Good ol' USA

There is no question that I am a wee-bit obsessed with Europe (hence my degree emphasis in European Studies). I'm afraid that I must admit this obsession sometimes clouds my appreciation of my own country. I live in San Diego, California and it is therefore kind of my job to just take for granted the fantastic place I live (I apologize to the rest of the country, as I sit writing this in a breezy café, while the temperature drifting through the open windows is a perfect 85º).  

California isn't the only great state in our oversized country either; as I've mentioned before I'm also a huge fan of Oregon. Having been to this state maybe a dozen times previous, when we went this past summer I feared we may have run out of things to be awed by. 

This was not the case: we found big foot and solved the scientific mystery of the ages.

Adios Spain

When it came time for my last day in Spain, I descended (via sketchy bus) from Ronda to the seaside city of Málaga. 

Even though I knew I was flying to my next destination from Málaga and therefore would have stop there eventually, I somehow had myself convinced I was only rolling in for the morning and not actually spending a day/night there. I was wrong: I had a whole day! 

So with that I booked a quick bed at the Oasis Backpacker's Hostel and went out into the hot sun to make the most of my wholly unplanned day. 

Barcelona Bites Back

Sometimes unfortunate things can happen while you're traveling, and like in life, you just have to take them in stride and handle the situation. Our second day in Barcelona started well enough, but concluded with a bit of a struggle, in the form of two stolen cell phones. 

We all like to think that we're conscientious enough to not get our stuff stolen. That all those crime alerts about ripped away cell phones are just dumb people not paying enough attention. Really though, it can happen to the best of us, especially when traveling in a foreign country known for its master pickpockets. 

Barcelona sits on the southern coast of Spain, along the Balearic Sea. Brooke, Lindsey, and I thought we would take advantage of a beach day, being the California girls we are. However, though they may be beautiful, Barcelona's beaches are nothing like California. People line every inch of the sand, and there are panhandlers consistently harassing you. 

"Mojito! Mojito! Fresh mojito!" 

The Cliffs of Moher

For someone who was once borderline anti-people, I came to find that making new friends on my adventures was one of my favorite parts of traveling. One exceptionally fortunate encounter occurred in my sweet little town of Doolin. It was here, in my hostel, that I met four beyond-lovely girls, with whom I would spend the next two days. 

I was lucky enough to meet Vanessa, Chelsea, Katie, and Amelia before they had ventured up to the Cliffs of Moher. With our shared destination in mind, I joined them on a bus trip up the mountain to see what really should be considered one of the natural wonders of the world. 

Quintessential Ireland

I've often been asked why I chose the specific cities I chose to visit on my adventure. For some places, there is no reason at all, other than at the moment, it sounded fun. For other places, there's a bit more logic. For Doolin, Ireland it was one well advised recommendation that led me to what was immediately my favorite Irish village.

While on a trip in Germany (an un-blogged adventure, because, as is obvious by my infrequent posts, I'm a dang busy girl) a handy Bus2Alps tour leader told me that if I wanted to go to the Cliffs of Moher, I could not just take any old Paddy-Wagon tour, but rather that I HAD TO go visit the teeny little town of Doolin. He promised me that this nearly non-existant town, would be the quintessential Ireland I was hoping for. 

He did not lie. 

Doolin sits along the coast of County Clare, which in and of itself, is Ireland. Imagine being Hilary Swank in P.S. I love you, walking lost along a desolate Irish road, with sheep roaming around, then all-of-a-sudden, there's a beautiful Gerald Butler in your path. That's County Clare. Well, minus Gerald, but a girl can (day) dream. And with a population just around 500, surely Gerald's beautiful Irish family would live in Doolin, so you'd have to move there to a tiny cottage with cows and sheep and ....well I guess I'm getting a bit off point, but can you blame me?

I arrived (daydreaming) in Doolin, via the once-a-day bus, to find myself left on a street with a cafe, two pubs, and a hand full of hostels/b&b's. I easily enough found my new home, Rainbow Hostel, as the bus dropped me immediately in front of it, and there wasn't much else around to compete for my attention. 

