it's National Crepes day!

Did you know that in France they have a holiday for Crepes (by the way the word rhymes with step rather than grape)? I can neither pronounce nor write the name of the holiday, but this is something I learned today in my crepes-making cooking class today (they scheduled the crepe class for today because it's the crepe holiday today). Apparently, the holiday is both for galettes and crepes, but I'm guessing you've never heard of a galette. I hadn't until recently. A galette is savory crepe made with buckwheat flour whereas crepes are supposed to be the sweet ones. On this holiday people mostly just eat the sweet crepes because they are quicker and easier to make. According to our chef, the schools are filled with the smell of crepes and all around. He said that since today is Friday and a lot of people won't have time to make crepes that people will celebrate all weekend. After class, I even saw a sign on a cafe with the name of the "holiday" and something about a deal on crepes (I can't really read French after all). Here are some photos from my cooking class (we made a mushroom and onion galette with a bechamel sauce, salad with bacon and a mustard vinegarette, and Crepes Suzette.

I think I did a great job on my galette.

Chef flambeing the crepes

Crepes Suzette

Here's so more food porn from France. This had ice cream
in the middle and a caramel sauce in the cup. The white
peaks are meringue. 

I'd heard of it, but didn't actually know what it was

I decided I needed to have a relatively relaxing day today. Some people are good at relaxing on vacation, but I'm not really one of those people. I tend to go, go, go. Today I decided I was going to relax. I wanted to have a good lunch a visit the Eiffel Tower. I didn't have a pre-booked ticket to the Eiffel Tower and I thought it would probably be okay, but after yesterday's long wait to get into the Catacombs I was a little nervous. Thus. I went to the Eiffel Tower in the later morning just to check out the ticket situation. You had to go through security first and then you could purchase tickets. It appears in the high season they have 4 areas for ticket sales, but today they only had two: One for the stairs and one for the elevator (also the summit was closed for annual repair work). It looked like I'd have no problem getting a ticket when I was ready to go up so I headed off to find lunch.

My meal. They also served it with a bread
basket.

I had decided I wanted to have some sort of really nice lunch today. When I travel I tend to eat a lot of small dishes, street food and prepared foods from grocery stores in order to help keep the costs down, but I do indulge in special meals here and there. I started wandering into the neighborhoods surrounding the Eiffel Tower looking for a restaurant. Thankfully, everyone here posts their menus outside. I ended up wandering through the neighborhood for about 20 minutes before I found a place that looked like what I wanted to eat (thankfully all the restaurants in this area had English menus as well as French ones so that I could understand the options). I walked in and it was a bit awkward. I wasn't sure of French restaurant etiquette and so I just sort of stood there. The waiter greeted me, but I didn't understand him so I still stood there.

My French onion soup

 Another waiter seemed to realize that I wasn't understanding and said in English, "Only one?" (or something like that) I said yes and he showed me to a table. I suspect the first waiter didn't have any English and that this guy didn't have a lot because another person who I think may have been the manager (based on the fact that he was dressed differently than everyone else and seemed to do a bit of everything) was the only one who served me even though the first waiter was taking care of everyone else in the area. His English, by the way, was really good.
I love French onion soup so that was one of the things I wanted to try in France. I ordered French onion soup as my appetizer and the duck confit. The duck confit came with a salad and something else, I couldn't understand (the translation didn't translate everything). I had heard of duck confit, but I didn't actually know what it was. I knew I liked Peking Duck so I hoped I would like it and I figured that if I didn't, it would still be an experience.
My soup came first (of course). It was delicious! It wasn't the cheesy mess they are in the States. My soup came in a cast iron bowl and had three (or maybe four - in looking at my picture I see that it was five) slices of toasted french bread on top with cheese on each slice. It had an amazing depth of flavors and was so good I would have been pleased with my meal if it had ended there. The waiter who was serving the area asked me what I assumed was are you finished after I had finished my soup and made motions to take it away. I nodded and then he took my bowl and looked towards the guy who I still think is the manager. It rather appeared to be a signal that I was ready for my next course. A few minutes later the manager brought out my main course. It turns out it was the duck confit, a salad and a dish that was a lot like potato wedges. Everything was delicious, but the duck was out of this world! I've never had anything like it. I googled duck confit after I got back to my hotel room. Wikipedia says that it is rubbed with spices and salt-preserved for up to 36 hours and then slowly poached in a low-temperature oven for four to ten hours until meltingly tender. The meat was so tender I actually had trouble picking it up with my fork. I could taste the salt (Wikipedia says prior to cooking the spices are rinsed off and the meat is patted dry) as well as other flavors. I'm really at a loss for words. My lunch was also served with fresh bread which was soft on the inside and wonderfully chewy on the outside. I couldn't finish my meal although I did eat every bite of the duck because it was so incredible I couldn't waste any of it. Afterwards, they asked if I wanted coffee or dessert. I don't like coffee and there was no way I could eat another bite. I walked out of the restaurant reminiscing abou the meal and just savoring what an amazing meal it was.
I've also included pictures of my trip to the Eiffel Tower today. That was a sight to behold.

