walking tour

Day 377: A self-guided walking tour of Cusco

Traveling around the world is oftentimes being in a constant state of flexibility. Again, we were going to finish the Cusco Free Walking Tour today, until we woke up and remembered there isn’t a tour on Sundays. So, Andrew found a self-guided walking tour that we could do on our own instead. It wasn’t the greatest, nor the most informative, and it covered pretty much everything we already saw on our own and/or heard about on the portion of the free walking tour we already participated in… but… it gave us something to do, and we were thoroughly entertained by our attempted pronunciation of the many Incan names.

The self-guided tour began in the San Blas neighborhood, more specifically, the Church of San Blas. We read up about it outside, and then Andrew confirmed that my Mom rubbed off on us and we didn’t want to pay to enter a church. I’m sure we missed out on seeing a beautiful interior, and the pulpit that is carved from a single tree trunk… but I just don’t understand why the churches of Cusco all have entry fees! We wove our way down through some different streets that we hadn’t been through before and found ourselves in front of the Incan wall that we’ve walked past at least a couple dozen times since we first arrived in Cusco.

At least we finally figured out why everyone was stopping at this exact spot to get their picture taken. This rock is the perfect example of how incredible Inca stonemasons and architecture was (and obviously still is today). This stone has a record 12 different points on it, and at any given time there is a line of people in front of it in a tour group, or posing for pictures, or even touching it for good luck. Our guide on the Cusco Free Walking Tour told us each stone took 13 months to carve. I’m curious if that length of time applies to this 12 point stone as well.

Check out this intricately carved balcony. It’s beautiful, don’t get me wrong- but there wasn’t much information given to us about who built it or perhaps who lived in the building, or why it’s worth a stop on a tour…

Next stop: Cusco Cathedral, or more formally; The Cathedral of Santo Domingo. We probably should have sprung for an entry ticket here, but we decided we would finish the walking tour first and then see if we had enough time to go into the church after.

We made a small loop around another smaller church and convent, through some Incan ruins, then past Quirikancha before heading back to finish the tour at Plaza de Armas. By the time we returned, some kind of shoot (either for a movie or simply a modeling shoot of some sort) was getting a lot of attention outside of Cusco Cathedral. It seemed as though every early evening or night something was going on in the Plaza. One night there was a car show of some sort, another night a giant stage was constructed, but by the time we passed through the square the next day, it had already been removed. I’m curious what the calendar looks like for the square, is it always so busy?

Day 347: Museé D’Orsay, Rue Cler, et La Tour Eiffel

We were supposed to go to the Louvre. Until we discovered the Lion Entrance was closed for the day, and we became apprehensive of the long line through the Pyramid Entrance… so we headed to Museé D’Orsay instead. “What’s in the Museé D’Orsay?” Andrew asked. “Some Degas… a lot of impressionists, but the best part of the museum is the building itself. It’s in an old train station!” I explained, as we walked across the bridge. Afterwards, we strolled through the infamous (thanks to Rick Steves?) Rue Cler and then sat in front of the Eiffel Tower until the wind picked up and it began to rain, signaling it was time for us to head home!

Museé D’Orsay is an art museum that displays collections from 1848 to 1914. But it wasn’t always a museum. Before the 1900 World Fair, the French Government gave land to the Orleans Railroad Company. The Company in turn, decided to build a new railway station where a palace once stood, also named D’Orsay. (Quelle surprise!) Because the location was somewhat in between the Louvre and the Palais de la Légion d’honneur, all involved wanted a station that complimented its surroundings.

Architect Victor Laloux won a competition to design/build the Gare D’Orsay in 1898 and it was completed in time for the World Fair in 1900! The station was in operation for 39 years until the platforms had become too short for the newer, longer trains. A couple years later, a hotel complex threatened to destroy the old station until the Museums of France decided to instead, turn the station into a museum. In 1978, the building was declared a historical monument and it was commissioned to be a museum. In 1986, President Mitterrand inaugurated the museum and it was opened a week later on December 9th.

While I love the impressionist collection the most – and the Opera exhibition as well – I continue to find the history of the building itself (especially the old clocks) more fascinating and worthy of a visit. Andrew asked if this station was where Hugo was filmed, I assured him (wink wink) it was. Please don’t tell him otherwise.

On the top floor, you can enjoy lunch or dinner in a small restaurant in front of one of the huge intact clocks before stepping outside on a balcony overlooking the Seine, the Tuilleries, and even Sacre Cour in the distance.

