Four Sistas Morocc’d A Shmata, A Kasbah, & A Camel

May 1, 2015May 7, 20152 Comments

I’m pretty well traveled, so I’m well-versed in the ‘feeling foreign’ feeling. However, the out-of-place feels that overcame me upon arrival at Marrakech Menara airport were unlike any I’ve ever been privy to. For the first time I felt completely out of my element and all my senses were in overdrive. I was quite the jumble of ‘OMG I can’t believe I’m in Africa!’ mixed with ‘OY, don’t say OY. Don’t say anything to upset the immigrations man’. It was weird, but all 4 of the Traveling Yarmulkas felt it one and the same.

We arrived around 11pm in Marrakech, and were fetched from the airport by the shuttle service for Riad Jona. My first thought being ‘Thank God we are being shuttled!’ I read all over the internet that taxi and bus services from the airport are extremely scarce, so a shuttle service is quite necessary. I remember us all being extremely polite and quiet while in the van. I think we were scared to talk. Imagine that! 2 Schaeffs and 2 Diamonds SCARED TO TALK. That never happens! As we were leaving the airport parking lot, our driver stopped to shoot the shit with the parking man, they laughed, the ticket man passed our driver his water bottle to take a swig of, they laughed some more, and we were finally off. Germ and joke swapping on lock here.

My eyes were glued to the scenery on our dark drive in. At first glance, Marrakech looked like a combination of up scale manicured tree-lined streets mixed with an old time world I’ve only seen in Disney movies. One in particular. Then we stopped, got out in the middle of a run down street and were escorted through what seemed like a maze of tunnels until we arrived at Riad Jona. I could not stop turning around to make sure we were all there. Excited and anxious nerves unlike any other were ever-present.

Well, as soon as we stepped through the doors of our Riad every ounce of nerve dissipated. It was like we walked into heaven. We were greeted by the lovely staff with the most DELICIOUS mint tea my lips have ever tasted, and were introduced to the hospitality that is Morocco.

And so begins our whirlwind time in our gateway to Africa. Though we were not pleased to only have 4.5 days in this glorious country, and made a few very saddening sacrifices, we made the very most of our time. And, well, I’m here to tell you how you can get the best, and richest experience of two of its main cities and the Sahara Desert in just 4 days.

My biggest piece of advice for such a whirlwind trip is to…

Do Yourself A Favor And Snag Yourself An Escort.

This is a hard thing for me to say, being someone who loves to wander and explore and stop and document the life around me on only my watch. BUT, and that’s a big but, I can wholeheartedly say that having guides with us gave us a different glimpse into Moroccan life. One that we would not have seen (or ate our way through) had we been without. This was one of Cori’s must-haves, and I admit at first I was against it, but quite happy she stuck to her guns and sista and I tagged along. We had full days in both Marrakech and Fez, and in each we hired a tour guide to wisk us around.

Abdul from Marrakech Guided Tours fetched us from our Riad early on our first morning and we were ready to hit the pavement, err, the cobbled together streets of Marrakech. He was so soft spoken, calm, and pleasant right from the get-go. He knew that we probably had things we really wanted to see, so we discussed the day’s sight line-up and we were off. One area I was really interested in was the Jewish Quarter, or the Mellah. I was unsure about bringing this up until he began talking about the peaceful coexistence of Muslims and Jews in the country. With that, I asked him about seeing it, and he more than incorporated it into our itinerary. He actually went on to tell us how it’s one of the most interesting areas in Marrakech, having a long and rich history, and spent a good amount of time walking us through.

A synagogue in the Mellah that is entirely run by Muslims.

A wide-eyed wander through the bustling alleys of the Mellah.

One of my personal favorite parts of the tour with Abdul was when we got hungry. We had worked up quite the appetite by the time it came time for us to get a nosh in. Between mosque and palace hopping, and gawking at the most exquisite tiling I’ve ever seen, my hangry face was showing herself. Yes, irritable Danielle was out loud-n-proud. She turned around though when Abdul took us to a spot that was swarming with locals. They always say, if you want to eat well, eat where the locals eat.

We walked into a little hole in the wall with a man in the doorway serving up piping plates of stuff we weren’t in any way sure of. I’ll admit, I think we were all a little bit weary, seeing old men sitting on buckets with chicken bones on the bare table, scooping slops of food with their hands, and communal water cups. But hey, I’ve eaten Pho out of a bucket on the street in Ho Chi Minh, so I was ready.

We ate chicken Rfissa with lentils, chickpeas with greens, Auburgine fritters, fresh bread, and drank water out of the smelliest communal table mugs. Amazing.

The aftermath. Satisfaction.

The traditional fare is always one of the first things I research when planning a trip to a new country, and I sure came with a long list of cuisine to indulge in. To me, food is the best way to really immerse yourself in a country and its traditions. In a place like Morocco it’s a bit hard to know what you’re eating, especially in an instance like this, when food is just being slopped. I am so thankful for having a local like Abdul to tell us exactly what we were eating, as well as translation services while on our own to help decipher the ingredients of an entirely foreign language.

After stuffing our faces, scouring the picturesque back streets of Marrakech, and getting lost in the souks, Abdul took us to one of the most stunning places I’ve ever been. The Majorelle Gardens, once maintained by Yves Saint Laurent, are adorned up and down, left and right in my favorite shade of blue. None other than Majorelle Blue. These botanical gardens are the perfect place to sit and relax, people watch and just enjoy the peacefulness that that shade of blue radiates.

Finally, we had to book our tickets out of Marrakech and up to Fez for after our return from the Sahara. Sista and I had done research on overnight trains, but apparently Morocco doesn’t keep their internet information up-to-date and we hit a dead end as there were in fact no overnight trains. Thanks to Abdul, our problem solver who swept us off to the CTM bus station to rejigger our overnight plans. He went above and beyond and was our voice in a pinch. From start to finish, Abdul was wonderful and an excellent find from hospitality to wealth of knowledge.

The Sahara Trek That Could Have Been Three Days, But Was Only Two.

The details of the length of our Sahara trek will come later so as not to ruffle up my feathers, but it could have been longer given the days of our stay, but that’s neither here nor there, now is it? Regardless, our trip through the Atlas Mountains was stunning and wonderful and surprising.

We booked a 2 day, 1 night trek roundtrip via Marrakech with Authentic Tours Marrakech. Our tour guide, Moha as we so lovingly came to call him, picked us up at 7:30am for our journey into the Sahara. Moha and I talked a lot while the sleeping beauties slept in the back seat for much of the early ride. We both had an Asian connection, he having lived in Japan for 10 years, and me in Korea for 3. And let me tell you, when you find another non-Asian Asian, you bond before you can say kimchi. So there was that.

The days of driving were long but so gorgeous. Winding through the Atlas Mountains we saw a side of Morocco we had no idea existed. Around one windy road the mountains looked like they were oil painted sand, and then around the bend were the most lush green mountains for miles. I had no idea Morocco bore such greenery!

We arrived in Zagora, where a Berber man quickly adorned us with shmatas to cover our precious keppies. Then came camel time. At this point we were still a bit confused because we were expecting the dunes you only dream about, but we saw some rocky grassy patches with dunes in the distance. But, mount Alibaba, MohammedAli, Abu, and JackBlack we did and off into the setting sun we rode.

We arrived at our camp for the night and were quite confused at first. We lounged until sunset was coming and then made the hilarious trek up the dune just behind our camp. But not without several questions. Do we keep our shoes on? Are there scorpions in this sand? Will somebody be waiting to take us on over yonder to where the real dunes are? All very important questions. We went with climbing sans shoes, and up we went to enjoy a sunset and yoga poses atop a Saharan dune, because that’s what you do in the middle of the desert with a pretty colored sky.

Left my Koko mark in the sand.

Because…. #sistas

After dismounting the dune we headed back to our camp, where the Berbers played music, drank mint tea under the tent, and got us hungry for our tagine filled dinner. I was also provided the perfect setting to channel my inner Princess Jasmine.

When in an Arab desert.

The next morning we were back on our camel friends and off to drive through the Atlas Mountains again. Moha was a dear and saved the best for last. For our whole drive he was talking about kasbahs and harems, but we were still unsure about what a kasbah was, except for our only point of reference – rocking a kasbah. Turns out, a kasbah is a giant fortified city signifying wealth, and once housed many families within its walls. Aït Benhaddou serves as the biggest kasbah and still plays home to 4 families, one of which we got to visit with and lay our eyes on his wife’s beautiful handmade rugs. Not to mention, the kasbah has been the setting for many a Hollywood flick and television show, including Gladiator and that monster that I’m afraid I don’t watch, Game of Thrones.

Yes, two sista klutzes forded the river without falling in.

We returned back to Marrakech around 8 or 9pm that night, where our Riad was nice enough to let us hang out until our bus left at 1:30am. We gave ourselves a good face wash and costume change and then relaxed with the staff in between being antisocial while connected to our beloved wifi.

Fez Smells Like A Pungent Combination Of Donkey, Leather, & Saffron

After arriving in Fez at around 9am, we were tasked with finding a red taxi to take us to our Riad. The red taxis in Morocco are petit, and therefore only hold 3 people, so we had to split up for the ride over. Thankfully Moha had caught us at the bus station before leaving Marrakech and so nicely wrote the address to our Riad in Arabic for us. It came in tremendous handy after feeling a bit disoriented in a new city.

When we got to Riad Fez Kattani it was honestly the most magical room I’ve ever stayed in. We had a two bedroom suite again, but this time we had the entire floor to ourselves. We had a little living area with a couch, a central tea table area and our bedrooms off of it. We definitely felt like princesses now!

Once settled, we had arranged for our tour guide to pick us up from the Riad at 1pm. Raschid came to fetch us and off we went through the bustling labyrinth that is the Medina of Fez. But you see, we soon found out that this bustling would be short lived. For we had arrived on a Friday, and Friday is the Muslim holy day of rest. That meant everyone was leaving the Mosque after prayer. Within about an hour of being escorted through the maze, Fez was DEAD. There was no one around. No one.