Every hour for the first five minutes the tower sparkles. You
can't really see it in the pictures although if you look at the dark part
you can see some of it. Yesterday, I saw this from the Arc de
Triomphe at 6 pm. I, therefore, hurried off the tower to get to a
good viewing spot by 6. Tonight it didn't light up at all until about 6:15
and the first "sparkle" was at 7.

Dem Bones, Dem bones...

Notre Dame before Sunrise

Yesterday I decided that I would skip the long line to get into the Notre Dame Cathedral (They had timed tickets for the tower entrance, that's where I took the gargoyle pictures) and make use of my jet lag this morning. The Cathedral opens at 7:45 am and I knew I would be up by then because my body thinks its about 7 hours ahead of Paris time.
I arrived at Notre Dame about 7:35 am. There were two people waiting to get in. By the time the cathedral opened there were about 20 people waiting for admittance. It was a great time to go. The cathedral wasn't crowded at all. I was able to take lots of great pictures and then I was in there as the sun rose lighting the stain glass windows (although it was cloudy today, like yesterday and like it's forecasted to be all week).

Afterwards, I went to have breakfast. By this point, it is 9 am and I am shocked at how difficult it is to find breakfast. I had seen a cafe the day before that I wanted to eat at (they had a breakfast menu posted on a chalkboard outside), but it turns out they don't open until 11! I did find a place and had lovely breakfast.

After breakfast, I went to the catacombs. The ground underneath Paris is like Swiss Cheese because there was a lot of abandoned underground limestone quarries from the 15th century (These quarries were the source of stone to build many of the buildings in Paris, including Notre Dame). After a while (think a couple hundred of years) they were having problems with the gound collapsing (not too surprising when you've hollowed it out) and they had to figure out the structure of all the tunnels beneath the city and start fortifying them. In 1780, due to concerns for public safety, they began moving bones from cemeteries to the Catacombs. Over time the closed more and more cemeteries and moved more and more bones. They also used the ossuary (a depository for bones of the dead) as a morgue during the French Revolution. Today there are, if I remember correctly, the remains of about 200,000 people in the Catacombs.

Notre Dame after sunrise

My guidebook recommended getting to the Catacombs by 9:45 am (they open at 10). I thought since it was the off-season, I'd be okay if I got there a bit later. I was wrong. I got there at 10:30 in the morning and had a nearly 2-hour wait to get it (it took me just under an hour to tour the Catacombs). I wonder if part of the issue was that it was Sunday. There seemed to be a lot of French-speaking people around and I wonder if a lot of locals go to sites like this on the weekends (especially in the off-season). Nonetheless, it was really neat. You enter and immediately start climbing down a narrow, spiral staircase. According to the visitor's guide, there are 130 steps taking you 30 meters down. I didn't count. When you get to the bottom you're in part of the old quarry. The quarries were so extensive that even though there are 200,000 people's remains down here they are only in a very small fraction of the catacombs. As you go along the path through rather small, low tunnels (made me glad I'm short) you find signs marking each dig. Apparently, these can be used to determine exactly where the stone for different buildings came from. There are also signs indicating what street you're under, except they don't correspond to the modern-day streets.

