Our Escapade on the Alps

THE ALPS - Stretching across eight countries, the Alps are one of the world’s great mountain ranges.  Last weekend, Juston and I took a road trip to southern Germany with a friend of ours and we had the pleasure of spending an entire day on one of the many beautiful and serene snow-capped mountainsides.

Arriving into Söll late in the evening, we stopped off for dinner at literally the only place open in the small village town. After a seven-hour drive (none of which I was able to contribute to because of the lack of a drivers license), we sank into the restaurant booths and toasted our beers to great weekend ahead. Hazem, a native of Jordan and fellow co-worker at Cameron, would be skiing for the first time in his life this weekend. J and I were quite thrilled at the prospect of introducing him to one of our many winter pastimes.

The next morning, we were the first ones in line at the ski rental shop to acquire our gear. The anticipation of skiing down the great mountains of the Alps was growing. I could see my heartbeat moving the shirt on my chest. Once again, another experience we may only have the opportunity of doing once in our lifetime. This was going to be sick! At 9:30 AM, after being outfitted with the finest ski and snowboarding gear, our rears were planted in the seat of a gondola and headed upwards toward the peak of a mountain. We could tell Hazem was anxious to get this journey underway. We were experiencing some last minute jitters ourselves. So, before reaching our stop, we shared some last minute encouragement and assured him we would be alongside to assist.

Once exiting the gondola, the thick mountain fog immediately engulfed us. Seeing your own hand in front of your face was challenging, not to mention the slopes of the mountain under your skis or the trees that lined the trails. Not being familiar with this mountain or any of the trails, I felt like skiing down them would be a death wish. You would be disappearing into the air and skiing aimlessly into what could possible be a tree, a fellow skier, or off the side of the mountain completely. I’m adventurous and will almost try anything once, but I preferred to live to tell the story about our trip to the Alps. Ergo, a team huddle was requested. It seems, the only way to get to a ski path that would be appropriate for Hazem’s ski-level was to ‘briefly’ ski down a Black (Advanced) trail until we reached the beginner trails. Okay, sounds easy enough. We got this.

Forty-five minutes later, we are right back to the spot where the gondola initially dumped us off. It seems the trail we cleverly decided to start on (en route to the beginner trail) was far more ambitious than we thought. Because of the considerable amount of fog and the many 90-degree angled slopes, we decided it would be safer for all those involved to walk to the next trail. That was until we realized, from the help of another patron, that the short walk would actually take over an hour to complete.  He advised we go back to where we started. With beads of sweat dripping from our faces and labored breathing, we looked back up at the steep slope we had just descending from. With heavy boots and gear thrown over our shoulders, we slowly scaled our way back to the top. A daring passerby chuckled at our attempt on his way down, before disappearing into the fog.  ‘Hey dude, I’d actually like to see the mountain I’m skiing down and live to tell about it’ I thought again.

Plan numero dos was quickly devised. We hopped a gondola back down the mountain to the trail we would stay on for the majority of the day. It was a nice trial filled with many Alps, which actually refer to the high mountain pastures below glaciers where cows graze, not peaks of a mountain. This is where Hazem began his first real ski attempt, or attempts rather. Like a newborn baby fawn, he struggled to keep his legs beneath him. J thought it to be of particular importance to instruct him first on how to ‘Stop’ before getting into how you actually accelerate and produce movement. As amateur ski-instructors we advised Hazem to use the ‘Pizza’ technique, pointing both skis in front of you to resemble a slice of pizza. Once this was comprehended, we moved on to feet/pole/body position. He seemed to understand. Putting it into practice was the next move.