Which brings me back to the Sahara trek. If you happen to find yourself in a tight schedule bind like us and Friday is one of your city days, opt for a longer trek. We could have done a 3 day / 2 night trek, traveled from Marrakech to Fez, and seen our luscious dunes. But, c’est la vie.

With a dead Fez on our hands, Raschid did his best to educate us on what we were able to see. Even amidst the quiet, I knew Fez was so beautiful in this down and dirty medieval sort of way. Instead of continuing on for the day, he dropped us off at our Riad, and instead we woke up bright and early the next day for the tour we had hoped for!

Saturday was a whole new Fez. It was smelly, had donkeys around every corner, and was alive with people going to market. Through the narrow roads, all our senses were percolating. From the beautifully tiled structures to the chicken fat laying on the side of the road, from the freshly picked mint to the stench of soaking animal skin in the 14th century Chouara Tannery, the juxtapositions were unfathomable. Fez felt like we had hopped into a time machine.

An entry to University of al-Qarawiyyin, the oldest university in the world, circa 859 AD.

Medrasa al-Attarine

Chouara Tannery circa the 14th century. Remember, sheep is cheap when you make your next animal hide purchase.

And finally, perhaps all of our favorite part of Fez was a trip to the compound where all of the pottery that is bought and sold is handmade, hand chiseled, and hand painted. We learned that all the tiles used in restorations or for sale in the country are completely chiseled by men who spend their day with a hammer and stencils in their lap. We learned how the clay is made and stored, how the dyes for the paint change, and how no two pieces are the same. Sista even got to try her hands on the pottery wheel and made half a baby tagine! Needless to say, we were all in heaven and did all our shopping straight from the source.

My sister, the potter, using two fingers to widen. Teacher’s orders.

With a slammed morning behind us, we headed back to the Riad to fetch our bags. We made our way through the souk, which was an entirely different type of souk than that of Marrakech. People in Fez use the souk for everyday life things. It’s where you go to buy your wedding gown, your meat for tonight’s meal, your bath oils and your handmade rugs, and to maybe see the head of a beheaded camel. It’s not so much a place to find your chachkies to take home like the souks in Marrakech.

Totally normal.

And that concludes our whirlwind tour of Morocco. It was a jam packed 4.5 days, but we definitely made the most of it. The major attractions of note that we wanted to include in our stay were an additional day in the Sahara to include the dunes at Erg Chebbi, and perhaps the most heartbreaking to Sista and me, a trip to Chefchaouen. The blue city has been on our brains ever since she discovered it a couple months before our trip. But, thanks to Ryanair and shortening our time it was unfeasible.

Morocco has since etched its way into my heart. As the first Arab country I’ve visited, I was so overwhelmed with happiness to know that different faiths coexist in complete harmony and respect for each other. The people we met had such a warmth about them, and the hospitality is in a league all its own. Morocco, I will be in you again soon.

And that’s that! Have you been to Morocco? Did you discover any off-the-beaten-path gems you’d care to share? Since I’ll be returning, what new cities should I add to my must-see list? Please do let me know in the comments below.

Where Have I Been You Ask?

April 26, 2015April 26, 2015Leave a comment

Oh, hello there! It’s been a while, I’m quite aware. I hope you’ve been well since I last wrote to you many moons ago. In all honesty, I’ve sat down to pen some posts, and then got distracted by life. I’m also beginning to think Spain just doesn’t provide much stimulation to my senses quite like Korea did. I don’t feel that much I’ve done here lends itself to a story that I’m excited about. And well, perhaps that’s to thank for the lack of postings. But, on the other hand, I literally have no time for me in this country. Between school, private classes, Spanish classes, sporadic weekend travels, visitors, and getting my teaching license, I’ve been more exhausted here than anywhere else. I don’t know how I feel about it, but it’s overwhelming.

So that’s that, and I’d like to fill you in on the probably not-so-exciting-haps since I last posted here so you’re not completely out of my loop.

Goodbye Seoul Tapper, Hello Tapperilla

Did you notice the domain for my little home on the internet? Yep, I finally made the purchase of my little home, and seoultapperilla.com is all mine. It came to be quite randomly, actually. I was up really late one night (per the usual) and had been researching domain purchasing, and at that wee hour I just decided to do it. It had been long enough that I was still non-committal, so I decided it was time to be a woman and commit. So yes, come here or go there, and you’ll still end up here. YAY!

I’m Gettin’ Edumacated

Maybe you glossed over it in the above, or maybe you already know because I’ve been at it since December, but I finally bit the bullet and decided to get my teaching license! This has been something I’ve been sitting on for quite a while, since before my 3rd year in Korea to be exact, and well, I want to be a legit teacher and have my own classroom and plan my own lessons sort of like I did in Korea, but more. Spain has provided a bit of a stifling experience since coming here to ‘teach’, so now is the time to use it for what it is and work towards something more. It’s all online, and my job here in Spain is acting as my practicum. I will finish at the end of October, when I will then need to complete a series of tests, and pending my passing, I’ll be a real teacher – FINALLY. A real teacher in that absurd state of Florida, or wherever the wind blows me. I’ll be in the market for International schools, of which I’ve got a location brewing, and we’ll see what happens once I complete those tests and map out my remaining time in España.

Get Outa Town!

In the past couple months I’ve been on an ‘I must get out of Madrid’ kick. This city is exhausting. In March Jen and I popped off to El Escorial just outside Madrid, and then mid-month we had a long weekend where we hit up Barcelona for some Gaudi (in my gaudy), and Zaragoza in Aragón for some delicious tapa hopping and Medieval castle time. It was a completely last minute trip after rain rerouted our journey to Gibraltar, but with some quick research on the fly, we devoured our way through both cities.

Barcelona was made for us.

In Barcelona we ate the best paella I’ve probably ever had. At least since my first trip to Barcelona back in 2006. It’s damn hard to find a solid paella in this country! While in search of Gaudi’s first commission, we also stumbled on a hidden gem in Bar Tomás, which serves up the greasiest plate of Patatas Bravas con Ali Oli. We had two plates and probably left with a few clogged arteries. But it was worth it.

Goodbye arteries.

Added To My Chain of Visitors, & Conquered Another Continent

It’s no secret that people love to come visit my homes-away-from-home, and in the last month I added 3 new ones, plus a second offender. Over Semana Santa (Easter week), sista and the Diamond sistas came for a visit. The Traveling Yarmulkas ate too much Tortilla Española in Madrid, wandered through the medieval Alcazár of Segovia that inspired Walt Disney’s castle, and jumped continents to AFRICA. We all got far too excited when our 8 feet landed in Marrakech. I don’t know why, but that continent seems like a tremendous deal. We explored Morocco in the quickest way possible as we rode some camels, slept in the Sahara, ate tagine up the ying yang, rocked a Kasbah and a shmata, and acquired a stalker. It was a fabulous whirlwind of sista time!

Shmata rocking through the Atlas Mountains.

I also had that second offender in a Lambchop, who was my chariot for a weekend. I got rowed around by a dreamboat through the Retiro Lake, and then we rented a beautiful little Fiat that he whizzed us around Spain in. I finally got to see Toledo, Spain’s once-upon-a-time capital, and we returned to Segovia’s Alcazár. Since I had promised him in a letter written at 15 that my family would take him to Disneyland, what better alternative than Disney’s inspiration? We took the scenic routes, and my, how Spain’s beauty opens up when you’re not traveling via public transport. The view and the company was absolutely divine.

Castle with a view.

To Infinity & Beyond

As for the future, 7 months in Spain have come and gone, and my first contract is nearing its close at the end of June. Come end of the month, I will be popping back stateside with a chop on my arm, a coast of California to road trip, a wedding to attend, too many beautiful faces to see, and a couple tests to be taken. After jamming all that into the mix, a summer of Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants in Greece awaits me. And, well, then it’s back to Madrid in October for my second contract, and who knows…

Of course, these are just snippets of what I’ve been up to, but I have full intentions of logging all of the stories behind the haps. Perhaps I left something out, I very well may have. Questions? Comments? Concerns? Will you be in Greece this summer? Holler at me! And of course, if you’re not already, you can get the day-to-day scoop over on Instagram where I actually keep track of my life in real time.

Prague Is Bad To The Bone

March 1, 2015March 1, 20152 Comments

This winter took me traveling around what I always called Eastern Europe, but which is more Central Europe. But that’s all technicalities as far as I’m concerned. You read previously about why I became obsessed with Berlin, and now I’m going to let you in on the next destination on my winter escape, Prague.

For forever and a day, Prague has been boasted about to me by everyone and their mother in waking life and on the interwebs. You’ve probably heard it too. No one can keep their trap shut about how Prague is the most enchanting city on the planet. And while it is enchanting and stunning and reminded me of Beauty and the Beast at every corner we turned, its people are horrendous, which somewhat overshadowed a bit of Prague’s wonderment. A bit like Paris, they’re damn lucky they’ve got such a visually pleasing city.

With that out of the way, I will get onto the good of Prague, and really one of the coolest things I’ve ever bore witness to.

Jen and I entered Prague on the floor of a train, and after that haggard train ride, had a little tricky situation getting into our Airbnb. Twas a bit of a tumultuous morning, but once settled we came to realize our host was excellent. Martina happened to work for Czech Tourism, so she was a whole wealth of knowledge when it came to must-eat foods to add to my ever growing list, and where to eat them. Based off her recommendations, the two of us ate like queens during our time in Prague.

Kielbasa my damn Jewish face off.

Memories of Koko as I greasily ascended up to the castle.

A nightly tradition of parting the Red Sea. Here we have duck, bread dumplings, red cabbage, schinitzel, and mashed potaters. Oh, and Radler. Yummy!

As for the sites, I could sit here and yammer on to you about the must-sees that Lonely Planet or Señor Rick Steves will tell you to see, but I like the out of the ordinary so I will spare telling you to go see things like…

The Astronomical Clock and Name Day Calendar

This face isn’t unenthused over the spectacle, but rather of the Chinese tourist I thought to be in my shot.