The guy facing the tower is the architect while the disciples
(there are more on other sides) are watching over the city.

As you continue through these tunnels you suddenly pop out at the ossuary. Here the front is made of long bones with some skulls (in a pattern) and then other bones are tossed in the back (and according to the narrative signs back further under dirt where we can't see them from the front of the piles). It just feels like the bones go on and on and on. As I was walking through here I couldn't help but imagine how it must have felt to have been ordered to move bones from a cemetery (where they were often in mass graves) to the Catacombs. I would not have liked that task.

The back of Notre Dame (and me of course).

After visiting the Catacombs I planned to stop at a grocery store to pick up a light lunch and then go take a nap. Even though I've never been to France before I've been to Europe enough times I should have realized the folly in that plan. Today is Sunday. The grocery stores (and many other stores and restaurants) are closed today. I did find a small store and bought some of the things I needed (including a couple of items I forgot to bring with me).

The Seine is quite flooded. I can't take a boar tour down it
like the guidebooks recommend because most boats
can't fit under the bridges with the water levels so high (not to
mention it appears at least one river tour company's ticket
office is underwater).

Since it's January the sun sets at about 5:30 pm so by the time  I arrived at the Arc de Triomphe it was getting dark. While I was exploring, I noticed that they were setting up for a ceremony at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. As I stood watching a guard came up and asked if we spoke French (there were other people there too). One woman said she did and the guard invited her to come past the gate to participate in the ceremony (or at least that's what I concluded). She started to walk into the area followed by her friends when the guard stopped them. Her friends didn't speak French and so they couldn't enter. The ceremony was interesting (although I didn't understand it), but I could see why they were only allowing French speakers in - they actually took part in parts of it. Afterwards, they were changing things over and I was just watching the action. I knew the ceremony was over, but I guess that same guard was concerned that I didn't because he looked across the way at me and made an "x" with his hands (and a few other gestures that I can't remember well enough to describe) seemingly indicating that it was over. He appeared concerned about me, which I thought was nice.
I concluded my evening with a stroll down Champs Elysee, but I have to say I didn't find it all that interesting.

Inside the Catacombs

Marking inside the quarry

More of the quarry area of the Catacombs

The bones

More bones

There were signs like this that stated when and where
the bones were transferred from as well as signs that made
commentary on death.

A "barrel of bones"

