Knobby Knee Trees

The trees here have so much character- they remind me of something out of a Dr. Seuss book. Whenever I see these particular trees I always think of knobby knees (my mom took these pictures, aren't they great?)

Tomorrow we're going to Norway- on a cruise! I'm so excited but a little nervous about sea-sickness. Crossing my fingers that the waves just lull me to sleep. I think they will!

xox

p.s. this made me giggle.

Paris, Je t'aime

I feel the way I felt after my middle school boyfriend bought me a mint ice cream cone and then held my hand for a full 15 minutes.

I'm in love with Paris.

The cafes, the big lawns, the romance, the blossoming trees. It's perfect.

Just a few of my photos:

The eiffel tower through the trees. It was a clear night, the moon was out, and everyone was cuddling in the park.


our first meal-- salade nicoise, soup a l'onion, confit de canard and kir...


Saturday's outfit...(notice flats & a hat--it was in the 70's!)


wonderful company over a cup of coffee in Montmartre. That's my friend from high school--we promised we would meet in Paris (she's studying in Italy, lucky girl), and we did it!

I cried when I left. I think it means that I will just have to spend a year in Paris. What do you think?

P.S. If I'm not posting as frequently this week it's because my parents will be in town! I'll do my best to keep you updated! Have a great week. xoxox

Une Jupe Rouge

In a few hours I will be heading to Paris for a long weekend. I am so excited. All I want to say when I get there is: Une Jupe Rouge (A red skirt). My 6th grade french teacher, Madame Crumlish, had us recite it 100 billion times. Her classroom always smelled like grape perfume and she wore her prescription sunglasses to teach because she lost her regular pair. Before holidays she would cover the tables with pretty doilies and give us non-alcoholic kir, a french cocktail made with blackcurrant liqueur.

I will squeeze in another post on Tuesday when I return, and before my parents arrive Wednesday morning!
Enjoy your weekend-- Sending love from Paris!

P.S. Another blogger finds a way to appreciate the rain. So cute!

Pretty

I got this journal in London, at the Museum of Natural History, in the sexual nature exhibit. The exhibit was fascinating and hilarious, and kind of made me want to go to The Museum of Sex once I'm back in NYC. Has anyone gone? Is it worth it?

When I spotted the journal, I knew I had to have it. Every time I write, I swoon over the gold peacock (if I was a female peacock, I'd be sold) and and buttery, soft pages.

Happy Friday, everyone!

Would You Be 10 Again?

This past weekend, I took my 10 year old host sister and her best friend to the next town over, Roskilde, a cute bustling town full of cafes and shops. It was the warmest day so far, so we took off our scarves and bought cold sodas. They were giddy with excitement when we stopped in Glitter, Denmark's equivalent of Claire's. I spotted them $12 to buy a "Best Friends" bracelet set, complete with rhinestones and sparkling silver, and watched as they discussed very seriously who should have the "Best" and who should have the "Friend." When we passed a lingerie store, they glanced at me, glanced at each other, and then burst into nervous laughter. By the end of the day, I was having trouble remembering what age I was. It was so refreshing to be around them!

Would you go back to being a 10 year old, or do you like being older?

P.S. This blew my mind.

A Beginner's Guide to: Crossing the Street in Denmark

How do you cross the street? Up until 3 months ago, I crossed the street the second I got a chance to, along with the 8 million trillion other impatient New Yorkers trying to get somewhere. It doesn't matter if it says "WALK" or "DON'T WALK." What matters is getting your nonfat soy caramel no foam extra whip double shot venti frappalappa crapacino.

Not in Denmark.

You cross when the little man is green. No exceptions.
Picture this: rush hour in the heart of Copenhagen. The little man is red, but no cars are coming, no bikers. A crowd of 50, no, say 60, people are standing at the curb, waiting to walk. Waiting to walk. No one budges until the little man is green. I'm the girl in the front, hopping up and down and looking like a dog who has been demanded to SIT while her owner dangles a fresh-off-the-grill pork chop in front of her nose. It's torture.

Once, after a three hour psychology class and 3 minutes until my train, I was feeling ballsy and crossed, even though the little man was red. I felt kind of bad ass until I realized a hoard of Danes were looking at me like I just cursed in front of their grandmas.
Never again.

Hope everyone had a lovely weekend!
P.S. I've been gaping at these black & white photos for the past two days. "Unexplainable" is an understatement. My favorite has got to be the man with a child's face coming out of his butt.

Let's Talk About...

The bitchface look. I suffer from it daily. I would say I could be diagnosed. The number one thing that a new friend says to me is: "Wow, I'm surprised how nice you are, since you came off as a real BITCH at first."

It's just my face.

I think it has to do with growing up in NYC, with a mother who made sure I was street smart by the time I was out of diapers. Don't talk to strangers. That has translated, over the years, into: Don't smile at strangers. Don't let your mouth turn upward in the tiniest bit. Don't even smile with your eyes. AKA, look bitchy.

It really works, in NYC at least. You look around and every girl has mastered the look so well that strangers (read:weird men with too much time on their hands who ride the subway all day and sit next to you and have terrible breath and ask you obnoxious, intrusive questions like: where are you going looking like that?") pretty much leave us alone.

Then one day I woke up in Wisconsin, going to college with a bunch of bright eyed, bushy tailed people (hi, guys!) who smile at everyone. I was stunned. At first I thought it was a mistake. "They must be confusing me for another half-asian girl," I thought. Nope, just smiling to be nice.

Three years later, I have finally mastered the face switcharoo: bitchface in NYC, niceface in WI. As for Denmark? I'd say I'm still working on it.




Happy Friday, everyone! Hope it's getting nice and toasty out wherever you may be...
:)