Saturday, September 29, 2012

Five Sentences That Make Me Cringe


In order of “cringe factor,” from least to greatest:

5. “I liked them until they became mainstream.”

4. “That painting looks just like a photograph!”

3. “Oh, that was your ice cream in the freezer? …Oops.”

2. “I think that [insert controversial issue here] is wrong… but I guess I’m just old-fashioned.”

1. “Paul Simon was wrong— no man is an island.”

What makes you cringe?

~~~
Heavens, why?!

Friday, September 28, 2012

What's So Special About Bellingham, Washington?


One of the most common questions that I ask other travelers is, “Where’s your favorite place you’ve been?” After an overwhelmed sigh, the traveler will usually talk about the location that has grown deep roots into their memory. Some people have asked me this question. And although I could never pick just one, I will have to say my favorite place is Bellingham, Washington.

I’ve visited twice, once with a group in 2008, and again by myself in 2009. Both times, I fell in love with the town and surrounding area. When locals in Bellingham heard I was away from home for a month, our conversation would go something like this:
LOCAL: Great! Where are you going?

ME: Here.

LOCAL: Here?

ME: Yeah, I’m here for a month.

LOCAL: Do you have family here?

ME: Nope.

LOCAL: Do you know anyone around here?

ME: Well, no.

LOCAL: You traveled halfway across the country to spend a month in Bellingham?

ME: Yup.

LOCAL: Uhm… why?!

That’s a good question. The myriad answers can be summed up in a single sentence: “I think Bellingham is cool.” For those who want more detail, though, here are the top 10 reasons.

1. There are hiking trails everywhere. I have never seen a city with so many greenways— you could walk or bike pretty much anywhere in that town and pretend you were walking through the middle of a forest.


2. There’s a giant bay. I mean, seriously. This is impressive to a Midwestern person, but pretty much anyone has to admit that bodies of ocean water make everything better.


3. There is a beautiful mountain on the skyline. Mount Baker never ceased to make me stare in wonder, though it was often cloaked in clouds.


4. There are purple starfish! Walk to the shoreline of Boulevard Park at low tide and you’ll be able to see dozens upon dozens of these incredible-colored echinoderms. 


5. Bellingham has all the cool “Northwest” stuff. This includes but is not limited to fantastic weather, a great public transportation system, and a bustling farmers market.


6. It has fun art on the sides of buildings. These murals are everywhere, and you’ll also find a lot of interesting urban art.


7. It has one of the greatest churches I’ve ever visited. Speaking of cool wall art, here’s the one outside of the First Baptist Church of Bellingham. It was small, truly intergenerational, and full of ridiculously friendly people. I miss them all.


8. It has well-populated parks. I visited during the school year, granted, but every single day I visited any of the parks, they were packed out with people reading, playing sports, and generally socializing. With all that fresh air, it’s no wonder that I never saw any overweight people when I was there!


9. It is within day-trip distance of the San Juan Islands and Seattle, two more of my favorite places. A one-day drive gets you to this place (Orcas Island). Amazing? I think so.


10. And finally, it has Mallard Ice Cream. This ice cream place in downtown is happiness on a cone, featuring such flavors as grape (it’s surprisingly delicious), maple walnut, and hot pepper. 


Despite the locals’ confusion about my choice of a trip, Bellingham will always be one of my favorite places I’ve ever been. Three years have passed since I last set foot on its happy ground, and I miss it more than ever. Next time I’m in the Northwest, I swear, next time…

~~~

Wednesday, September 26, 2012

10 Photos of Cute European Cats


Although I like dogs, I will always be more of a cat person. I love their sleek beauty, their sophisticated personas, and their squishy tummies. Of course I kept an eye out for cute cats on my Europe trip, and I saw them in abundance. Here are some of my favorites.
This kitty in the Netherlands, Tickles, was fascinated with Kaya.
This picture does not show how huge Macho was… he was the cutest bobcat I've ever seen! (Netherlands)

Macho's friend, Donja. 
This kitten was in perpetual motion, so this was the only picture I managed to snap.

What could be cuter than a sleeping cat? (Germany)

An alley cat in Amsterdam.

This French kitty, Chica, knew how to conk out. 

At the farm in France, I returned to my room to find this…

…And an hour later, this…

…And an hour after that, this! Then I had to kick them out because they had fleas. Alas!