Arc de Triomphe

Tomb of the Unknown Solidier at the Arc de Triomphe

Destroying the stereotypes

When I first started traveling alone, I didn't travel truly as a solo traveler. I would travel between locations by myself, but I would meet friends (who lived in each location). Several years ago, I was in Barcelona visiting a friend and I had plans to visit another friend in Luebeck, Germany, but I had a few days I needed to fill in between. As I was trying to decide where to go for that interim period, my friend suggested I go to Paris. I was concerned about the cost and my inability to speak French. My friend was no help because she speaks French so she was like, "oh yeah. That might be a problem." I had always heard that French people couldn't speak English and even if they could they didn't like to. I found the idea of going to Paris to daunting and so I decided to go to Munich instead. I'd never been to southern Germany before, but I had been to and lived in Germany in the past, and I spoke (and of course still do speak) German. It was probably not a bad choice since I'd never been to a city by myself before where I didn't know anyone. Since then, I've done it numerous times.
When I was considering visiting Paris during my Chinese New Year break, my previous concerns didn't even enter my mind. That having been said I was a little nervous about the fact that I can't speak French.
My trip to Paris started out interesting and even though this is my first evening here has continued to be interesting in several ways. First, I was surprised at the number of Europeans on the plane. Usually when I fly between China and the US, even if I fly an American airline, 90% of the passengers are Chinese. I would say this flight was only about 50% Chinese and most of the rest of the passengers were Europeans (When we got to immigration I could tell there were a number of non-Asian, non-Europeans based upon who got into the non-European Union line, but definitely the bulk of the non-Chinese passengers were in fact Europeans). I'm so accustomed to everyone in China looking at me and automatically knowing that I'm a foreigner that even as early as on the plane things felt a little weird. In China, if they can speak English, when they see me they at least try to speak English with me. (If they are struggling I speak Chinese with them and reassure them. If they speak English pretty well, I may or may not switch to Chinese- although I do ALWAYS bargain in Chinese and ONLY in Chinese) This is especially true in places like the airport and on airplanes (although one time it wasn't until the end of the conversation that I realized I had spoken Chinese the whole time and she'd spoken English the whole time). Thus, it was shocking when I boarded the plane and the first flight attendant directed me to my seat in French. I could tell from her pointing which way I needed to go, so the fact that I didn't understand didn't matter, but still. My seatmates spoke Chinese and French. Neither appeared to speak English (or French or Chinese, respectively for that matter). When the flight attendant came with the drink cart he spoke Chinese to the one seatmate but spoke French to myself and my other seatmate. After I replied in English he then spoke to me each time in English. Again as we left the plane the Chinese people were greeted in Chinese and I was greeted in French (it was only, "Merci. Au Revoir" so I understood just fine and replied in kind). Now to most of my readers, this may not be surprising. I was on an Air France flight to France and I look like I could be French, but you must keep in mind I'm accustomed to being in China. I get singled out as a foreigner. That doesn't happen here in France (until I can't speak French).
This afternoon I was sitting in a park beside the Notre Dame Cathedral people watching. I enjoy people watching, but I was also at that moment really too tired to do much else. I worked yesterday. Then I had a couple of rather stressful situations and then I flew out at about 1 am Beijing time, arriving in paris at about twenty minutes to five in the morning, local time. While I was people watching my mind wandered and apparently my expression showed that I was in deep thought because a French man walking by decided to comment. I of course, didn't understand him. He said a couple of sentences without stopping and then when I didn't respond he said (still in French) you don't speak French (or something to that effect, my very low French comprehension abilities understood that one). I