Prague Castle and its insanely exquisite gothic architecture.

St. Vitus Cathedral is in the center of Prague Castle. The view from the top of the mountain cannot be accurately depicted. Must be seen with your eyeballs.

The Charles Bridge with Prague Castle in the background.

A wander over this bridge will lead you to Prague Castle. Fun Fact: We spent NYE at the ‘biggest club in Europe’ just next to the bridge.

Or Frank Gehry’s eyeball-tickling Dancing House.

And of course, the Jewish Quarter of Josefov, formerly the Jewish Ghetto. This deserved much more time as it’s mystical and beautiful and boasts one of the largest Jewish museums.

The Old New Synagogue, which I fancied to look like a menorah.

Rabbi on a string.

While you should see all these because they’re spectacular, the highlight of Prague to me lies an hour’s train ride outside of the city in Kutna Hora. I first learned about The Sedlec Ossuary in Kutna Hora from a group of girls I met in Berlin on a Third Reich tour. They told me if I did only one thing in Prague I HAD to go there. And I did!

The Sedlec Ossuary, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, is a Roman Catholic chapel decorated entirely of skull and cross bones. Yes, you read that correctly. The interior is the most beautiful display of bones you will ever see, and while it’s quite macabre, it’s exquisite at the same time. To think of living the remainder of eternity as the most bizarre artwork is quite a spectacular thing to imagine.

Above the chapel is the cemetery, that holds a special history. In the 1200s, an abbot of the monastery returned from the Holy Land with some holy earth to be sprinkled on the cemetery grounds. When word of this broke out, it became one of the most prized burial sites in Central Europe at the time. In the 1300s, after the Plague swept through Europe, the cemetery had to be enlarged to compensate for all the additional bodies to be buried there. Then, in the 1500s, after the chapel had been built in the center of the cemetery, bodies that were exhumed to make room for new ones were piled up in the cathedral. The bones were later organized in the 1800s into the masterpiece that it is today. It’s strange, and creepy, and extraordinary, and this kind of ish fascinates me!

Craziest chandelier I ever did see!

New meaning to human shield…

The only kind of selfies I take.

Hello sir.

And one more for inappropriate measure.

Crazy, right? If you are intrigued just as much as I, I suggest carving out a morning or afternoon to get your badonk out of Prague to see it. You can either do it on an organized tour or by yourself, which is what we did. Many of the tour companies don’t do it everyday, so you’re left to do it yourself. It’s open everyday except I think Christmas and New Years Day.

Getting to Kutna Hora on your own: From Prague train station, purchase a roundtrip ticket to Kutna Hora Main for 183czk. From there, basically just follow the herd, but it’s about a 10 minute walk from the station to the Ossuary and quite self-explanatory once wandering. A suggestion is to check the train times back to Prague at the station before you head out to the chapel, because we ended up waiting 2 hours for the next one from the time we were done. When you purchase your entry tickets, you can buy for 1, 2, 3, or 4 of the UNESCO sites. We bought for 3 of them and decided we didn’t want to see the others after the 2nd one (which was a huge let down after the bone chapel). The final 2 are in the city center, so a train or bus ride away.

Well there you go! I hope you weren’t too creeped out and have now decided that you will hop on a plane just to go see this miraculous chapel! Have you been to the Bone Chapel before? Did you go to the other UNESCO sites? What did you think of them? Did I make a stupid decision to throw them to the wind? Were there any other off-the-beaten-path wonderments I should have seen while in Prague? Did you think the Czech people were as rude as I did? Let me know all of your whathaveyous in the comments!

If you liked these photogs, follow my life through Instagram filters over on Instagram.

Berlin: Wars & Sausages & Fur Hats, Oh My!

February 1, 20151 Comment

East Side Gallery-ing

Up until December I wasn’t too fond of Germany. My only experiences with it were ones of feeling super Jewy when I visited Munich back in 2006 on MayMay & SchaeffSchaeff’s Eurotrip. I thought Munich was so pretty, so clean, and that the people were almost too nice. I felt like it was a completely sterile place, and maybe that was because they were trying to cover up a horrible past. Or perhaps I was projecting. Who knows, but I’m not the only one to have these thoughts. I’ve heard the same from non-superjews alike.

I still hold these feelings towards Munich, however, my feels towards Germany changed after visiting Berlin over Christmas. Since then I have found myself telling people that Berlin is my new favorite city in Europe, and perhaps the world. I am obsessed with Berlin, and I only scraped the WWII and Cold War surface. I have never really been one for wanting to return to a city if I’ve already been there, I’d just rather visit somewhere new. But, that is totally not the case with Berlin. I NEED to go back. And I must return with sista so we can get our WWII Jew on.

Berlin has the history, it has the art, it has the architecture, and it has the sausages. All things that make Danielle a very happy camper.

Quite a chunk of my time in Berlin was spent doing walking tours. I usually like having the freedom to wander off down who knows where, but after taking a look at the walking tours offered by New Berlin walking tours, I decided that many of the things I wanted to see were best seen when you get the full story behind them. I could show up at the Reichstag building and look at it, but not get the full story of how Hitler came to power here, or search and search for Hitler’s bunker, only to find out that it is located in the middle of an apartment complex. Or I could walk along the Berlin Wall memorial and not know that the circular placards on the sidewalk were for those who successfully escaped over the wall. The tours were so well led, and so fascinating. I feel like I left Berlin with a whole new stash of knowledge.

The day after Christmas, Jen and I went our separate ways for the day after a snowy morning stroll through Tiergarten park. She went to a photography museum while I went on a Third Reich walking tour to get my daily fix of Hitler knowledge.

The tours all meet in front of the Starbuck’s in Pariser Platz in front of the Brandenburg Tor. With a student ID (thank you España) tours cost 10 euro (12 euro full rate). My tour guide was an Irish guy named Mark, and he was excellent. Now, to highlight some of my favorite sites seen on this walking tour, because quite frankly, it’s a lot of historical stuff, and you probably learned all about it in your high school history classes. But, to be there was quite something else.

1. Hitler’s Former Bunker

I was really excited for this, though I thought we were actually going to get to go into his bunker. Unbeknownst to me, the actual bunker itself has since been destroyed, so as not to serve as a mecca for neo-Nazis. However, the location of the place where Hitler made the most brilliant decision of his stupid life now lies underneath a very industrial set of apartment and parking complexes at Wilhelmstrasse 77. Even if nothing was underneath my feet, it felt good to stand above the place where that horrible excuse for a human being spent the final days of his life.

2. The Reichstag Building (Renamed The Bundestag)

This is the German Parliament building, and where Hitler rose to power in 1933 after being appointed Chancellor by President Paul von Hindenburg. This building suffered a fire in 1933, which is still unsolved to this day, and is also home to the memorial to the 96 Murdered Members of the Reichstag who voted against the Nazi party and were inevitably sent to their deaths – many at Sachsenhausen concentration camp in Germany. The building also stood as a huge target when the Cold War began, physically lying in West Berlin, yet still close to East Berlin.

Sachsenhausen was the first camp established in Germany, and was where many political prisoners were sent to die.

3. The New Synagogue In Oranienburg

Kristallnacht (‘the night of broken glass’) happened on November 9, 1939. It was a night when all Jewish establishments were torched and destroyed. One of the few temples to survive the horrible night was the New Synagogue, located on Oranienburgstrasse. The story goes that during the night, the inside of the temple was in the midst of being destroyed and burned. In the morning, a police officer arrived on the scene declaring that this temple is a protected historical landmark, and any destruction to it is illegal. With that, the temple was salvaged, and good thing it was, because it is majestic and beautiful, even in the moonlight.

4. The Holocaust Memorial To The Murdered Jews of Europe

I’ve seen so many Holocaust memorials, and I really look forward to them. The memorial in Berlin is one of the more interesting ones that I’ve seen, mostly because it’s so industrial and a bit cold. Though, maybe that was the aim they were going for. It is essentially a sea of cement blocks of varying heights. You have the freedom to walk through it, and watch the blocks get smaller to taller as you move through the wavy alleys. If anything, it makes for a cool photo shoot.

5. Stumbling Stones For The Taken

Throughout the Jewish quarter of Oranienburg, there lie small golden squares on the sidewalk. They lie anywhere; in front of apartment buildings, in front of restaurants, anywhere. They are an everyday reminder and remembrance to the Jews who were taken from their homes and the dates they were taken. They lie in front of wherever they lived, and I found this to be an incredibly thoughtful and jarring everyday reminder of the lives lost.

It’s no surprise that war history fascinates me, and Berlin has no shortages of that. The next walking tour that Jen and I went on was about the Cold War. Though the Cold War wasn’t so much a war as an occupation and divide, it still falls in the war history category. Before visiting Berlin I was pretty unknowledgeable about the Berlin Wall and East and West Germany. Really all I knew was that there was this massive wall put up, and that my mom had ‘accidentally’ hopped off a train in East Germany and got right back on after being bombarded by sights of soldiers with rifles in the station. Other than that I was pretty clueless. However, after a visit and some dropped knowledge, and staying in an Airbnb apartment just on the Eastern side of the wall, I can say there is no way to describe the feelings you get while being in a city once divided and with such a recent tragic history. With everyday reminders everywhere, it’s intriguing and mind blowing, and exuded some of the same vibes Cambodia gave me.

1. Berlin Wall Memorial And Staying In The Former East

When Jen and I were walking to our Airbnb, we had no idea we were walking along the Berlin Wall Memorial. We just thought it was a bunch of reminders like we had already seen dispersed around the city. We later learned that we were in fact staying in an apartment just beyond the Eastern border, and that the memorial was in fact THE memorial, and a chance to walk amongst the Death Strip of the wall. The girl, Katherina, that we were staying with was the same age as me, and was born and grew up for the first 6 or so years of her life in East Germany. This information alone blew my mind. Sure she was probably too young to remember anything insane, but still. One of the things she told us about were typical East German names, and how you could pick out an East German based on their name. Fascinating. Living history.