The trail was quite a long one, winding between lush trees and offering scenic views of the mountainside throughout. Hazem was quite the champ on his first official ski run, despite the many wipeouts he endured. Although he understood the process of halting to a stop, he never actually mastered the technique the entire day. Which, as you can imagine, made for a very entertaining ski trip. Hours later, as we were all approaching the final leg of this particular trail, Hazem sped past us with beaming confidence. “Look at him go,” I say as he flies past us like a pro. “Let’s go after him,” Juston promptly replied. As we rounded the final turn, Hazem was nowhere to be seen. It wasn’t until we came down the final and steepest slope of the trail that he came into view. At the very bottom of the mountain was Hazem, positioned like a lifeless body you would see at a crime scene. Halfway down the mountain Juston and I started to take note of his discarded equipment. First was a ski pole, then its mate another few meters down, then one ski, then the other, until all those little crumbs led up to Hazem, moaning and groaning in the snow at the foot of the mountain. In what sounds like a Jamaican accent he whispered, “I couldn’t stop, man.”  

Uncontrollable laughter took over my and Juston’s entire body. Hazem even laughed himself. For the entirety of the day, up and down the trails, every wipeout of Hazem’s brought us tears - the type you get from laughing incessantly.  More so than actually seeing Hazem fling his entire body over hills and into the snow to stop himself, it was the commentary that followed the falls that was priceless. Of course, we are not evil or mean-spirited human beings. We made sure no serious injuries were sustained before our giggle-boxes were turned on high. After beating the ground with his ski poles and repositioning himself on the pesky skis, Hazem would even join in on the laughter. Like I said, he was a real champ.

Late into the day, however, he was a bruised soldier. He was no longer interested in skiing, or falling. This is when ‘Team No Man Left Behind’ was introduced. As a mode of transportation to get us off the mountain we had currently been on for 9 hours already, Juston strapped on Hazem’s skis and pushed Hazem down the mountain as he rode on Juston’s snowboard. Other than the ski plows we had to continuously dodge, we were the last souls on the mountain. This was epic footage I just had to record. And so, I did. I was laughing so hard my cheeks started to ache. But as funny as it all was, we were ready to get down off the mountain and get back into our warm clothes and shoes. A beer was needed, stat.

We started to shed our gear once at the bottom and plan out which bar we were stopping at on the ride home, when we looked up to realize it was a ghost town at the ski resort. Our car was the only one still parked in the lot. The ski rental place was dark and locked. Not only did we have something of theirs, they had possessions of ours. Our shoes. The only shoes Hazem and I packed for the trip. Oopsie. How well do the German bars take to the ‘no shoes, no shirt, no problem’ adage, I wondered. At this point, we were pretty much giddy from exhaustion, hunger, and from our sheer bad luck. Thank goodness we had the car keys and our wallets! We opted to grab take out pizza, brews from the store, and convene back at our hotel.

Shoeless and in warm socks, we sat around our small hotel table and devoured the food in front us. We paused from cramming our mouths full of food only to recall events from the day, or to ask Hazem questions about the German singing show on the TV in front of us. It was a well-deserved hotel celebration.

The next morning, we continued to celebrate by going to return our ski rentals and to retrieve our precious footwear we had gone the night without. “Ah, the Texas speed racers,” the owner of the ski shop said upon us entering the store. “I sent out some guys last night on snowmobiles and told them to look for the three people trying to live in the mountains,” he teased.  “I’m glad you all made it down.” We laughed, handed over our skis, slipped our feet into our shoes, and waved goodbye. We would not be skiing on the mountain today and/or testing our luck or fate. No, our one long date with the beautiful yet demanding Alps Mountain was enough. We were thankful to be back on the ground, in shoes, and were ready to recount all the stories from the day before on the way home. This was definitely a ski trip for books.

