Viva le France!

Before I start this particular blog, I must mention that Matt and I do realize how very, very lucky we are. This whole European experience has been so wonderful in so many ways - we absolutely love living together, Amsterdam has become one of our favorite cities, we are seeing so much and really, truly experiencing this time to the fullest, and it's also really great that we can share our experiences with our families and friends, be it through this blog, pictures, hosting guests or going on trips with them. That being said, it's now time to brag about our Easter in Paris :-)

Matt has been to Paris a handful of times, mostly for work. I, on the otherhand, had only spent a total of 4 hours there when we took a too-short pit stop there on our way back to Amsterdam from Normandy last Spring. I fell in love with the city then, and love it even more now.

We literally found out that we had Good Friday and the following Monday off just a week before. Back in Baltimore, we didn't get any time off. So it seemed as good a time as any to shoot off to Paris for the weekend. We took the fast train on Friday at 1pm, and arrived in Paris just after 5. The weather was perfect! We cabbed it over to our hotel in the Latin Quarter, dropped our bags then went out for a stroll. We walked over to Notre Dame, then to the Old Island and awed at the views over the Seine. We stopped at a cafe for some wine, then walked off to another cafe for some more wine, before heading to the restaurant recommended by the lady at our hotel for our 9pm reservations.

I'll just say this one thing about the food in Paris, and then I will leave it alone. We are now not at all curious about why the French say "uoohoohuhoohhouuu" all the time. The food...just spectacular. Everything, everywhere we ate was sublime.

After dinner, we rolled our way back to the hotel. The next morning, we woke up early (7am - way too early for vacation time) and got ready to go to the Louvre. We stopped by the Boulangerie/Patisserie across the street for some delectable crossaints and espressos (all coffee in Paris is espresso). After a rather long walk, we arrived at the Louvre, only to find it completely empty. Walking through the doors to the square and finding this incredibly majestic empty space was breathtaking. It's something we'll remember for the rest of our lives. And we have the pictures to prove it!

We arrived about 40 minutes before the Louvre opened, and there was already a line. We knew that Easter weekend would be a bit crazy, so Matt's plan to get there early was clutch. The Louvre is enormous, and we spent about 3 hours there. Probably the highlight of the Louvre is the Mona Lisa. It was behind glass, which kind of ruined it for us, but it's amazing how small it actually is. And yes, her eyes do follow you around. I tried it :-)

After the Louvre, we walked the gardens to the Champs-Elysses, where we had lunch and wine al fresco. We then walked around the insanely busy streets and did some shopping. We ended at the Arc de Triomphe, and the line was, as aspected, retarded, so decided not to go up to the top, which was fine by us. We then made our way back to the hotel, passing the Military Museum and the Eiffel Tower along the way. We figure we must have walked about 20k that day.

That evening, we had hoped to meet up with Matt's friend Mattheu to go to a rap-jazz concert. Unfortunately, we didn't manage to get tickets, and Mattheu got so drunk that he couldn't even answer his phone when we tried to reach him. Instead, we had dinner at a bistro nearby and stayed out for some beers (which are quite overpriced compared to Amsterdam).

The next day was Easter Sunday, and was fantastic because the weather was great, and we had nothing that we had to do, since we did pretty much everything the day before. The only thing on the schedule was having a coffee/croissant breakfast, strolling around, eating chocolates and going to the Eiffel Tower. Before we arrived at the Eiffel tower, we decided it would be fun to take the boatbus around. I love boats, and it's such a nice perspective to see the architecture. We hopped on and did the entire 2 hour loop, and got off at the Eiffel tower stop. We stopped at a cafe for some Nicoise salads and wine, then walked over to the tower. We decided not to wait on the line to go to the top, it was enough just to see it. It's really such a beautiful structure. And to think that it was created to be only temporary!

We laid around on the grass, looking up at the Eiffel tower, eating chocolates and people-watching. By far, the best Easter ever. You just can't beat that.

We then made our way back to the hotel, showered and got changed to go to dinner. We thought maybe we would go back to the Eiffel tower to go up to the top and catch the views at night, with the city lit up, but decided against it. Instead, we went out for another eating fest in a busy square in the Latin Quarter. But not before Matt entered into a 45 min "politiking" session with the guy behind the desk at our hotel.

On Monday, we did some more exploring around the Latin Quarter, walked along the Seine and sat on the banks, picking out which apartments we would want to live in. We walked along the Botanical gardens and ate ice cream, then grabbed sandwiches to take on the train with us. At 2, we went back to the hotel to get our luggage and then took the metro to the train station.

On the train back, we met another American that is on assignment in Amsterdam. It's good to know that Americans are traveling and taking opportunities like this. Matt and I have met more people since we arrived in Amsterdam than we have since our college days.

So Paris comes recommended. And don't let the French people scare you. Everyone we met was friendly and helpful, and Matt and I went in there presumptious enough not to know much more of the language other than "bonjour" and "merci". Just imagine if it was the other way around: Americans would also be pretty angry if a Frenchy came into a restaurant and didn't know how to speak English.

Au revoir!

Castricum Challenge

In June, Matt will be participating in the Caledonian Challenge, in which he will be hiking 54 miles nonstop along the West Highland Way in Scotland. He thinks that things like this are fun. I think they are work. The hike benefits the Scottish Community Foundation, and each hiker must raise 500 GBP in order to even sign up, and is expected to raise even more. Matt's company is sponsoring him and many of his colleagues from the London and Munich offices. He is the only one in the Amsterdam office signed up to do it. As my itty-bitty corporate communications company can't even get it together to have a proper cash forecast, I got a "get-out-of-hiking-free" card. ---- www.caledonianchallenge.com

In preparation for the challenge, Matt, myself and our American friend that lives in Rotterdam, Craig, took the train up to the small village of Castricum for a 15k hike up to Egman on Zee beach. Matt had a rugby game in Castricum once, and his Dutch teammates described the town as "there is no f*cking reason for anyone to ever go there." Except for a rugby game apparently. And a hike.

The hike started off as expected - very, very flat. But eventually the scenery started becoming more beautiful, and we actually walked up hills, which is pretty much unheard of in Holland. One of the highlights of the day came when we saw a Dutch cowboy brushing his horse and then jumping on and riding it into the sun...sun. Very odd.

The day was amazing - beautiful clear skies and our first peek at spring temperatures. 3 hours and just over 15k later, we ended up on the beach. Aside from the fact that it was not typical beach weather, it was packed with people hanigng out, having beers, walking their dogs. We stopped at a beach-front cafe for some Heinekens and french fries. We then bussed our way to Alkmaar, where Matt and I took the train back to Amsterdam, and Craig to Rotterdam. An excellent day overall, and it's great to know that Amsterdam actually has places for decent hikes. Matt and I wil be doing this hike again, but he says next time he wants to do a roundtrip for a total of 30k. I think he could train even better if on the way back he pushed me in a little wagon.

Brugge part deaux

For what would be our second realization that there is no such thing as the "quick weekend trip", even in Amsterdam, the hub of Europe, Matt and I cheerfully made plans to visit Brugge for St. Patrick's Day weekend. Todd, and friend from Baltimore and one's of matt's colleagues from Lasalle, flew in to spend the weekend with us while he was traveling around Europe for business. Since he'd already been to Amsterdam and wanted to visit someplace new, we decided Brugge was the place to go. We considered Ireland or Scotland, but heard the St. Patty's Day festivities were cheesy, and that they were, of course, overpriced this time of year.