replied, "no." He then came over the bench I was sitting on and said something in English to indicate that he was only going to be there for a moment (I think he was afraid he was going to make me nervous). He didn't speak English very well, but we chatted for about 5 minutes. I wrote out some numbers (years), relevant to our conversation (about China) on my phone and at one point he pulled out his phone (I'm pretty sure he had seen my phone was in airplane mode) and pulled up google translate to have me type in a word he couldn't understand. We had a lovely and very diverse conversation that included my telling him I would try to think happy thoughts so as to enjoy my time in Paris. To discussing my living in China and some things about the Chinese language to the flooding of the Seine (Now keep in mind, his English was very rudimentary and my French is non-existant so these topics were not discussed in depth and I don't know how much he understood of what I said). It really made my day though. When I visit Europe, I like to use the Rick Steves travel guides and one of the things Ricks Steves encourages is trying to have interactions with the locals; even if you can only communicate through gestures. I got to have that local engagement without any effort on my part (in initiating it). It was awesome and really went against the stereotype I'd always heard.
This evening I needed to find some dinner. I had gone to my hotel in the afternoon and taken a nap. (I set an alarm because by the time I laid down it was nearly 10 pm Saturday evening in Beijing. I had been up since 5 am Friday morning. I knew I couldn't let myself sleep through the Beijing night or my jet-lag would just be exacerbated.) Afterwards, I needed to find some dinner. I set out to go to an area I had seen restaurants in earlier, but as I was headed that way I noticed nearly all the pedestrians seemed to be headed in one direction. So I followed them. I found myself in this huge network of pedestrian streets. The only language I heard being spoken and the only language I saw written was French. Clearly, I was where the locals go on a Saturday evening. I decided to have a kebab (referring to food similar to a gyro rather than food on a stick). Not exactly local food, but also not something I can get in China. The restaurant was set up like street food, but they actually had places to sit down inside and after you ordered you sat down and they brought you your food. I was standing in front of the restaurant trying to decipher the French menu (not easy, but easier than trying to decipher a Chinese menu when you can't read Chinese - which, actually, I can- to a degree). Some things had pictures, other were just words. As I was standing there the man working there spoke to me. I assumed he was just trying to sell me on buying their food (maybe that is what he was doing, I still have no idea), but after a little bit I head, in English "Do you speak French?" I shook my head. "Arabic?" I shook my head. "But you speak English." I nodded. I suspect the man thought I was from somewhere other than a native English speaking country. I didn't speak a lot and I was rather hesitant about things. This is actually because 1) I was just getting to the saturation point on being overwhelmed and 2) it was 7:30 at night. I'd been on the go since 4:40 am and that was after having spent the night on a plane. Nonetheless, he was really kind. He clearly didn't know everything in English because there were some things he still said to me in French, but he would show me what he meant. I got a wrap with roasted chicken, garlic sauce, lettuce, and tomato. My meal came with a drink and he pointed to the cooler and asked me what I wanted. I told him water, but did they have water that wasn't cold (my family can tell you that living in China has made me adverse to cold water). He was so nice he went down to the basement to bring up a new case of water so that I could have non-cold water.
Going to a new country and experiencing a new culture is always an interesting and somewhat overwhelming experience. Somehow, despite having been to Europe many times I am finding this more difficult and odder because I'm somehow still in my China-mindset (I've never gone to Europe from China before). I figure after I get a good night's sleep a lot of it will be easier. It's just after 9 pm here so I'm going to go to sleep and hope my jet lag doesn't prevent me from sleeping through the night. I'll leave you with some photos of the gargolyes of Notre Dame Cathedral. Enjoy.

