IT'S A CONCRETE JUNGLE OUT THERE



Because Rotterdam was completely wiped out during the war, it's anything but your traditional Dutch looking city. Skyscrapers tower over the canals and uber modern architecture adorns every building. The Erasmus Bridge is an iconic piece of architecture that is located about 5 minutes from the Rotterdam Centraal station by Metro. Oh and did I mention the city has it's own metro, I fucking love the metro. Its just so European.

I had been told many stories of Rotterdam, some good, some bad and some neutral. I thought to myself that there is no possible way somebody couldn't love a city as modern and up to date as this one. But I kind of get it now. There is not a single trace of the traditional Dutch architecture that you see in the rest of the Netherlands, which makes the city that much more colder (besides the weather of course). Regardless, I still stood in awe of the buildings and felt quite insignificant next to them...

JUICY LUCY NOSTALGIA

Anyone who grew up in South Africa will most certainly remember Juicy Lucy. We had one in Menlyn  Mall and instead of cokes and candy, my mom would buy my sister and I a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. Regardless of what happened to the franchise, I ended up juicing a delicious glass of my own ginger, apple and carrot beverage from a few leftover fruits lying around.

 

I didn't quite realise what a process it would become, and so after slicing all the fruits and putting them in the blender I had to timeously strain the orangey pulp through a sift. With that said, it was well worth the effort and was gulped down in a matter of minutes.

 

 

 

 

A PARISIAN NEW YEARS: CHAMPAGNE SOUP AND STICKY FLOORS

I don't like New Years. It's a pressured down day for everyone to host or attend the most jamming party that they have most likely been planning for the past 6 months. It's just dumb and I never seem to have plans, not even on the day. Its all quite a sporadic thing that wounds up with the most interesting results.

 

This year wasn't any different.

 

The celebration went something along the lines of a last minute gathering at a friend house in Paris with a whole array of different people. Two Finnish gals, Two French Canadians, one Malaysian/Australian, one South African and of course, who could forget the French. We glugged down copious amounts of champagne soup , danced to Madonna and merrily swayed in the arms of the other guests.
 

As the early hours of the morning drew near, the soles of our shoes clung to the sticky floor as we made our way to the front door and headed home...

PARIS: DAY 2

After witnessing the beauty of Sacré-Cœur and the Montmartre the previous night, I decided to view it a second time amongst the chaos that is the tourist hustle and bustle.  Taking the Metro to my destination, I sat on the steps  leading up to this magical building and stared blankly into the distance, admiring the vastness of the city that holds 12 million people. Feeling slightly overwhelmed by this thought, I moved along to view the well known square in Montmartre that houses artists drawing passer-by's faces at a somewhat small fee. As another downpour of rain fell upon the Montmartre, I entered a cosy café and indulged in a 6 Euro cappuccino whilst scribbling notes in my travel journal

The Notre Dame was next on my sporadic itinerary and happened to befriended Willy, a Bolivian fellow,  along the way. We spoke about our homeland, our current doings and our plans for Paris whilst admiring our surroundings. I told him about Lovers bridge, located at Pont de l'Archevêché, and tickled his curiosity so much that we ended up going together. Whilst twilight was setting in on Paris, a street musician played his guitar beside the canal whilst we sat and listened...

 

 

LIKE AN IKEA VIRGIN

Back in South Africa we don't have IKEA. 

 

Because of this, I deemed myself an IKEA virgin amongst the other American au pairs in my town who had been numerous times back in the States. The main reason behind our great trek to the store was to purchase a plate of their famous Swedish meatballs in the cafeteria.

 

And so I had the meatballs, and they were as delicious as I was told. On finishing our meal, I dreaded the thought of having to split the bill and pay separately between the 7 of us, only to realise we had already paid in the food line. I liked that. No having to argue with the waitress about separate bills,  wavering the right amount of change or under tipping the staff. IKEA really got that down!

 

The actual store part is great too. You worm your way around a maze of fake living room, kitchen and bathroom layouts of all the store furniture and write down the number of the items you like. When you get to the ground floor, you go to the designated number area, collect your box of unassembled parts from the shelves and go to the self  service check out points. Sure I knew that was the concept behind it, but to see and experience it in the flesh was pretty cool too.

Also, I realised this is what my face looks like when I'm in mid conversation

PARIS: DAY 1

Having been my first official day in Paris, one would have thought I'd have jumped out of bed by the crack of dawn ready with my city map, camera and a plan of action. Needless to say I didn't. I indulged in the fact that I could sleep in, somehow knowing the city would wait for me. After much deliberation with myself, I eventually ventured off on my solo adventure to the Champs-Élysées . I must admit, I don't think I looked much like a tourist. I didn't have one of those tacky rain coats and wasn't running around like a headless chicken taking photos of absolutely everything that stood or moved. I liked it.

Because my plan of action involved er..no solid  plan whatsoever, I was quite taken aback when I happened to stumble upon the Arc de Triomph in all it's glorious beauty amongst thousands of tourists, swerving cars and scooters. I stood, I stared, I snapped away and then proceeded to move along. After some serious detouring to get to the Eiffel tower I fell upon my first up close and personal view of this monumental structure. It all felt quite surreal, and it still does. It's definitely not a feeling you can describe until you've experienced it. None the less, I took a couple of hundred (thousand) photos and snacked on a Nutella filled crepe to ease the hunger pains. As I started to head towards the Louvre, a sudden downpour of rain left me stranded on the side walk, giving me a good excuse to enter the nearest cosy café for a meal entailing anything other than a crepe. I slurped down my French onion soup and struck up a conversation with Daniel, the gentleman sitting next time me who happened to have just returned from a three week vacation to South Africa. We were quite gobsmacked at the coincidence of it all and sat for several hours conversing about travel, relationships, love, Germany, and South Africa. To our delight, the rain had stopped, giving us the opportunity to finally get a glimpse of the Lourve. Seeing it at night is quite spectacular and not nearly as littered with tourists.  Daniel and I strategized where we would take a photo of us together, with just the right amount of light and perfect positioning. We hugged each other goodbye on the metro and bid our farewells as we got off at our respective stops.

For a day was went completely unplanned, it couldn't have turned out any better...

 



BUS BLUES TO PARIS

The coach was stuffy, the vibe neutral and the bus driver rude.  This was the environment I was confined to for a gruelling 8 hour bus ride to Paris. Having eventually stopped at a gas station for a toilet break, the girl sitting next to me and I skipped the long queue of the ladies toilet and made a dash for the mens. On our escape from the bathroom, we almost ran over two gentlemen entering the room and giggled like love struck teenagers all the way back to our bus

On arriving at Gallieni station, I couldn't have flung myself into the fresh Parisian air faster. I dabbed my clammy face, collected my luggage, and off I went into the tunnels of the Metro with my ticket in hand. Despite all the rumours of attacks, stabbings and pickpockets on the métro, I made it in one piece to Pyrénées station, where my couch surfing host ,Al, met up with me.

We offloaded my things, freshened up and was taken to the best night time view of Paris; Sacré-Cœur and Montmartre. We walked the quaint streets that were still bustling with tourists, and laughed at personal jokes we had managed to make in the few hours we had known one another. We sipped on beers at a local café whilst conversing about life and other things and when our hunger got the better of us, we devoured crèpes filled with cheese and chorizo.