We chose the 10:26 am train out of Amsterdam Centraal to Brugge, via Antwerp. The train was delayed, and finally cancelled due to technical problems, and then subsequently replaced by another train which ended up leaving around 11 am. Due to the delay, our train decided it would no longer stop at Antwerp Central, but at some other rinky-dink station in Antwerp, which pretty much only has trains that go to Antwerp Central (now I ask you, why not cut out the rinky-dink stop and stop at Central instead?). We de-board, find the next train to Antwerp Central (all while poor Todd has to lug his suitcase around), only to find once we arrive at Antwerp Central that they have cancelled all lines to Brugge (because of this technical problem). We are told that if we want to get to Brugge, we have to go via Brussels North, which, by the way, was the destination of our first train. By now it's 2 pm, and I'm getting hungry and cranky. We decide to swallow the ridiculously high rate for a cab just so that we can get some daylight time in Brugge.

Once we had arrived, we felt immediately calmer. Brugge is such a beautiful little town. Not only has it not been spoiled by time, it's ever the more charming because of it.

Just as an aside, this town and all of its glory may soon be crushed once the infamous Colin Farrell, an "actor" that is almost villanous in his poor ability to act, films his sure-to-be flop there. The film called, which will be called "Bruges" (aka Brugge - depending on what country you are in and what language you speak, Brugge has several different spellings), is about a down-trodden businessman (said Farrell) who goes to this town to relax and unwind until trouble follows him and pandemonium ensues. This film will surely join the ranks of Farrell's grand performances, such as "Phone Booth."

We spent the rest of the beautifully sunny day perusing the various fashion, toy and chocolate shops, and lunching al fresco with some clever beers. Eventually we end up at the bar/restaurant that Matt and I went to with his parents the last time we were in town. The lively banter we had started with the waiter last time continued, and he provided some comic relief at times. We ended up sitting and drinking and eating and talking and laughing for several hours. Our converstaion ran the gamut from the quirky artistry of our favorite Buffy the Vampire episodes (this was just Todd and I) to why homosexuality of the male variety is often rebuffed while the female variety is found to be endearing and welcomed, to scary ghost stories provided by Todd (I had nightmares).

The next day we walked around some more, though the weather was much less convivial. We took a canal boat ride around the town, and the tour guide said the various canals in Brugge are the reason why it is known as "Venice of the North." Now, I'm quite sure this name is used to describe Amsterdam, so I hesitate to belive his other little stories about the town. He also showed us the "spy windows" that we thought were so hilarious last time. The old buildings, some of which were constructed during the 15th century, had these tiny little windows that were used to spy on what was going on outside. You can almost picture a little old man sitting behind the window scoping out his neighborhood all day. Other than that, there is little exciting history in Brugge - it's just a quaint little town that kept to itself all these years and was thus able to preserve its culture.

Later, we toured the chocolate museum (mostly for the samples!) and learned that milk chocloate is really really bad for you! It may even force me to eat dark chocolate instead, which we learned is mostly cocoa bean and very little additives, so it has many health benefits. Inspired by our visit to the chocolate museum, we stopped by one of the many chocolatiers in town to buy a bag of goodies. We then went to one of the cathedrals in town and saw Michelangelo's famous sculpture Madonna and Baby. It is the only sculputure of Michelangelo that is outside of Italy.

Just before 4pm, we headed back to our hotel to await our respective taxis. Todd would be heading down to Brussels to catch a plane to Zurich, while Matt and I would go back home to Amsterdam. Little did we know that the 5 hours we spent traveling the previous day would be topped by the 5.5 hours we would end up traveling the present day.

All in all, however, the trip was really great. The town is so lovely and inviting, with tasty beer and chocolate, and it was a great to be able to spend time with Todd.

For now, Matt and I are enjoying our weekends in town by spending time with friends and going to concerts. We've booked our year solid, with trips planned to go to Paris, Barcelona, Berlin and Warsaw, as well as our 3-week tour of Italy in May :-) We also planned trips back to the US in July and November, and a June weekend in Scotland for Matt to do his 56-mile hike, so it'll be a busy year for us! We'll keep you posted!

Christmas in St Anton

For certain our most glamorous Christmas yet, this year Matt and I had the pleasure of joining 5 of our friends in the posh ski resort St Anton in the Austrian Alps.


St Anton is very near to the Austrian-Swiss borders, so our plan was to fly to Zurich then take a 2.5hr train across the border to St. Anton. We left our apartment on Saturday, Dec 23rd and headed to Schiphol for our 3pm flight. Turns out, this day (of all days) is the busiest day of the year at Schiphol. I should have been suspicious when I tried to check-in for our flight online an hour before we left for the airport and got an error message that check-in was not available for the flight. Things should have clicked yet again when we arrived at the airport and attempted to check in at a kiosk, and got the same message. The computer told us to go to the check-in counter to speak with a representative. There we were told that the flight had been overbooked and that we may not be able to get on this flight. The rep still seemed a bit hopeful though, so we weren't too worried yet. When we arrived at the gate, we sat while everyone else got on our plane. While we were waiting, 2 African ladies come through super-late, with bags (literally) of half-used full-size lotions, creams, hair gels, pomades, and anything you can think off. The new flight regulations do not allow these things, so it turned into a junking fiasco as the security people and the ladies proceeded to take turns dumping all of her belongings into the garbage bin. Some arguments ensued, but they managed to get the 2 ladies on (our) flight. No luck for Matt and I however, and a handful of other unfortunate souls. We were escorted to counter after counter, to airline rep after airline rep. Turns out, all flights to Zurich for that day were over-booked, and we couldn't fly out until the next morning at 7am. To make a long story a tad shorter, we received €350 airline vouchers each, a free sushi dinner, taxi service home and back to the airport the next morning, and postage-paid envelopes in order to write to the airline president and bitch him out. We placed a phone call to the guys already at the apartment in St Anton, and find out that there is no snow anyway. So yeah, it was a pain in the butt, but at least we were spending the night at home, and we didn't have any hard-set plans or connecting flights.

The next morning our cab showed up to pick us up at 5am (blegh). We managed to get on the plane and fly to Zurich, and we arrived a little before 9. We headed to the railway ticket counter and got tickets for the next train to Zurich - which wasn't until 1:40. We then took the train to the downtown Zurich station, since our train to St Anton was leaving from there anyway, in hopes of maybe getting to do some sight-seeing and kill some time. True to our luck, it was Christmas Eve and a Sunday, and everything was closed. We found an austere cafe with overpriced coffee and no food and sat there for nearly 3 hours. Then we headed to back to the train station to find food. We toasted the half-way point of our journey with some teeth-shatteringly-cold beers.


Finally we get on the train and are off! The sights from the train are absolutely beautiful, but also quite brown. There was some snow, but things were looking grim. When we arrived at the St. Anton train station around 4:30, we took an embarrassingly short cab ride to Apartment Daniella - our residence for the next 6 days, which we would be sharing with 5 others.


