Week 3.0: Interlaken, Switzerland

By the age of 21, there are very few experiences that have the ability to leave someone perfectly speechless. Wouldn't you agree? I say this because at one point in time, your questions are mostly answered and your life becomes routine. If you had asked me before this weekend about the last time I felt absolutely in awe, I would have told you it was the summer of 2012 when my guy friends and I went skydiving in the Hudson Valley of New York. If jumping out of an airplane doesn't give you a rush, well then I don't know what would but my point is that, for the most part, you know what to expect out of life when you are 21-years-old.

Interlaken, Switzerland did all sorts of crazy things to my expectations. Not once but twice this past weekend did I experience speechlessness. The first experience occurred on Saturday afternoon when my friend Angie and I opted out of paragliding and skiing to go snowshoeing. The adventure began about halfway up one of the nearby mountains (don't ask me which one). Our tour guide Ronny, a colorful character, was mid-explanation as to why the Alps experience such heavy fog when BAM three peaks emerged from the cloud that at one point had surrounded us. What I would have done to see my face in that moment. Sure, I've been to the top of a mountain before. In fact, I grew up visiting Aspen, Colorado, but not once was I phased by the views from the top, even as a kid! In this rush of euphoria, I reached into my pocket to grab the pink ribbon I planned on leaving behind to mark my visit to Interlaken. It wasn't there! At the last minute, I had ditched my winter jacket for a fleece and was so bummed to discover that the ribbon was back at our hostel in my heavier jacket. Wow, I thought, this place would have been perfect. Soon after that, the cloud settled back in around us and we continued to hike up the mountain further. I think the best part of the whole experience was getting back down to the gondola. The part they don't tell you about snowshoeing is that to get back down, you must run back down. And there's no zig zag action like skiing or snowboarding. You are literally sprinting down the mountain. Ronny said if you don't sprint, you fall. So we sprinted.

Luckily, before the end of the weekend, I found an even better place to plant my first ribbon - the place where I experienced jaw-dropping, blood-rushing experience number two. Our hostel kicked us out around 10 am on Sunday and our bus back to the airport wasn't scheduled to leave until 2 pm, so with time to kill, my friends and I decided to check out the lakefront. We walked about 30-45 minutes outside of town where a small path winds down to a look out point over one of the lakes. As we approached the look out, I noticed how incredibly blue the water was. It wasn't blue like Caribbean blue, it was more grey but nonetheless crystal clear. When we reached the end of the path, I knew. I simply knew that all along I was meant to plant my pink ribbon right there in front of the lake where people often visit and surely it would be seen. I stood there for a moment with ribbon in hand, taking in the views, and listening to the water leap up against the rock wall below me. It's funny because just moments before this, I had been thinking about the surreal feeling that accompanies living in Barcelona and having the opportunity to travel around Europe. Well that moment by the water felt more real than anything had in a very long time and I bent down to plant ribbon number one. In that moment, I was so thankful for life and good health. This one is for you, mom! 

Highlights from my trip, as told by my iPhone photo stream/Tori's GoPro:

Peppermint schnapps hot cocoa. 

A drink from the pub crawl where I learned what "hoppy" beer is.

A panoramic picture of the Swiss Alps.

Hiking with the GoPro.

More local beer.

Traditional Swiss fondue.

On top of the world.

Literally.

Week 2.2: Christmas Names

Every December my friends and I at TCU change our Facebook names to Christmas names because, well, we're just a festive group of friends. Not too sure when or where this tradition began but we love it and find great pleasure in helping others pick their Christmas names too. Allow me to provide an example. I did not participate in this year's Christmas names but last year I went by Elizalittletown O'Bethlehem Stallard. Well this year, Tori Bertschy became Achristmastori Bertschy right around the time we returned to TCU from Thanksgiving break. It wasn't until later that she realized, as did the others, that she was committed to being her Christmas name for 60 days because of a new Facebook setting. So here we are in Barcelona making new friends and the misunderstandings are unreal.

Last week, a guy on our program asked Tori if Achristmastori was of Croatian descent (since Tori occasionally brags about being Croatian to explain how she is freakishly tan in the dead of winter). Today, a club promoter addressed Tori as Achrist. He doesn't even know her and he's already given her Christmas name a nickname!! You bet your bottom dollar that Tori is now counting the days until regular, plain old Tori returns to Facebook. Until then, I will continue to enjoy the confusion.

