Trains in France...

Because the trains we had hoped to take to Paris were booked full Sarah and I got to spend an extra two days in Madrid. I don’t regret this at all, in fact it all worked out for the best though I was a bit discouraged at first. Our extra time allowed us to explore Madrid’s most beautiful and famous park, see the Thyssen-Bornemisza Museum, spend time browsing at the artist market, and last but not least eat at "Museo de Jamon" (the ham museum). This last experience compares to any foreigner eating at their first Waffle House. Though we spent twice as long as we had originally anticipated in Madrid I was sad to say goodbye to this beautiful city and lovely country.

Our plan #4 route took us from Madrid to the French border to Montpellier to Avingon to Nice to Rome. After two nights and one full day in different trains we were glad to set our feet on this Italian soil. I must say though that after leaving Spain taking trains was considerably easier and cheaper. These 36 hours in four trains gave us the opportunity to, not only get a beautiful tour of Southern France and the Mediterranean Sea, but also to get to know some of the French people. We were hesitant to be talking loudly or to say that we were Americans due to the friction between the two countries and stories that we have heard but everyone was so friendly and helpful. Though many didn’t speak English they went out of their way to help us and were more than glad to act silly in order to teach us some useful French phrases.

Rome isn’t bad, but it is raining and cold and we have been sleeping in trains the past two nights so perhaps that is affecting my attitude. I think though that it is one of those places you visit once and it’s really nice, but there isn’t much of a reason to go back. We walked around a lot, rode the bus around, basically saw everything today but we didn’t take pictures because it was raining. It is cool to be walking down a narrow street and turn and *BAM* there is the Coliseum. It’s interesting to think of all the people that have set foot here before, but those thoughts are continually interrupted with people practically chasing you to buy an umbrella. I don’t think I would want to be here in summer. Regardless of the bad weather, the line for the Vatican Museum wrapped around three sides of the Vatican. I know it’s the smallest country in the world, but it isn’t that small, the line was gigantic!

Traveling in a place like Rome, where we paid 6.25$ for 8" folded over piece of pizza bread with pizza sauce (they called it stuffed pizza but there was no cheese, pepperoni, or pineapple stuffing that thing) has really helped us to appreciate our parents taking us places when we were growing up. We think that our trip is expensive; taking a family cost a whole lot more. Plus, they always let us get whatever we wanted and often let us have dessert. We had sit down meals with something to drink and stayed in nice hotels. Thank you Mom and Dad Miller and Mom and Dad Hope for all that you have done and are doing! We appreciate it!!!
£££ Sarah Miller

Rome- the Eternal City

Well, we rolled into Rome about seven this morning after a pretty sweet tour of the Mediterranean coast and the French countryside. The train system in Spain forced us to do a little switcheroo with our itinerary, which caused Sarah Miller a bit of consternation. She likes for everything that is on paper to fall into place, but the train system between France and Spain is beyond the control of two little American travelers, and to be perfectly honest with you, I’m glad our itinerary got switched up (don’t tell Sarah). We got to see an awesome Cubism exhibit, then explore the biggest park in Madrid. Oh and you can’t go to Madrid without El Museo de Jamon. It seemed to be the local gathering place, everyone just threw their napkins on the floor when you were done. The whole thing was pretty much just a butcher shop, very tastefully decorated unless you happen to be a pig. So an extra day in Spain? "…in all things, God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose."

I’ve had more interesting discussions over the past two weeks than the entire past year combined. Let’s see if I can give you a peek into life in a hostel. First, there was Kent. A wrinkled, slightly older man staying in a youth hostel, this is that guy. You know… THAT guy. The one who wears his grubby green button-up shirt un-tucked so that he can wipe his mouth on it when he brushes his teeth, plugs in expletives in EVERY conversation in an awkward manner, with the vowels all streeeeeeeeetched out so that you can tell he only curses to fit in with a younger crowd, the one with all the ridiculous claims like that "Israel was trying to take over the Western world by infiltrating the system with foreigners to gain the majority" and "Britain was never really involved in World War II", anything to stir something up. Kent was THAT guy. Then there was Mille from Argentina, an architecture student in Buenos Aires who I adored, who taught me about Catholic tradition, Argentinean life, architecture, acceptance and judgment, and sang American pop songs with me. (PS- A flight to Europe is like going back ten years, at least in the context of Top 40 radio. It’s like I’m back in primary school again- ‘Truly Madly Deeply’, Pearl Jam, ‘Killing me Softly’… you get the drift.) Anyways, back to the main jist- every breakfast is an adventure, not food-wise- that’s always corn-flakes, bread with butter, and tea or instant coffee. But over the last few mornings, I’ve discussed life in the Congo, surfing in Hawaii, Israeli politics, the worldwide affects of WWII, educational philosophy, you name it. The most amazing things is, everyone’s opinions are considered and valid. Everyone, from Mille to Kent, is loved and accepted… every question is authentic, about music or politics, economics or emotions. But most importantly, every person is a book to be opened. It’s truly amazing, when you are loved and not judged.