Our motley crew included another couple from Malaysia (Hilda & Tristan), a Dutch guy (Frits), an Australian (Ross), and a New Zealander (Carl). I will try to briefly explain how we know each other: Hilda, Frits, Ross, Carl and I all work for EY. Hilda and Tristan live in London, but used to live in Australia, and used to work for EY there. That is how they know Ross, who was working for EY in Australia and then transferred to Amsterdam. Frits and Carl also work at EY Amsterdam (as do I). I work directly with Carl. Oh, and I go out with Matt :-)


Christmas Eve started off with Matt and I learning rule #1 of the household: There is to be no talk of work, and such an offense if punishable by a shot of Jagermeister (ugh). I blame my fatigue from the travels on the fact that I violated this rule about 6 times that night (that's as far as I remember). Luckily Matt took some of those shots for me (what a gentleman!). That made for an ugly Christmas morning - our first day of snowboarding. On Christmas Eve, we were also introduced to the "fish slice". This handy tool, known as a spatula to those in North America, is great for opening long-neck beers. We all took turns putting dents on the walls and ceiling. Never was opening beers so fun.


Christmas Day was our first day of snowboarding. Hilda and Tristan were also learning how to snowboard, and had taken a private lesson for a couple of hours the previous day. The resort also has a school that you can join but it started at 9 am (waaaay too early), and for the cost of that, we could get private lessons for the 4 us for about as much. So we opted for the latter, and thus met Austrian Christine. This girl made snowboarding look so easy - she just glided on the snow like a little ballerina, albeit one in much heavier clothing. Still suffering from mild travel exhaustion and a horrible hangover, I must mention that I have never been on snow or ice before, aside from some sledding, which requires no skill. Also, there was very little snow - just ice. That being said, I fell. A lot. But to my defense, even after nasty falls, the ones where people around you have to turn away from, I would get up and go at it again. After 2 hours of beating myself up on the mountain, we headed for an utterly humongous but fabulously delicious Austrian lunch. Sore, hungover, and full to the point of vomiting, we head back out for one more hour of "fun". This was also the first time that we met the J-bar. That was ugly, ugly, ugly. Matt got it with no problem, having been on it before with skis. It must be noted that it is much more difficult to do this J-bar thing on a snowboard, since you essentially have to snowboard up the mountain (something I was not prepared to do). After Hilda, Tristan and I had our share of terrifying falls from the edge of the mountain, we gave up (for the day). Matt had some good runs down the bunny slope and was really starting to improve.

That evening, we headed back to the apartment to get ready for our big Christmas dinner. Another group of friends were staying at the resort nearby, so they came by our place for a little Christmas gift exchange. We decided to do the pull-a-number-out-of-a-hat thing, where you pick a gift and someone can steal it. This was uneventful since nobody stole gifts. Matt ended up with the best gift of all - a small gem of a book called "God's Gift"(which Matt also repeatedly pointed out that the title is also the meaning of the name Matthew), which is just cheesy pictures of "heat-throbs"from the 70s, 80s and 90s. This book brought a lot of laughs during the week.


After the gift exchange, we took some shady cabs (they said "Dirty Harry" on them) all the way to the top of a mountain outside of our resort. At the top of this mountain was a traditional Austrian restaurant, where we all boozed up and ate deer steaks. The rule of no work talk was still in place, and some people were thoroughly punished.

The next day was more snowboarding and falling, eating and drinking. This night Matt made his famous penne with vodka sauce. As we were feeding 6 normal people and one Kiwi (Carl), we had to make the pasta in a pot large enough to cook a human head in. This was our first battle with the garlic - the whole house reeked of it, and would continue to reek of it for the rest of the week. But it was a delicious meal! Afterwards we settled in for a fun game of Kings. This is a drinking game you play with cards. Everyone became quite hammered. The most fun part of this game is the "rule" card. Everytime one pulls this card, he/she can create a rule for which the offense is punishable by a gulp of beer - so that night we had to make sure we made little taps on the table every time we took a sip of a drink, that we did not point at people with our fingers but rather with elbows, that we did not use any words that start with "w", and everytime someone violated a rule (rule #1 regarding work references was still in place) you had to call them out by telling them to "consume!" because we could not say the word "drink". Fun. No, really. It was.

On Wednesday, I decided to take a day off from snowboarding, since all of my limbs ached and I felt defeated both physically and emotional. Coincidentally, Matt decided to try out the real-people run (that is, something other than the bunny slope). Ross would accompany him. So the 3 of us go went gondola number 1. I hung out in the not-so-fun cafeteria, and Ross and Matt hit the slope. I learned that the ski lodges in Europe are not as cozy as the places they show in the movies. They are more like cafeterias here. The tables are huge, so you can't cozy up to a fire on a big love seat (no fire, no love seats, no cozy corners). So I read my book in a big cafeteria, drinking an overpriced (and lukewarm) coffee, while being continuosly interrupted by either people asking me if they can share the table with me or people having conversations with each other at my table. Also, people smoke like chimneys in these places.


Finally, Matt retuns, a broken man. He had a really bad fall down the mountain and was in so much pain that he was pallid. We met Ross, Carl and Frits outside and took 2 more gondolas up to the very top of the mountain. I think we were 2700 meters up. Matt says 2900 - so let's compromise and say about 2800 meters. This is incredibly high. You really feel small up there. And you can definetely notice that the air is quite thin. After some time up there, my feet got dumb and we headed down one gondola to a little café for another massive Austrian meal. When we met up later with Tristan and Hilda, they tell us that they had a great day on the bunny slope, made some real snowboarding progress, and even mastered the J-bar!

Wednesday night we decided to try out another Austrian tradition - fondue! The 7 of us headed to a fondue restaurant in the town. We had so much food that we coudn't even fit everything on the table, and everything was fantastic. After dinner, we headed back to Daniella to chill out. The 2 boring couples stayed in, and the 3 single dudes went out. With their walkie-talkies. They apparently had a lot of fun with these that night, and I think many bar-frequenters at St. Anton that evening were displeased as a result. Matt and I were woken with a jolt in the wee hours of the morning when Carl stormed into our room to "clear" it. They had decided to ensure the apartment was safe by clearing every room FBI-style. We were a bit frightened and confused at first, until we heard Carl scream into his walkie-talkie - "Are there eggs in the bulding? Repeat! Are there eggs in the building? Over!" and Ross respond "I confirm that there are eggs in the building! Repeat - there are eggs in the building!" Then we felt safe and went back to sleep. When we awoke the next morning, inevitably the kitchen counters, sink, floor and ceiling were covered with scrambled eggs.


Thursday - this is the day I vowed to master the J-bar. And master it I did. Matt was so proud he even took a video - whilst on the J-bar himself, mind you (what a showoff). This was quite an emotional feat. Not only did I feel energized for having accomplished it, I also was able to get quite a few good runs down the bunny slope. It is much easier to learn how to snowboard if you have enough mountain to practice on, and when you don't have to expend all of your energy walking up the mountain.

Thursday night was another night of fish-slicing and drinking games. Hilda and Tristan prepared a hearty stew on our giant pot, and we once again stunk up the apartment with garlic overload, and then our 4 friends from the resort close-by come over and we all head out to the St Anton bars. We bar-hopped a bit, and danced to cheesy 80's music (the Austrians really do love the 80s). When we decided to go home, Hilda realized she didn't have her purse anymore, so it was a mass frenzy to find it. Luckily, we were able to locate it (sans the walkie-talkies) and also locate some very New Zealand-style meatpies. Carl was especially excited about these. When we got back to Daniella, we took videos of Carl eating his meat-pie. We were expecting him to finish it in about 27 seconds, but instead it took him a good 2 minutes. He was really in another world while eating it, b/c he managed to ignore our taunting cries for him to eat faster. Kiwis and their meat pies...