Week 2.1: Packing Pink

Last week, Tori and I aggressively booked three trips in the course of just days: Interlaken, London, and Dublin in that order. As the confirmation emails started rolling in, I had two initial thoughts. The first was sheesh my credit card is definitely hurting this week, but the second was how I would go about packing pink and bringing breast cancer awareness with me to the various cities I visit.

Originally, my plan for Brave Goes Abroad was to bring the TCU Frogs for the Cure "Brave" t-shirt to famous landmarks around Europe. Perhaps a picture with the Eiffel Tower, the London Eye, you get the idea. Let me assure you, by no means have I ditched that plan. However, as I sat at my computer talking weekend trips with Tori, I considered how the t-shirt would come and go just how I would. I wanted something more permanent, something that I could leave behind, and something that would remind people who happened upon it that breast cancer is by no means one woman or one man's battle. Breast cancer knows no boundaries. Breast cancer is an international battle that affects approximately 1 in 8 women worldwide.

This weekend, I will be planting the first of many pink ribbons around Europe. This first ribbon will appear in Interlaken, Switzerland. While this trip was very spontaneous and last minute, Tori, myself, and a couple other friends have plans to hike, explore the town, and see what else we happen upon. I can't wait to share with you all where this first pink ribbon finds its home. More pictures coming soon!

Week 2: Trip to Tarragona

Twice a year, the small city of Tarragona, Spain, is overrun by American college students as part of the orientation programming for IES Barcelona. While the trip is advertised as an opportunity to see the Catalan region's Roman history and experience Catalan gastronomía, I find myself back in Barcelona laughing with Tori about how little we "discovered" Tarragona for its history.

It all began on Friday morning with human towers. If you think this sounds bizarre, that's because it is. On our way to Tarragona, we stopped in a small village to learn about castells, or human towers. Castells began in the Catalunya region of Spain as a part of festivals or celebrations and have become so popular and widespread that today they are also created competitively. It is a tradition the Spanish people are so proud of and I can see why. Castells are very complicated and require team work and unity to complete. For a better visual, check them out here.

Ok, yes, it appears I did take something away from this weekend due to my infatuation with castells but after we left this small town to continue onto Tarragona, I assure you the learning halted... but only to make room for bonding. While Tori and I had somewhat dreaded going on this trip, we loved the people we met on our bus and tour group. We banded together through dragged-out tours where nobody understood a word from our Catalan tour guide and a scarring experience with patatas bravas (no longer my favorite). Although our hotel for the night was nothing special, it was very conveniently situated next to an Irish pub that somehow, but still not sure how, became a night club? Safe to say we were relieved to see a hearty breakfast spread the next morning before another day of touring. 

Saturday consisted of a visit to a monastery where, again, I took away very few of the learning objectives because I could not understand our tour guide. Instead, took some great pics! After that, we hopped back onto our buses for a group meal (the experience gastronomía-part of the trip). At a ranch-looking restaurant in the middle of nowhere, Tori and I drank red wine out of a porron and tried Spanish leeks that were charred and presented with a dipping sauce. See pictures below for a good laugh. Yes, bibs were included and, yes of course, we kept them.

After returning to our apartment in Entenca after a short but what felt like long weekend away, I'm starting to really feel like Barcelona is home and it's a great feeling.

Highlights from this week:

-Ruined a pasta sauce with tomato paste

-Recovered the same pasta by winging a red wine sauce

-"Jail broke" Tori's computer for Netflix 

-Located CT people on my program (TCU friends can probably envision my excitement on this one)

-Bought pink ribbon for an upcoming blog feature

-BOOKED INTERLAKEN

Next week on the blog, how I survived the coldest weekend of my life without packing a real winter jacket. Still figuring that one out....

The pasta we saved with a side of vegetables and Netflix.

Sights in Tarragona (Roman amphitheater).

The monastery.

The bib crew.

Yeah Tor!

Yeah Charlotte!

Week 1.1: Coats (A way of life)

Tori says to me today, "Does everyone in Barcelona have an amazing coat collection?" Yep, they do. From day one when I saw our roommate Claudia's closet, I knew. For a place with an extremely mild winter, people here kill it when it comes to winter coats. Tori and I plan to do damage tomorrow at Zara. Stay tuned.