   

Endless sun

After Bre and I's morning at the pool we went and harassed Poppy about how to acquire a quad for the day, a process which proved to be surprisingly easy and cheap. We didn't even have to sign our lives away (like in ol'America). 

Lounging in Santorini

When Bre and I arrived in Santorini, there were clouds in the sky and sprinkles of rain falling. We were a bit dismayed by this weather, but quickly perked up as we arrived at our quaint Grecian retreat. 

Villa Manos is the perfect homey island escape destination (on a budget). For just $12 a night each, Bre and I got a large room to ourselves, with the added bonus of the nicest hotel staff in history. The woman who runs Villa Manos, Poppy, is about the sweetest lady on the planet, and essentially the greek mama you never had. Her and her husband run a pristine hotel, and are always willing to help you with any of your island needs. Bre and I went running to Poppy on more than one occasion over our 7 days stay trying to figure out how the hecky to get around the island.

A peculiar destination

Mom, Jewel, and I set out on a new adventure after our luxury trip to Santa Margherita Ligure for something a little different. In case you were wondering, yes, we spent a lot of time on trains that last weekend. On the bright side, train travel in Europe is the bomb-diggity. 

The Italian Riviera

We stepped off our train (the second time, since we may or may not have originally got off at the wrong stop) into the cool Mediterranean sea air. We weaved through brightly colored buildings down the slope to Santa Margherita Ligure, where the bright mare blu awaited. 

Planet Amalfi

Sometimes living 'the life' gets all kinds of overwhelming and time consuming, making for one very inconsistent blogger. When I last penned out a post for my dear bloggy I had said goodbye to London. I, however, failed to mention that I was departing from my new found (future) home to head off on another adventure on the Amalfi Coast of Italy. 

After spending a week in London, the evening I returned to Florence I found myself with a fierce contention for Italy. Why are there so many people on this miniature sidewalk? I forgot how to speak this language! Hey you with the creepy eyes: don't you dare holler at me! I had a bit of re-culture shock situation on my hands. 

Fortunately, the cure for any negative feelings for fair Italia is to briefly recover from exhaustion with a good ol' fashion bubble bath and then head off to somewhere entirely new that will remind you just how magical of a country you live in. 

-Insert 4 hour train ride to Southern Italy here-

My friend Elsa and I arrived on the train in Salerno, then set off to Amalfi by bus. Arriving in the sloping land of Amalfi, Elsa and I were both left speechless. Usually when you arrive in a new place you can compare it to somewhere you've been before. This is not a possibility on the Southern Ionian Coast of Italy. It was like arriving on an new planet. Even the Amalfians portray their tiny town with some very alien-like figures. 

Peace out Cali

"I took a road to nowhere on my own...because I left everyone I love at home. I don't want to be alone forever, but I can be alone tonight. I don't want to be alone forever, but I love Gypsy life." -Lady Gaga

The past couple weeks have been crazy. I did a hundred things and ran out of time to do a thousand more. There were so many moments and faces that just flew by. From the last day of our San Francisco weekend to my departure on a new adventure, there hasn't been a second wasted (as long as you don't count marathon Doctor Who-ing as time wasting, which I do not). 

When you live somewhere for so long it becomes easy to take for granted how lucky you are; California is a prime example of this. One weekend, we went to San Francisco to celebrate my Mom's Birthday, explore a castle (see here), visit my Aunty, and explore creepy toy artifacts, all whilst enjoying a mild 65 degree climate.

The other side of the hill

When asking about the best spots in Los Angeles, one often is pointed toward The Getty Center. Now I have to say, I've yet to take a stroll about this said-to-be epic museum, though it is definitely on my to-see list (which is never ending). However, a few weekends ago, myself and a group of my favorite gals popped over to the other side of the Los Angeles hills to The Getty Villa. 