Kristin Returns to Germany

The U.S. Embassy. I made the guards nervous I think because
I spent a bit of time early one morning sitting on a bench just to
the left of this picture.

It feels rather weird. I am trying to write up my summer vacation, but I am simultaneously preparing to move to China. As I wrote in my last post I have received my Chinese visa and (not previously written) this morning I got confirmation of my flight reservation. While I am not looking forward to another long flight it is time to tell you about my last trip before living life gets in the way.

At the Brandenburg Gate

After a week in Zurich, I flew to Berlin. Landing in Berlin was almost like getting a breath of fresh air. While I greatly enjoyed Zurich, Germany is familiar and comfortable. In Switzerland, I couldn't usually understand people on the street. Swiss German is very different to High German; so much so that I can't begin to understand it. When I landed in Germany it was almost like magic: I could understand everything! In Germany, I typically understood how things worked (for those of you who do not know, I spent my senior year of high school in Germany as an exchange student and have been back to Germany to visit several times). When I had questions in Germany, I had friends to ask. Thus, returning to Germany was kind of like going home.

The dome was closed for cleaning. I went up to the terrace, but it's
not nearly as interesting as going up to the dome
 (something I've done before).

I spent the first 4 days in Berlin visiting my friend A and her son B. Switzerland is so expensive that when A offered for me to stay with her I jumped at the chance. I have been to Berlin many times, but I spent most of my days checking out the sights and often finding museums and exhibits I had not seen before. I spent my evenings hanging out with A and B. I had a great time. Be sure to check out the photos.
After 4 days in Berlin, I took the train to Munster where my friend C lives. Munster is a fairly small college town and there isn't that much to see there and I had been there before, but I had a good time nonetheless. There is a guidebook author, Rick Steves, who has a great book called Europe Through the Back Door. I read it a couple of years ago before my trip and throughout the book, Steves talks about always being on the lookout for opportunities to spend time with locals. Additionally, throughout Steves guidebooks, he speaks about trying to be a temporary local. In Germany in general and Munster in specific, I got the opportunity to be a temporary local. Not only did I spend my evenings with C and her husband U and their son B, but I also got a couple of other opportunities to live like a local. Munster is a bicycle city. Everywhere you turn you have to watch out for bicycles. My friend C often will go up to about two weeks without driving her car (an unbelievable feat for most of the United States). Most of the time she travels by bicycle. My first afternoon in my hotel I was reading the guest book and saw that they rented bicycles for only six euros. Thus, the next day I rented a bike and headed out to meet C. Now I love to ride and I often bike 10-15 miles at a time, but I had a few challenges with this bike. First, it was big! I lowered the seat all the way and I could just barely reach the pedals. This wasn't so much a problem for pedaling as it was for handling the bike, especially in traffic. This brings me to point 2: in Anchorage, I bike mostly on trails, many of which aren't crowded at all and those that are I can maneuver easily because my bicycle is small. The third challenge was a bit of a surprise. When I was a child my bicycle had brakes that you applied by pushing backward on the pedals. For my tenth birthday, I got a road bike (my current bike is a mountain bike though) and it had hand brakes. At first I found it rather difficult to use the hand brakes, but of course, after a short while, I mastered it. I had never seen an adult bike with brakes on the pedals. I can no longer truthfully say that. The bike I rented in Munster had both hand brakes and pedal brakes. Now you might be thinking, "wait a minute if the bike had hand brakes why has she listed this as a challenge riding this bike?" That's because Munster is a city and cities have stoplights. When I would stop at stoplights (a bit of a challenge because of the bike's overwhelming size), I would have trouble starting again. I was accustomed to resetting the pedal by pushing backward so that when the light changes I push off and away I go. However, push backward on the pedal resulted in applying the brake. My starts were often rather awkward and I have to wonder what people thought when they saw me (probably not much because unlike in China, I do no stand out in Germany).
Despite these challenges, I had a great time riding along the bike paths and getting a feel for the city via the most common transportation system. I also had a great time in the downtown area. On my second day in Munster, C, B and I rode downtown (C has a child seat on the back of her bike that B rides in). We did some shopping and other things downtown before heading to the local market to get B some waffles. After we got the waffles we found a place to stand/sit/ hangout. It was near an older couple who engaged in conversation with C about housing prices and other topics directly related to
"Munsterland" (the way people in the area refer to the greater Munster area). Now while it might not sound interesting to engage in this kind of conversation I enjoyed it. This is part of what it means to be a temporary local. I got the chance to really hear what locals think and about the local issues. After a while, though the wife engaged me commenting that I must not be from Munster because I hadn't said much on the topic. I replied that I wasn't even from Germany. The husband tried to guess where I was from and guessed Scandanavia (throughout my entire trip I don't think anyone ever guessed correctly - a number of people, especially native English speakers, guessed Canada). Now I have to admit, my least part of this conversation was when they asked me about the election (a topic that all the Europeans I engaged in conversation with wanted to speak on). One thing though that I found particularly interesting was the wife's tale of traveling through the US alone (the husband's tale was also quite interesting, but that was more related to the fact that he doesn't speak any English). She told me about how a lot of people we really surprised that she had traveled throughout the U.S. by herself, but she had told them she was never really alone. She had been very surprised but greatly enjoyed how the Americans were always engaging her in conversation. Everywhere she went people were friendly and talked to her. It's always so nice to hear people have a good impression of your country.

After Munster,

A lives near the Charlottenburg Palace

This is painted on the Berlin Wall in a section that has
been turned into an art display:
The East Side Gallery.

 I traveled to Croatia for a week. I had a number of really interesting times there and so I will try to get that written up before I leave for China (in 79 hours!)

Kristin (and others) visits Läderach Chocolate Factory

As with my other recent posts I am writing this from my phone (currently in the Munich airport, but I can't imagine I'll finish before its time to board my flight) and will have to clean it up on my computer later.