(This post only reflects an abridged version of our trip. There were far more hilarious and you-had-to-be-there-moments that took place. I'm sure the videos will surface at some point ;) )

A Day in the Life of Two Celle Residents

CELLE, Germany - You heard/read right, folks! Juston and I are now both official residents of the small and charming town of Celle, Germany. What is that like you may wonder? What does the agenda of an official resident look like?  For inquiring minds and just plain ole’ fun, this blog post is hereby dedicated to just that…. “A day in the life of two Celle residents”

Saturdays - Sundays

Most weekends, as you may know, are dedicated to our voyages around Europe to desired countries. Arrival back into Celle is usually late on Sunday nights, with most times being in the wee morning hours of Monday. So, with exhausted bodies and aching feet, we both head straight to bed and melt into the mattress once finally home. Because of our late returns and lack of WIFI signal throughout our weekend trips, it has made it quite challenging to keep in touch with family and friends, seeing as how it’s most convenient to catch up on the weekends because of work schedules and the time difference. For this, we sincerely apologize. I hope all of you know how much we love and dearly miss you. In fact, this blog and the pictures we continually upload from our trips are much more intended for your viewing than ours. Sure, it’s a great way for us to chronicle our journeys to be able read back on in the future, but really it’s to share those journeys and moments with you all. We want everyone to experience our experiences (even if it’s only through a computer screen), and know we are taking a piece of them wherever we go. Basically, we have MUCH LOVE FOR YA!

Mornings

Mornings come too early, as they do back in the states. Most days, we usually roll out of bed around 6:30 AM and slowly prepare to make our way to the gym. It’s cold and we’re grumpy, but we still suit up knowing that we’ll feel better afterwards. Planet Fitness, our chosen gym in Celle, opens at 7 AM every morning with J and I usually being there right on the dot and waiting for the employees to open up shop. On more days than not, we usually have the iron all to ourselves. We check in, get the keys to our locker, greet the roaming naked Germans in the locker room (no one is shy about anything here), and get on our way. We work out for about an hour, occasionally stopping when an onlooker with furrowed brows requests to know what a deadlift or weighted walking lunge is, and then we pass by all the other gym-goers sitting in the gym lounge area on our way out.  I have never seen a gym before that has couches, bar stools, and serves drinks to their clients other than protein shakes. This is no grind time sort of place. Like many other things in Europe, going to the gym is a social event, and you should prepare yourself to stay for a while.

Zee Iron

The Gym Bar

(Photo source: www.fitness-planet.de)

Magazines - in case you prefer to lounge

(Photo source: www.fitness-planet.de)

Once home, breakfast is consumed. With the luxury of our own kitchen I am able to whip up our usual Americano breakfast complete with eggs, bacon, oats, veggies, fruits, and COFFEE no doubt. While it is common for most Europeans to eat a light breakfast with perhaps just chesses, deli meats and bread, this is just a practice we cannot quite adhere to…on weekdays anyhow.  J is usually off to work by 8:30 and my routine usually involves picking up the kitchen, starting a load of laundry, pouring a cup of coffee, and then settling into my self-made home office nook in the living room. (Side note - My boss, God bless her, is an angel that has afforded me such an amazing opportunity to work from home while traveling abroad. I am BEYOND grateful to have this opportunity throughout this transition in our lives, and I send many thanks to her and the big man upstairs for such a blessing)

Little Sunshine w/ Homemade Breakfast Spread

The Kitch

Office Nook

After tending to work emails, I scribble down notes for future blog posts, attempt to complete our homework for German class, and read up on places we wish to travel to. Time passes so quickly here. I am always able to fill up my days.

Afternoons

On Thursdays our “house mama” (owner of our abode) comes over to clean and change the linens. I usually take this time to walk into town to pick up groceries, or stop at a local café to imbibe in a café latté and catch up on my reading. Although an obvious language barrier exist between our house mama and ourselves, we can tell through her gestures how kind of a lady she really is. For example, one afternoon after returning to the house, I noticed the cheap votive candles I purchased and set in the bathroom were replaced with cutesy candles in tiny glass jars. The onions and garlic cloves I had scattered on the countertops were given a small basket as their gathering place. The old pan we used to cook eggs on was retired and in our cabinet sat it's predecessor - a shiny brand new non-stick pan. The side-table lamp I had taken from the bedroom to use in my self-made office nook was replaced with a legitimate brass desk lamp. This sweet woman sensed and had picked up on our idiosyncrasies and provided us things to improve our way of living. What a kind and gracious host!