The memorial has former Stasi spy tunnels, images of people who’s homes literally straddled the border when the wall went up and were forced into life or death situations, homage to those who lost their lives trying to escape over the wall, homage to those who successfully escaped over the wall, and a chance to walk in the Death Strip – the space between the Berlin Wall and the smaller wall, where escapees were caught and usually killed.

Standing on the Eastern Side of the wall.

2. Staying At A Former Ghost Station Metro Stop

Our metro stop in Berlin was Nordbahnhof. When we first got off at the exit there were so many information placards up on the walls of the station. I was immediately intrigued and read every one. After reading them I still didn’t make the connection that the stop we were in fact staying at was once a former Ghost Station; a station in the East that was blocked off to trains that had to travel through in order to get to the West. It never occurred to me that the metros were effected. I had never thought about all the logistics that go into dividing a CITY.

After getting this bit of knowledge dropped on me, I immediately thought of the story my mom had told me about her time in Berlin. I never really understood the history behind her story until that moment, and of course – MIND BLOWN. My mom was traveling Berlin in the summer of 1974, and when she hopped off the train in East Berlin, she was faced with so many guards and their rifles that it freaked her out and she got right back on the train. I’m still unsure of how she was able to hop off the train in the Eastern side, BUT, it all made sense when our tour guide said that all ghost stations used to be guarded by soldiers. When trains would pass through these stations, they’d slow down, but not completely stop. Travelers would be able to see into the desolate stations, but only the view of guards making sure no one escaped through the stations to the west. I immediately could not wait to tell Mama Schaeff the story behind her hop-off-hop-right-back-on story in Berlin. The only logical thing that I can think of as to how she hopped off, is that maybe ghost stations were still glitchy that early in the game, OR, just that this is Mama Schaeff and that would only happen to her. I’d like to believe the latter, since I am my mother’s daughter.

3. Checkpoint Charlie And Exiting The American Sector

After WWII Berlin was divided into 4 parts: The French, British, and American in the West, and the Russian in the East. Checkpoint Charlie is the most famous crossing point between the East and the West. Now it’s a bit of a tourist trap, but has a museum (oddly selling American keychains), and apparently a place for you to get a stamp in your passport, should you chose to do that.

Since no more Korean peace sign, this is what I now do with my arms.

5. The Cute Berliner Amplemann

First, how many of you knew that the little guy who tells you when you can and can’t cross the street is called an Amplemann? Because I did NOT! Well, that is what he’s called, and when Berlin was divided into East and West, the East adopted their own special Amplemann, which is so cute and different from any I’ve ever seen. After the reunification, they decided to keep the Eastern Amplemann as a ‘souvenir’ of the East, and now you can see them and their little hats scattered throughout the East and the West.

6. The East Side Gallery

The East Side Gallery, otherwise known as the longest strip still remaining of the Berlin Wall, was turned into an art gallery for street artists in 1990 after the fall of the wall. We went on Christmas night, and it was absolutely freezing. I’m proud of us for braving the cold for as long as we did, though I wish we had gotten to see more of this spectacular gallery of street art. It’s painted with controversial works, works of love and abolishing divides, and everything in between. I especially love how something that tore so many families apart was turned into something unifying and so beautiful. It’s spectacular and was one of my favorite sites in Berlin.

Other notable things I loved about Berlin were:

1. This Russian Spy Hat I Purchased, Juxtaposed With This Speckled Metro Seat

2. Sausages & Pretzels All Day Errday

3. Christmas Spent In True Christmas Market Fashion, Complete With Warm Glühwein

Gendarmenmarkt was our favorite Christmas market!

4. The Vibrant Metros & Tiles Circa The 1930s

5. The Majestic Brandenburg Gate, & This Selfie With A Creeper

6. The Very Multi-fashioned Berliner Bear, Errwhere

Here's a personal fave, the Athens Berliner Bear ;)

Here’s a personal fave, the Greek Olympian Berliner Bear 😉

7. The Best Russian I’ve Ever Stuffed My Face With, Thanks To Random YouTube Girl

Pasternak served up the best Beef Stroganof, Potato pancakes, Pierogi, and not pictured, Borscht, that I’ve ever had.

Just enjoying this very Russian wallpaper, in my Russian hat, by candlelight.

8. Leaving Berlin, Via Train, In The Jewiest Way Possible

Though proving for a most uncomfortable 6 hour journey, this is the best story I could have ever imagined for my German Jew departure.

Well, there you go! Even though my German journey came full circle to my Jewish heritage, Berlin has really barreled its way into my heart, and I’m not ashamed to say I’m obsessed with it. The city is thriving with delicious food, terrifying history, unbelievable sentimentality, insane street art, and what I’ve heard to be a poppin’ nightlife. I’ve put it on my horizon as a potential place to plant my feet for some time, and I just can’t wait to return. Have you been to Berlin? What are some places you’d recommend for a future visit? The more offbeat the better!

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31 Times I Instagrammed My Life At 30

January 20, 2015April 26, 20156 Comments

30, as it would sound, was quite the transitional year for moi. Transitional sort of makes it sound like it wasn’t a good year, but au contraire my friend, au contraire. Transitional in the way that the year had so many types of ups and downs, but all for the good I’d like to think. I started my thirtieth year on the planet dedicating my day to the fashion of a rapist (unbeknownst at the time), went a bit viral on the interwebs, got heart-swollen and then heart-crushed during the wind-down of my Korean life, left the continent I never thought I wanted to live in to put a new twist on my life in the continent I dreamt of since the age of 10, found out what I’ve always been wondering – do I have a BIG VOICE? and had a couple reunions to set my heart aflame along the way.

And all of these lovely happenings were documented via the Instagrammer. So, to ring in my 31st, and the Age of Aquarius, without further adieu, I give you my thirtieth year on this great planet of our’s through the lens of my iPhone 5S and a filter or two.

1. Puddin’ Pops & Rapist Fashion

I don’t think much needs to be explained here, as the fashion is self-explanatory. However, if you must have your hand held, I rang my 30th birthday in with a dinner in which we were all required to wear a Cosby sweater, alla Bill Cosby. I made chocolate pudding cups and we enjoyed an evening in our old-man best. Naturally, my first thought once the allegations came to be was “Holy shit, I themed by birthday around a rapist!” Not many can say that and…laugh.

2. Lunar New Year In The Organ Black Market of Seoul

In Korea, and Asia for that matter, Lunar New Year is the big deal when it comes to new years. So, to fully immerse ourselves in the Lunar New Yearsness of it all, a group of us went out to China Town in Daerim, also known as one of the sketchiest parts of Seoul, and where you could very well find your organs for sale if you walk down the wrong alley. We all came back to the safe side of Seoul with all our organs in tact, and a gut full of delicious MSG. It was perfection, even if we did eat at a restaurant where dog was being served at the table just beside us.

3. Hello Baby Gavin!!

Gavin wasn’t the first baby of a friend to be born, but he was the first baby of two of my oldest friends to be born, and Auntie D met him when we was just 2 days old! Mommy Kendra was exhausted, Daddy Justin proved to be a baby whisperer, and baby Gavin had a big head from being a trickster in the birth canal. But my god, was he a dream to hold. Heart swells don’t even come close to how happy this moment made me!

4. In N Out & A Date With My Boo

Collin came down from The Bay because I specifically ordered him to. However, he came home a little bit earlier because he got in a horrendous bike accident. So, I drove my toy car rental all the way down to Riverside, which beforehand, I had no clue where it existed. I had no service on my phone, and got lost on the return home, but before I left I did get to eat In N Out on Collin’s handmade preschool plate. It was a magical day with my boo.

5. Fab 4 Bangin’ Booties

These 3 are my hearts when it comes to women. A trip around the world we are, and this winter after a champagne brunch in Manhattan Beach, we took my favorite photo of us. It’s just as perfect as those badonks.

6. The Baby Tour of Los Angeles Continued

This was a special one. Sista and I thought we’d never get to meet Kian, the newest edition to our crazy clan! But we did, and shortly after he had surgery on his head, making him the world’s cutest little race car driver. He was and IS a doll and I am obsessed with his little face!!

7. Tommy Boy & His Ego Came Back

Tommy and I got close fast, and this time he returned to Korea, professed his love, and we swapped each other’s rings for a day. We walked the Suwon Fortress on St. Patty’s Day, and drank expensive Yellowtail under a temple whilst overlooking all of Seoul. ‘Twas divine.

8. Ultimate Finds Whilst Vintage Shopping

This makes me sound like a bitch, but oh well. These 3 words sum up mine and Veny’s sentiments to a tee when it comes to new friends, particularly those LBH’s in Korea. I still regret not making this purchase. OH WELL.

9. Glamping & KPorn

We had been talking about going Glamorous Camping for quite some time, but alas that never happened. Until we stumbled upon the new Glamping bar in Itaewon on Taeho’s birthday. We sat around on beanbags and he was gifted this very special magazine by Joshua. He’s always so thoughtful with his gifts. Taeho very much enjoyed the black and white imagery.

10. Continuing the Love of Abandonment

Abandoned places that is! Joshy is my breaking-into-abandoned-places partner in crime, and for this wild ride at Yongma Land we took our third member of Destiny’s Child along for the ride. Joshy, Veny, and I nearly broke into Yongma Land, though that is entirely unnecessary. Just leave it to us to find the more ‘scenic’ route to enter an establishment. We basically went off-climbing to get in here, and once we were in we had tons of fun riding broken rides and watching creepers have cosplay photoshoots.

11. Slumbering With Snoring Ajummas

No one wanted to go out of town for this long weekend, so I took it upon myself to jet out of Seoul solo to Ganghwa-do just off the coast of Incheon. There I fulfilled my desire to do a sort-of temple stay, as I slept on a mat, in the sweltering heat, beside a bunch of snoring ajummas who kept throwing candy and fruit at me. It was an experience I will not soon forget.