[Fair Warning: I get a little overly philosophical in this next paragraph. If that stuff bores you, skip to the next paragraph, it’s got the dirt about Rome.]
For the last few years, I’ve had a fascination with the –ology words, you know like ‘the study of’. I suppose this fascination comes from an addiction to books, a habit passed down from the women in my family as both my mother and grandmother have been employed as librarians in some capacity. This summer I read a book by one of my favorite authors, Madeleine L’Engle, in which she talked of a particular word that I really liked, one that I think describes this trip well, "ontology".
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I’ve always believed all art is ontological, but never had I thought of all of life in that context, that life is a study of being. So often we go through life self-addicted, concerned only with the happenings in our own little little microscopic bubble, as if life is a movie and we play the leading characters. Doing so, we miss the point. Over the last few weeks, I’ve realized that my ‘bleeding heart’ theology, my aesthetic philosophy, what little attention I pay to science, government, and mathmatics… all study winds up in this science of simply ‘being’, ontology.

Enough rambling, On to the topic at hand, Rome. Rome is eternally rainy (at least for today) and marvelously touristy. Sarah and I practiced our limited Italian, all day we used ‘no me moleste’ (the men are VERY forward, the sterotype of Italian men is pretty accurate) and ‘gratzi’ in our best Sopranos accent. Rome is interesting, around every corner there is some new wonder. We kept walking down narrow streets and all of a sudden, Bam! There are some mossy ruins left from ancient civilization, just chilling there. It’s wild! Well, somewhere between spending 36+ hours on trains, cold rain soaking through my LL Bean waterproof jacket and boots (slowly transforming my warm wool socks into a marsh inside my boots), and frustration with the throngs of men chasing us crying "Umbrelliiiii, buy umbrelliiii!", Sarah and I decided to return to our accommodations on the outskirts of Rome, where we have a warm heated bungalow to ourselves, and spend a rainy late afternoon how it should be spent- listening to music, laughing, talking, napping, reading, and ahem, doing art.

All on a rainy afternoon in Italy. Where’s a porch, a hammock, and a blanket when you need one?
Ciao,
sarah.hope

A Spanish Christmas

To the left, the craziness of a Spanish Christmas. Haha, just when you think you’ve seen a nativity of all shapes and sizes, the Three Wise Men (canine style) on the streets of Madrid.

What a blessing this Christmas has been! Although vastly different from anything I’ve ever experienced before, I’ve learned and experienced so much. This morning, we woke up to a breakfast of traditional Spanish sweets, bread with dipping chocolate, hot tea, hot chocolate, milk, muffins, chocolates… the whole nine yards. We ate breakfast with Mille, an architecture student from Argentina who is in Spain for her Christmas vacation, and after a lazy morning in the hostel, the three of us ventured out to the cathedral for Christmas mass. It was amazing to celebrate the birth of Christ with bells and the smell of incense, cardinals and bishops, a large cathedral, with hundreds of voices raised in this massive hall of worship. Despite the different language and style of worship, we got the main gist of the service, testifying to Christ’s love and sacrifice. Amazing.

It’s been said you aren’t an art major until you get kicked out of museums for trying to stand too close to the paintings. In fact, it’s been noted that art historians take this a source of pride, never mind degrees and fellowships. Generally, conversations go like this: “I’ve been kicked out of the Prado on three occasions.”… “Well, they almost arrested me at the Lourve”… you get the picture. It’s just one of those things about artists; something you learn as a precursor to getting your art degree. Being only sophomores, we haven’t risen to the level of distinction just yet, but Sarah came pretty darn close to getting kicked out at the Reina Sophia, with a guard following her every move after she offended a few too many times at the Picasso exhibit. Mrs. Walker, you would be proud. You’ve taught us well.

Merry Christmas to all…
To my parents, to Wayne and Frank- eat some of Nana’s Christmas cake for me.

Feliz Navidad

Spain

If someone wasn’t already madly in love with Spain after a short time in Barcelona they soon would be after the train ride that we took. This ride from Barcelona to Madrid must have taken us through the most beautiful portions of Spain. All we could do is stare out the window. The pictures I took don’t even begin to do justice, but the Spanish country side is one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen, and I have been a lot of places.

The museums continue to make us drop our jaws and we are becoming even bigger art geeks. As soon as we got to Madrid we raced to the Renia Sophia where Picasso’s “Guernica” is along with the preliminary sketches and photos of “Guernica at different stages as Picasso was painting it!!! I always imagined Picasso like Van Gogh, a bit off his rocker and artsie farties ish. The pictures of him painting though show this cute old man (remember though that I am biased) in a collared shirt and tie painting. He was pretty much your average guy except for his ability to create works of art that could fascinate Sarah Hope for a day and me for a week (I am a snail when it comes to looking at art). They don’t let you get to close though, no sitting to stare, three people making sure you stay behind the guard rail that is 10 feet away from the painting, and everybody seems to be walking on ice. In other words I didn’t get to see the brush strokes that I am so fascinated with and Mrs. Walker would be kicked out of the museum in a heart beat. The thing is huge though, it wouldn’t fit in most living rooms. We also saw Dali, Muro, and Kandinsky (a few personal favorites) and a whole floor dedicated to some awesome modern art.