See: Votive replacements on right

Our Abode

Dining Area

Coffee in Town 

Grocery Haul

Evenings

On Monday and Wednesday nights Juston and I attend German class at the Volkschochshule (School for Adults) of Celle in the center of town. It’s 2.5 hours of pure fun and excitement. Okay, I mildly exaggerate. It’s tough stuff and being in the class makes you feel wildly uncomfortable. The teacher speaks only in German and often calls on Juston and I to participate in her exercises.  The majority of the time we are clueless as to what it is she is requesting of us, but somehow we are able to fumble our way through, laughing at our unsuccessful translations and pronunciations in the process. 

Practice makes perfect

 To keep a piece of home with us, we spend the other weeknights catching up on our American television series. We make dinner, pour glasses of vino, and delve into the world of The Walking Dead or The Game of Thrones. Afterwards, we usually convene to the bedroom with our laptops and travel books to plan our next adventures.

Wine and Cheese sampling

Don't forget your Knopper!

Additional Dinner Spread

Trip planning in comfort

There you have it.  The aforementioned gives you a small glimpse of what a typical week consist of for Juston and I, with weekends being spent traveling elsewhere. There was a wise woman that once said, “Do one thing every day that scares you.” Well, mission complete Ms. Eleanor Roosevelt. Every day in Germany, along with other countries, Juston and I have struggled to speak and understand the various languages and cultures. Every weekend when we travel to foreign lands, we face an all-new learning curve.  Now, more than ever, our lifestyle is unpredictable and our comfort level is constantly being challenged. And although it’s terrifying at times, we have always been able to adapt. Although it’s frustrating and a feat to communicate, our gestures and pleading expressions have been more often than not enough interaction to produce the right results. As residents of Germany, we have arrived at the point now where we are finally comfortable with being uncomfortable. Challenging ourselves. Testing our limits. Trying new things. Being humbled over and over again. It’s what this process and journey is all about, and we appreciate you coming along for our ride. We give thanks and all glory to God.

With Love, 

Yours Truly

Planes, Trains, and Automobiles - Dublin, Ireland

DUBLIN, Ireland - After a week of recovering from the StarkBeirFest in Munich (and yes, we needed all week), we decided to head to Dublin for the St. Patrick’s Day festivities. Having the festival the weekend after the Beer fest wasn’t the ideal timing, but it was an experience that we couldn’t miss. We just had to put in some work to get there.

I began booking this trip back in early February, before Marissa had even arrived, and already, finding plane tickets and lodging was hard to come by. The best price/direct flight I found was leaving from Berlin. So I jetted out of work on Friday afternoon picked Marissa up and hit the autobahn to Berlin. Parking cost around 25 dollars a day at the airport, so we decided to park somewhere on the street for free in Berlin and take the train out to the airport. After a 3 hour drive, 45 minute metro ride with 3 connections, and a 1.5 hour plane ride, we had arrived in Dublin.

After passing through customs, a 3 person Irish band met the passengers right outside of the baggage claim. A guitar, fiddle, and whistle made of tin put you right in the Irish mood. The trip was off to a good start. After a 30 minute bus ride, we arrived at our hostel and got some sleep.

Saturday

Woke up, got dressed headed to grab breakfast. We were headed on a day tour of Wicklow countryside and had to catch the tour bus leaving at 8:45. We realized that the amazing Irish breakfast we had was taking too long and ended up running down the street trying to eat it at the same time. We got on the bus in time and then waited for 30 minutes for the rest of the people. Other than in Germany, nothing in Europe is ever on time.