12. Life in Polka Dots

Kusama Yayoi is a Japanese artist who’s work consist of one of my favorite things – POLKA DOTS! She literally lives in a polka dot world and created it for the world to see. The end of her exhibit is a room where you get to put your own dots anywhere and become one with her polka dot world. It was stunning, and smelled like feet in there.

13. Gone Viral Between Two Ding Dongs

My phallus-loving sister and I went to a penis cafe located about an hour outside of Seoul in Pocheon. The entire cafe is themed around the male ‘important part’, and after I wrote about it, my post got picked up by an online magazine and they used me and these two ding dongs as their enticing photo on Facebook. I was thrilled! What a way to make it big!!! Thanks internet!

14. Saying Goodbye Is The Worst Thing Ever Invented

A week of saying goodbye to the babies who stole my heart was quite possibly the most miserable thing I ever did. After 3 years it was time to part with my kiddos, and these boys made it so hard!

15. Lovers Getaway To Yang Yang

Perhaps one of my favorite trips done in Korea was this one to Yang Yang. Veny, Joshy, Dustin, and I rented a swanky Sonata and road tripped to the gorgeous coastal town of Yang Yang. It was bittersweet to say the least, and this photo with my first friend in Korea is perfect. We came full circle from looking haggard (if that’s even possible for her) on our first bus ride, to frolicking on the beach not wanting this amazing experience to ever end. Love my Venylove.

16. The Fucking Core

Weeding through the nut bags we were surrounded by was some work, but at the end of those 3 years I found some of the most solid friends a girl could ever ask for. For our last weekend all together we ended up at some crazy club in Gangnam. It was loud, there was seizure music, there were tears, but it was the best.

17. #tits

Korea is good for the Trick Eye Museums and the sex themed locales, even though the mere mention of sex causes a stir. But I’ll have you know, despite the contradictory culture, the Love Museum does NOT disappoint, as my kookster in krime and I discovered one rainy afternoon. After many phallic photos, this one of me helping The Hulk hold up some tits was a great indicator of the afternoon amazingness.

18. Dolled Up And On a Boat

What ended up being a failed attempt on ‘everyone’s last weekend together’ turned into a divine evening with these gorgeous lady lasses. We dolled up, took far too many posy pictures for my liking, and watched all the KKouples take romantic selfies of themselves under the Han River water show.

19. Straddling That Border Up North

In the movie The Interview they show all the North and South Korean military hanging out in this room watching Kim Jong Un get his ass shredded on live tele. Well, it’s a bit different in real life. You actually only get like, 5 minutes in the room, and the guards take shifts for show. Mostly. But, here we are, checking off another BIG must-do on the Korean Bucket list of life. Straddling the most heavily militarized border in the world.

20. Asianization Meets Europeanization

Getting this Spanish visa was no easy task. As an American it is near impossible to get a work visa in Europe, but thank heaven that programs like the fakakta one I’m in exist! The day I finally stared at (and immediately snapped this photo) this visa gracing MY passport, I literally let out a giant squeal. No joke. I wanted this visa in my passport since I was 10, and 20 years later shit got real. Thank you Javier at the Spanish consulate in Seoul!

21. The Saddest Day Of My Life So Far

Joshy holds the biggest chunk of my Korean heart, and being the last person I saw and shared a deliciously overpriced naengmyeon and jjigae meal with tore my heart out, despite what these cheesers may say. Saying seeya later to him turned me into a waterworks show and I did not stop crying until well after take off. It was the shittiest.day.ever.

22. I’m A Bridesmaid!

First, don’t kill me for this photo. You’ll thank me when we’re old and grey. Second, Jeanelly found her wedding dress, then asked us all to be her bridesmaids, then we had a Fab 4 slumber party filled with dress up, sexual Korean face mask selfies, and of course, watching Bridesmaids. It was only suiting.

23. Reunited With My Soldier

What are the chances that the next time I visited NYC my Israeli soldier would be there at the same time, 4 years after our last rendezvous in the Big Apple? Well, he was, and he came to Kayla and Jeanette’s birthday, and my heart could burst I was so happy to see him in front of me.

24. Imbibing Where Honest Abe Once Did

With only 2 choices of beer to choose from, light or dark, we opted for the more delicious dark at McSorley’s in NYC. My reunion with my Sammy baby was long past overdue, and seeing Shika Shocka was the cherry on top.

25. #grandmaswhorally Became A Thing

Here we have my first photo from Spain indicating that I do in fact have friends! This was also the night that the hashtag #grandmaswhorally stuck. What started out as a lazy night where none of us wanted to leave the comforts of our boudoirs (in my case, my hostel cell bed), turned into a delightful evening of sangria, homos all around, evening drinking on a terrace, and feeling old, but still young enough to kick it.

26. I Found An Apartment, That Turned Out to Be Hell

After a solid 2 full weeks of piso hunting around Malasaña, I finally found one that I should have known was too good to be true. What started off amazing, and quite hilarious, with a naked David hanging in my room, turned out to be a horrendous experience. Let’s just say THANK GOD I’M OUT OF THERE, and someone’s got some (dog) shit flying their way soon.

27. Mama Schaeff And Her Face Mask Came To Visit

My mother, the world traveler, finally came to visit me in one of my far away homes. We museum hopped, we fought, we ate tons of shitty fast food because Spain is all about the pig and Mama don’t eat the carne, and she walked into a nail salon and asked the nice ladies for a face mask because there’s too much smoke in Madrid. This is what she looked like for the duration of her stay.

28. 1999 Meets 2014

A reunion in Madrid that my 14 year old self surely would have died had she known would happen, happened. It was the best, and this cafe con leche from Federal pretty much sums up my feelings about said reunion.

29. The Asian Who Always Visits Me

Jnetty was my first visitor in Korea, and was one of my first visitors in España. Surely I love her so! So much that I snuck her into my hell hole of an apartment late night, and the next day we popped off to Sevilla and Granada, where we wandered through the stunning walls of the Alhambra in the frigid cold. She even tried her hand at the Español, and failed when she asked for the ‘jambon’. However, she greatly succeeded in getting me kicked out of my dark dungeon of a penis hanging apartment. THANK THE JAMBON ABOVE. No one tells Dani ‘no visitors allowed’.

30. Leaving Germany In the Most Jewy Way Possible

It might as well have been 1940something that snowy afternoon when I left Berlin headed for Prague. Upon entering the train, our first class tickets became null as our car was ‘out of order’. How, I’m unsure, since it was tagging along with the rest of the train just beyond the locked doors. But, out of order it was. So there I sat for 6 hours, along with about 5o other people, trying to find comfort on the train floor. Here I am finding some semblance of comfort under this man’s rear end. I could not have exited Germany in a Jewier fashion than this. It was utter perfection, and the story itself more than pays for the reimbursement we should be owed.

31. Why Yes, I Do Have A Big Voice!

For my 31st birthday weekend I popped off for a romantical rendezvous in Brussels, which despite what this blow horn might convey, was quite the quiet little town. We indulged in delicious chocolate and beer aplenty, played with aluminum balls, and even enjoyed a side of terrorist scares in the city. It was a weekend I did not want to return from!

And there you have it! My life as seen through most likely the Valencia filter with the sharpening tool on Instagram was divine. Though filled with lots of weird emotions, 30 was my favorite year yet and I can’t wait to see what 31 will dish out! If these photos left you intrigued, do follow along on Instagram at @dtschaeff.

A Day At Auschwitz-Birkenau

January 9, 2015Leave a comment

I used to hate going to Hebrew school. Well not always, but mostly once I got to middle school and my once-stellar Hebrew slowly started to reflect my teenage years of not caring so much. However, my favorite parts were of course snack time (who doesn’t love snack time? My favorite were the little mini chocolate donuts that we’d get quite often), and history class. I LOVED my history classes growing up, and history, particularly WWII and Jewish history, really gets my water boiling.

One of the perks (that’s a weird word to use for a post like this, but oh well) of being a child in my generation is that we grew up with the aging survivors of the Holocaust. We are really the last generation that had the chance to hear first hand from the voices who lived the atrocities that the evil, yet intriguing, Nazis set forth during the Final Solution of the second world war. So, it was always a ‘treat’ when that time of year came around when about 100 of us children gathered around on the floor at the feet of this survivor who was to tell us their story. I still remember one of the survivors gushing about her favorite striped bathing suit that she brought with her when she was relocated to Auschwitz. They really thought they were going to resettle for a better life elsewhere.

Then she showed us her tattoo. Her identity number during her time in Auschwitz-Birkenau, the biggest death camp, responsible for over 1.1 million murders, about 90% of them Jews. That tattoo is something I never forgot, and knew then that I wanted to go there, to visit this horrible place.

Well, I finally went, and it was the greatest, most desolate, most fascinating, most important experience I’ve probably ever had. While it’s surely going to be one of your most depressing days, it is a situation that everyone should put themselves in so that this mass genocide never happens again. Or puts an end to it in parts of the world where it is still happening.

Jen and I took an overnight train from Prague to Krakow, where Auschwitz is situated about 1.5 hours outside of in Oświęcim. During the winter, the camp is only open until 3pm, so we, along with our new friend Andrew, caught the first bus we could. Upon arrival, it was an absolute madhouse, as could be expected. Maybe it was because they had just switched over to a new system for guided tours, but it was madness. Thankfully for my Korean ajumma elbows, I was able to shove through a sea of clusterfuck and got us our tickets.

I was originally against doing a guided tour because I wanted to have my freedom, but I was told otherwise that the tour guides are phenomenal and really add to the experience, so we did that. And this is where the tour started, at the entry gate to Auschwitz I.

The iconic gate at the entry of Auschwitz I ~ Work Will Set You Free

The tour took us through barracks that have been maintained as part of the museum, where they house remnant after remnant of those who had passed through its walls.

I never knew how prisoners were distinguished, aside from their tattoos. But turns out (of course) there was a system beyond just everyone wears stripes and has a number.

Wooden clogs and shoes that prisoners were given to wear. Summer or winter, rain or shine. It hurts me just looking at these, after my own toes felt like icicles. Most prisoners didn’t last longer than 3 months, and after walking the wall of prisoner photos, I noticed that many barely lasted a full month.