After doing some laundry and eating a delicious free breakfast compliments of the hostel we headed out for the Prado. Sarah could hardly contain herself because her favorite painter is Francesco de Goya. Half of the museum was filled with his paintings. We were both glad that we weren’t able to get a night train because seeing Spain’s beautiful landscapes has really helped us to understand the work that we saw at the Prado. The rolling hills in the background, the tan churches on the highest hills, the beautiful skies in these paintings are mirror images of our path from Barcelona to Madrid. Though these master pieces were created hundreds of years ago meeting the people here and interacting with their culture gives us a new set of glasses to see the works with more understanding.

Today is Christmas and my heart has excitement of a young child. There isn’t snow outside and the tree isn’t levitating inches off the ground because of the mass amounts of presents, but I can’t help but smile and it took all of my self control to not wake the Buddhist and Chinese man by jumping on their bed and rejoicing “It’s Christmas!!!” Of course it isn’t the same not having your whole family, a fire, and a morning in pajamas and laughing and opening presents, but it is still Christmas regardless of where you are! We are going to Catholic mass, going to call our families, exchange the small presents we got for one another, and then we are headed on of Madrid’s most beautiful parks.

Enjoy this beautiful celebration of our dear Savior’s birth!

Feliz Navidad

Madrid for Christmas

Greetings from Madrid!

We made it here after a beautiful train ride through the heart of Spain- we traveled through snow dusted fields and mountains where the entire atmosphere put me in a Christmas mood, then crossed through a tunnel, over the mountains and through a part of Spain that resembled the drive from Nevada to San Diego. It was my first real train ride, and I loved it! The gentle rocking of the car seemed to fit the rhythm of the land’s rolling hills, with the pueblitos nestled in between, the motions seemed as if I was riding a bicycle over the entirety of Spain.

Barcelona proved to be quite an adventure. Lessons learned in B-town? First, never let me hold a metro card. I lost my first metro card, paid 6.40 euros for another, found the first one, lost them both again, and had to pay 1.20 for a trip to the train station, only to prove what a space cadet I really am by finding them both upon arriving at our hostel in the heart of Madrid. Secondly, Barcelona is the city of LOVE. Man, I don’t see how Paris or Italy can be much worse than this. Everywhere we went there were people making out, old men blowing us kisses, you get the drift. Lastly, if you want crazy hair, Europe is the place. I thought people were joking when they told me that, no. I could fill up an entire wall with all the mullets, rattails, dreads, Mohawks, all in more colors than your monitor has pixels. It’s true.

Barcelona’s hostel was INCREDABLE! We stayed in the Home Guest House, met many wonderful people, including a family from Agape Ministries (a side ministry of Campus Crusade), Hana a student from Boston, one from Oregon, a wonderful girl from Mexico City who was sooooo fun to talk to, and we had many conversations about the differences between Muslims and Christians three different times, which I’m sure Sarah covered thoroughly in her blog. So much for Barcelona. We enjoyed ourselves and then moved straight onto Madrid, via a lovely train ride, and now we find ourselves living in a hostel on the fourth floor over the Plaza de la Sol, the center of Madrid’s city life. Yesterday after arriving, checking in, walking down to the Reina Sofia, and viewing Picasso’s Guernica along with the preliminary drawings that preceded it… Today we go to the Prado with some friends we’ve met from Wisconsin who are grad students in anthropology, then I’ll go to “un mercado de Navidad” (donde yo voy a comprar un regalo para mi amiga- estoy escribindo en espanol porque ella no lo comprenda, jajaja J) then for dinner we are going on the tapas crawl recommended by Rick Steves to the Plaza de la Mayor, back to the hostel for a Christmas toast with the people here, and to Midnight mass at the cathedral nearby.

For all of you back in the US, all our new friends reading where ever you may be, our families, our friends from home and college, God’s blessings to you this Christmas, whether you are near to home or far away.
Que Dios te bediga,
Sarah.Hope
“But when the time had fully come, God sent his son, born of a woman, born under law to redeem those under law that we might receive the full rights of sons. Because you are sons, God sent the spirit of his Son into our hearts, the spirit who calls out, ‘Abba, Father!’. So you are no longer a slave, but a son; and since you are a son, God has made you also an heir.” Galatians 4:4-7

Love and Dreads

I took advantage of the Spanish siesta yesterday so when bed time came sleep was the last thing on my mind. Sarah Hope on the other hand passed out. Though in the long run I only got six hours of sleep it was totally worth it….

I got to listen in on some Italians learn how to pick up girls in Spanish, that was a good laugh. But much better than that I got to have a conversation with a Muslim young man from Wisconsin about Islam and his faith and my faith. Through out the conversation the themes that he kept coming back to were that people were inherently good, that he was good (especially compared to other Muslims though he drinks), and the importance in his life for becoming as worldly as possible. Going through my head was “Let your conversation be always full of grace, seasoned with salt, so you may know how to answer everyone.” It was the first time that I have ever talked to someone of another faith about why Christianity is the “right religion.” Looking back there are so many “better” things I could have said, but my love for him was not my own. I know that it is not my words that can convince someone that Christ is God and Savior, but only the love of God and the work of the Spirit. Whether the results of the conversation were only educational or if they were more, it was encouraging to me to share about why I am so passionately in love with Christ.