Wicklow is a beautiful green county just south of Dublin. There have been hundreds of movies filmed there, including Braveheart and some mushy movie called P.S. I love You. Our first stop was an old castle/garrison that had been turned into a summer camp for boys during the Irish revolution. The idea was to bring the young men in their teens from the North and South and let them live in the summer camp together, with the purpose of better relationships between the two sides in the future. Getting kids away from politics and war allowed them to see each other as equals. This being a huge success, many other countries did the same and sent their boys to this castle. Many important people have come to see this place, including Bill Clinton and the Dalai Lama.

Many famous novelists, playwrights, and actors live out in Wicklow County, and they told many stories of Bono and his manager’s parties at the local bar and all the famous actors who would attend. Next we headed to the former hunting lodge of Mr. Guinness. He has a ridiculous house at the bottom of a valley with a huge lake that many famous people attend. It is said that the Beatles wrote many of their songs during their trips here.

The Guinness family is well loved in Ireland. As much money as they have made, they give a charitable amount back to the community. During WWII, Ireland was cut off from goods because of the German U-boats governing the seas. Dublin only survived by the farmers in the countryside shipping their goods up the canals in exchange for none other than Guinness.

That evening when we got back to Dublin we went and had our first Guinness of the trip and listened to some live music. The city is full of good music and we couldn’t get enough of it. We were blessed with great weather on Saturday. The story would not be the same the next, but all was well, because it was St. Patrick’s Day.

Sunday

After breakfast from our friendly Hostel owners whom we couldn’t understand, we headed to get a front row spot at the parade. Snow, rain and cold made the morning quite miserable, but when the parade started, the entertainment occupied our minds. They do parades big in Dublin. The floats and costumes were extravagant, and everyone involved was very excited to be there. Surprisingly, there were plenty of American marching bands from high schools and colleges.

We left the parade and found a pub for some food and drinks. A hot Irish coffee sounded perfect right about now. From then on, the population of Dublin went south in a hurry. Pub’s got louder, people got happier, and straight lines got harder to walk. We spent the rest of our evening hopping from pub to pub listening to awesome music and stopping on street corners to people watch for half an hour at a time. There was no shortage of interesting characters at this place.

Monday

We got up the next morning and our roommates in the hostel still were not home from the night before. We went for breakfast, and as we were leaving, they returned and said they had been in the hospital all night. Impressive. Don't worry, she was fine. Just partied a little too hard the night before.

We headed across the street to the Guinness brewery. The building is shaped like a pint glass and the tour was pretty cool. At the top of the brewery they teach you how to pour the perfect Guinness and we drank our final beer in Dublin before heading to the airport.

We arrived in Berlin at 8 and as luck would have it, we ran into another blizzard. Stuck behind snowplows and traveling 60km/h, we were forced to pull over at the rest stop and take a nap in the car. A normal trip from Berlin would take 3 hours, but this took 6. This wasn’t the first time this had happened. Our 7 hour return trip from Paris turned in to 14 hours back in February. Nonetheless, Ireland is an awesome country, the people are over the top friendly, yet I can understand most Germans better than I can some of the Irish. We look forward to being able to go back, but our next stop is a 7 day road trip with my Dad for Easter next week. Up on the agenda is Berlin, Prague, Hallstatt (Austria), Neuschwanstein Castle, Lauterbrunnen (Switzerland), and Cologne. Let’s pray for good road conditions!

Prague, Czech Republic

PRAGUE, Czech Republic - With little to no help from the GPS, we made it to Prague around 9 o’clock Friday night. Jumping out of the car, we bee-lined straight to the Charles Bridge. We were told crossing the 1,700 ft. long and 32 ft. wide Bridge after sundown was a quite magical experience. Twas true. Probably the most famous site in all of Prague, the Charles Bridge is also where Mr. Phelps fell from in the movie, Mission Impossible. Originally decorated only by a crucifix, the Bridge now features 30 sculptures of characters like St. Augustine, St. Anne, and Lamenting Christ.