The Death Wall, where many were lined up and shot.

Auschwitz I started as a camp for political prisoners, and as it began to overflow, Auschwitz II-Birkenau was opened as a death/concentration camp. And let me tell you, it is massive, and filled with chimneys everywhere. The Nazis if nothing else positive, were efficient masterminds.

The arrival point of cattle cars at Auschwitz II-Birkenau, where the selection process happened.

These were the insides of a typical barrack. When I first learned you could see them many years ago, I knew I had to go. These three levels would hold sometimes 10 people per row, and the bottom level used to be made of mud or dirt, so when it would rain, people would literally be sleeping in a swamp. You can also see that there are many names carved into the brick, one of the most heartbreaking things to see. Leaving their mark, in some way.

Visiting Auschwitz in some odd way was the highlight of my trip to Central Europe. I can’t even think of the proper words to express the feeling that comes from visiting a place like this that has such a sinister history, but must be preserved for generations to come. I can fully recommend taking one of the guided tours offered by the museum, as our guide did a wonderful job of conveying the history and emotion that goes along with the tragic period. I kept saying to myself “can you imagine being someone who goes to work at Auschwitz everyday?” It’s so depressing, but those people are so important for the future.

To get to Auschwitz from Krakow, I suggest just getting out to Oświęcim on your own, rather than arranging a tour. It’s quite easy. From Krakow Glowny train stain the bus station is just next door. You can ask one of the ticket counters when the next bus leaves, and they’ll direct you to the platform where you can just buy your ticket on the bus. I’d recommend getting in line pretty quickly because it gets so full. I heard that summer months are insane, and we went during the low season and it was still full. It costs 28 zloty roundtrip. I think it’s best to just buy the roundtrip since you can use it to catch any bus on the return and not worry about buying it again.

Once at Auschwitz prepare for insane amounts of people and no order whatsoever. You’ll have to take some initiative to get to the front of the ‘line’, unless it gets better somehow. Admission to the camp is free, however a guided tour is 40 zloty (~9 euros), and will last about 3 hours and cover both Auschwitz I and II-Birkenau, including the shuttle between camps.

Well, I apologize for such a morbid post, but I hope you enjoyed! Have you been to Auschwitz or another camp? What was your experience like? If you haven’t been, I hope at some point you have the opportunity. Bring plenty of tissue and wear waterproof mascara. It’ll be a day of hardcore feels.

Co-Habitating With A Dictator

December 13, 201411 Comments

As many know, when I first landed in Madrid and was on the apartment hunt, it was exhausting and stressful and annoying all rolled into one pretty little ball of yuck. I saw so many dumps, was put on so many long lists of others in my same boat, and then after a little over 2 full weeks of searching, found a place. I sat and talked with the guy, who we will call The Dictator, for an entire hour and totally hit it off. The room was massive and complete with a balcony and azulejo tiled floor. I was obsessed, and an hour later told him I wanted to live there if he’d have me.

Oh he had me alright.

At first he was so nice, and even invited me to go watch a movie with his “cousin” and a friend. I had other plans, and frankly didn’t want to go, but still thought it was a nice gesture. This my friends is all building up the facade.

Then Mama Schaeff came to visit a couple weeks after I moved in, and naturally I was excited to have a visitor stay with me. The night before she arrived we actually had a roomie dinner because it was my Belgian roommate, Lorenzo’s, birthday, so he cooked for everyone. I casually told The Dictator that my mom was coming the next day and he put on this smile like “Oh that’s great!”

Dun dun dun!

During her whole stay she felt uncomfortable. The apartment is constantly kept dark, and she just didn’t feel a very welcoming atmosphere from the place. Which I don’t blame her. However, we were never home during her visit, except for during intermittent fights and to sleep. Then the morning that she left, I got a text message from The Dictator asking me when she was leaving and telling me that “it’s normal for visitors to only stay for a weekend”. Excuse me but no. Not when they are flying around the globe it’s not normal. This was the first WTF in a long list.

Even Dali thinks this is weird.

Then my friend Kristia was over one Friday or Saturday night. We were hanging out in my room, talking and drinking some delicious vino because that’s what social people do. They talk and utilize spaces that are theirs. At 11pm on the dot I got a text message (note that it’s always via text), saying that my visitor had to leave now. Um, last I checked I am a grown ass woman, paying rent to live in my grown ass woman room, so as long as I’m not disrupting your life or your property I think I am allowed to have visitors. And also, last I checked I already have a father, and he wouldn’t even tell me to have my visitor leave. I wanted to stay and spite him, but I hadn’t reached the point of revenge seeking just yet. So we left.

This happened a couple more times, and each time pushed one more button towards hatred of The Dictator.

Along the way there were also little things. Like notes on the chalkboard in the kitchen saying not to open the kitchen window, or that the water and light bills were too high, which made absolutely zero sense to me, since we basically live in a dungeon where lights are forbidden. And as for the water bill, I obey the once a week laundry rule, doing mine about every 2 weeks. Meanwhile, I constantly see their fresh laundry hanging to dry almost everyday. To top it off, remember that “cousin” I mentioned up above? Well, The Dictator and his “cousin” share a bedroom, which was not disclosed to me upon renting, and frankly, it’s bizarre that two 40 year old male cousins would share a bedroom. I had a sneaking suspicion that the “cousin” was a cover for boyfriend, which has since been confirmed by a prior tenant. That aside, I was told there were 4 tenants, which I soon realized was 5. Oh, and we aren’t allowed to have boyfriends or girlfriends spend the night, as was told (via text) to my Belgian roommate at 11pm one night while his girlfriend was over. Enter the double standard.

With the “no significant others” rule, and quickly becoming clearer, no visitors rule tucked in my back pocket, I alerted The Dictator the day before L was to arrive in Madrid. Shocked, but not quite shocked at all, I received several rude texts in a row saying that no visitors were allowed to stay over, and that my mom had previously stayed too long. EXCUUUUSE ME, but 1) who says that about someone’s visiting mother? And 2) when I first rented this apartment that was the first question I asked you and got a resounding “Of course visitors can stay! As long as they sleep in your room!” So sorry, but that is not flying.

He eventually bent, but for a hefty price of 20 euros/night per visitor. Preposterous. I came back to him with a counter offer based off what another friend’s landlord charges non-family member visitors. He told me to get a hotel for that price. I of course didn’t listen and L stayed over for the weekend, and I pushed him to not pay one cent out of principle.

During his entire stay we felt like we were being sneaky and tip-toeing around. Which forgive me if I’m wrong, but that is no way to live in your own home, except if you’re 16 years old and under your parent’s roof. Well, L left on a Monday morning, and on Wednesday late night Jeanette arrived, and without a mere peep to The Dictator. I thought I could be clever by sneaking her in late and he wouldn’t notice. But he would. More on that in a bit.

Here I am tip toeing through an art installation.

On Thursday morning I got a text message from The Dictator saying “your friend is in the house”. No shit. He said (didn’t ask) you didn’t tell me this, and it’s not allowed. With every message he would send he would nip it abruptly, leaving it like that was the end of that and he has the final word. No no, sir. That is not how the world works. So I told him we are going out of town, so you won’t have to worry about losing your precious bathroom time, or whatever it is you’re so concerned with.

So we went out of town for 4 glorious days for the puente (long weekend). We got back late Monday night and Jeanette was leaving Wednesday morning. Well, Tuesday during my 2nd period class I clicked on my phone to check the time, and what do ya know? There was a string of nipped in the bud texts to me telling me “your friend is in the house” and that I’m not good to co-habitate with. Then the kicker……. I have 22 days and I’m out. I GOT KICKED OUT OF AN APARTMENT. It’s almost comical.

I didn’t respond to any of his nonsense, and then late that night, while Jeanette was using his precious shower water, he came and knocked on my door to just speak at me in Spanish and reiterate his text messages. I of course have a big mouth and I love to use it, and that I did by talking over him in English. I told him that he’s a liar, and that I won’t listen to him because he went back on his word. I asked him how it affects HIM if MY visitor is in MY room, sleeping in MY bed, and occupying MY space? His response (in Spanish and ultimately in English when he realized I wasn’t going to shut up) “I need to use the bathroom!!!” Oh, you’re a big boy. You can hold your pee 2 minutes so my friend can shower. He also scolded me for turning on the lights so that we could see when we walk. Pardon me for wanting to use one of my vital senses in my own home. Not to mention, it’s also freezing because they don’t turn the heat on, so I sleep bundled up.

Flash forward to a couple days later as I’m perusing Idealista.com, the website used to look for apartments in Spain. I saw my room pop up and immediately posted it to our Auxiliares Facebook group to warn people not to rent from him. This proved to be the greatest way I could have ever used the fabulous internet to my advantage. Not 1 or 2, but 4 people chimed in who were previous tenants or had a friend who was, and EVERY SINGLE PERSON was either evicted after a couple months for having visitors, or had to get the cops involved because The Dictator tried to spin the situation. Nearly everyone was jipped out of their deposit, and everyone said this guy is a psycho. Oh, and remember how I said that I thought I was being clever sneaking Jeanette in late night? Well, one of the previous tenants alerted me that there is in fact a camera/motion sensor in the main hallway of the apartment. Yes, you read that correctly. There is a CAMERA IN MY APARTMENT. Specifically used to track comings and goings of visitors.

So naturally I went out to the hallway to look for it, and low and behold, high above there is a damn camera, and right when I get in shot a red light flashes. I also found some other suspicious wirings in the hallway, but I’m not sure what they are. Did a full sweep of my room and bathroom and kitchen, but thankfully haven’t found anything else. Needless to say, I feel extremely creeped out in my home now, and I’m pretty sure that is some illegal shit, especially if not disclosed prior to renting.

