What the Something Was…

So… after my four day, four city tour of Switzerland, the most expensive city in the world, I have safely arrived in Florence, the city of eternal rain.  Hopefully, it will clear up sometime soon.  But Ill let you know more about Florence later, I wanted to take a second to talk about my overall experience in Switzerland, not merely the sweet canyoning experience in Interlaken.

First, a brief overview of the cities.

Bern was by far the nicest city I have visited on my trip.  As it turned out, Switzerland just keeps its cities in perfect conditions.  It is difficult to find any trash at all, and if you do, it is gauranteed it was thrown down within the last couple of hours.  I experienced my first Swiss chocolate in Bern, an experience that Christine, as well as the other ultra-chocolate-consumers of the world should be VERY jealous of.  I also got to see a huge fountain of an Ogre (like a giant, not like Shrek) eating babies.  Yeah… the Swiss are pretty weird.

Interlaken was awesome… quiet, small, with lots of adventurers (see previous post for my canyoning experience).

Lucern proved to be an awesome day trip, allowing me to see Chapel Bridge (Europe’s oldest wooden bridge – 14th century), the famous watertower that was also used as a prison and torture chamber, and perhaps my favorite stop was the Lion Monument, aka, the Dyin’ Lion of Lucern.  If you aren’t up to date on your French History, before Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette were captured and beheaded, they escaped from a castle, almost making it out of the country.  When they left in secret, however, the king left hundreds of Swiss gaurds to defend the castle, all of whom were massacred by the Parisian mob trying to kill the king.  The lion was carved out of stone to commemorate those Swiss gaurds.  Pretty cool, eh? (Speaking of “eh” I’m pretty sure that Canadians are trying to take over the world via breeding.  THEY ARE EVERYWHERE!!!) (And hey, it seems to ahve worked for the Irish). 

Also, I took the world’s steepest cogwheel train up to the top of Mt. Pilatus, and had the greatest cup of hot chocolate in the world (thanks to the recommendation of my roomate, Colt (I bet the Delts would love that hot chocolate, too, right Heimbecker?)).

I finished my trip in Zurich, another beautiful, wellkept banking city, busy with people, yet full of history.  The rivers there are beautiful, and you always know what time it is because there are 19,762 or so in the city.  Ok, I made that number up, but they are everywhere, and they do have the clock with the largest face in Europe.

The one constant throughout everywhere I traveled in Switzerland was the Alps.  As soon as I approached them on the train from Barcelona, I knew they were doing something inside me.  What the something was, though, I wasn’t entirely sure of.  With a few days to reflect though, I think that my experience in the Alps is a pretty good reflection of my overall experience traveling solo.  “Let me ’splain… no… dere is too much… let me sum up…” Here is the bottom line: I am very, very small.

In view of the alps, it is easy for one to realize how small we really are, especially when coupled with the idea of traveling through some of the world’s largest countries, all having their own, unique cultures.  It reminds me of a sermon Mike preached a while back, noting that noone goes out to the beach, stares out at the horizon, and the waves stoping at their feet, and think, “I’M SO BIG!” Sometimes, a different view of God’s emaculate creation can begin to put our lives into a grander perspective. 

And that is the crazy thing about it all.  Realizing the smallness of life does not mean it has less meaning; rather, it enables us to realize that we were designed to fit into much greater story than our own.  You and I are only two of more than six billion people in the world.  All we can hope to do is dive, without reserve, into the bigger story, and see what affect we might be able to have on its plot.  It becomes more and more clear to me that the glory of God is all around us, regardless of our geography.  The Alps don’t speak any higher of God’s glory than does Wrightsville Beach.  The Alps sometimes just make it a little more obvious.  And that is the coolest part.  If all things have an equal opportunity to reflect God’s glory, whether it be a beach in North Carolina or a Canyon in Lucerne, it means that the most incredible sunset over the Alps reveals God’s glory no greater than we can. 

 

From Florence,

Rafferty

 

Rocks Don’t Bend: Canyoning in Interlaken, Switzerland

So it has been quite a while since my last post, and for that I apologize. I’ll try not to let it happen again, it’s just that computers run about a dollar for four or five minutes. Switzerland, however, makes up for its outrageous prices with incredibly beautiful landscapes and overly friendly locals. Right now, I am writing from Zurich, but before this I spent time in Bern, Luzern, and Interlaken. Within the next day or so, or maybe in just a bit, I will try and write a post detailing the beauty of some of these places, and attempt to elucidate the things that I have been learning so far. But for now… let’s talk about Interlaken.