After gallivanting around the dark city, we popped into a bar right beside our hostel (also conveniently located next to a police station)… both of which I don’t mind being surrounded by in a foreign country. After toasting each of our four beers to successfully making it to Prague, we went upstairs and crashed hard for a solid 8 hours.

With sunlight peeking in the windows and the smell of coffee brewing, J and I jumped out of our tiny twin beds and went into the kitchen area to seize our FREE breakfast from the hostel. Cocoa puffs and Kellogg flakes! Although not ideal, it was free food that we were willing to devour and be excited about. We poured our coffee, crunched our cereal, and spread out our map of the city to plan the day ahead.

Sights included:

Pinkas Synagogue – At the time of the Nazi takeover, hundreds of thousands of Jews lived in the Prague ghetto, and about 80,000 were deported to their deaths at Terezin or other concentration camps. The names of these victims are recorded on the walls of the 500-year-old synagogue.

Old-New Synagogue – Built in 1270, this synagogue is the oldest operating synagogue in Europe. A rumor exists that claims the synagogue was built with stones from the Temple in Jerusalem.

Church of Saint Nicholas – This ain’t no ordinary house of the Lord, y’all.  Presently a Evangelic church, Saint Nicholas is one of the most beautiful churches we have seen or will probably ever see. With marble pillars from floor to the towering ceilings, boldly colored painted celestial scenes, and an organ that Mozart played on, this church is definitely swoon-worthy.

Prague Castle – One of the largest castles in the world, Prague Castle was once headquarters to Reinhard Heydrich, the Nazi-appointed governor and notorious “Hangman of Prague”. Here is also where I tried to break the iron stare of the castle guard, unsuccessfully so.

Saint Vitus’s Cathedral – Complete with three towers and plethora of flying buttresses, this Gothic cathedral is a tourist favorite. The wait to get in was over 45 minutes. Knowing we would probably make a return visit to Prague, we decided to opt out and just photograph the outside instead. Interesting tidbit – the Bohemian crown jewels are kept in a room in the cathedral locked by seven individual locks. The keys to those locks are kept in the hands of seven different Czech leaders, both secular and religious.

From the castle and cathedral, we winded our way down Golden Lane, a street filled with the houses of marksmen and goldsmith from the 16^th century.  From a distance, we could see the Zizkov Television Tower that resembles a Soviet launch missile that never left planet Earth. At the bottom of the hill was a food stand offering sausages served in chewy rolls with hearty portions of mustard, hot wine, and a magnificent view of the city. This is where we would commence our lunch break.  

Following lunch, we somehow mistakenly ended up in front of an Absinth shop. No real words were exchanged as we both stood in front of it. We just kind of looked at one another, looked up at the shop, and back at one another to shrug our shoulders in a why-the-heck-not sort of way. As we examined the menu of options, we looked over at another young couple brave enough to imbibe in the green fairy. They didn’t seem to wince or hallucinate, so we went forward in submitting our order. Jekyll and Hyde I believe was the name of our particular poison, and poison is precisely what I would describe it as tasting like.  However, slowly but surely, we finally were able to empty our glasses.

To get the taste out of our mouths, it suddenly became time for food and beer again. Hearty, rich and pork-filled, Czech food carries weight. Wanting to try a bit of everything, Juston and I chose an option offering a variety of traditional Czech food staples. Served in a large crockpot, we were able to sample roasted duck, goulash with dumplings, sausage, pickled cabbage and toasts of cheese. With beer, this meal came in below 200 Czech Korunas, or 10 dollars. For dessert, we just had to get our hands on a Trdelník, a traditional Czech sweet pastry that is rolled in dough, wrapped around a stick, then grilled and topped with sugar and a walnut mix. You could smell these puppies from a mile away. There’s no way your’re leaving the Czech Republic without falling victim to one.

