French people might not like me, but I like France.

Wednesday, I went for a run first thing. Nice was my last stop, and with the wonderful beach breeze, I felt it was time to I make up for my slacking earlier in the trip. My run ended with me thinking that I could just keep running forever (after running when I got home, my feelings have changed a little).

Becci (Germany), Emma (Sweden) and I then headed to a beach that we had seen from the train the day before. See, our number one priority was to spend our last day (for all of us) on a beach that didn't have huge rocks, like Nice beach does. We had passed a beach that looked like it had tiny pebbles on it instead (the pebbles are even better than sand - easy to walk on, comfortable to lay on, but doesn't get all over everything).

The moment we got off at Villefranche-sur-Mer, we knew this was it. It wasn't overwhelming like Nice beach or a fifteen minute walk from the train station like the beaches we had gone to the day before. It was just a gorgeous harbor with perfect blue water, colorful French houses within view and the mountains above. The French Riviera at its finest.

There was a good amount of people at this beach, but NOTHING like the madness in Nice. (Towels on top of each other... you couldn't even see any rocks. Don't get me wrong - it is absolutely GORGEOUS there. But the word has spread, everyone knows it.) Suffice to say, we liked our new beach more.

It was so relaxing... we just laid there and chatted. I love getting to know people while traveling. Emma and I were talking about how trusting we are of fellow travelers that we meet. If we were back home, we wouldn't be telling stories on stories or going to beach after beach with people that we met the day before. BUT when you're traveling, you're all in the same boat. What's not to trust about each other?!

Horrible angle... but I just wanted to demonstrate our joy.

Emma and I took a walk through the adorable beach town. Had to get new water - Emma wouldn't let me drink the tap water... she says you can't trust the water in Southern Europe. I tend to trust tap water everywhere. Except Mexico.

And then... More joy.

GELATO <3

(I know, this picture could have been prettier, but I got too excited and ate half of it before thinking to take a picture)

Emma and I then headed to Cannes. Now, I don't know about you, but I've heard only amazing things about Cannes (based on the magazines I read that report on the film festivals that are held there). Suffice to say, our expectations were high.

First, we walked through the town of Cannes, which had lots of fun shops - even a macaroon shop that we just had to step into. Right after we stepped into the shop, an older French man barged into the store, got within an inch of my face and began wagging his finger, yelling at me. This went on for about three minutes. At first I tried to tell him that I didn't understand what he was saying, but then decided to keep my mouth shut, because if there's one thing that will make a French man more mad than he already is, it's admitting that to him you're an American tourist that doesn't know his language. No need to add that to my list of atrocities that I had apparently already committed. 

As quickly as the altercation had begun, it ended. He turned on his heel, stormed toward the door (he tried going out the wrong door which just made the situation even more ludicrous). I stood there in shock for a moment and then slowly turned to the storeowners with a look of absolute terror on my face. I asked them what he had said to me. They answered that he was a crazy old man. Thanks, guys. Like I didn't know that already.

Emma's best guess was that I had accidentally bumped into him on the street, but we'll never know. Just something to add to life's mysteries, I guess.

At this point, I was done with shopping, so we headed to the beach.

There's just something incredible about having mountains and the sea in the same shot. 

Cannes was wonderful, but I'm guessing the French are a little more welcoming to the celebrities that come for film festivals than they are to simple tourists like me. Mind you, most of the French people were quite kind. It's always the bad apples that stand out.

Wednesday night just brought on a whole new kind of crazy. We met some people from Germany and New Zealand who wanted to hang out later. Naturally, we wanted to have a fabulous last night, so we agreed to meet at 10pm. Emma and I walk in, thinking it's going to be the four people we had met at dinner. There are twenty people sitting there.

Not the best quality shot, but this gives you an idea.

So we chatted with people for a bit and then people start talking about how hot it is and searching all over the room, trying to figure out how to turn on the AC. While they are all dumbfounded in their search, I walk out, talk to the guy at the front desk, who immediately comes in (since, surprise, surprise... he was the one with the AC controls).

And for some reason, THAT made me the leader of this group. A role that I did NOT want. 

Okay, I like to think that's the reason, but it was more likely because I am from Jersey and they just ASSUME I'll be able to take them wherever the party is. Who knows.

Then these four people come into our small room hangout room and start blasting music and popping champagne. All of a sudden, not only can I not hear the person next to me, but I can't focus on my own thoughts. Cue my exit.