Friday was our last day of snowboarding. Matt had improved a lot during the week - he really looked almost professional. But he's skiied all his life, so he started out pretty well on the snowboard. So I can say that perhaps I improved even more, since I was a retard on ice on that first day! Now I can say that I am able to get down on a mountain on a snowboard. I even enjoyed myself doing this after a few days. Who says you can't teach an old dog new tricks, eh?

Hopefully Matt and I will take another snowboarding trip before we completely forget what we've learned. We're thinking of maybe doing a similar trip to France next year, with the same group of people, since we all got along so splendidly. St Anton truly was a lovely place, and the views from the top were amazing. Though there was no real snow (all was man-made), it was still a fun time, and the weather was amazing - sunny and pretty warm in the sun every day. We are still beach people at heart though!

Homecoming

On Wednesday, November 22 at around noon, Matt and I arrived in beautiful Newark, New Jersey for the first homecoming for both of us since we arrived in Amsterdam. We had been planning this trip since June, and were very excited to see everyone. And to eat cheeseburgers.

Mr. and Mrs. Sgrizzi definitely made it a comfortable arrival for us, by promptly feeding us chicken wings and eggplant and chicken parm and turning on the big-screen and handing us blankets on the couch. After brief naps, we headed out to Basil's, a nice restaurant in Red Bank, to meet a bunch of our friends for Big Wednesday. It was really great to see everyone, and Ryan (aka Elf) gave us some beautiful pictures he had taken during his visit to see us in Amsterdam. It was also nice having full-size beers to drink, though a bit daunting. The cheeseburgers were delicious, and such a great welcome home! The fact that we had been up for pretty much 24 hours, aside from very brief naps, became apparent at around midnight, so we headed home care of Chauffeur Chima.

We spent Thanksgiving day at the Sgrizzi's , and it was a very fun and food-filled time. It was a good way to stretch our stomachs for the food fest that would become the rest of the week. The next evening we took the train to my parent's house in Long Island.

The weather was spectacular while we were home. On Saturday, it was sunny and about 65 degrees, so Matt and I decided to go for a long walk on the beaches along Dune Road in Westhampton. It was so nice to see the ocean again.

On Sunday we had planned a late lunch with my parents and Matt's parents at the Brazilian Churrascaria Plataforma in NYC. Matt and I hopped on the train on Sunday morning to do some walking around the city, see the tree at Rockerfeller Center, and of course to SHOP! And shop we did - we went on a bona fide shopping spree on 5th Avenue. It's nice earning in euros :-). After we arrived at Plataforma carrying our various shopping bags, we filled up on caipirinhas and meats served on skewers.

The rest of our time at home was spent relaxing and catching up with our families. Six days is definitely too short, but hopefully everyone can make it out here to visit us soon. Next year we hope to make it home for Christmas, but this year we'll be staying at a ski house in the St. Anton resort in the Austrian Alps with some friends.

HALLOWEEN AMSTERDAM STYLE

As some of you may already know, Halloween is my all-time favorite holiday. I love autumn, carving pumpkins, dressing up in stupid outfits, watching scary movies and the whole concept of knocking on the doors of strangers and demanding candy.

So when I heard that Halloween is a foreign concept in Amsterdam, I was quite distraught. We thought about having a Halloween party at our flat; unfortunately, we don't know a party-full of people here yet, and 3 of my coworkers that we hang out with were not going to be in town, and all the Dutchies we know were not interested. So we threw in the towel and decided to go to a Halloween party at Boom Chicago instead.

Boom Chicago is an improv comedy club with an all-American cast. We've been there for a show before, when Matt's old roommate Drew and his girlfriend came to visit. It was a fun show, and it was a piece of America in Amsterdam, so we thought it might be an interesting party.

The theme of the party this year was "4 Funerals and a Wedding". We had no idea what this meant. The website suggested some lame-o costumes like dead bride and groom, priest, vampire, bla bla bla. We wanted to be unique. Unfortunately, Matt did not bring his default Halloween costume, a too-tight Superman uni, to Amsterdam. Thus, we had to come up with some fresh ideas. Much to our MO, and my utter dismay, we waited until the day of the party to decide what we should dress up as. We did, however, manage to find a costume store that a coworker had alerted me about, and that helped out a bit.

As we were rummaging through the overpriced items in the too-small store that smelled faintly of body odor, I came across a box of strange looking masks. They weren't full masks, but only from-the-eyebrows-up masks. One in particular looked quite bizarre, so I handed it to Matt, and said "Put this on". The sight I saw next may be one of the most belly-ripping, funniest things I have ever seen. He looked absolutely ridiculous. He checks himself out in the mirror and also starts roaring with laughter, as well as some random older dude in the store looking for costumes too. We decide then that it doesn't matter what we decide to dress up as, this mask needs to be incorporated somehow.

I fall in love with a Snow White dress that costs €50. Now when I fall in love with a piece of merchandise, it is hard to pull me away from it (or out of it). The next 30 minutes I am debating what to be, while wearing this rather unbecoming Snow White dress around the store.

"I can be Snow White, and you can be...grumpy!" I cry with enthusiasm.

"No."

Matt was right. Paying €50 euros for a snow white dress is retarded. I settle on a cop hat, some handcuffs and a beating stick. Our costumes evolved into me being the fashion police, complete with ready-to-serve fashion citations, and Matt was a greasy, Elvis-y cheeseball, who warranted an extreme fashion citation to the tune of life in prison.

Matt had picked up 2 mini-pumpkins from the supermarket across the street, and we carved them up into silly faces (see picture at the top). We drank some beers to get our nerves up to walking the 4 blocks to the party in our stupid costumes in a city that views Halloween as a stupid American corporate holiday (more on this matter to come). On our way, we passed a typical Dutch brownhouse where a guy barged out so violently it looked like he had been set on fire and tried to convince us to come into the bar so that he and the other bar-goers could make fun of us. We're like, "uh...we can't." But he pulled us in anyway. We walked into this small, disgustingly smoky bar full of grumpy Dutch people who looked like they have already had a few too many. They were utterly confused by us, and I think they really thought I was a cop, and that Matt's hair really looked like that. They were not the least bit amused. Other than, of course, the jolly guy that pulled us into this hell hole. We tried to explain that it Halloween was coming up soon, we were going to a costume party, we were a fashion cop and a greaseball, but there was still no sign of life coming from these zombies. We waved silent goodbyes and walked out, almost as confused about what just happened as the people inside. We started thinking that perhaps dressing up tonight and going to one of the main squares looking like a couple of retards may not have been the best decision. But once we got to the club, we saw a lot more people in costume, and the fun really started.

The party was very entertaining. There were Americans, British, Australians and even some Dutch people. There was a DJ playing on the stage where the comedians usually perform, and a screen behind him showing creepy footage. Sometimes the DJ would put this crazy-looking werewolf mask on, and it would look super scary. He must have been very talented to still spin records with that thing on, b/c the eyes were glowing red, which probably meant the eye holes were tiny on that thing, if any even existed.

At one point in the night, we are accosted by a kid with a microphone and a dude with a huge video-camera that must have been in existence now for at least 40 years. I don't recall his questions exactly, but I do remember they were not at all intellectual. And neither were our answers, b/c aside from the beers, we were dressed up as a police office and greaseball at the time. Those kinds of distractions can really taint a sophisticated image. His questions were specifically geared toward making Halloween seem like a foolish, "corporate" holiday. I don't know about any of you, but my company doesn't give me a day off for Halloween. And isn't that the definition of a "corporate holiday"? And since when did people start calling Halloween a holiday? We pretty much just blew these kids off and told them not to take themselves too seriously because it is quite unbecoming to be so young and so jaded.