Tuesday, September 25, 2012

Travel Tip Tuesdays: Dealing with Post-Trip Depression


Do you ever get depressed after coming home from a trip? How do you deal with it?

Even though I’m always glad to be reunited with my family after a trip (especially after coming home from Europe), I often find a melancholy slipping in on me as I return to my daily routine. Post-trip depression is common even from smaller vacations or even weekend getaways. Here’s my best advice for dealing with it.

Even at home, you can still make food and take pictures
of yourself looking "profound" next to it. My friend
Cakesniffer and I are proof of this.
Give yourself a proportional amount of time to readjust. For a weekend trip, take the final evening off. For a six-week excursion, give yourself at least two or three days. Been traveling round the world? Forget doing anything normal for two weeks after getting home. Get back into the rhythm of being at home before trying to return to a job or your normal action-packed routine.

Focus on doing things that you can’t do when you’re traveling. When I came home from Europe, I made a big batch of yogurt, attended church again, and played piano (but not at the same time). Some things may not be as exciting as singing “The Sound of Music” while hiking in the Alps, but try to focus on what you enjoy about home.

Accept that people have changed. If you don’t see your friends and family for a while, they change, often an alarming amount. This is one of the hardest things to get used to when I return home: the subtle changes I notice in the people I’m close to. The sooner you realize that people change— and that’s okay— the sooner you’ll adjust to being home.

Accept that most people don’t actually want to hear about your trip. Sure, many people will ask, “How was your trip?” Come up with a one-word reply, such as, “Beautiful,” “Inspiring,” or “Life-changing.” Most people will then say, “Great!” and move on with their lives. Very few people actually want to know. It’s ridiculous to travel for reasons of pride: it’s so much better to accept that the trip shaped you and was wonderful for you. If nobody ever hears about it, that doesn’t make the trip any less important or special. An expectation of fanfare crashes hard. If you want a big hullabaloo about your return, you have to make it yourself. I find it better to subject only certain members of my family to my photo album, and leave the rest of the people to my one-word reply. If they want to know, they can ask more questions— or just read my blog!

Be flexible. My travels have taught me that you have to constantly adjust to your environment. That includes being home. You still have to seize the day, enjoy the moment, and look for opportunities to learn and experience new things. The little joys and opportunities are all around us, no matter where we are. Sometimes, you just have to create your own adventure.

~~~

Monday, September 24, 2012

The Sense of Smell


Random tip of the day: Every time you travel, bring a small bottle of lotion (or the male equivalent) with a specific scent. Try taking along a different scent every trip. Whenever you catch a whiff of that smell, you’re immediately transfered back to the place that you last put it on. For instance, the orange-ginger Bath and Body Works scent takes me back to the fragrances of San Francisco in February, where I learned to see the beauty of the world again after a tragedy.

Scent is powerful, even when your olfactory senses aren’t that strong (as is the case with me).  This isn’t limited to lotion. The smell of patchouli still makes me think of the music studio I visited with my family when I was 12, and the house in Portland where we stayed on tour last summer. Whiffs of marijuana smoke evoke memories of organic farms in Washington, and the streets of downtown Portland and Amsterdam. If I ever catch a hint of goat odor in the air, I’m transported to the warm stables of Jean le Moine.

Whenever you travel, take the time to smell a specific scent, deeply and intentionally. You’ll be amazed at how powerful the nose’s memory is.

~~~

Saturday, September 22, 2012

Happy Birthday, Bilbo Baggins


Roads go ever ever on,
Over rock and under tree,
By caves where never sun has shone,
By streams that never find the sea;
Over snow by winter sown,
And through the merry flowers of June,
Over grass and over stone,
And under mountains in the moon.
Roads go ever ever on
Under cloud and under star,
Yet feet that wandering have gone
Turn at last to home afar.
Eyes that fire and sword have seen
And horror in the halls of stone
Look at last on meadows green
And trees and hills they long have known.

~~~

Bilbo Baggins was the first long-term traveler I ever met. He was introduced to me when I was so young that I grew up with the familiarity you feel to someone who has been friends with your parents long before you were born. About once a year, Dad read us four kids The Hobbit, and he finally recorded the entire book on six cassette tapes, which we listened to in the van on our yearly vacation to visit my grandparents in North Carolina. It was one of my favorite parts of the trip. Listening to the hobbit’s adventures from the Shire to the Lonely Mountain and back always stirred something in me— a longing, a sense of adventure. Listening to Dad read Lord of the Rings every year did nothing to ease that wanderlust that rolled around every autumn.

A few days ago, I was staring out the window at a gray sky and seeing the hints of yellow in the leaves and feeling a rush of cool breeze through the screen, and I wanted to visit Oregon so badly that I felt like I would die. That sudden stirring of emotions, the sudden intense desire to travel, visits me each year as surely as the autumn leaves. It’s a trait I inherited from Bilbo. It has given me the courage to wander from my home in search of nothing but adventure, and it has emboldened me to come home and encourage others to let the Road sweep them away.

Happy Birthday, Bilbo Baggins. You’ll always be an inspiration to me.