True to its name, The Getty Villa is the manifestation of J. Paul Getty's vision of creating a Roman Villa to house his dream museum. Constructed during the 1970s, the Villa is a replica of the Villa of Papryri at Herculaneum, Pompeii's less popular sister-city, also destroyed by Vesuvius in 79 A.D. Unfortunately, Mr.Getty died before getting to see the completion of the site, thought it was luckily still completed, in appropriate Roman architecture and style, with the inheritance left by the visionary. 

Summer days

Despite rising temperatures here in San Diego, the inevitability of Autumn is near. Even living in Southern California, where our seasons lack the extremity of the rest of the world, summer ends. We've gone back to school, bought our books, and are already eying this years boots. And even though Autumn has its perks, does anything really compare to the electric air and freedom of summer? 

As Anaïs Nin said, "We write to live twice, in the moment and in retrospect." So with that ideal I've been holding on to some of my summer memories, trying to make them last just a little bit longer, while avoiding going back to reality. However, I'm afraid that the time has come to accept that it is, in fact, somehow (where did the time go?!), September. So here's to the lasting memories of summer and the joy of retrospect. 

If you've read previous posts (Welcome to Oregon, Tree climbing and other shenanigans, and Bye bye blue), you'll know that I spent time in Oregon early on in the summer. Well, on that trip we had just so gosh-darn-much fun, we decided to go for round two. My parents, younger sister, and I all made the trek up to the lovely coast in early August and galavanted around, making more than a few memories.

Coming back

Bad-blogger Kenna here. I've obviously been lax in telling you lovely people my summer stories, so I'm going to consolidate a few adventures, all about a troublesome trio aka myself and my besties, Brooke and Lindsey. 

When you've been friends with someone your whole life, or at least since high school, you expect your friendships to change as you get older. You graduate, go to college, move to new places, meet new people...things do change. If you're lucky, though, some things always stay the same. 

Bye bye blue

If you think about it, it is kind of amazing how many different colors water can appear. You have the crystal clear of a clean river, that mossy green of a lake, the stormy gray of the ocean on a cloudy day, and even crazy pepto-bismol pink lakes that take form around the world. My personal favorite though? That true-blue color of the ocean on a bright sun shiny day. That's the blue we got on our last afternoon in Oregon. 

Jewel and I went exploring the rocky eroded bluffs. It was a pretty good spot to just soak in the sunshine and that spectacular view. (And also jump on rocks, dance around, and generally act like silly kids). 

Tree climbing and other shenanigans

If you are not at least slightly inclined to enjoy the outdoors, I do not suggest you visit the Oregon coast. Trees, beaches, rocky coastlines, wildlife, all things outdoor-recreational; these are the kinds of things you find along the western coast (that is until you hit mid-Cali, then it is an entirely different story). 

Prior to actually moving to a city, I called myself a city-girl. Post-move however, it became apparent that while I love living in a big city, I am still, as my mom would say, a "country bumpkin." I like being among tall trees, out in the mountains, camping, exploring, playing with wild critters, and most of all, tree climbing. 

Now I cannot say my tree climbing and exploring skills are top notch, but my adventuring spirit is there and you can bet if I see a proper tree for climbing I'll be up it. Oregon has a lot of trees. 

We went on a walk along the coast our first night back in Coos Bay, and Jewel & I thoroughly enjoyed the foliage. 

Welcome to Oregon

Some things on earth just have a perfect, unforgettable smell. The kind of scent that immediately makes you dreamy and nostalgic. Amongst these divine scents, you may know, are a hot summer nights, christmas trees, your best friends house (everyone has their own distinct smell), and the Oregon coast. 

Ohhh, the Oregon coast. It's like breathing in fresh oxygen, salty sea, and memories. Thousands upon thousands of majestic pine trees explain the fresh, crisp air. The nearby Pacific gives you that salty harbor feel. But the memories? Well breathing in those babies stems from summers spent with the family exploring the beautiful coastline.

It's been over 7 years since we had ventured to our northern coast, but stepping out of the car into the familiar area, it was like nothing had changed. The view and landscape stretched out before us and my sister and I were immediately off exploring the dense forest with great enthusiasm.