Interlaken is one of the adventure sport capitals of the world, so any visit without doing something extreem is a wasted visit. It would be comparable to visting Vegas without having your toss at Roulette or your pull on the slots. This is problamatic for me, however, as the thought of riding the Scooby Doo rollar coaster makes me want to curl up in a fetal position and cry. But at the same time, I can tell you with absolute certainty that I didn’t travel half way around the world to completely wus out when the opportunity came to let my adrenaline run free.

For the last couple of years rivers have made me nervous due to pretty scary situation with me and my little brother. So I figured that now was as good a time as any to get back into the river, this time with no raft, only a wetsuit, a life jacket, and a six foot seven, 260 pound Swiss guide named Sebastian. They call it Canyoning. Its where about a dozen kids with no real amount of sense follow a couple guides into a canyon, and follw the canyon down the river. It involves repelling down rock faces, sliding over white water rapids, jumping off thirty foot waterfalls, and praying that there arn’t any flash floods. (I learned on the way out that 21 people died Canyoning in the same river ten years ago because of heavy rains). So you can imagine my level of comfort as we watched the gray clouds roll in toward us and began to hear the pings of rain drops off our shiny yellow helmets.

Three hours after the first jump, however, we all found our way back to the vans, surviving with only one Florida fellow’s dislocated shoulder. It was absolutely one of the most things I have ever done. There’s something about a Guide pointing to a place in whitewater twenty five feet below you, telling you not jump too short (as the waterfall will suck you under) or too far left (as there is big rock below, and rocks don’t bend). Oh, and did I mention you had to land on your back beacuse the water is only about four feet deep….

Awake is the New Sleep, So Wake Up…

BBBBBAAARRRRCCCEEEELLLLLLOONNAAAAAAA!!!!

Just image me yelling that in a very terrible, rather sterotypical spanish accent and you´ll get the full effect.  Well, I hope everything is going well back in las Estados Unidos.  Things are absolutely awesome here.  Barcelona is a really cool place to hang, and it has given me a chance to brush up on my spanish.  The architecture in the city is incredible.  Everywhere you walk there is a really strange, yet awesome looking building.  I´m a little down that I don´t know more about Spanish history, because I feel like that would allow me to appreciate the city a little bit more.

I was able, though, to stop by the Museo de Picasso, which was really incredible.  The museum has most of his work, and organized it chronologically.  It was really beautiful.  I stole one of the small ones from the wall, but I don´t think anyone will notice.  It´ll look great in my bathroom at home (matches the color). 

Here is the thin about.  People take naps after work, and don´t eat dinner until 10:00.  Then they go to bars, and then clubs.  And nobody leaves until at least 4:00.  I did my best to experience their culture (minus the nap) and it was insane.  Pretty much all day was crazy.  I didn´t take the metro as much as I should have, and ended up walkin all over the place.  When I walked through Parc Guell some Dutch girls ran over to me and asked to have their picture taken with me.  I think they thought I was Ricky Martin.  It happens from time to time.

Parc Guell, by the way, was really cool.  It was designed by the city´s most famous architecht, Antoni Gaudi.  As Cribbs put it, it looks like it was designed by the American Theodor Geisel, more popularly known as Dr. Seuss (who, by the way was an active political cartoonist during World War II – you should check out if stuff if you never have).

Another funny thin thing that happened to me: I met up with a bunch of girls, and they asked me to go to a tapas bar with them.  Tapas bars are just bars that serve several different little appetizer type things.  It was loud when they asked me though, so I mistook “Tapas Bar” for a similar sounding place.  If only the look on my face had been immortalized with a picture.  I bet it was hilarious.  I was confused.  I just said, “Ummm… thanks, but I´m not really in to that.”  “Tapas?,” they responded.  The funny look dissolved.  I forced a laugh, “Ha, I´m just kidding, I love tapas.  Who in their right mind doesn´t love tapas!  What are we waiting on, lets go…”

Quite an experience.