~~~

Friday, September 21, 2012

Where to Go: The Van Gogh Museum, Amsterdam

Landscape at Twilight, 1890

After I stumbled out of the Rijksmuseum, dizzied and saturated by Dutch art, I wandered down the streets in search of a park where I could eat a Clif bar and recover from the amazingness. I almost made it past the Van Gogh Museum. Almost. Then I saw a building to my left with floor-to-ceiling windows emblazoned with copies of Sunflowers and Wheatfield with Crows, and I stumbled to a halt in front of the Van Gogh Museum. I didn’t mean to go here. I stubbornly walked past it and sat in the park and ate a Clif bar. But it wasn’t long before my feet strayed back to the same place, and I found myself pulling euro-bills out of my pocket and heading for the entrance. I just can’t stay away from Van Gogh.

Why you should go: As the name suggests, this is not a museum where you go to get a sweeping view of many different styles. The displays are mostly Van Gogh (surprise surprise), but there are also some features of artists who influenced him. Van Gogh’s paintings are much better in real life than they are in books. If you appreciate his work and want to see some of his most famous pieces, this is the place for you. 

The Potato Eaters, 1885
How to get there: The Van Gogh Museum is close to the Rijksmuseum and easily accessible by pretty much anywhere in the city. (Googlemaps will help you get around town.)

What to bring: The museum costs 14,00 euros. Cameras aren’t allowed, so be prepared to either write down the names of the paintings you like (as I did), or else bring money to buy postcards of the paintings you particularly want to remember.

What to do: Before you head to the displays, take the escalator downstairs and watch the 20-minute documentary about Van Gogh’s life. It’s spoken in Dutch but has English subtitles. Then go on to the displays, which chronicle Van Gogh’s work in his short life as a painter.

What else you need to know: Not all of the paintings have commentary, so it might be worth it to spend an extra five euros to get the audio tour (available in English). There is only one floor of Van Gogh displays, so I actually went through them twice: once up close, observing his technique, and once about six feet away from each painting, appreciating the way they change from a mass of thick paint to a breathtaking view of pear trees at sunset. You might find a new favorite.

The verdict? I’m glad that I visited. If I had it to do again, I would take a longer break in between the two museums in order to recharge my brain. Featuring some of the most innovative and famous paintings in the world, the Van Gogh Museum is definitely worth the price.

The Bedroom, 1888



~~~

Thursday, September 20, 2012

Where to Go: The Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam

This painting is huge. I had no idea how big it was.
Jan Vermeer created fewer than forty paintings
in his lifetime. This is one of them.

I spent my final day in Europe fawning over Amsterdam’s museums. Tomorrow I’ll tell you about the Van Gogh museum, but first, you need to know about the Rijksmuseum (rhymes with “bikes museum”). The museum is under construction right now, so they consolidated their most famous pieces into a single wing. This wing alone is worth every last euro-cent of the admission price. The short story? If you’re ever within a hundred kilometers of this place, go.

Why you should go: It’s a history, culture, and art museum rolled into one. It features famous paintings such as Nightwatch and showcases some of the best artists in the history of the world. 

How to get there: The Rijksmuseum is close to the city center of Amsterdam; I just walked there from my hostel. The city also has a good public transportation system, easily accessible via Googlemaps.

What to bring: The museum costs 14,00 euros. If you want to take time to appreciate each painting, wear insoles— you’ll need them! Cameras are permitted, so if you want to take blurry photos, bring one and turn off the flash beforehand.

That's Nightwatch behind me!
Really it is!
What to do: The wing is set up in chronological order, with different rooms dedicated to different aspects. There is a whole room devoted to china, another to dollhouses, another to Rembrandt and his pupils. Plaques on the walls (written in English as well as Dutch) explain the time period of each room’s pieces, so there is a lot to absorb and learn even if you know nothing about art.

What else you need to know: If you visit while the museum is still under construction (until 2013), you’ll have time to look at every single painting. (If you visit after the whole museum reopens, then definitely do some research beforehand to figure out what you most want to see.) Almost every painting is accompanied by a plaque in English to help you understand the historical/cultural background, interpret the symbolism, and appreciate the technique. This is a must-see for anyone who enjoys art. Spend a few hours— you’ll be glad you did.


Outside the Rijksmuseum. I'm actually glad I didn't have to be overwhelmed with the whole museum.