And there you have the apartment hunting and living nightmare that has landed in my lap wrapped in a pretty poopy brown bow. Many people who haven’t moved abroad don’t always take into account the real life things that go into the everyday, and finding a home is one of those huge things. It takes a lot of stepping out of yourself before getting to enjoy your new city, to get the answers you need when you speak a different language from someone. This has now happened in 2 instances, in Korea and now here. I have found out how easy it is to get taken advantage of as a foreigner in a situation like this. When it comes down to it, people basically suck and are money hungry and will exploit all they can to get what they want.

And you know what? THEY CAN SUCK IT.

Or sniff it.

Now you tell me! Have you ever had a horrendous living situation abroad? A psycho landlord? A person who literally chills you to the bone that you have to coexist with? Let me know all about it so we can bond over the nut jobs of the world.

What Have I Been Up To?

November 22, 2014November 22, 20142 Comments

This weekend marks 2 months of living in España, and let me tell ya, my day-to-day life here is pretty damn busy. I don’t know what I was really expecting to expect from life in Madrid or working as an Auxiliar, but I will say that for the amount of work I do, I run around and am drastically busier than I ever felt the past three years. It’s becoming quite clear that even though Spain is all about the siesta, the vino, and the “no pasa nada”, it’s also a place about the hustle. Since we are paid mere pennies by the Comunidad de Madrid and are allowed to legally tutor, I’ve been trying to pick up private lessons left and right. So far I’ve picked up 2, one with an adorable pudgy 3rd grader, and another with a 7th grade boy twice a week, who also happens to go to the middle school that I was originally assigned to. The pay is crap compared to Korea, like literal crap, but like I said, it’s all bout dat hustle!

As if the errrday hustle of regular life here hasn’t been enough, I’ve also enrolled myself in a 9 month online course en route to getting my teacher’s license so that I will in fact be a certified teacher….in the state of Florida. But more importantly, the world of the International school is about to be at my fingertips. After much deliberation, and pretty much two years of sitting on my thumb deciding if I want to do the course or not, I’ve pulled the trigger. I’ve come to the realization that after 4 years living abroad teaching, I really enjoy it, and most importantly, love the amount of traveling I get to do. So, it’s about time to bulk up my resume with legit certifications. I’m a little annoyed with myself for waiting until I got to Spain to do this, seeing as I was actually making good money in Korea, but then I give myself a lil pep talk that Spain would have never been an experience in my repertoire had I done it then. So, even if I may be broke again after this course, it’s only for a brief nano. Then it’s 3 month vacas and $$$. Eye on the prize. Eye on the prize.

And I'd have never taken this selfie with my first real Dali.

And selfie eye on my first Dali.

In other news, while I still don’t really talk with my roomies (which I’m awkwardly okay with), I really love my apartment. Even though the heat hasn’t been turned on yet, or that my landlords are a little bit too “ruley” as of late, I can’t really complain. I’m in the heart of Madrid, in Malasaña, where life is crackin all around me. I’ve got an exquisitely azulejo tiled bedroom floor, a balcony that opens up to the noisy but fabulous street below, and closes me into a cave come nightfall. My roommates are super clean, and there is NEVER a dirty plate left in the sink. I can hang. Perhaps my one complaint in living with 3 males that I don’t know is that I feel the need to scurry from bathroom to bedroom when I choose to be a girly girl and give myself a beautifying mask. Oh, and the no visitors past 11pm rule. Excuse me but dinner isn’t even until 11pm here, and more importantly, I AM A GROWN ASS WOMAN. But…

Despite my extreme distaste for being told how to run my boudoir, I have finally gotten around to decking the walls with homey things. I’ve become obsessed with the podcast Serial, and while I listen (read: finished) I’ve been hanging and decorating. It’s proved successful, and my room finally feels like a little slice of home. All my jewels are displayed, and all the faces and places that I love and miss are all ova da plizace.

Yes, I’m aware there is a massive disaster hanging above my head.

And when I haven’t been domesticating or tutoring, I’ve enrolled myself in clases de Español twice a week! If you consulted with me about 12-15 years ago, you would very well know that I was not particularly fond of my clases de Español with Señor Sanchez and I-totally-forget-my-other-teacher’s name. I actually hated them, like I’m sure most other high schoolers could attest to. At that point you’re just sitting there thinking WHY DO I NEED TO KNOW THIS? But now, a shocker to myself, those 2.5 hours per week have easily become some of my favorite hours. While I don’t think my speaking has progressed exponentially in everyday life, my listening has really grown. I do always surprise myself though when I remember lots of vocab from way back when. The classes are super small, the teacher is so sweet, I love the other people in my class, and it feels so good to use my brain for harboring knew knowledge. Especially that can be used on the reg.

I've also found one of my favorite Korean snacks in European form.

Behold, one of my favorite Korean snacks in European form. This was a Happy “Peppero Day”.

I’ve also made some efforts to break up the week with friends and food and film. Wednesdays have been dubbed Cinetaco Wednesdays with Jen and Kristia, as that is discounted movie night in Madrid, which we have been following up with either 1 euro tacos, or in recent weeks, trying out the Korean spot I had a hankering for. The tacos are bomb, the Korean was aight, but totally satisfied the craving. And to conclude my work week, Thursdays have been spent with my new very Larry-esq homie, Justin, grabbing 5 euro all you can eat Italian food and vino at Aío, perfectly situated right down the street from me. I’ve also acquired a little wine glass collection from Aío because my klepto sometimes gets the best of me when I really enjoy some glassware. Don’t worry, I’ve only done it enough for a pair.

The kimchi was lacking, but Gayagum Gallery Restaurante totally satisfied.

And finally, when I’m not domesticating, or tutoring, or teaching, or learning, I’m enjoying being lazy. That’s right. Laying in bed in my cave until noon. I don’t know what it is, but I don’t really feel bad about it when I do. In Korea, even though I did it OFTEN, I always felt kind of bad about laying in bed until who knows when because I felt I should get my butt outside. Perhaps because the city is constantly moving and Koreans act as if the night before never happened. Madrid is always moving too, but in a more leisurely fashion. That, and people are out until all hours of the morning and definitely remembering it when they lay in bed all day the next day.

I’ve also given Tinder España a go, but that’s for its own amusing write up.

Until next time, enjoy looking at this picture of an extremely moist piece of double down dark chocolate cake from Federal Cafe in Malasaña. It was no Dark Baby, but oh my!

Basquing In Basque Country

November 19, 2014Leave a comment

Before taking my first weekend jaunt out of Madrid, I didn’t know all too much about San Sebastián and Bilbao, aside from having previously had an intern when I was working at JLE who came from Bilbao. She spoke like, hello and goodbye in English, and even then I could barely understand her. She spoke with a strange accent and was a low talker, and it was beyond me why we took her on. Maybe because we were intern short-handed and we needed someone to fetch Simon his café or hold down the office when I had to relieve myself for 1 minute. Whatever the reason, that is all I knew of Bilbao. Oh, and that it was supposed to be gorgeous. Which you will see in this tale that that is indeed a true fact of life.

The face I likely made when I was told to hire low talker.

Mama Schaeff visited me for a week before Kristia and I decided to last minute crash Jen and her friend Jules’ trip to Basque Country. Mama left on Thursday afternoon, and that night after my clase de Español, we caught a 12:30am bus headed north to San Sebastián. It was a 6 hour bus ride, which I konked out on most of thanks to the scrumptious neck pillow Jerry gifted me earlier this year. That means we arrived in the wee hours when the sun was still deciding if it wanted to rise or not.

I was quite the physically and mentally exhausted camper, and Kristia was ready to run laps and shit along the river.

Get out of my face!

I had plans to take a nap on one of the benches like a bum, but that didn’t pan out because eventually I woke up and we found a cozy café to get some coffee pumping through our systems, listen to the supafab throwback soundtrack being bumped, and of course, begin the pinxto (Basque version of tapas) inhalement. You’ll notice the jamon in this photo. Well, I decided that I’d bend my pork consumption rules to try it since it’s all the rage. And yea, it’s pretty bomb, and tastes kind of like my other pork allowance, salami.

If there is one food staple in this country it’s the tomate, and that makes Dani very very happy.

When we (read I) were finally alive, we walked through the gorgeous streets to find our hostels in the old town. Though like me before her, Kristia was content with making a local bench her home for a few moments.

After some showers and siestas, we regrouped and met up to satisfy our palates and fill our starving bellies. San Sebastián is known for its pinxtos (pronounced like pinchos), and the bars have gorgeous spreads for the choosing. A rule of thumb when pinxto hopping is to have no more than 2, maybe 3, at each bar, so we really tried to stick to this rule. But, we were totally spoiled by the first establishment we walked into. Ganbara had this ridiculous pinxto made up of goat cheese, sun dried tomato, walnuts and some sort of balsamic heavenly reduction. It was exquisite and we kept returning to the scene of the slaughtering. I don’t even know how many we each had. And we washed these down with a fabulously delicious Vermouth, which has since become my go-to Spanish beverage.

I also found out I have a new obsession with mushrooms, but only the way this place prepares them. My name is Danielle and my favorite pinxto was a tower of shrooms.

After deciding that we needed to be rolled out of there, we headed to Playa de la Concha and took in the views. The views of Jesus flipping us off from high above on the mountain top, the view of the people basquing (topless) on the pier, and the freakin gorgeous ocean. Twas divine.

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Token pensive emo shot of me in a mood.

We were going to hike up to Jesus, or take the funicular trolley up to the castle on the other side of the beach to see the view of all the beaches and lagoon from high above, but as it got darker and we got wanderier (that’s a word now), we decided to play an exhilarating game of catch the 1.50euro teeny tiny water bottle instead.

And took an illegal spin on an artsy merry-go-round before getting scolded off. Note to the wise, you must purchase a ticket. Whoops.

Some of my faves.

The next day was spent devouring more, but before heading off to Bilbao, we hijacked some bikes, strolled through the gorgeous streets a little while longer, inhaled some more café (or straight up sugar in Jules’ Cuban case) and bought last minute souvenirs (read: Danielle finally bought herself a legit European beret). We of course took one last goat cheese heaven pintxo to the face.