I will miss Barcelona, but Mt Pilatus and a cup of hot chocolate are calling my name.  So to Switzerland I go…

Hope to hear from you all soon,

Raff

 

Spain in more than 94% Catholic.  That´s more than even Ireland… I thought the sign was cool…

O-LE O-LE O-LE O-LE, OOOLE, OOOLE…

Joke: What is dark, scary, and rhymes with Zarzelonasdetroatoneindazorning?

If you said, Barcelona´s metro at one in the morning, you are correct!  Flight delays are very not cool, especially when you have to take an hour long busride into the city.  Moreover, you realize that the Hostel that you booked is called the “The Impossible Hostel to Find Hostel.” It´s a good thing I´m fluent in Spanish.   I simply walked down the street and asked for directions: “¿Perdon, senor, tango gato in mis pantelones?  So once I reached the animal shelter they gave me directions to the Hostel.  So wow. I´ve had quite a night.  But it has been very fun.  But I wanted to let everyone know that I have arrived safely at destination numero dos (thats number two for all you non-flunets).  Tomorrow I have a big day planned, from studying the architecture of Barcelona, to the Picasso Museum, to the endless list of places Lauren C. and Josh A. told me to go, and then finally, I´m capping my day off at the Cliffs of Insanity… word has it that they are … INCONCEIVABLE!  (I don´t sink he is using za same wind we are using)….

Salud,

Raff

“Fezzick, are there rocks ahead?” “If there are, we’ll all be dead!”

Wow. I feel like I have so much to update everyone on, but i’ll just have to accept the fact that some stories will have to wait ’till I’m back in the states, like the drunk Irishman who tried to get me join his Rugby team. Yeah. It’s probably because I’m so muscular he thought I’d be a good fit. Oh, wait…

I will tell you one cool thing that happened a couple days ago. I was walking down grafton street listening to the “Once” soundtrack on my iPod. (If you haven’t seen it you should – it’s a semimusical about an irish street musician). Falling slowly came on as approached St. Stephen’s Green, and as I walked under the archway entrance, I realized that I was standing where the opening of the movie was filmed. It was a pretty cool moment.

Speaking of cool moments, I had a lot of them yesterday. For the first time in my trip to Ireland, I got out of Dublin, headed north, up through the Boyne Valley, almost to the border of Northern Ireland. Some of the pictures from yesterday are from this trip. We visited a monastery from the 11th century, which was a place where several of the most important treaties in Ireland’s middle ages were signed. We went, also, to an ancient Irish burial site older than the pyramids of Egypt, but discovered only about 50 years ago. We went to the hill of Tara, which was home to the ancient high kings of Ireland. One of the coolest places we went (its the picture with ruins and a bunch of cows below) was the Hill of Slane. It is the place where St. Patrick lit the Paschal fire in the early 5th century to upset the current Pagan king. St. Patrick survives the king’s efforts to have him killed, and because of this, the king wondered if St. Patrick’s God was more powerful than his own. Patrick, then, was allowed to freely move throughout Ireland, converting and babtising people who wanted to become Christians. This, of course, is why the legend developed that St. Patrick drove all of the “snakes” (pagans) from Ireland. It was a thrilling experience to be able to visit places of such importance to Irish history.

Oh, by the way, here is another interesting fact about Celtic crosses (since I included them in a few photos. St. Patrick developed the Celtic cross to merge the cross, a symbol of Christianity, and the sun, a very common pagan symbol. He hoped that by merging the two together, people would be more receptive of his ideas.

Ok, ill stop boring you with history. I met a bunch of people from Ole Miss last night, which was cool because they are the first real southerners I have run into out here. It seems like every American I meet is from California. Oh, and lets also talk about how I really am meeting Americans who are telling everyone they are Canadian. I have some words Id like to type about those Americans, but I can’t because my mom is going to read this, so I’ll stop.

I’ve met several really cool Irish people since being here. I talked to one, David, for quite a while about contemporary Irish problems and the like. We discussed religion, and its tumultuous history in Ireland, and I asked him if he had a problem with Irish protestants. He responded, “Ya know, I know they’re around, but I’ve never formally met one.” I thought that was pretty crazy, especially because Sunday I went to a really small nondenominational church that met in a hotel. The church service proved a couple of things: first, there are Pastors in the world who have 95 minutes sermons, and secondly, it is indeed possible to have a thirty second bass solo in every song that you play (an idea I am committed to bringing to Port City).

