Album Six