Last week on Thursday Rebecca and I were going to go to Rigi, which had seemed like a good idea on Wednesday when we decided to go, but at 5:30 in the morning when I woke up to the sound of rain on the terrace, I thought it might not be such a good idea. Rigi is some distance from Zurich, but I checked the weather and it was calling for scattered thunderstorms in the afternoon. Scattered thunderstorms, 3 kids, a mountain and what are basically ski lifts didn't sound like the best idea. So I started googling things to do in the rain. After a bit I thought it would be better to change that search to things to do in the rain with children. As a result I found a blog detailing a trip to Läderach Chocolate factory. In the blog they talked about driving there, but a quick check on Google maps showed that we could get there pretty easily with the train. I found the website for the factory and it looked interesting.
After waiting for a more reasonable hour, I went to Rebecca's and shared the idea with her. She had no problem with changing our plans and this destination was easier to get to which was better not only for me (I was leaving EARLY the next morning for Berlin), but also for the kids.
Thus, we set out for a small town of Bilten. At first, everything seemed typical. Then we got to the station where we had to change trains. At first I was confused. 1) the train we were getting off of was going to the same place our next train was bound for and 2) we were exiting and then boarding from the same platform. As we got off it all quickly became clear. We were in basically the middle of nowhere. The train we were on only stops at "larger" stops and so we needed a more regional train. As we waited on the platform, I knew we were in for an adventure. There was just nothing at this train station and we were headed to an even smaller station. We arrived in Bilten and we could tell we were in an industrial area. It took a bit of work, but we found the factory and oh was it worth it!
We went into the store section and I asked about how we purchased tickets for the "Schoggi Erlebnis." The woman I asked said from her and so I explained that I wanted to purchase one adult ticket and Rebecca was going to want one adult and one child ticket (Children under six are nearly always free in Switzerland). Luckily the woman was observant and asked how old Jonathan was. I had forgotten that I had read that all children under eight were free. Jonathan was about two and a half weeks shy of his eighth birthday. After we paid, each person (including all 3 children) got a box of three chocolates and a souvenir spoon for tasting the chocolate in the fountains. At first I was a little concerned because she only put out four boxes of truffles on the counter, so I asked her if the small child (i.e. Lauren) didn't get one. She had been concerned because of the nuts, but after we told her that wasn't a problem Lauren got one too.
The tour was self guided with really good signs in English (matter of fact one sign was only in English). At the end came what I think was everyone's favorite part- the chocolate fountains. They had one station with the roasted cocoa nibs and a liquid form of bitter cocoa mass. We tried that first and poor Lauren didn't understand that the others were different. She kept wiping her mouth with a paper towel and refused to try any of the other chocolates until Rebecca force fed her some. Then she realized the others were good and if course then you couldn't get her away from fountains.

P.s for anyone who's curious I finished this from the apartment I've rented (for three days) near Cavtat Croatia.

(Unintentionally) Fooling the Lichtensteiners

I don't actually know what this is. I saw this from the bus window after I finally caught the 11 going to Sargans. 

The view from my unexpected detour. 

An interesting place for a bench 

My side trip may not have been planned, but it was totally worth it for the views. 

Grapes are an important crop in Lichtenstein. They produce quite a bit of wine. 