The next morning, I got to know so Christians who work with Agape (the international version of Campus Crusade for Christ). Part of their team and on guys family were taking their vacation at the hostel. Having fellowship with my brothers was unbelievable!! One of the guys I was talking to played guitar so that night we had a Thursday night worship (yay Megan Albert!). It was their group, Sarah and I, a girl we met from Boston (Hana) and a different Muslim. It was the best thing in the world. Megan knows that I don’t go anywhere without that camp song book and so we jammed to those songs and some others. After, the Bostonian commented that she wished she had a copy of the songs so she could learn them and read more. I am extra glad I brought the song book with me so that I could give it away J

Thinking I would catch up on the sleep I missed last night I went to say goodnight to everyone in the lobby and ended up in another conversation with a Muslim that lasted into the wee hours of the night. I mostly listened though because the guitar player jumped in a knew a lot more than I did. He had the opportunity to present the gospel to this Muslim and his sister.

I really am trying to make this short, but there is so much good stuff to say. Sarah requested that I use a comment for today as the title, so since it is my title I better explain some. They say that Paris is the city of love, but I think that Barcelona might have them beat. I have seen more couples making out in the city than at a high school dance. An elderly man blew me a kiss (not that I minded though because I love all old people so much) and just walking down the street we have heard a significant number of whistles and today even a clicking of the tongue. I wonder if it’s the blonde hair. Speaking of…the hair do’s here are more creative than the 80’s. We thought about having a whole section in Bowie Art’s center of European mullets but we aren’t that quick with the cameras. About one out of ever ten people has dreads. A favorite was on the train a dyed red 4’ circle in the middle of the back of its head. “Hot like a toaster” slipped out of my mouth when I first saw it and Sarah won’t let me live it down.

Hasta Luego
sarah miller

Maybe reading what Sarah wrote before I type my blog isn’t the best because she summed to day up very nicely. In fact, ditto all that she said. I am sure that tomorrow will be exciting so I will go ahead and tell about the youth hostel we are at.

Actually, any hostel would have been great for last night because we got in so late, but we were especially glad to come to this one. The attendant was especially nice and even though we didn’t have reservations for the night hooked us up right away and got us tons of blankets and a room with 4 other girls. As soon as I recognized the furniture from Ikea I knew it would be good, but after a restful sleep and chilling in the front lobby skimming through Barcelona travel guides (compliments of the hostel) and listening to the attendant from Dublin play Irish harp songs on the guitar I was convinced.

It is nice to have Sarah show me around the city and tell me more about the Spanish culture. She just gets to talking to all these local people as anyone would expect Sarah Hope to do. I am thinking in my head, good thing she doesn’t know German because they aren’t particularly fond of striking up a conversation with just anyone who is waiting for the bus. I am learning to get around on my broken Spanish which is good practice for our time in Rome and Paris. Practicing a semesters worth of Spanish is great and I am still learning more. People who get to go on the Camino, you will fall in love with this country. I especially love the food. After hearing so much about Spanish tortillas and sangrias from my Spain loving friends I could hardly wait to try them this afternoon. Delicious!!!

What I like best of all about staying in hostels is that you meet the most wonderful people Well the fact that they are cheap is the real reason we are here ( all who know me well will attest to Sarah claims that I am frugal!), but meeting the people is a added bonus. It makes me less nervous about not knowing what I want to do if I grow up. All the people we meet are just traveling around, working till they have money enough to travel somewhere else. I know my mother will not be a big fan of this, but if I don’t get or am not ready for a real job this is always an option. Plus if I work at the front desk of a hostel I can read all the books that I have never had time to read!

Sarah had the desire to cook tonight (I did the dishes which I am particularly good at, you don’t want me in the kitchen) so we had three cheese pasta, frankfurters (hotdogs), a bottle of Sangrias and a multi-vitamin We had dinner with a girl from Boston, California and a guy from Oregon. I salsa danced in the middle of the lobby with him and we chatted about all types of things. They to are taking a break from school or work and just traveling around. The only thing is that they are traveling alone. I like having Sarah Hope around though. We split meal, split cost, know how to get to different places, speak different languages, keep each other out of trouble and from getting lost. I think three would be to many and I would not want to travel alone for to long.

In closing, I would like to thank all of you for your prayers. We have felt them here and we know that we are in God’s hand. Please continue to pray for our safety, personal growth, and spiritual growth as we are jumping around Europe.

“He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak. Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall; but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on the wings like eagles, they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.” Isaiah 40: 29-31

hasta luego
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Living Statues in Barcelona?!

I come to you from the dear country of Espana! While our dear Sarah Miller takes advantage of this siesta time by snoozing away, I’m just chilling in the hammock of our hostel listening to my girl Ella Fitzgerald, courtesy of Jenning Tanner’s laptop. What could be better? (Stop your snickering, we’ve already maintained that I’m a theatre dork and an art dork as well, now you’ve got dirt on my jazz addiction. I wish I had a voice like she, but in order for that to occur, I’d have to gain about a hundred pounds and change skin color, as well as smoke a pack a day, yuck, to get Ella’s dear rasp. Still, one can wish…)

We arrived in Barcelona last night, late. REAL late, the metros had already shut down. But who can complain, the flight was only 15 pounds from Luton Airport to Barcelona, on Ryan Air. I think we paid maybe 56 pound for both of us in total, including taxes. See, the delays served to save us money by not taking the Chunnel if nothing else. (And Audra, I’ve got one picture of some stencil graffiti, I’ll email it to you, but I’ve no idea who did it. It’s just cool)