Emma and I head outside so that we can actually hear each other speak. Within two minutes everyone has followed. OOPS.

So we created a very large circle outdoors.

About an hour later, people are itching to go out to a bar or something. I say, "yeah, that's a great idea; let's go somewhere!" Which for some reason prompted my New Zealand friend to shout, "EVERYONE FOLLOW MARY." Noooo. Well. No turning back now.

So I led us into the street with people asking me, "So, where are we going?" To which I replied quite honestly with an, "I have absolutely no idea." People still followed.

The first bar I saw, I walked into. It was an Irish Pub - my kind of place. A couple of us got a drink while most people adamantly stated that they didn't want to stay there. I told them to leave. We finished our drink, walked outside... Oh and there they were, waiting for me to lead them to the next place. Sooo I walked into the next place I saw. People ended up liking this place because it had live music and dancing, so after getting people settled in, Emma and I sneaked outside. 

THEN our friend from New Zealand proved to be quite useful. He had the fantastic idea of sneaking away to the beach... Away from all these people following me? YES, PLEASE.

So, I was finally able to enjoy Nice beach without the hoards of people and it was AMAZING.

We ended up staying up all night since Emma had a train to catch at 7am! 

So I bade her farewell, and then after one last cappuccino and croissant, I headed to the airport. I couldn't have asked for a better last day. It literally never ended.

Which beach today?

My norm for traveling is to plan ahead. OK, and by plan ahead I mean read my travel guide on the way to that particular city - highlight and circle my must-sees... that sort of thing. Not so for Nice. My plan was as follows: RELAX.

It was fun to just be able to ask around, see what people were enjoying about the city, and then just do that! Following this formula, Becci and I headed on a hike on Tuesday morning... and by hike, I mean we climbed a bunch of stairs. We were met with a breath-taking view.

Becci had a beach that she wanted to check out next, so I tagged along... why not go see a new beach?! We were there for about thirty minutes and then we decided that there were definitely better beaches, so I consulted my map for the first time yet.

I will say, this beach was awesome, because as you can see, there wasn't really anyone else there. We figured this was most likely because they were at better beaches, so a five minute train ride later, we ended up here...

Oh, and I got a baguette because we were in France, and I was hungry.

It was such a relaxing afternoon. Reading, swimming, listening to music... while on the French Riviera? I didn't want to leave. But, Oh, the next stop was Monte Carlo, Monaco? I mean THAT I could get up for. 

A few fun facts about Monaco... (I'm passing this information on because I was in Monaco thinking it was another city in France, realizing only after an hour that it is indeed a country.) 

Monaco has an area of 2.02 km2 (0.78 sq mi)

It is the second smallest country in the world (after Vatican City) 

30% of the 36,000 residents are millionaires

 So there were yachts 

and there were Ferraris

 and then there was me...

It was truly spectacular. From Monte Carlo we headed back to Nice, where we naturally hit up the super market for some cheese, bread and wine. Before consuming this, I decided what better place to go for a run than the French Riviera? 

I could train for almost any distance if I could run here every day!! Perfect view, nice breeze...

It was then time for dinner.

I also made myself a salad because sometimes when you're traveling, you pause for a sec and realize that you just need to eat a vegetable.

It's all about perspective

Upon arrival in Nice, I was in quite a daze. Immediately, I began looking for signs for a train... only finding signs for helicopter pickup. I guess that is when you know that you have arrived on the French Riviera. 

I sat down to look in my guidebook to see what Rick had to say about transportation from the airport to the city. I couldn't find it. Panic set in. People would have thought that I had lost a diamond ring based on how frantically I was pulling things out of my bag. But, alas. There it was.

I figured out that bus #99 would be the best one for me to take, but bus #98 could work too. I walk outside and there's #98, and not in the mood to wait any longer, I climbed on. Now, #99 would take me directly to my destination, while #98 did not, but I figured I could just figure it out along the way. I thought, "Oh, I'll just know it when I see it." What a stupid thought. Here I am, in FRANCE, and I think I'll just recognize where I need to get off. I guess that's what happens when you show up in a city after two hours of sleep.

Before I know it, I am the last person on the bus, and I have not yet had an epiphany of where I need to disembark. I realize it is never going to come, so I get off the bus. And I start walking. Back in the direction I came from, because things around me are starting to look sketchyyy.

Like I've said before, things just always work out. Fifteen minutes later, I hit Massena Square - the main square in Nice. And then, boom, I know where I am on the map and am at my hostel 20 minutes later. So, granted, it took me a lot longer to get to my hostel than originally planned, but I definitely got to see some parts of the city that I wouldn't have been able to otherwise.