On Wednesday I took a day trip to Lichtenstein. Lichtenstein is the fourth smallest country in Europe and with a population of 37,000 it has no freeway, airport or train station. Lichtenstein also uses the Swiss Franc and has always used someone else's money (they used the Austrian money until World War II). As a result in many ways Lichtenstein feels like an extension of Switzerland, but their official language is high German.
I took a train from Zurich to Sargans which is in Switzerland, but very close to the border. At the bus station where a number of Lichtenstein buses including the one that took me to Valduz, the capital. Neither country is in the EU, but they have a close relationship and therefore no border control (I read somewhere that there is border control on the Austrian side; a fact I find quite interesting because Lichtenstein became Lichtenstein when two regions were purchased by an Austrian prince).
I had booked my ticket to the Vaduz post, which was the last stop on the bus, but when we got to the stop I really didn't know where to go so I just started walking. I hadn't walked far when I saw a pedestrian detour sign because the sidewalk was torn up. I followed the sign and was quite suddenly in front of the National Museum, a place I wanted to visit. I looked around and saw I was right in the middle of things and there was a tourist center right in front of me as well.
In the tourism center I quickly read some brochures including one for a museum and adventure pass. I was really interested because this pass was only 23 Swiss Francs and seemed to cover everything. I went up to the counter and this is the first time I unintentionally fooled a Lichtensteiner. In German I asked for a pass and answered her related questions. She was training someone on how to sell the passes as she completed my transaction. Apparently in the book she had to fill out there was a line for country. I heard her tell the other woman this is where you put in the country. Then she turned to me and said, "Germany, right?" To say they were shocked when I replied, "No, USA" would be an understatement. It was rather funny, but also a really good thing that they asked me what country I came from because then I was able to get a Lichtenstein stamp (as I was writing this sentence I was thinking a German would have traveled on a ID card rather than a passport, but since they aren't in the EU I don't know if that's true).  Next I went to the National museum where I used my museums and Adventure pass to get a ticket for the National Museum and a token for the treasure chamber. There the woman asked if she could get my country and when I told her the USA she was also shocked replying that I didn't have any accent at all (not a true statement, but since I have also been mistaken for a German in Switzerland I guess they can't hear my American accent over my German one). Later in the day, I used my pass to gain entry to this little train that takes you through Valduz with recorded narration. There are three cars and each one is a different language. I heard a group of German speakers ask about getting on and being sent to the last car. Then a family got in the middle car and were asked if they spoke English. They did and were then informed that they were in the correct car (actually only the parents spoke English, but none of them spoke German). The back car was really full. The middle car had only this one family and I assume the front car was for French. Since English is my native language and it was less full I got in the middle car (although even knowing I was an American the woman at the national museum thought I should use the German audio guide because my German was so good). As I was sitting on the little train waiting for it to depart, I heard the man I had checked in with talking to the driver. Apparently they were trying to make sure everyone was in the correct car because I heard him tell the driver that I was German speaking. I told them (in German) that English is my native language - again they were surprised.
As I write this I'm actually in Germany visiting a really good friend. When I told her and her son about this they were especially confused by the no accent comment, because of course I have a (presumably rather strong) accent. We decided this must somehow be the result of the people here (and in Switzerland where I had a similar encounter) speaking a dialect whereas I speak high German.
I had a great day in Valduz, but I had wanted to see some of the other towns. Unfortunately, it didn't seem like that was all that possible so I made plans to depart at 17:59. At about 17:55 I arrived at the correct bus stop. At 17:58 a bus that was labeled 12E Sargans (the route I was looking for and the destination I needed) arrived and I got on. On the bus was a display that listed the upcoming stops and showed the final destination. It showed the Sargans train station as the last stop. A moment later I heard the driver tell someone there was some time. That struck me as odd because according to Google maps we should have been leaving right away. We sat for a while and then the woman across the aisle got up and spoke to the driver (who at this point was outside). She came back and told her son we'd leave soon. More time passed. I was growing concerned I was going to miss the train in Sargans. I asked the woman if she knew when the bus was leaving. She told me the driver had said 17:12. We both thought this was strange because it didn't match the schedule, but we went with it anyway. Sure enough we departed at 17:12. At first I really wasn't paying attention, I may have been playing Pokemon Go (I don't remember). Then I noticed that the view was far more excellent than I remembered. However, I was sitting on the same side as my trip in in order to see the view from the opposite side so I thought, "hmm..., I must have missed this on the way in. Shortly thereafter I realized we were really going up the hills and I was sure we had stayed on relatively flat ground on our way to Valduz. At this point I looked at the display screen. It no longer said 12E Sargans. Now it said 21 Malbun. Somehow the bus had changed routes! The mother and son clearly had also been surprised by this and a few minutes later they got off. The views were stunning and my first thought was to ride all the way to Malbun, but a check on Google maps convinced be that that wasn't a good idea. I already knew the last train left Sargans around 10 pm and the buses were running less and less frequently as the evening progressed. So I got off at the next stop. There was a gorgeous view, a bathroom, a picnic table, a fountain and a hundred yards away (or so) an random bench looking out at the view. There wasn't much else (there was also one random house). I had a twenty minute wait until the bus going the opposite direction came, so I filled my water bottle, took pictures and waited. I followed my directions on Google maps and got off at the stop listed to change buses, but unfortunately didn't realize I would have a 30 minute wait there (I saw that right after I got off). I was  waiting for bus 11 to Sargans. The first to bus 11s simply didn't go all the way to Sargans. Finally at 19:43 came the bus and I continued on my way. My mistake caused my journey to be nearly two hours longer, but actually I rather enjoyed it.

Unfortunately using my phone I can't move the photos around nor add captions. I'll fix this up when I can.

Lichtenstein had never had its own money - this money dates back to the 1300s. 

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