Aside from heading to the airport and flying far far away, my absolute fave mode of transport is via train, and by train we were off to Bilbao, where I could be reminded of my long-lost intern whatshername. Train tickets were around 6 euros and took 1.5 hours to get there. Apparently many locals prefer to take a bus between the cities because the train makes so many stops, but we ended up enjoying the train regardless of the numerous stops.

We got in pretty late and made the amateur mistake of walking through San Francisco, AKA the immigrant area, AKA I have never felt more white and prim and proper and scared in my life. We were all on serious guard of our belongings and each other, and it took us forever to find our hostels and Airbnbs.

A moody sky foreshadowed the scary walk.

The next day we got up bright and early and hit the gorgeous alleys of Bilbao. I was told it was stunning, and it indeed was. The cobblestone streets, the towering Cathedral, the quaint alleyways, and the rolling river through the center set a beautiful scene. We all ended up separating for most of our wander through Bilbao, which was nice and we all got to see whatever we wanted. I found my way into a little flea type market where I took two circles around because I LOVE SAMPLES.

Olives, and pickles, and cheese! OH MY!

The last part of our jaunt was a far too speedy trip to the Guggenheim of Bilbao. This is a wild museum, and it took Kristia and I a year to get there because I couldn’t resist doing the Freddie (Troop Beverly Hills for the uncultured) riverside.

The museum was designed by Frank Gehry, and holy crap, it is a masterpiece in and of itself. You could be totally satisfied by just gawking at it if you don’t go inside, though the museum is bomb and has so many amazing artists within its walls, so you should venture in. There’s an entire Pop Art exhibit that made me danisqueal.

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It was like looking at the future. Obsessed.

Another one of those Roppongi Spiders by Louise Bourgeois.

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Way more than puppy love.

Then the rain came and that meant it was time for Kristia and I to bounce because we had to work on Monday. We hitched our bus (booked through ALSA bus), and took a ridiculously long 6 hour bus ride back to Madrid. But it was worth it. The north is exquisite and tasty and a place I will definitely be returning to!

Well there you go! Have you been to Basque Country? What was your favorite thing about it? Did you have a favorite pintxo bar? Did you too find yourself wrongfully in the wrong part of Bilbao town? Let me know about it in the comments!

It’s Hard Not To Compare

November 4, 201438 Comments

It’s been about a month and a half since I peninsula hopped. I know I haven’t written too much about it so far, and I’m not sure why that is, but it may be because I don’t feel like I’ve settled just yet. My heart is still wheeling for Korea, and I’d say all around I don’t have the feels I initially got when I began life in Koko.

I can’t stop comparing things, which I know is totally normal given the whirlwind I bestowed upon myself, but I also feel like maybe it’s hindering my enjoyment of Spain. That’s not to say I’m not enjoying myself – because I am. It’s just taking a little longer to wrap my heart around the continent that was my favorite just 4 years ago, before Asia and the family I made there stole it.

I guess this is what homesickness feels like. Just whack when it’s for your 2nd home and not the 1st.

In an effort to make this more than a sap story, I have taken mental, and when applicable, pictoral notes, of those noticeable differences between the 2 peninsulas that have had the great pleasure of hosting my American ass.

Because comparing is inevitable, here we go.

1. Drunk Ajussi vs. Señors Who Siesta

It is by no means a rarity in Korea to find a ‘salary man’ in his glittery tie passed out in his own vomit whilst molesting the trash laden curb, or passed out in the fetal position in a corner, or basking in his glory on a subway bench at nearly any time of the day.

Or in his case, traditional ajussi garb.

In Spain this is nonexistent. Instead, you’ll find a gentlemen fully dressed to the nines having his afternoon siesta in the middle of the hustle bustle of the city center on a park bench.

2. Ajummas vs. Señoras In Pearls

Ajummas are a breed all their own. They don’t care what they throw on in the morning (unless it involves hiking a mountain), and I’m convinced do not own mirrors and/or have someone to veto the clashing patterns they’ve got draped. When they hit a certain age, the only hairdo is one of tightly coifed curls, and their elbows can kill.

My eyes!

The señoras in pearls are women who have not given up on life, and will go down looking their best. Perfectly tailored dress sets, strings of pearls around their necks and dazzling their ears, and the best designed hand bags to boot! Please note that this element of putting oneself together translates to the señors as well.

Arguing the proper marrying age of a young woman. I’m officially on the shelf in case you were curious.

3. Early Bird Special Plus Round 2, 3, Noraebang vs. Tapas Then Dinner Whenever

I had never eaten dinner as early as I did than while living in Korea. School would finish at 4:40pm and then the whole faculty was off to dinner together en masse. We’d sit down for Round 1 around 5pm and everyone was prepared to get smashed. After a couple hours and a couple drunk falls by the maintenance man, or principal, we’d move onto Round 2 at some hof. I usually tried to duck out around this time. But if I stuck around, that would ultimately lead to noraebanging the night away.

Germ swapping builds a strong immune system, and is good for health.

The Spanish will eat tapas at the time when we Americans would typically eat dinner (or really anytime), around 7-8pm, and dinner no earlier than 9pm. That’s even pushing it. I have come home on multiple occasions to a roommate cooking dinner at 11pm. Don’t they know that shit sits in your stomach and makes you fat?! Both enjoy their food though, there is zero arguing of that.

Never thought I’d crave mushrooms as much as I do whilst looking at this photo.

4. Korean School vs. Out Of Control Spanish School

Of course, the reason I am allowed to legally live here, duh. I must admit, even though this is only my 2nd teaching gig and I was in Korea 3 years longer than I have been in Spain, no one has anything on Korean kids. Maybe I’m biased, but then so I am, but they just latched onto my heart so much quicker. Maybe it’s because I was so novel to them. Whatever it is, Korean kiddos, even at their worst, are FAR more obedient and attentive to authority figures than Spanish kiddos. And that’s just the kids.

The teachers do NOT know how to discipline the students here and spend the majority of class talking over the kids because they don’t quiet them down. I work in a bilingual school, so all subjects are taught in English. They’re little, so obviously they aren’t going to understand everything and every direction being thrown at them. Yet, I have co-teachers who bark at the kids and expect them to understand everything right away. I have never experienced such coldness from teachers to children, or kids so out of control off their rockers. It’s like a vicious circle of non-discipline, shouting, students running around throwing pencils in class, crawling on the floor, and of course nothing getting done. I teach only 16 hours a week, and am in the biggest hurry to get out of that school when I’m done. By this time in Korea I had already sold my heart over for a 2nd year, Spain on the other hand, I’m majorly leaning towards negatory.

I will say though that the differences in schools are very telling of the cultures and how completely opposite they are of one another. Koreans strive to be the top of the tops and get into the best university possible, while the ability to finish school at 16 years old in Spain is a welcomed one. Not to mention, I can’t help but notice how impassioned Spaniards are. While I hate the shouting with a passion, emotions and creativity run wild in the Spanish classroom, something that is 110% lacking, in Korea. You win and you lose I suppose.

Since I’m not supposed to take photos of my Spanish kids, here’s a photo of me trying to squeeze my large ass into a child’s photobooth ride.

5. Table Staples

Seeing the staples on any given country’s table is so fascinating to me. I was thinking about this the other day, how I guess in America it would be salt & pepper, maybe some ketchup and mustard. In Korea you’ve got one of the millions of kimchis and gochujang on every single table you sit down at. Which also makes my mouth water and my mind explode with the notion that I have not stuffed kimchi in my face in over a month. It’s tragic really.

Well in Spain you’ve got extra virgin olive oil and what I missed with tremendous abandon for 3 years, balsamic vinegar, on nearly every table. If not balsamic, you’ve at least got oil and some other kind of vinegar. But it is ever-present and they slather that shit on every piece of jamon or pan con tomate they devour.

Since you know what oil & vinegar look like, this is a sampling of snack time my first day on the job. Chocolate cake with sprinkles for breakfast.

6. Cafés Of Every Theme vs. Cafeterias

I could step out of my apartment in Korea and find a million cafes in every direction I turned, and they’d be of any theme imaginable. It was perhaps one of my hands down favorite things about Korea and something that that country reigns supreme in. Café culture in Korea is TOP.OF.THE.POPS. While some of my best cups of coffee were definitely not had in Korea, the best slices of cake were. HELLO HACKNEY DARK BABY AND FRANK’S RAINBOW CREAM ROLL CAKE. And anything Earl Grey flavored, because they have it.

Too bad I discovered this an exact week before my departure. ME-OW.

Café culture in Spain isn’t so prominent, and that’s probably because Spaniards are a little more adventurous in their outings with other individuals. While the coffee is a million eons beyond Korea, the experience is lightyears different, and not really my style. I LOVE sitting in a cafe with my computer typing away, and so far that experience has been pretty hard to replicate. Most caféterias are bar style and you order a cafe con leche from the bar and drink it standing up alongside others who are also at the bar. They’re also not a very grab-your-coffee-to-go type of people.

Except for La Bicicleta, which happens to be one of the trendiest cafés, and also happens to be up the street from me.

Except for La Bicicleta, which happens to be one of the trendiest cafés, and also happens to be just around the river bend from me.

7. American English vs. British English

This is a bizarre as all hell thing people! It’s adorable slash makes me feel a little heeby jeeby inside. Hearing little Spanish babies speak in British accents might be one of the most precious things I have ever willfully exposed myself to, and hearing a 1st grader ask me everyday “Teacher, where’s my rubber?” will never cease to make me cackle with dirty abandon inside.

That aside, while my co-teachers encourage telling the students what we’d say in America, I find it to be hardly enforced. It’s merely brushed over, probably because it won’t be on the Cambridge Exams. Needless to say, I miss teaching American English, even if the kiddos thought every black person on the TV was Obama.

Well, there you’ve got it! Did you like that British English I just threw at you?! I thought you would. These are just a month’s worth of immediate observations that have tipped my senses. I hope I didn’t come off as so unbearably whiney about my new life in España, I’m trying here people! Now let me know about your experiences in your 2nd, 3rd, or 4th homes. What things really shocked your pants off, or merely stood out to you?