On to the topic at hand: Barcelona. What a vibrant city, full of rhythm and life, gypsies and music, open air markets, blue roses, café con leche, classical acoustic guitars, sangria, and tapas. I’ll tell you this, those years of learning Spanish in school? I’m grateful for them, seriously. As for art, the city is packed full. We spent the majority of the morning exploring los mercados del aire libre (open air markets), heading down Las Ramblas, which is a loooooooong street packed with everything you can think of, notably the living statues, who made money by allowing you to take their picture for a donation. They were hilarious- dressing up from Humphrey Bogart to the invisable man to a huge fat lady bumping into the throngs of people filling the streets. I’d talk about our amazing hostel but this is already getting long, I’ll save that for next entry.

As I’m sitting here writing, trying to paint you a picture of this festival with my words, I realize how inadequate my description truly is. There is nothing I can do to send you the sights of a gypsy on a Metro, the smell of delicious tapas or the salty Spanish port air. I can only wish you feel the rocking of a Barcelona metro train, or the sensation of walking through the art museum, with so many ideas zooming through your eyes that you brain starts to feel as you’ve licked a battery. I can only give you words, transported to your monitor via pixels and binary code. I’m learning so much: to love life, to truly see everyday as a gift from God just waiting to be opened, to not be afraid of growing up, that it is better to speak a language you don’t know perfectly and get to know the person behind the language barrier.

This is life. A journey, a pilgrimage we’ve already begun without realization. Only now am I beginning to see this… Blessings for you today, blessings for tomorrow, blessings from the God who made them both.
Sarah.Hope

Tate Modern and Tony Blair: Our Last Day in London

So as I’m sitting here in this lovely, cold and quite cheap internet café (1 pound for all day, now, that’s not bad.) I must say, I love London. Seriously, I do. Our hostel is right down the street from Earles’ Court, where Rod Stewart will be playing in a week, not to mention Duran Duran in three days. Who could miss that? I might have to forgo our flight to Barcelona just to hear ‘Hungry like the Wolf’ live. (Please please realize I’m only kidding.)

British theatre is every bit as good as Broadway. Yesterday, thanks to the half-price ticket booth, we snagged ground floor seats to Les Misarables for 18 pounds! Now THAT my friend is bargain hunting. (I’ll go into bargain hunting later, for I am traveling with Sarah Miller, master of the pound, queen of saving money, the ever-loving "miser", who is doing very very well at teaching me to be frugal) But that’s a story for another paragraph. Les Mis was just as well done as NYC Broadway show, miles cheaper, and the British theater is certainly an experience. I’m so glad we picked the show we did, and loved every second of the play, theater nerd that I am.

Yesterday, we played the part of American tourists, although I must say the city of London is not difficult to figure out once you get the hang of it. After walking about the National Gallery and freaking out over the paintings we saw (literally). My hands were shaking with excitement when I got to the original of The Ambassadors. Luckily, I recovered enough to enjoy the rest of the museum, and it’s a good thing. (Yes, I know I’m a dork. But it’s amazingly different from when you see slides of these works in class to actually seeing the real thing. If you were an art dork like I, you’d get excited too.) From Van Gogh to Van Eyck, Monet to Manet, we certainly got an eyeful.

On our way to cross the Thames heading to Tate Modern, we passed the Parliament Building, where throngs of Brits with cameras were hanging about an obscure street. We asked what all the fuss was about, then craned our necks while the man next to me explained with much fervor that Tony Blair had just stepped out of his limousine. Talk about being in the right place at the right time. The Tate Modern was unreal. If you like Modern Art, well even if you don’t care much for it, it’s worth the trip. We just went into the permanent collection, but we stayed there for HOURS, sketching and thinking. It’s certainly a thought provoking spot.
I am learning SO much, even just in these last few days, perhaps this is best written in completion form.
Lessons learned thus far:
1. Don’t buy cheap airline tickets, it causes excessive delays.
2. Stay away from sketchy Slovakians in hostels.
3. Not all French people hate Americans, and Europeans are fascinated by the fact that we actually read the bible. It’s opened the door for some neat conversations.
4. Shop around for the best price on theater tickets, you can usually get a better buy.
5. Just because SoHo is a shopping district in NYC does NOT mean it’s the same in London.
6. Look before crossing the street (ahem…sarahmiller…ahem)
7. Asking the Australian girl for advice on traveling cheap on the Conteniant is asking for a lesson in shoplifting.

That’s all for now. Happy belated birthday to Lauren Powers and for those of you who remember, Kevin Creel. :P anyways LP I hope it was a good one, you old, grown-up woman you. For all the rest of you, thanks so much for your prayers and comments and e-mails. We thank God for you everyday!
Cheers!
sarah.hope

David's Fig Leaf

Wow guys, London has to be one of my very favorite cities! Its clean, the people are unbelievably friendly, and the architecture will blow your mind. For all of you that said take lots of pictures fret not, we are filling up camera card after camera card. The only thing that saved us from having to go back and download the pics is that the museums where we spent all day wouldn't allow us to take pictures.