Upon arrival at my hostel, I am told that I can't check in for another hour, so I sit down to grab some wifi before wandering through town for a bit. This is when I meet THE TEACHER. Now, you wouldn't think she's a teacher - half of her hair is in dreadlocks, and she's wearing more makeup than a housewife of Orange County - but alas, she teaches French to children. And she's Irish (she tells me this to explain why she has such a nasty temper). 

She offers to give me a tour of the city while I wait to check-in. If there's one thing I've learned on this trip, it's that hanging out with strangers and making new friends has only provided good times and great stories. This encounter only provided the latter.

We begin walking around, and I look down and realize that she is holding a key in her fist. She informs me that she won't hesitate to use it on anyone. She proceeds to shake her fist and yell a stream of French and English profanities at any guys that not only say things to us, but that simply look at us. I try to ignore all of this by asking her questions about work and her travels and so on and so forth. This somehow led her into a detailed description of her relationship with her boyfriend back home and how he doesn't care if she sleeps around while she travels... T.M.I.

Then she starts talking about how all these people got pick-pocketed in France, but it was only because they don't have street-smarts like me (since obviously I could take anyone out since I'm from Jersey). I just laugh along, purposefully never baring the fact that just last week my wallet was stolen. 

THEN, she made some offensive gay joke, to which I didn't reply. So then she goes, "Oh, no, I didn't mean it, I love gay people... actually I am gay sometimes." I just awkwardly laugh. Then she goes, "I'm not gonna hit on you, I mean you're gorgeous, but don't worry." I still say nothing... What am I supposed to say?! She continues: "For real, Jersey! I mean, you are totally my type, but if you're not gay, then I get it!" I just keep laughing because I have nowhere to run to.

She continues to make some comment about how she's only being so ridiculous because she's drunk. It was barely noon. After an hour of this, I cut our wonderful conversation short by saying that I need to go check into my hostel. I run in the opposite direction, now paranoid that every guy is out to get me and that they're going to rob and kill me.

Then the lady at my hostel tells me that I need to get a lock for all of my things, and I start wondering to myself... "Why did I ever think that I was going to be able to survive France on my own??!!"

After a short nap, I walk down to the water to take some pictures.

At this point, I'm starting to feel a little bit better about Nice. Staring at the Mediterranean will help do that.

I then go back to my hostel for dinner. Every other night they have a $3 pasta and wine party. Now, that is not a deal that I can pass up. I end up going with two of my roommates, Emma from Sweden and Becci, from Germany. We hung out with this guy from California. The whole time I was just trying to prove that not everyone from the States is like this guy... He was basically in Europe to try different drugs in every city he went to and was taken aback by the fact that that was not the same reason I was abroad. 

Emma, Becci and I then walked down to the water where there were some amazing street performers.

It was so cool to watch them perform while the sun was setting.

We walked along the water and then wandered into the old town of Nice where we got GELATO. There was about 150 flavors to choose from. I chose strawberry and mojito. It was amazing.

We then wandered back through the square, which was full of happy tourists. Not scary people like some crazy Irish people want you to think.

And just like that, I didn't want to leave Nice. Thankfully, I still had three days left.

Biking. The best way to bid Amsterdam farewell.

Sunday was the last day in Amsterdam for all of us. Julia and I decided that we could best use our time by biking around to some of our favorite spots. First, we had to meet at the bike rental place (I had used Steve's bike the day before.) So, I left early and walked there and then she met me there. We both got lost on the way, but ended up getting there at the same time, so it worked out perfectly that we BOTH got lost. Not surprising, I know.

Julia had mentioned to Steve before the trip that something would go wrong everyday and that they would just have to roll with it (because that has been our experience). He started laughing at one point and was like, "yeah, you know how you said that something would go terrible every day... that never happened... not once." So maybe that's just a Mary and Julia combo deal? HA. Who knows.

Julia and I's first stop was Vondelpark, where we got to see what the park is like on a Sunday morning. There was so many families lounging about, couples going for jogs and even a workout class where dad's bring their kids as their weights. It was so funny to see 15 dads lifting their toddlers up over their heads as an instructor looked on. So clever.

We then tried to go to some other parks, but the first one was undergoing construction and then the second one, I think we weren't supposed to go in. Okay, I know we weren't supposed to go in because several people told us that.

We biked to Museumplein... because it's gorgeous.