~~~

Tuesday, September 18, 2012

Travel Tip Tuesdays: How Is It Possible?

Grand Canyon, Arizona, spring 2011

Have you written a blog about how you all your traveling was possible? How others could do the same? 

A Facebook friend posed this question last week, and I’ve been thinking about it ever since. It’s a question that I can’t answer with, “Take these three steps and you’re good to go.” A lot of it is luck (or providence, depending on what you believe) and situation.

Still, I can share what I’ve done to be able to travel. You can’t follow the pattern exactly, but it might give you a starting point. Perhaps my path will inspire you to find your own. Here’s my method.

I began traveling when I was in a stable financial situation. I had just come out of a year where I was working several jobs. Although I hadn’t made a lot of income, I hadn’t had many expenses (see point #4), so I had about a thousand dollars in my checking account. Also— and apparently this is rare— having not been to college, I had no student debt, or debt of any kind. My only monthly bills were rent, cell phone, and insurance alternative.

I got an online job. This is the number one secret to my long-term travel: I got an online tutoring job when I was 19. When all you need is a laptop and wi-fi, the world is yours. If you can just make a little money online, it will help you sustain your travels. My job has paid for all of my trips.

Seattle, Washington, autumn 2010
I lived with my parents when I wasn’t traveling. Although this is common in my generation, that alone is not something to be proud of. I was determined not to be a total mooch: I paid them a share of rent every month and bought a chunk of the groceries. This situation allowed me to avoid the stress of a lease. When I wanted to leave for a couple months, I wrote them a check, grabbed my backpack, and left.

I ruthlessly eliminated expenses. I’ve never owned a car, and recently I gave up having a phone as well. I buy secondhand clothes, rarely eat out, and supplement my groceries with food that other people are going to throw away. It’s worth it to me, and if you want to travel, it will be worth it to you, too.

I worked a second job in my at-home time. That extra paycheck helped fund my trips, getting me “caught up” from my last one before I left on my next one. Never ever go into debt for a trip. If you don’t have any more money, stop traveling until you do.

I traveled extremely cheaply. If you want to do long-term travel the way most people travel, then you need to be independently wealthy. Even the really low budget of $60 a day will drain you dry in no time. If you’re taking a long trip, get used to the idea of working for your bed, pulling all-nighters, and eating a lot of trail mix. The big expense is the plane ticket— after that, I spent a laughably small amount of money on my travels. Help Exchange, World Wide Opportunities on Organic Farms, and Couchsurfing have made it possible for me to take longer trips.

I was blessed with meeting incredibly generous people. This isn’t something you can plan. For me, it’s just happened. Everywhere I’ve gone, without exception, I have met and been blessed by generous people. From random relatives to former coworkers to future-grandmother-in-law’s-neighbors’-friends, people are incredibly generous. I’ve learned to embrace that generosity and hope to pay it forward someday.