So all of you who have taken intro to art of any art course actually, we are seeing that stuff! I know I am an Art geek but I can't count the number of times my jaw dropped yesterday. They say that David is nine feet tall, but the pictures hardly do justice!!! And yes Mom, the real thing doesn't have a fig leaf, it was sometimes put on though for when ladies visited. We had to do two museums in one day so Sarah got some practice helping me hurry along. I just wanted to memorize every stroke and get real close and then move away and then get close again. I felt horrible having to pass by some of the work so that we could see everything. All the hours and painstaking details and all I spare for the work that took months sometimes years is a measly five minutes. Its amazing to look at who the artist is and flip out. Ahhh that's Cindy Sherman!! ahh that's actually Cindy Sherman!!!!!! Or to get real close and see Picasso's bruch strokes. Yes PICASSO breathed on this there might be a piece of his hair in this work. This is huge and beautiful, oh look he didn't cover the whole canvas!! In fact the only thing I wasn't impressed with was Monet's Water Lilies, a little too green and not nearly a great as it is hyped up to be.

Okay okay I'll stop I am sure you are more interested in hearing about the number of awkward situations we have been in already. i.e SOHO is not a shopping district here, its more like gay pubs all over, Sarah says more like Greenwich Village. At least the construction workers are polite... I think. What's better, someone whistling and staring or someone waiting for you to pass and saying something about enjoying the view and if we didn't want to stay at our hostel.... no worries though we waved and mentioned that we are flying out today. Actually, for all who said be safe, Sarah and I are being safe. In fact we commonly bring up WWCD (What would Curt Miller want us to do) and go with what Curt would say. I figure that should keep us away from to much trouble :)

So though I kinda had my heart set on Lion King (it doesn't play on Monday's) Sarah treated me to Les Misarables. FABULOUS! Man, we ate it up. There are so many forms of art involved to create such a performance and you are almost afraid to blink. Man, they really can sing and the story line was packed full of grace. Going to the theater just reminded me of the first time when I went with my Dad to see Measure for Measure by Shakespeare. He took me to my first nice restaurant and it was like a Daddy daughter date. If I ever move here I think the biggest reason would be to see musicals for cheap.

This place is great and I am sure you are going to hear so much from us when we get back. I would just hate to be typing when I could be looking at Reubens, Dali, or Seurat.

£ Sarah Miller

New Zebra Crossing Ahead

After a long, long, long plane ride to Detroit and three intense hours of anticipation, many seat swaps (four, in fact), six glasses of orange juice (yes I counted), two trips to the bathroom, forty-five minutes of restless sleep, one giant African man elbowing me in the side, and two movies, this morning my feet touched British soil. (Finally!)
After arriving at London’s Gatwick Airport, Sarah and I (estatic of course) ventured to the underground and decided to check in at the hostel where we are staying to drop our packs off. We took the rail, talking along the way with a lovely lady outfitted in a stylish long red coat and her seven-year-old son Nick, who kept seasoning the conversation with comments like “Mommy, what is a scowl?” and “Mommy, why does that guy standing by the door look like the man from Pirates from the Carribean?” and (my personal favorite) “Mum, in this book, Henry sells his little brother for two pounds. Can I do that to you?”…. Well, we finally made it to the hostel and dropped off our packs. Now let me tell you, I never for a minute expected these next six weeks to be easy, but dang! After a full day of walking (we only rode the train to Victoria Station and hiked the remainder of the way), I can definitely tell you that in January, I will return to Erskine in extremely good shape.

The remainder of the day was spent exploring the Victoria and Albert (affectionately known as the V&A) which thanks to British tax load, was quite free for our viewing pleasure. Now let me tell you two things I love about British society: first, Britain probably has the most amazingly funny street signs, you’ll see on February 13 at Bowie Arts Center. The second is the prolific amount of cowboy boots I saw on the street today. Young girls, older ladies, Indians, Brits, fat chicks, and girls who might as well have been supermodels, they all got the memo. There is nothing more British than a cowgirl. (Insert sarcasm here)

Today it became more evident than ever how stylistically different Sarah and I are. It’s awesome because we compliment each other perfectly, artistically anyways. She finds joy in stopping to take pictures of beautiful street scenes, old ladies, in glass in the V&A, in all things German. On the other hand, I almost wet myself when I saw an entire hall filled with rod iron, one of my favorite things of ALL time, flyers on a street corner, the textile/fashion section in the V&A, little details of the streetscape like crumpled flyers on the ground. She takes pictures, I make notes/sketches on random pieces of paper. It’s great that we find inspiration in different things, hopefully we can learn from each other these few weeks. I could go on and on about the V&A, we spent about five hours exploring that building, and we only left because of closing time. I would ramble about Indian art, modern aesthetic philosophy, the modern movement of form before function and integration of technology into the arts, but I don’t want to put you to sleep and Smilla wants the laptop.

So here’s to Cadbury Flake Bars, to Coronation Street and all other horrid BBC sitcoms, here’s to the British rail system and its punctuality, tea time, miniature cars, the Queen’s English, fish and chips, Indian food on every corner, the largest collection of Egyptian art, bobbies, and queue lines. Here’s to the motherland… Sarah and Sarah have arrived, thank God!