We stayed at the party for a couple of hours, then went into the infamous FEBO for a shake and some fries. FEBO, or "eating from the wall" is a fast food joint that could probably win in the fight for nastiest place to eat on Earth. There are rows of vending machines set up, where a hand reaches from the inside and sticks various food products that should never see the inside of a vending machine. We're talking cheesburgers, chicken saté, croquettes, etc. The back is a counter where you can order "fresh" things. Sufficiently filled with enough beer that I can look past the fact that I am actually eating food from this place, we order fries and a chocolate milkshake and then make our way back home. Thankfully there was not a lot of people out at this hour, so we didn't have to worry about getting weird looks like we did on the way there. We're walking along, chatting, when all of a sudden I get totally slammed into by a girl on her bike. For whatever reason possessed her likely-drunk mind, she swerved off the road for a passing car and onto the sidewalk, where Matt and I were walking. It was a total hit-and-run. She almost fell after bumrushing me, but then kept going. I looked down and saw that I was completely covered in chocolate milkshake. I was more upset about the loss of my milkshake then my dirty clothes. Nevertheless, it did make the two of us an even odder sight.

Vienna

A few weeks ago, my good college bud Stacy came for a brief visit to Amsterdam. Stacy works for an American-German-Dutch publishing company, which means she comes to the Netherlands for work on occasion. So when she had a team meeting in Holland for work last Wednesday, we decided she come early and spend the weekend! Her and my other good friend Liz came to visit back in June and we did the whole Holland thing. So this time, Stacy and I decided to do Vienna.

We had heard some things about Vienna before our arrival: everyone walks around in fur coats, everyone is old, there are some beautiful palaces, and they eat sausages filled with cheese (we actually only heard this last tidbit from Matt). We also knew about the world-famous opera house, so decided our must-do for this trip was to see an opera. About a month before our trip, I see that Madame Butterfly is playing at the opera house the night we arrive in Vienna (Sunday night). This was perfect! A few weeks before our trip, I search the internet to order tickets before the show only to find that the show was sold out! We were so bummed! We tried some contacts, called in some favors, and found that our contacts were lacking and no one actually owed us any favors. We decide then to try going to the opera house as soon as we arrive, maybe swindling some old men and stealing their tickets while they go to the bar to get us champagne and chocolates. Luckily for us (and all the old men at the opera house that night), there was no need for that.

When we arrive at the hotel, our concierge informs us that if we were to arrive at the opera house 30 to 60 minutes before the show is set to begin, we could purchase standing room tickets without a problem. Phew! So by the time we had brought our bags up to our lovely little Viennese hotel room, it was around 3:30 in the afternoon. All we really wanted to do was just relax and get ready for the show at 6, but being in Vienna only until Tuesday afternoon, coupled with the fact that the big palace we wanted to see (the Belvedere) is closed on Mondays, we decided instead to grab a map and our cameras and hop on the tram.

The transportation system in Vienna is very reliable. There is the underground system and the tram (above-ground) system. The tram system is set up in a loop around the city, and our guide book recommended taking the loop around, which we did many times, albeit inadvertently!

Our first stop was touring the Belvedere Palace. Due to time constraints, we only visited the upper palace (the palace is divided into 2 sections), where there was an art gallery with famous works by Gustav Klimt. There were a couple of really magnificent pieces there, including Klimt's The Kiss and The Bride. Unfortunately the outside of the palace was a bit tainted by the construction to the gardens, but it was still majestic.

After touring around the Belvedere for a few hours, we head back to the tram stop so we can get to the hotel and throw on our cocktail dresses for the opera. On our way, we stop to look at some cheesy advertisements with pictures of Sharon Stone. The advertisements were for the souvenir shop across the street, and featured the words ''Sharon Stone's Choice" with pics of the pseudo-star and a short little Greek man. As we start to walk around these signs, I hear some yelling coming from the other side of the street. I turn to look, and lo and behold, it's the little man in the picture motioning for us to come into his store. I grab Stacy and among stifled giggles we start walking (fast) towards the tram stop. But he is undeterred. He follows us and shouts after us and eventually convinces us to go into his Greek restaurant attached to the shop with promises of free coffee. We follow him in, and the restaurant looks pretty legitimate. He quickly hands us 2 glasses of red wine filled to the brim and seats us at his best table. He leaves us alone for a bit, but keeps coming back and asking about our lives and telling us where he's been in the US. Now, Stacy was just getting over an ugly flu, and wine was the last thing she wanted or needed, so she hardly drank hers. And I could not let 2 full glasses of wine go to waste, so I drank mine. Seeing this, our little friend, Nico was his name, says "This one likes wine!" then proceeds to fill my glass to the brim again! He then escorts us into the souvenir shop, hands us postcards and dresses me in various tacky printed scarves. All Stacy could muster when he draped me in a The Kiss screen-printed scarf and looked at her for her approval was, "I think it looks better on Sharon Stone.'' Thanks, Stacy. We finally manage to tear ourselves away under the false premise that we would return later that evening. I really hated having to lie to Nico. At first we really considered coming back to eat b/c the food looked so good. But in the end, he was just too annoying.

By the time we arrived back at our hotel, we were much later than we had planned. It was 6:20 and we still had to get dressed. We called the cab and in record time were ready to be driven to the opera house. The cabbie was chatting us up, enough so to make Stacy really believe that he was really rooting for us to score some tickets. So I see her hand him a bill as a tip. Now, the smallest euro bill is 5 euros. So once we hop out, I gasp, ''Did you just tip him 5 euros for a 9 euro cab ride?!" and she replies, ''Yes, but I really felt like he was on our side. I thought it would give us good karma.'' And did it ever.

The Vienna opera house is magnificent. It is so ornate but not to the point where it's tacky. It's just very classy. The ceilings are gilded gold, and the chandeliers are pure crystal. After we had walked in, we headed straight to the back to check for the standing room tickets. These were still available for just 2 euros each, but it was really a horrible way to see the show, especially given our lovely outfits. Also, everyone else getting standing room tickets looked positively slovenly. Now, the time being 7:05, I decided to give a quick check at the box office to see if there are any seated tickets available. There were, but only for the 2 most expensive categories. We look at each other and decided, why the heck not, and nodded vigorously at the box office man. He goes on to say, well, the seats are not together. That was a bit of deal breaker, and he could tell that by looking at our faces. "How far apart are they?" I ask. "Let me check something'' he says. He shuffles what look to be tickets paper clipped together and then turns to us again. He says he has 2 tickets together, but they are in category 1. What else, we can only pay cash, ''because it was a cancellation." But, as a token of generosity, he would give them to us for the price of category 2. Due to sheer excitement, we look past the dodginess of the situation and pool together all of our cash, and are short by 80 euros. I can taste these seats now! "I can go to the cash machine if there is one nearby..." I murmur. He just sticks his hand out and counts the money, hands us the tickets and says "Enjoy the show." Score! Stacy earned a 1600% return on her cabbie investment!

Still giddy from our fancy seats, we take the elevator up to we-have-no-idea-where. At the first stop, everyone else gets off, and being as we probably looked a bit confused, the elevator operator asks to see our tickets. Then he makes a strange face. He puts his hand up to stop us from getting off and says, ‘‘you wait.'' Oh no, I think, did we just hand over a wad of cash for fake tickets? Not so. He takes us up another floor, smiles very agreeably and says, ''These are very good seats.'' Heehee!