And then of course to the cheese shops. Because the Dutch make great cheese. And we love cheese.

Julia made sure to lock up her bike... and take the key with her this time. (Last year, someone took the key and she couldn't ride her bike, which turned into an hour and a half walk with a bike with a locked wheel.) So, she's come a long way.

Our last stop, of course, was our favorite brewery, where we discussed, in detail, our favorite things about every aspect of the trip. I think that Stephen is really happy that he wasn't there, seeing as he struggled with the simple "highs and lows" every day. Two hours of discussing every aspect of the trip? Not sure that's quite his cup of tea... or beer.

We then returned to the apartment and packed everything up and headed to the train station to say our goodbyes.

And then the three became one, once again.

After locking up my bag at the train station, I wandered throughout the canals, taking pictures. I purposefully wandered into the Jordaan district, because not only is it the most beautiful district... it is also the safest. And since I was going to hang out in the city late... alone - I'd rather be in the safest part.

I camped out at a bar in the Jordaan district, working, emailing, blogging, going through pictures, drinking my Belgian beer. It was the perfect way to wrap up my stay in Amsterdam.

At around midnight, I decided it was about time to head out for my night in the airport. It was pouring rain outside... which was actually a blessing. What better way to be OK with leaving a city than having miserable weather? I stared at this as I walked...

Quite motivational, really.

Upon arrival at the airport, I did a walk around to find the least sketchy people to spend my night with. I found a group of about 10 people that looked nice enough settling in for the night.

I was going to lock my bag up, but since it was already 1 am and I was wide awake, I decided I might as well stay up because I could check in for my flight at 5. I commandeered one of two eletrical outlets in the area by plugging my computer in (so I could watch a movie). Shortly after, I became the command center for all people with cell phones. Not wanting to give away my spot, I just let people take turns plugging their phones into my computer. Got to hear some interesting stories that way.

When 5 am came around, I was not entirely with it, but slowly figured out where I needed to go - somehow getting through security with just a screenshot of my ticket. Didn't have a printer. 

When it came time to board the plane, every backpacker's nightmare happened to me. I had my backpack and an overstuffed, large purse (the size of a large computer bag). The ticket lady asks me, "Can you put the smaller bag inside your backpack?" I nod, saying, "Of course," thinking that she'll let me through. But no. "Okay," she says, "you can do that right here." So after ten minutes, I SOMEHOW fit everything into my backpack. Granted, there were plenty of things bulging out of the top, but I did it. And then she never checked to make sure that I did. COOL. But hey, I impressed myself, if no one else.

And then I boarded the plane and SLEPT.

Look at that luck.

Amsterdam: Relaxation

Exhausted from my ordeal from the night before, I slept while Julia and Stephen went to the Van Gogh museum. We had a relaxing lunchtime with beer that we had bought from the brewery in Bruges, while I booked everything for the rest of my trip.

We walked through the market that was right outside of the apartment and got some poffertjes that were first recommended to us by our Aunt Connie. They are mini pancakes that have powdered sugar dumped on them, are slathered in syrup and then melt in your mouth.

Julia and I then biked through Vondelpark, which is the largest park in Amsterdam. It was perfect weather for a bike ride and people-watching is surprisingly easy from atop a bicycle.

We rendezvoused back at the apartment for a delicious dinner that Stephen had picked up for us and then opted for taking the 15 minute metro ride to the Ajax football (soccer) game, instead of a 40 minute bike ride.

It was incredible to go to a soccer game in a stadium that fits over 50,000 and see the stadium full with cheering and whistling fans. You would never see that for a soccer game in the States. There was a huge section for the team club that didn’t take a single break from singing or chanting the entire game. It was awesome.

It was raining when we left the stadium; I think that we were all more than grateful that were not riding bikes. The metro was a madhouse when we left, with drunk people pushing through the crowds, yelling, “personnel!” and then stumbling up the stairs singing songs, giving away the fact that they were not personnel.

We had a relaxing evening of drinking tea and chatting and blogging in the wonderful apartment.

A small break from hostel life isn’t so bad.

My blog name couldn't be more fitting

My original plan was to meet up with Julia and Steve at their Airbnb apartment at 8:30am…. You’ll find out later that even though I decided to meet them at the train station instead, I wouldn’t have made it to their apartment anyway and could have screwed up the plans for the whole day.

We headed to Alkmaar for the famous cheese market. Now, this is no regular cheese market, mind you. This is a market for the people that make the cheese to sell it to the people that sell the cheese… (I’m sure Julia has a much more efficient way of saying that in her blog.)