- sarah.hope

British accents

First Congratulations newly weds Spencer and Ahdorda!!!

After the excitement of going to Europe, the let down of being delayed 2 days and now finally landing in London I hardly believe it. If it wasn’t for the British accents, unbelievable buildings, and our determination to spend as absolutely little as possible till we get to a country with a better exchange rate, and the number of times we have checked a map today I would think that we are just trucking around Greenville with an over weight kid on our backs. We eventually found our youth hostel (it wasn’t hard to find, but being the misers we are we refused to hop on a bus) and wanted to crash, but by that time we only really had a day and a half to explore Europe so we got right to. Now, I am not complaining because I am the one that picked this hostel, but I have stayed in nicer hostels. Sarah and I are roughing it. The bathroom is up two flights of stairs, down a corridor, and down another flight of stair and has one toilet and one working shower which has hot water thankfully but you have to hold the showerhead and there is little room to turn around. Our room is no larger than either of our rooms, but it has 6 beds and the other 4 girls have all their stuff with them. Every other word with more than two people in here is excuse me. Like I said, I am not complaining, I shared this with you because after meeting our roommates for two days and spending a day here my little wheels began to turn. I will tell you about the 3 that we have met because they sparked a lot of thoughts in my head. One is French and is studying and babysitting here. She has been her for 7 months, but only 3 have been at this hostel. The other two are sisters from Zambia and have lived in this hostel for 4 months. They clean at a five star hotel here, which they remarked isn’t easy, but it beats picking produce in Africa. Now, I know that there are people in worse situations, but I haven’t really talked to them, let alone lived with them and put myself in their shoes. That is kind of what we are doing though, living a cheap as possible (thankfully not because that is our only option) and carrying all that we need with us where ever the wind blows. We are blessed, we really are. Things could get a lot worse than two all nighter’s in a row and the worse exam schedule ever.
I guess coming from small towns with upper middle class friends God is using this experience to teach me about the rest of the world. I think he started in Atlanta where the only pictures not of Sarah and I posing in front of things that are common to Atlanta were of the people. Well, I won’t spoil the show, but my first piece is a result of God putting this on my heart.
Man, I find that I, just like Sarah, am having some verbal diarrhea. We are just experiencing so much already. I can’t wait to see what the next 6 weeks hold for us.

PS- so we had fish and chips and it was good (and cheap), but I watched Sarah sprinkle a sugar packet all over her fries thinking that it was some British thing that her grandma taught her, but the look on her face was priceless and said that she thought that the sugar was actually salt J
All right guys that jetlag is kicking in. Good night.

HOTlanta, no London yet...

So we're rocking out the wireless connection at the Varsity (for all you native of HOTlanta out there) and it's actually been a pretty nice experiance. I've been sick, so it's been good to recover from exams before flying across the pond.
As frustrating as this whole experiance with Northwest Airlines has been, you gotta admit, God's got bigger plans. While I was snoozing this morning, Sarah Miller spent major tiempo overhauling our itenerary, and it looks better than ever. PLUS I found a flight from London to Barcelona for 12.99 quid, which saves us from spending a buttload of money and time riding the Chunnel train. Word. So the question is, how have we spent our time in Atlanta today? Wellllll, lemme tell you. First, we woke up to warm orange rolls and hot chocolate, because Frank Hope rocks my socks straight off. What an awesome brother. Then after 8 hours of sleep, I went back to bed (thanks to those nice mono medications, gotta love being doped up. My voice was SHOT after talking to everyone on God's green earth making plans yesterday after the great airline cancellations. Luckily, it's better this afternoon, so no stress. I even got to speak spanish to a lovely lady at the Varsity, so the illness hasn't affected any cognitive abilities, thank the dear lord. Each day I feel better.) Well, we walked through GA Tech's campus, amazed at the student center, which was equipped with EVERYTHING from a bagel shop to a small travel agency and even a Hair Cuttery... It was like Watkins on crack, no lie.
On our way around Downtown ATL, well, funny story here. Let me predece this with a warning/small fact about me: I spit alot when I'm exercizing. Now this may not be a womanly habit, nor a sanitary one, but hiking with a huge backpack on your back certainly qualifies as excercize. (Anyone who has run with me, either in NAHS crosscountry or at Erskine can testify to my bad spitting habit...) Well, Sarah and I are walking on Techwood Blvd. and I, as usual, start to feel like a camel and spit into the gutter. Well, this tall, probably 26 or 27 year old Tech student sees this un-womanly behavior and comments on it. Feeling a little embaressed, I start to apologize and he says, "No! It's not everyday you see a woman spit in public" and proceeds to comment on how awesome that is... I was kinda taken aback, until we were approached by a homeless, quite drunk black man who told us that we were "too pretty to be acting like 'white trash'." As I steered Sarah down North Ave and into the warm refuge of the Varsity, I couldn't help but laugh at Downtown Atlanta. Where else can you be complimented for spitting and be called white trash in the span of one block? Amazing.

Anyways, a big thank you to the Fraziers, Josh Valentine, my brother Frank, Lindsey Hunt, Brandy Brock, Sarah Miller's parents, and Bethany Roach for all their help over the last 24 hours. We couldn't have survived in ATL without you. Well, we would have been pulling a 'Tom Hanks' in the Terminal, but what fun is that?! You guys rock.