Needless to say, the seats were phenomenal. Madame Butterfly is in Italian, but our seats (I think all seats actually) had a small screen in front where you could pick a language to translate the songs. Very convenient, as otherwise we would have had no clue as to what was going on. Even if we could speak Italian, the songs were sung so strangely and...well, opera-y...that there was no deciphering. During intermission, we ran out to the nearest cash machine to replenish our wallets. We run back with 15 minutes to kill, and grab champagne and chocolates from the bar and look out over the city of Vienna from the Opera House balcony. We felt to stylish we nearly had to pinch ourselves. After the show, we look for a cafe nearby the opera house, but the city is dead. The population of Vienna is mostly elderly people, and they don't have the siesta-provided energy surge of the Spanish oldies, so they are most definitely home at this hour (about 10:30). We then decide to grab some pizza slices and eat at our hotel.

The next morning we wake up early and go to the Schloss Schonbrunn. The Schonbrunn Palace was built by the royal Habsburg family between 1696 and 1712, and has 1,441 rooms. We took a tour of the 40 rooms that are open to visitors. This palace is also famous for the performance that then six-year old Mozart gave to the Empress Maria Theresa. The palace rooms are magnificent, designed in the white-and-gold Rococo style, with tall windows, crystal mirrors and chandeliers. The palace grounds have a hedge maze, a botanical garden, reproduction Roman ruins and the world's oldest zoo. We spent the afternoon in shopping and walking around downtown Vienna. The city is absolutely beautiful, and the weather was perfect. Vienna is famous for its pastries and its cafe culture, so we stopped in at Cafe Demel, one of Vienna's most well-known pastry shops. We had apple strudels and lattes, a most rewarding break from shopping!

True to the promise I made Matt, I stop at a kiosk on the way back to our hotel and get myself a kaiserkraner. A kaiserkraner is a big sausage injected with liquid cheese. Yes. To maximize my kaiserkraner experience, I get a Viennese beer to wash it down with. Stacy was still not feeling 100%, and she had the better sense to not risk her improving health by consuming pure grease contained in fried skin. I must say, the beer and the sausage, in and of themselves, were not very good. But the combination was quite striking, and I began to enjoy this unlikely snack! It felt like a brick in my stomach for a few hours though.

Later that evening, we head out for a typical Viennese meal, only to find that the restaurant our hotel recommended was full, on a Monday night! We find another place, and are reminiscing over our crazy college days when the two guys at the table next to us lean over and ask us if we're American. They were Americans doing a mini-tour of Europe, and ironically enough, they were from Maryland! One of them even went to Towson, Loyola's rival school in Baltimore. It really is a small world. After dinner, we head out to a bar with our new American friends, and drink beers out of mugs.
I am well aware that my luck in Vienna was nearly 100% contributed by Stacy.

“Have you ever been to an opera in Vienna?” you ask? Yes, I have.

Oktoberfest

'Thais & Matt - Oktoberfest in Munich - September 2006

Oktoberfest

I do realize that it has been over a month since the last blog, and my apologies for that. Things have really started to pick up around here. Matt and I are finally finding our place in Amsterdam. With Matt playing rugby and taking Dutch lessons and my writing workshop and book club and various other disturbances, we don't have much down time anymore. But I promise to make a better effort.

Nevertheless, the blog you have all been waiting for..

Oktoberfest - Munich, Germany.
First, some history: The first Oktoberfest was held in the year 1810 in honor of the Bavarian Crown Prince Ludwig’s marriage to Princess Therese von Sachsen-Hildburghausen. The festivities began on October 12, 1810 and ended on October 17th. In the following years, the celebrations were repeated and, later, the festival was prolonged and moved forward into September.By moving the festivities up, it allowed for better weather conditions. Because the September nights were warmer, the visitors were able to enjoy the gardens outside the tents. Thus it has become the Oktoberfest of today which we all know and love.
The Bavarians regard Oktoberfest as the fifth season. There is autumn, winter, spring, summer, then Oktoberfest. And as any other proper season, Oktoberfest commands its own attire. This picture was taken around midnight on Thursday night, as Matt and I boarded the metro from Munich airport to our hotel. What a welcome! We giggled and took some incognito shots of these fine ladies, all the while reminding ourselves that soon enough, we will be in their beer-stained shoes.

Being that we experienced some delays, we didn't get to our hotel until past midnight, and we were beat. The next morning we wake up to a beautiful German day. We head out to the city center, grab some sausages and tour around briefly before going to the LaSalle office at 1pm. We met some of Matt's coworkers, who were all very friendly and excited. At 2pm sharp, we are at the Hobrauhaus tent. Since LaSalle had made reservations for us, we got in with no trouble. We then were promptly handed 1-liter beer steins. I have never seen beers this big. For those that can't drink a liter of beer at one time, or for those who just need a break from doing so, there is the option of the half beer- half lemonade stein. These look just like beer, so no one is the wiser. They also provide an oft-needed jolt of sugar to keep you awake.

Although we were in that same tent for over 9 hours, time really just flies by in there. We drank liter beers (several of them), we ate half chickens, we danced to stupid songs (notably that dumb West Virigina country roads song), tried our hands at the German language, and met some great people. It was an experience like no other. Then the beer tent closed at 11:30pm and we were forced to leave.

We don't really recall our walk to the subway; we pretty much just followed the mass of people for about a mile. Somehow, we find our way back to our hotel. The next morning my phone starts beeping and ringing around 8am. I was NOT down with that. After a few hours of being annoyed by its incessant beeping but being emotionally unable to leave the bed, I get up to dig around for my phone. I then remember that at some point the night before, one of Matt's collegues from the Munich office had insisted on dancing on the table (even though it's not allowed and the beer maidens kept yelling at her to get down). Inevitably she managed to kick over a beer stein and have a 1/2 liter of beer dump right into my lap and into my purse. Luckily, my phone still worked (I was reconsidering the ''luckily'' at that time though). Anyway, it was my 2 coworkers from Amsterdam calling to get us up to meet them at the fairgrounds. Ugh. More drinking was about the last thing we wanted to do. Nevertheless, we try to get it together, and at around 12:30, we head back to Matt has dubbed ''the house of pain.'' We arrive at the fairgrounds at 1pm, and try to find the tent our friends are in. Once we see it, we see that there is a line at every possible entry/exit to this place. We knew this was the most popular tent, so we decide to try another one, only to find that there are lines to get in everywhere. These people here (in the picture) are waiting on line to get into a tent, and they've been waiting for 4 hours. Those people on the grassy area are not just hanging out, enjoying the nice weather; most of them are passed out drunk. All this going on amongst the little German kids getting pony rides and eating giant cookies. It was quite a bizzare sight. Matt and I continued to stroll around, checking for tents without a line of people snaking out of it, but nothing. We decide to get some beers and sausages. But the kicker of this tent business, is that no beer is sold anywhere else on the fairgrounds! We decide to go back to the city center and find a beer garden there.