In short, to do long term travel, you need good health, a bit of money, a light backpack, a dose of common sense, a dash of creativity, a strong work ethic, an adventurous heart, a cheerful attitude, a little courage, and a lot of faith. With these on your side, it is possible— and amazing beyond all description.

~~~
Have a travel question? Leave a comment and I'll answer!

Near Poppenricht, Germany, summer 2012


Monday, September 17, 2012

10 Photos of Cute Animals I Saw in Europe


I spent the majority of my time overseas in rural Europe, so I saw a lot of animals. From the red deer fawn grazing by the train tracks, to the bunnies the size of groundhogs nibbling clover near the cornfields, animals abound. I didn’t get many photos of the wild ones, but here are some that I encountered personally.

This dog snarled and barked at me nonstop until I sat down. Then I guess I was okay. (Eerbeek, Netherlands)

It's a baby horse! (Countryside near Tasdorf, Germany)

For some reason, I found these Austrian cows to be unreasonably cute. I just want to hug them. (Near Salzburg, Austria)

Some of the many bunnies at this house. (Tasdorf, Germany)

This duck always looked bedraggled and unhappy, which was kind of adorable. (Jean le Moine, France)
Kaya loves her tennis ball! (Eerbeek, Netherlands)

I posted this picture before, but… good grief, look at this cute goat! (Jean le Moine, France)

Doggie in its bed. (Near Eerbeek, Netherlands.)

This excellent pony pulled our cart! (Near Eerbeek, Netherlands)

One more time, folks… BABY PEACOCKS!


Saturday, September 15, 2012

Facebook Statuses from the Past Few Days


Facebook statuses are curious things. When I travel, I mostly use them to let people know I’m still alive, and to encourage them to read my blogs. When I get home, I just feel a little ego-centric posting one every day. After, “Just speed-walked past the Louvre, Eiffel Tower, and Notre Dame,” the words, “I made hash browns today” just loses some of its impact.

Nevertheless, the past few slightly-jet-lagged days have inspired me to compose Facebook statuses in my head. So instead of posting them on Facebook, I’ll post them on my blog and then post the blog on Facebook. How’s that for a twist?

Thursday, September 13th
Today I’m grateful for the wonderful men in my life— especially Dad, Christian (my brother), and, of course, my own Zachary. Thank you all for being part of my life in a huge way.

Friday, September 14th
Zach and I were working on wedding invitations this evening. As we agonized over how to properly address the envelopes, Christian observed that we looked like a sitcom couple and that he would find us up at midnight with only two envelopes done.

Saturday, September 15th
Okay, time for the jet-lagged feeling to go away. Seriously…

~~~

Thursday, September 13, 2012

Europe, in Conclusion: Thank You, John Lennon



Two nights into my trip, I laid on a hostel bed in Hamburg, Germany, and sobbed into my pillow until I realized that I was having an allergic reaction to the fabric. It had been a stressful day of train delays, miscommunication, jet-lag-induced disorientation, and finally a flu that left me cowering in the hostel bathroom wanting to die. It was the first, but certainly not the last, time that I asked myself (mentally screaming to the heavens with arms outstretched), “What on earth am I doing here?” 

The rest of the world loses its luster when the man you’re going to marry in two months is four thousand miles away. I couldn’t have the sorrowful satisfaction of blaming him; of course it was my fault for deciding to take the trip, my decision to continue with my plans, my yearning for one last solo trip that brought me here. No one to blame but me.

The next day, I hopped a train from Hamburg to Neumunster, where Uncle Steve was going to pick me up. I forced myself to eat a Clif bar, then plugged in my headphones and leaned my head against the window and stared out in a daze at the old buildings rolling by. Why am I here? I kept asking myself. Why on earth did I come here?

I was listening to Love, a Beatles remix album created for the Cirque de Soleil show. This lulled me into a place of dull consciousness, where everything looked close and far away, and my insides felt empty and my head felt detached from my body. (Jet lag is awful.) The last song on the album is All You Need Is Love. Of course, I’ve heard the song a hundred times. But this time, a single line hit me, a gong-note of pure clarity when all the rest of the world was a blur.

There’s nowhere you can be that isn’t where you’re meant to be.

This line echoed in the back of my thoughts for the entire rest of the trip. I don’t know where John Lennon’s head was when he wrote the song, and I doubt that he believed in the concept of providence. But the words struck right to the middle of the thorn that pierces my heart. It was useless to think what I should be doing or rather be doing or might have been doing. I was here, now, in Europe, jet-lagged and homesick and lonely and scared, and that meant that this moment, this place in time, was where I was meant to be. God’s plan always works out, and I am part of that plan.

Thanks to John Lennon, God showed me that everything was going to be okay.

It wasn’t the last time that I felt homesick or stressed out or ill. But every time I get worried or miss Zachary or wish I was going home sooner, I stopped to think of the words. I learned to accept what was happening and enjoy it for what it was. Getting sick in Salzburg was the last time that I felt like I wanted to be home instead of Europe. After that, I floated along in the moment. I embraced the homesickness but enjoyed what I was experiencing at that time. I didn’t wish to be anywhere than where I was right now, because it was useless to do so. And the last three weeks were incredible in so many ways.