I leave you with a picture: hopefully next you hear from us, we'll be in the UK.

-Sarah.Hope

Stuuuuck

Well, we are still in Atlanta guys. Our plane to Detroit was delayed so much that we would have missed our flight to London. We could have flown to Detroit, but sleeping in the Airport till Saturday night doesn’t sound like my idea of fun. I know it would be adventurous and there is the Henry Ford museum, but we have been really well taken care of by Sarah Hope’s brother. You can imagine that we were very disappointed at first, but Isaiah 43: 1-3 was resounding in my head as well as “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” (Rom 8:28). We awaited to see the true reason why our schedule was going to get a re-write.
Within and hour of getting the news that we weren’t flying to London we were at Sarah Hope’s brothers house eating subs and looking forward to our first 8 hours of sleep since summer. After only 4 hours of sleep last night (because of my excitement) the 8 hours has done wonders! I have re-worked the literary and we decided to splurge (50$) on a flight from London to Barcelona to save us some time. It’s likely that we will go to the High Museum of Art when Sarah wakes up (she’s getting her voice back and she needed the sleep even more than I). Though we have had to cut off some time from different places I think that overall this delay is for the best. Two nights to get real sleep and rejuvenate our bodies after an extreme exam schedule, a quite possibly better itinerary (we actually get to see Sarah’s cousins), and hot chocolate and warm cinnamon rolls (thank you Frank) this isn’t so bad after all. In fact, I know that God has worked this for good.
Thank you for all of your prayers and continued support. Hopefully the next time we blog it will be from Europe!
- Smilla

Awaiting the Reunion of Much Missed Friends

This is my German host family with who we will be staying for four days. As I cram for exams my thoughts dwell on them.

I lived with Eva, Paul and Thomas for a my Junior year as an exchange student and it was during this trip that I learned to navigate around on trains and buses (hopefully it will be quite similar in the other countries we visit). Not only did I learn about traveling, but I learned about who I was and who I wanted to be. My year abroad was one of the best expierences of my life. This beautiful family welcomed me in and exerted much patience as I was learning German. Now that Paul is older I no longer speak German better than him :)

My love for them compares to my love for my own family and I look forward to hugging them (as well as the entire extended family which is HUGE) and giggling with and reading to my host brother. I do hope he hasn't grown up too much. It will bring me much joy to introduce them to one of my dearest friends Sarah Hope. Please pray for patience for her as I try to translate the many excited conversations which will take place. Translating requires much more language knowledge than than simply speaking.

My biggest prayer request though, is for this family. They are not Christians and neither was I the last time I saw them. Please pray that they will see the love that fills Sarah and I and that through our relationship with each other and our conversations with them that the Gospel will be loud and clear even if it doesn't come out of our mouths. It aches my heart that a family that is so dear to me doesn't Christ as their Lord and Savior.

Huge shout out to...

So about
<- this time last year is when this whole Europe Art trip idea started and honestly I don't remember exactly how, but I am glad it did!

Things have come so far since then and they would not have been possible without you! I do remember the first okay from my parents (assuming that things would fall through before now and they would get to keep me for Christmas), our first presentation and the excitement of getting our first financial contribution. Wow, it has flown by! To be honest I still don't believe that we are going, but the thing is that you believed that we would and put your faith in us and now as the big day creeps up all I can think about is studing art and traveling around Europe!

But as I was saying... this trip would not being happening with out all of the support we have gotten! Everyone (though I know it isn't a lot of people) at Erskine knows what we are doing because we have met with them for advice or help, they have been praying for us, or because we begged them to buy a t-shirt. I can't say thank you enough!

We are so blessed that everyone at Erskine from our beloved former president and first lady Dr. and Mrs. Carson, to the professors who allowed us to change our exams, to every administative office in Belk and Watkins, to the people who continue support Erskine financially have been behind us 110%. I am certain that if we had been at any other school it would have been imposible to pull this together. Thank you Erskine College!!!

I know that it isn't the most exciting thing to read a bunch of thank you's but I can't help but thank our parents for their support. I can't imagine the sacrifice it is to not have your daughters for Christmas and especially when they never come home anyway because they are so involved with school. We really appreciate your support for this trip, more than you know, and it means so much to us that you are willing to let us miss Christmas to take advantage of this great learning opportunity. You have already watched us grow and mature through the extensive organizing and fundraising, and I am sure that in six weeks you will have even more responsible, mature and for certain well-traveled daughters back in your arms. Thank you Mom and Dad!

Getting Ready

So as the Europe trip fast approaches (6 days!!!)
As the mixed horror and delight of Erskine exams passes, you can be sure that we are
P - U - M - P - E - D (in the very slight amount of vacant time that we have left... thanks profs)


Passports in? check.
Tickets bought? check.
Website done? check. (NOAH rocks!)
T-shirts in? check.
Packing list done? check.

All that's left is kicking butt on some finals, filling our backpacks, a few minor details, a good bit of guidebook reading... and FLYING from ATL to London!


Be praying for us as we get ready to go, thanks for sharing our enthusiam on this!
bon voyage,
Sarah Hope

Trial Post

We leave for Europe in one week!