Week 1: I Could Get Used To This Place.

Week one, you ready? Jet lag is so real it's almost unreal. I took off on Tuesday, January 6, from Newark Airport in New Jersey. From there, I was Frankfurt, Germany-bound on a six hour flight which is not that bad considering I originally thought the flight was eight hours. In Frankfurt, I found the gate to Barcelona by the grace of God and there I met a bunch of kids on my program from all sorts of schools including Wisconsin, Indiana, and Penn State.

On the other end of the flight from Frankfurt, we students banded together, found our luggage and located IES staff in bright blue shirts. They gave us a safety talk, checked us in, handed over apartment keys, and said “that way for the taxi stand.” Luckily, one of my roommates, also named Elizabeth, was on my second flight and so together, with a hefty amount of luggage, we made our way to the neighborhood called Entenca. Cue the jet lag. That night ended with patatas bravas, two pitchers of sangria, and getting a little turned around by the metro, but what a relief it was to have made it.

Since that first day, I have begun to explore the city that I now get to call home (someone pinch me). Tori and I spent one day riding around town on the open-air tourism buses with free tickets, thanks to our program. We saw la Plaza de España, the site of the 1992 Olympic Games, and lots of waterfront. The next day, we slept in, grabbed coffee and mapped out a safe route for jogging while waiting for our laundry. Productive, eh? I’d say so.

While covering lots of ground in our first week by day, we also started to check out the nightlife. Shout out to our fifth roommate and new Spanish/Catalan best friend, Claudia, for making us look a little less American in the clubs. We love you and would be so lost without you telling our cab drivers where to take us. Literally, so lost.

Highlights from this week:
-Figuring out the metro (a considerably large accomplishment)
-Happening upon some cool panoramic views at Las Arenas
-Exploring Mercat St. Joseph on Las Ramblas
-Simply getting settled in

Check back for Week 2 where apparently our program makes us build a human pyramid? Rumors with a language barrier make for an interesting mix. 'Til next time!

Quick selfie at Las Arenas ft. Plaza de España behind us.

Mango/strawberry juice from Mercat St. Joseph.

Mercat St. Joseph buzzing around lunch time.

Welcome.

Welcome to "Brave Goes Abroad"! Besides writing for a class, I would consider this to be my first shot at the blogger life… so go easy on me. If you are a close friend or family member of mine, you’ve probably been hearing about the idea behind BGA for a while (yes, I will be referring to this page as BGA). For those of you who have simply stumbled upon BGA, allow me to explain “Brave”.

In August of 2014, my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer. It was only a few months before this that my family had raised champagne flutes to an important milestone in my mom’s life – ten years in remission after beating ovarian cancer, which followed her first face-off with breast cancer. Well, since my mom’s recent diagnosis, breast cancer has entered my life in a new way. Today, I see breast cancer clearly, not with the veil of innocence I wore as a child.

I spent my first semester at TCU this year thinking about breast cancer day in and day out and how I, in a world of millions, could make a significant impact on the fight for the cure. My contribution came in the form of an internship, offered to me by TCU superwoman Ann Louden, a member of the Chancellor’s staff and all around go-getter. Around the time of my mom’s ovarian cancer, ten years ago, Ann founded Frogs for the Cure at TCU, a group that has since affiliated with Susan G. Komen. Little did Ann know, I would cherish my position as social media marketing intern as one of the biggest blessings I have had thus far in my life. Frogs for the Cure not only gave me a voice, it also gave me a loving support system when I most needed one and least felt like admitting it.

Back in 2010, I fell hard and fast for Spain, its culture, and its people. I traveled to Cádiz on an immersion program for high school students and knew after a month-long program that I had to return. That return trip, in my head, would be my junior year in college when, so it seemed, everyone went abroad. However, the wait time was too long and so I returned in 2011 and then again in 2013.

Today, it is finally 2015, I'm a junior in college and yep, you guessed it, I'm here in Barcelona. I have an awesome apartment with four other girls and I'm here to stay until April or May. Mission accomplished. Now, to tell Barcelona and the other cities I will travel to about being brave. I want people to know my story, I want people to tell me theirs, and I want them to join me in the fight for the cure. So that, my friends, equals BGA. Check back soon for tales of my first few days in beautiful Barcelona.