Funny interlude: We grab some fries on the way out of the fairgrounds. We reach the metro station, but Matt wants to enjoy his fries outside in the nice weather before we head down to the subway. So we are both standing off to the side, when all of a sudden a unfathomable number of Japanese tourists crowd us. Here we were, in Munich for Oktoberfest, and it was Japanese for as far as our eyes could see (not very far). This non-event has come to be called the Asian invasion. I couldn't let this oddity slip by without a picture. Any other group of tourists would have found it curious to see someone take a picture of another person eating french fries outside the metro station while surrounded by said tourist and all his friends, and perhaps even given me a dirty look for doing so. But being that they were Japanese and love to take ridiculous pictures, they didn't even blink an eye at it. Some even smiled for the camera.

Once we get down to the subway, we quite randomly run into 2 guys Matt knows - one who now works at the LaSalle office in Munich and went to Loyola, and the other his friend. They had also given up on the beer tent idea, and were going back to the city center to buy some leiderhosen and then try a beer garden. It really is true that if you are a guy and not wearing leiderhosen at Oktoberfest, it almost feels like you are missing out on something. With girls it's a bit different, because you just feel bad for these poor women in big, ugly, uncomfortable dresses. But leiderhosen are the perfect beer-drinking attire. Also, the whole costume idea is a funny one. Somehow, dressing up in a silly outfit makes you feel like you are free to behave as stupidly as possible, and yet, still feel ok with yourself the next day. Almost as if the costume excuses you, and just because you weren't dressed like yourself, in reality it wasn't you at all. Like, the costume made you do it, kind of thing.

Saturday night was rather mellow. At around 8pm we head to the real Hofbrauhaus beer hall downtown. This beer hall has some history, since it is where Hitler first began giving his speeches which got him into power. You can still see the swastikas on the ceiling, whose black paint has since been covered up with the blue and white checkers of the Bavarian flag. The beer tents are set up to look like the beer halls, which have rows and rows of picnic tables. To sit down, you just find a free spot to squeeze into. Usually people are very friendly about letting you squeeze in with them. We ended up sitting across from an American couple from California. Also at our table were a German couple, a German father and son and several older guys in atypical costumes. They may have been in some kind of band, but since they didn't speak a word of English, we can't be sure. That didn't stop them from flirting though.

Every 30 minutes or so at a beer hall or beer tent, they play a little dity where everyone at the table has to cheers (''prost!'' is cheers in german). It should be noted that the clinging of 1 liter beer steins is not as dainty as clinging wine glasses. We were a bit worried that at some point we would smash our beers so hard that they would shatter (I would come to find out later that this actually happened to my coworker that weekend). But it really is a great way to meet the people around you.

It didn't take too many liters to get us down Saturday night. Worse yet, by the time Hofbrauhaus closed, there were very little places still serving food. Though we could have gotten food there, we were squeezed into our benches pretty tight, and no one else at our table was eating. So what's the only place open at midnight at every city around the world? Yes, we went to McDonald's. That only added to the general unhealthiness of our trip. Filled with beer and grease, we troll back to the subway and back to our hotel. And to make it all come together, we (or rather, just Matt) became like the ladies on the metro on Thursday night.


Overall, our experience in Bavaria was a fantastic one. Munich is a beautiful city with a great subway system. The beers were tasty. The weather was great. Oktoberfest is definetely an experience that can't be missed. We'll definetely go back . And we recommend any of our friends and family to join us. Prost!

Mijn Nederlands Les

That means my Dutch lessons. I am in a very remote part of southern Holland called Waalwijk this week in order to learn how to speak Dutch. It is not going so well.
Learning Dutch is no easy task. And for some reason, I have begun to associate learning a new language with learning how to speak Spanish, since that was the language I last had to learn. That coupled with the fact that we just recently took a trip to Spain where we had to rely solely on my ability to speak broken Spanish, has resulted in an irritating mental roadblock: I can only think in Spanish!
I don't know how this happened! But know my first instinct when someone expects me to think of something in Dutch is to think of what it is in Spanish! And these two languages have only one thing in common: they are both spoken in Europe somewhere.
Learning Dutch is a bit like learning how to ride a bike. At first you feel confident. Your brother, your sister, your friends - they all know how to ride a bicycle. If they can do it, you can do it. This is not going to be a problem. If anything it will be fun. That is, until you start riding into poles and skidding across the pavement. Before you know it you are bleeding and crying and you just want to go home.
My first couple of sentences were robotic, but to my ears they sounded pretty good. To my teacher's ears, not so. I think speaking Portuguese has helped me with the ggggggaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrreeeeuuuur sound which is in just about every word in Dutch (or at least Amsterdam Dutch, which is a bit rougher). It kind of sounds phlegmy and not so pleasant. I can also roll my r's. Also the annoying oooooo sounds in the Baltimore accent have prepared me in some way. But other than that, the sounds are completely foreign to me. And, similar to Chinese, if you mispronounce one of these little nuances in a word, it can completely change the meaning.
Yesterday we had what they called a ''working lunch.'' My 5 classmates and I (all from the E&Y Amsterdam office) had lunch with our teacher and some French dude that was also there to learn Dutch and his teacher. During this lunch we could only speak Dutch. As you can imagine, this was not a very interesting conversation: Where do you live? What is your name? What do you do? Do you have any brothers or sisters? Do you like biterbalen? Very boring. The questions were boring, and the answers were boring. This is not how you want to learn Dutch.
I have learned some curious words and phrases and some useful ones, and I would like to share these with you:
1. Het spijt me - I am sorry.
Interesting, you must be thinking. She has been in the country for nearly 5 months, why doesn't she know how to say sorry? The answer is that people don't say that they are sorry here. If they happen to stomp on your foot or elbow you in the head whilst in the tram (both of which have happened to me several times), if they even notice your existence, they mumble a pathetic "sorry.'' Aside from the fact that it is pronounced with a roll-y r, it is the same word as in English. But it is spoken so lamely, that it really means ''get over it.''
2. Pot verdorie! This is a nicer version of ''shit!''', kind of like ''darn!''
3. Borreltje - A shot. As in a shot of tequila.
4. Winkelen - This word is very important. It means ''to shop.''

Hopefully I will be able to share more Dutch with you in the future, but unfortunately that's all I have for now.

MATT PASSED!!

Matt has passed the last level of the CFA. I asked him to write this blog himself, but since it's been over a week and he hasn't, I will do the honors.

For those of you not familiar with the test, it is a 3 level exam, offered once a year, in order to become a very fancy title: Chartered Financial Analyst. It is similar to the CPA in that it tests you on finance, accounting and ethics in business. But this test in particular has been deemed by Matt to be the ''hardest test in the world.''

Matt has stated this to be the case on several occassions. And if you dare, I would suggest you try to challenge him on this. He has a special part of his brain whose exclusive responsibility is to store pass rates for each level of any given year for the past 10 years, the number of CFAs in the US as well as in the world, and various other facts that you nor I care nothing about, we're just glad he passed. My sister in particular has found this declaration to be quite obnoxious, being a fellow CPA herself, and upon the news of Matt passing I told Matt that I can just imagine her response: ''So much for it being the hardest test in the world, if YOU passed!'' (My sister and Matt have a love-hate relationship - their personalities are very similar).

For almost as long as Matt and I have been dating (approaching 5 years this winter), he has spent 6 months out of the year either studying for this test or worrying about not studying enough. In turn, January through June has become a high-stress period for him. But don't forget about me. It has been quite stressful for me too.