It was so funny to watch these guys in their “uniforms” running the cheese to and fro, across the square as it was auctioned off. A choice few also had the privilege of riding in the… cheese carrier things (also sure that Julia knows the fancy term for that).

The cheese inspectors were so intense.

After lunch, we headed to the Rijksmuseum. It was the first time for all of us. Although, I think that Julia and I were the ones that were actually excited about it. Julia and I love to walk through museums at similar paces so that we can ponder the symbolism of certain paintings. I really hope that people don’t listen to such conversations… Let’s just say we don’t sound like art experts when we discuss the meaning of Hals and Rembrandt’s depictions of peasants.

“How drunk do you think that guy there in the corner is?”

“Well, you see the way that lady is helping him stand up? I think that means…”

Those are the kinds of discussions that we have.

After the Rijksmuseum, Steve and Julia headed to the Anne Frank house (which I had been to this past winter). I took this opportunity to meet up with my friends (Max and John) from the night before and hang out and shoot some pool. I lost. Terribly. Upon realizing that they hadn’t gone exploring yet, I took the opportunity to give them a tour of my favorite city. I tried the whole “even though this is a free walking tour, I make my living based on tips” speech that I’ve heard on walking tours, but to no avail.

We waded in the water in Museumplein that I had gone ice-skating on this past winter. THAT was awesome. There are so many things that can be seen in a mile radius, so I really enjoyed just walking around and seeing my favorite sites and describing why I like them so much. I don’t know how much they were listening to all my “fun facts;” I’m sure they would’ve failed a pop quiz if I had given one… I guess my teaching side comes out when Julia is not around.

Julia, Stephen and I then met up for a canal tour. A must for Amsterdam. We went right at dusk and got to see the bridges all lit up which was just perfection. I decided that since the weekend prices for all of the hostels went up so much that I might as well just stay at the apartment with Julia and Stephen, so I headed back to my hostel to grab my bag while Julia and Stephen hung out in Dam Square. As we were walking to their apartment, I started realizing how far away it was. I went most of the way with them, but then Julia ended up carrying my bag for the last bit because I had plans to meet up with Max and John. We set up a time for me to be back so that she could set her alarm and I could buzz in.

We went to some cool places, meeting people from New Zealand that thought that we had the coolest American accents. It’s so strange how much I hear that when I’m abroad. I always answer with an “I don’t have an accent,” and then people look at me like I’m crazy and laugh.

We ended up just wandering along the canals and lit-up bridges, which, in my humble opinion, is Amsterdam at its finest. I figured that since I had a map, and I know Amsterdam pretty well, that I could just find where I was on the map when I had to go and find Julia’s apartment. This was not the case. This actually turned into what I should have in the “about me” section for my blog, which is all too accurately entitled, “The diary of a directionally challenged traveler.”

I could not for the life of me find where I was on the map. So, instead I would think that I recognized a street, go down it, recognize a landmark, walk to that, recognize another street and then literally be back in the same spot 15 minutes later, flabbergasted as to how I even got there. And then the same exact thing would happen again because I would recognize street names BECAUSE I HAD JUST BEEN DOWN THERE. Of course, Max thought that it was too funny to watch me walk in circles to help.

I don’t know how many people will get this reference, but I was watching The Two Towers the following night, and remember the very beginning when Frodo and Sam are wandering around? Sam says something to the effect of, “This looks strangely familiar.” Frodo responds with, "It’s because we’ve been here before… we’re going in circles!” That was us. Except they ended up with a really creepy guide name Gollum, and I ended up asking drunk people for directions and getting even more lost. But you can see the similarities.

SOMEHOW, (after two hours of being hopelessly lost), I FINALLY wandered onto a street that I could find on my map, and with a few mistakes, arrived at Julia’s apartment. Now, believe it or not, I didn’t panic during this ordeal. I knew I was going to find my way. That’s one thing I love about traveling by myself. I often end up taking the long way to get to things, but I always get there because I don’t get stressed about leading people in the wrong direction. When it’s just me? I don’t really care. It means I’ve found another route, that’s all!

The one thing that I was worried about, though, was that Julia would be worried about me. Thankfully, she went back to sleep, trusting that I would find my way home… and I did! When I buzzed to get into the apartment, she woke right up, let me in and I just stood there, AMAZED that I had arrived.

So, yes, I am directionally challenged, but to my defense, not all of the street names were on my map.