Getting close to the top of the hour, we made our way over to the Astronomical Clock Tower. On the hour, the 12 apostles poke their heads out to the crowd, and a rooster crows. The clock also features another clock that has 365 names on it and moves once a day to a certain name. True or not, one Czech tradition “requires” parents to name their children one of the listed 365 names. More oddly, it is said that after the famous clockmaker completed this clock, his eyes were gouged out so he could never replicate his work. (Talk about extremes).

To end the day, we had another one of those “when in Europe” moments when we found ourselves walking into a Thai Massage salon to stick our feet in a tank full of doctor fish for a ‘Fish Pedicure’.  Having only ever seen it on the travel channel, we thought it would be an interesting experience to one day say we tried….and so we did.

Other attractions seen along the trip:

Wenceslas Square

Our Lady of the Snow – most oddly shaped church in Central Europe

Dancing House

Emauzy

Church of Saint Ignatius

Whether is was getting lost on the cobblestone streets lined with colorful buildings, sharing beers and absinth at Czech bars, or eating like a king for just a few bucks, Prague was cheap, charming, and delicious!

(All pictures from our trip to Prague can be viewed here: https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10152644510165010.1073741826.794475009&type=1&l=34fbf6d81d) 

Paris – Day Two

PARIS, France - (Moment of silence for Paris – Day One) Talk about an act to follow.

As if the day wasn’t already extraordinary and one for the books, Juston pushed the envelope once more and surprised me (again) with a nights stay at a French Chateau right outside of town. A French chat-what? My thoughts exactly. Upon arrival to our destination, Juston dropped some knowledge on me related to the matter. Apparently, French chateaus are large castles or fortresses that have been converted for overnight guests. Predominately in France, these castle hotels bring guests a taste of the good life in an old-fashioned luxurious oasis. 

They weren’t kidding. We felt like royalty. It was one of those moments where people try to act like the ritzy lifestyle is one they are accustomed to living in front of other guest, but when the door closes behind them to their suite, they go jumping on the bed within seconds and take goofy pictures with the cloth robes on in excitement. Oh wait, that was us….

The next morning we woke up to the birds chirping and a slight peek-a-boo of the sun. “Good morning, fiancé,” we exchanged with a slight giggle. Being one another’s fiancé in a French chateau was too much of a coincidence not to laugh at. Antics concluded, we packed our stuff, curtsied the King and Queen for nights stay, and were on our way back to the city for our final day of sightseeing.

After pounding the pavement the day before and seeing the majority of the attractions we wanted to see, we took our last day fairly slow. We had a long breakfast, stopped for an extra coffee (since we only got shots of them at the first place), and then made our way to see the Opéra National de Paris/ Opéra Garnier.

Next was the world-famous Moulin Rouge cabaret, located in “Pigalle” or what one would consider the red light district of Paris. Because of the neighborhood's raunchy reputation, WWII Allied soldiers nicknamed the area "Pig Alley". Needless to say, we didn’t hang around there long.

Basilique du Sacré-Coeur, situated 129m above sea level and offering the best view of the entire city, was our next destination. It was also one of the more impressive cathedrals we were able to see on our trip. Notre Dame was big and has a toooon of history, but this cathedral was just slightly more aesthetically pleasing both interiorly and exteriorly.

 Last on the docket was to attach our love locket. Did you see what I did there? Anyway, along with the many other lovebirds, we purchased a lock in order to leave a lasting mark on Paris. Writing our names and our engagement date on the back, I attached the lock to the bridge and (has tradition goes) threw the keys in the river below. Done deal. We are there forever, or until pried off.

Wahoo! Successful trip! While these posts did not include the exhaustive list of everything we did and saw, they were some of our major highlights. Care to hear a lowlight? Our 13-hour drive home due to a snowstorm and having to pull over and sleep at a rest stop in the car might be considered as one. But, somehow even that was fun together. (We later agreed on after returning home, showered and warm).

Overall, one heck of a trip! Paris and a proposal in two days?  It CAN be done!