The funny part is, that for most of you who know Matt will agree, I have very rarely heard Matt say, "I really nailed that exam/presentation/meeting/interview/etc." He is quite modest. But he has been very successful in his career, and he even got better grades than me in college (except for Presentations - sorry, Matt). And what he will never let me forget, he scored 30 points higher than me in the SATs (who cares about SATs anyway). Matt is very driven, very intellegent, and very eager to learn. So please join me in sending him a huge CONGRATULATIONS for passing the hardest test in the world. And maybe one to me too for dealing with him for these past 4 years that he's been taking it ;-).

Back from Spain!

So we're back from our 10-day tour of Andalucia.We are tan, relaxed, and happy to be home. We couldn't have asked for better weather in Spain. Everyday was beautifully sunny, around 35 Celsius, and every evening was clear and cool. Amsterdam, however, is not very nice at the moment.

We had many adventures along the way, beginning with our arrival in Malaga airport and our 2 hr attempt at trying to get our rental car. The Spainish are in no rush to do anything except get home for their siesta (as was evidenced by the even more aggressive driving at around 3pm). Matt wasted no time damaging our car as we hit the wall in the garage, and then we were on our way! Luckily for us, we had Sally helping us again (Sally is the name given by Mrs. Sgrizzi to the GPS in the rental car we got when we drove to Belgium and France. We thought this name worked quite well!) so we found our way to Sanluca de Barrameda, our first destination, quite easily!

We spent most of our days in Sanlucar on the beach at the mouth of the Rio Guadalquivir. Matt was impressed with what he deemed to be the "legitemacy" of the town, meaning it was all very Spanish. Very little English was spoken by the inhabitants, mostly none at all, so I really had to work on my Spanish. I think I did ok. Especially when it came to taking Matt to Urgencias (E.R.) when the cut on his leg became infected and very scary looking. I just remember sitting in the doctor's office, and the doctor coming in all smug and saying ''que paso el'', meaning what happened to him, and i said ''no se'' (dunno). I tried to explain that it just got worse with time, and as the doctor went back to the room where matt was apparently being worked on, i heard some screams for help as the door swung shut. Now it was my turn to ask ''que paso el''! We attempted to tour a bodega where they make manzanilla, a special wine made only in this region, but unaware that we needed to make reservations for a wine tour (how crazy is that) we were shunned. But the people there didn't speak english anyway, so that probably wouldn't have been quite boring for us. To make up for our rejection, we went to a bar on the beach to try this infamous manzanilla, and it was terrible! So we weren't too bummed about it. Our last day at the beach in Sanlucar was marked by a 7pm horse race on the beach. Very cool.

On our way to our next destination, Vejer de la Frontera, we stopped over at Playa de la Barorosa. This was a Sunday, so the beach was absolutely packed! It was really a beautiful beach, and this is where Matt and I got our Spiderman paddles for beach tennis. Vejer de la Frontera was one of the more beautiful places we've ever seen. A small town atop a mountain, it is very secluded, very Spanish, and very quiet. We took a hike one day through a sketchy forest path to Santa Lucia to see the ancient ruins of a Roman aqueduct. Vejer is also where we tried our first Spanish sangria, which was actually Tinto de Verano (sangrias are for tourists, the Spanish drink Tinto de Verano, which is red wine mixed with either sprite or lemon soda water and sugar with orange slices). We were hooked from that moment on.

Next we were on our way to Tarifa. As was our custom during this week, we stopped by a beach along the way. This particular beach was on the Canos de la Meca, on the Trafalgar Bay. Along with our spiderman paddles, we brought a prepacked picnic cooler. 30 euros worth of pure deliciousness. What we hadn't planned on however, was the loss of appetite we would experience from the crowd of nudists congregating around our beach towells. You see, Trafalgar Bay is teeming with gypsies. Selling their wares, braiding hair, and yes, nude sunbathing. We dug our noses into our books and our couscous, got a few beers, and got through it. Then we hit the road.


Tarifa in the most southern point on the Spanish coast, and is very, very windy. From here is where we took our day trip to Gibraltar. Gibraltar is a Brittish territory, so technically not part of the country of Spain. Gibraltar has had a very violent history, since this is the legendary land of Hercules, the legend stating that he pulled apart the towers between the lands of Spain and Africa. Spain is still a bit peeved that the U.K. still has not returned the land, which was awarded to the Brittish by a French king of Spain several hundred years ago, on the condition that hey, just give it back when you're done with it. In turn the Spanish got a small region in Florida, including St. Augustine, which spain then subsequently lost to the Americans. Enough of the history lesson: aside from all this, Gibraltar is also the only land in Europe with free roaming apes. As we made our way up the rock, the apes made themselves quite the force to be reckoned with, and as you can see, one even jumped on Matt's head (having been lured by a peanut - not Matt's peanut-head, but the actual pea-nut). Our tour guide had made up family names for the monkeys since he knows them so well. This particular ape is of the Simpson family. The apes have no natural predators on the rock, so Gibraltar is experiencing a bit of a population problem with them. Enter the tourists: galavanting around with our ice cream cones, Diet Colas and Twix bars, the monkeys don't miss an opportunity. In fact, their successful thievery of sugary sweets have led to yet a different type of natural predator: cholestorol. High blood pressure and diabetes are the only things controlling the overpopulation of these species. Ha, and they're not even American! Take that, Europe!

Also in Tarifa, we took a brief drive into Bolonia. In Bolonia are the ruins of an ancient Roman salting village, Baelo Claudia. These were some amazing ruins. From one vantage point, you could take in the ruins, the mountains, the rural farms and cattle, the sandy beach and the ocean. Absolutely beautiful. We also visited the beach in Bolonia, and took a walk up to the enormous sand dunes. We headed back to our hotel around 7 pm and had dinner (at our hotel restaurant that served traditional Andanlucain cuisine) to celebrate our last night in the Costa de la Luz. The next day we start our drive back to Malaga. Instead of a straight trip (about 2 hrs), we decided to stop over in Marbella for a taste of the Mediterranean. All the beaches we had visited during this trip had up until that point been on the Atlantic ocean. Plus, I hear Beyonce and Jay-Z like to vacation there, so it must be at least glamorous enough for rappers. Well, maybe so, but not glamourous enough for these two primadonnas here. Playas de Marbella was perhaps the most disappointing beach I've been to. The sand was dark and rough, the ocean dirty and and the shore had big rocks that cut your feet. And the people were no Gwyneth Paltrow. We left right away to try somewhere else. Anyplace had to be better! We find ourselves on a coastal highway on the way to Malaga, and stop off at Arroyo de la Miel, which translates to Stream of Honey, so it has to be pretty, right? No. The place was a virtual Brittish tourist trap. We decide to hang on the beach for a few hours, then continue our drive to Malaga. Our hotel in Malaga had a swimming pool, and Matt got to show off his canonballs. And I beat him in another swim race. Well, we didn't race, but if we had I would have definetely won.

For our last night in Spain, we drive into the downtown area of Malaga. We were confronted with throngs of drunks and dirty stinky streets. We stop at a square for some Tinto de Veranos, and find out from our waiter that it was Malaga Carnival, and people came downtown to party and dance and drink until around 8pm. Then everyone goes home and goes back out at midnight into the outskirts of the city to the discoteques. Sorry we missed that!

The next day we make our sad return to the Malaga airport. Again, the Spanish are in no rush. They let us go for the scratch on the rental, which was good, since we got a little worried when the guy actually noticed. After a long 11 hours of traveling, we get home to Amsterdam to cold and rainy weather. Ah, it's good to be home. Luckily, Matt's baggage also made it, and we were quite glad about that. We celebrated with some macaroni and cheese.