By the end of my trip, I looked back on everything— even the first couple of horrible jet-lagged days— with a warm glow. The trip had been stressful, a little traumatizing at points, but ultimately satisfying. I spent six weeks in Europe, navigating trains, figuring out logistics, avoiding pickpockets, speaking broken German and Dutch and French, meeting people, connecting with people, gaining new perspective on culture, beholding the beauty in nature and in architecture, and all this by myself (with a lot of help from my new friends).

Then I returned home, content with the time I had been away, and content with the time I now have at home. The new chapter of my life is opening, and I couldn’t be more excited.

Time to spend the rest of my life with this man. I think my smile says it all.
~~~

Wednesday, September 12, 2012

Europe: Home


This blog is short because today is my day off, and I have so much emotion to put into words that it will be exhausting to do so. The short story is that I’m home, and, as it was with the first solo trip I ever took, I don’t feel like I’ve been away. I notice subtle differences, thus far mostly in the way my food tastes (I haven’t adjusted back to the taste of corn syrup) and my desire to eat warm soups and autumn food even though it’s in the 80’s outside. I never know how a trip will affect me in the long run: I just have to wait and find out.

In the meantime, I am going to enjoy my guilt-free day of goofing off. More tomorrow.

~~~

Monday, September 10, 2012

Europe: Thoughts from a 4am Hostel

Orcas Island, Washington, 2009

Outside Neuenrade, Germany, 2012

I spent my last day in Europe speed-walking around Amsterdam (as I am apt to do), with long breaks for the Rijksmuseum and the Van Gogh Museum. Both were more than worth the admission price, although seeing both in one day was mentally exhausting. You’ll get an extensive blog about those later.

My hostel for the night was Shelter City, the same hostel I stayed at on my first day in Europe. This stay was much more pleasant because, 1) I am not jet-lagged, 2) the hostel is not completely packed out, and 3) I got a better room for cheaper. I met some of the staff here (one gave me free orange juice!) and attended a Bible discussion that the hostel holds. It was good to just relax after my day hoofing it around Amsterdam. 

As I write this, it’s 4:51am. I have been awake for nearly three hours now. Last night when I was drifting off to sleep, I was determined that I wouldn’t miss my alarm. My body took my mind seriously, and woke me up at 2. I wasn’t able to get back to sleep. So here I am, sitting in a deserted hallway of the hostel, preparing for a day full of 16 hours of travel. 

Last night as I laid in bed, I began thinking of Shelter City’s “theme Bible verse.” It’s printed on their t-shirts. “He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.” (Psalm 91:1) I began reciting this psalm to myself, and I remembered something.

When I took my first solo trip, to Bellingham, Washington, I spent a bit of time each night memorizing this psalm. It comforted me when I was alone in my hotel room (I hadn’t yet stayed in a hostel, and had never heard of couchsurfing or HelpExchange). That first trip drew me closer to God because every day was a Northwestern burst of pure joy, and I shared every glorious moment with him. On this trip, my travels have often been tinged with melancholy, and I have never been this stressed about train connections and trip plans before. But in both joy or stress, God is God, and he is always there for me.

As I recited the words to myself last night, I thought about how beautiful it was that the psalm should come to mind. The first night of my first solo trip, I fell asleep reciting it. The last night of my last solo trip, I did the same.

He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High
will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.
I will say of the Lord, “He is my refuge and my fortress,
my God, in whom I trust.”

Surely he will save you from the fowler’s snare
and from the deadly pestilence.
He will cover you with his feathers,
and under his wings you will find refuge;
his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.
You will not fear the terror of night, 
nor the arrow that flies by day,
nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness,
nor the plague that destroys at midday.
A thousand may fall at your side,
ten thousand at your right hand,
but it will not come near you.
You will only observe with your eyes 
and see the punishment of the wicked.

If you make the Most High your dwelling— even the Lord, who is my refuge— 
then no harm will befall you, 
no disaster will come near your tent.
For he will command his angels concerning you, to guard you in all your ways;
they will lift you up in their hands, so that you will not strike your foot against the stone.
You will tread upon the lion and the cobra,
you will trample the great lion and the serpent.

“Because he loves me,” sayd the Lord, “I will rescue him;
I will protect him, for he acknowledges my name.
He will call upon me, and I will answer him;
I will be with him in trouble,
I will deliver him and honor him.
With long life will I satisfy him and show him my salvation.”

Farewell, Europe. Farewell, solo travel. And thank you, God, for opening the door to my new life.

~~~