Ha. Anyway, I should close this out. I’m flying to Barcelona in a few hours. I’ll let ya’ll know whats up. Thanks To Josh Asslin and Lauren (L’Cribbs) Cribbs, I have quite the itinerary.

Until then,

Slåinte (Slawn-cha),

Rafferty

Oh and also, an American told me he ordered an Irish Car Bomb at a pub here, and the bartender told him that that was ruining Guinness, and then refused him service. Gotta love the Irish!!

Click on these to blow ‘em up…

The Vorpal Blade went Snicker Snack…

So yesterday was a good day.  Please… pull up a chair – allow me to tell you about it.  After sleeping in for a little bit, I pulled on the same pair of jeans I had worn the day before, and the day before, met up with a friend, and headed out towards southwestern Dublin.  As I think I have already mentioned, South Dublin is a lot more appealing than northen Dublin.

The Liffey River devides the two areas, and although there is a lot of history in north Dublin (the Easter Rising occured there where Pearce read the Irish equivalent of the Declaration of Independence in 1916 – you can still see bullet holes in the pillars outside of the post offfice), it tends to be dirtier than the area south of the river.  Southern Dublin, however, it a really well taken care of area.  Grafton Street is a really cool area with tons of people walking aroung shopping across the old, brick road. All the way past Grafton Street there is a place called St. Stephen’s Green, a huge, incredibly beautiful park (adorned with all sorts of vegitation and is a habitat to all sorts of birds that chill in the lakes there) once owned by the Guinness family.  Which leads me to my next story.

I didn’t realize this before coming here, but the Guinness family has had a lot more influence over Dublin than I would have expected.  They seem to have had their hands in a little bit of everything.  Yesterday, I got to get my hands on a few of their drinks at the Guinness Storehouse.  It was incredible.  It was about a two hour process to see the whole place, and due to some crafty (maybe somewhat illegal work), my friend and I skiped the three hour line and got in for free.  That is awesome!  The culture here is very different in how it regardes alcohol.  I expect this theme will continue throughout Europe.  One sign in a pub I ate in reflected: "God invented alcohol so the Irish wouldn’t take over the world."  Ha. 

Also, I visited Kilmainham Gaol, a prison built in the late eighteenth century, and the place where they imprisoned Pearce, and the other leaders of the Easter rising.  It was also where they were executed.  Pretty cool stuff. 

I’m having issues with crappy computers here, so Im struggling getting pictures up.  Tommorow it will happen for sure.  Europe would be a lot cooler if it was entirely taken over by Macintosh.  Apples all over Europe!  I’d move here for sure.  Tuesday I fly to Barcelona!  I get to practice mi espanol.  Julian Duarte es MI AMIGO!!! (sorry, inside jokes on blogs are not cool).  You know what else isn’t cool, that Rich is the only one commenting on this blog.  Is he the only literate friend I have.  So Rich, you win the prise for best blogging responces.  I officially award you one "get out of jail free card: tradish style."  I think mist of us know what we’re talking about here.

Tell Paschal to get todays songs up so I can watch those jabberwockys.

Miss all of you.

 

Rafferty

Just Keep Brushin’

Coldplay just came on the radio as I started this blog. This makes me very happy. There really is little difference in what people listen to here in Dublin and what we listen to in the States. The first song that I heard when I got off the plane Thursday was “Beautiful Day.” A good omen, I believed, which has certainly proven to be true. Moving on, I have a funny story…

So, of all the things that are different here, perhaps the most awkward is the coed bathrooms. So yesterday morning I went into the bathroom early, as I had a pretty big day ahead of me. I was barely awake, and right before I began brushing my teeth a girl walked in and started grilling me about what fraternities were like. I told her my name was Colt, and that I used to be the President of Tau Kappa Epsilon. I was so rattled by her intense examination that i didn’t really pay attention to what I was doing. As I rattled off something about bow ties and searsucker, what I was really wondering was, “why doesn’t my mouth feel minty and refreshed?” When I glanced at my toothpaste I discover, “Wow, Rafferty, you are brushing your teeth with lotion… this is the most disgusting thing ever.” So what do you in this situation? I’ll tell you what you do.

You just keep brushing. Thats exactly what I did. For three minutes. Whole minutes. Until the girl finally left. Praise God for the little things: sunrises, good jokes, confortable shoes, and Crest ultra whitening – aquamint.

I don’t have a lot of time. Ill just let this speak for itself. I know… unreal…