After the Impressionist collection, you exit the wing facing another giant intact clock. In other words, my absolute favorite part of the museum. If you wait long enough other tourists with cameras will clear out and you’ll be able to get a picture without any of them in front of the clock. I couldn’t resist this ajjumma (older Korean woman- in a visor nonetheless) and her daughter in front of the scene though!

It’s huge, as you can see, and worthy of an entire afternoon. The beauty, however, of revisiting museums in Paris is not feeling the need to see absolutely every work of art inside. We saw what we wanted to see, and after a couple of hours, we made our way out satisfied with our visit and less stressed than most who try to speed through in order to see it all!

We made our way over to Rue Cler, passing Les Invalides, at which point I declared to Andrew that it was one museum I refused to walk through again. I went with my Mom a few years ago, and military museums, even if it includes Napoleon Bonaparte’s tomb, are not for me. If you’re into history. war. armies. Check it out. Otherwise, keep walking (like we did) and head to Rue Cler, or the Eiffel Tower instead!

Rue Cler, was a result of my recent Google search for what to do in Paris. Like I said before, I wanted to mix as many new things into our itinerary as possible, so when I found a Rick Steves’ article all about Rue Cler, I thought it would be fun to walk through! We weren’t the only ones, as I saw others with laminated Rick Steves’ Guidebooks stopping in front of the same stores we were stopping in front of, reading the description. It was fun and felt like we were on our own walking tour, one that we could easily pop in and out of shops for fresh veggies (i.e. more avocado) and fresh pastries and a baguette for dinner later! I’ll let the pictures do the talking, and if you’d like to read more information about each shop or the street itself, click on the link above and read what Rick Steves has to say about it!

And then, only a few blocks away, we found ourselves standing in front of La Tour Eiffel. In English, obviously, The Eiffel Tower. We stopped to take pictures, we sat to eat our apple tart, and when we were too chilled to linger longer, we started walking closer arriving underneath the tower just as it started sprinkling rain down over the lines and lines of people winding around the bottom of the tower waiting for their turn to see the view from the top. I was grateful Andrew didn’t care to go up the tower, and instead we entertained ourselves photographing the tower from below.

I know, it’s probably overload, but I couldn’t help taking advantage of my zoom and getting some closeup photos. With the overcast sky, I’m sure they’ll look better in black and white, but that additional editing will probably happen when I get myself more in order and put images up for sale!

While walking back “home” we passed the Liberty Flame practically in the middle of a large intersection on the other side of the Seine. According to the plaque at the base of the sculpture, “The Flame of Liberty. An exact replica of the Statue of Liberty’s flame offered to the people of France by donors throughout the world as a symbol of the Franco-American friendship. On the occasion of the centennial of the International Herald Tribune. Paris 1887-1987.”According to one reviewer on Trip Advisor, it stands at the entrance of the tunnel that Lady Diana died. I’m not entirely sure of that fact, but it does make for some interesting speculation regardless.

Day 346: Bonjour de Paris!

Bonjour Paris et Bonjour de Paris! After a quick relocation of our things, we were off! Lunch on the Seine, a tour of the Left Bank (or Latin Quarter, whichever name you prefer) and a leisurely stroll back through the city past the Louvre, the Opera, and a quick duck inside the Galeries Lafayette for some new clothes, some perfume, a Prada purse or two… Or… in our case, the magnificent view of Paris from the roof!

Full disclosure: This is not my first time in Paris. Andrew asked me exactly how many times I’ve been to Paris, and I was a bit befuddled that I wasn’t exactly sure. (Yes, I totally admit that this detail about myself is ridiculously annoying.) There was my high-school exchange trip and the whirlwind couple of days we spent in the city hitting all of the tourist spots in obnoxious tour group fashion. There was my college trip with two of my best friends after the month we spent studying at  L’université d’Aix-Marseille. Those few days I decided to return on my own after galavanting around Germany with a friend after our month in Aix… Then the time I met my Mom for a weekend in Paris before she spent a week visiting me in Prague…

And now, with Andrew. I warned him it had been awhile (six years?) since my last visit. He was prepared for Korean to come out amidst my French. I was prepared to revisit a lot of places. And we both tried to prepare ourselves for how expensive we heard the city had become. I looked up a vast amount of alternatives for us to do in addition to the usual (museums, Eiffel Tower, etc. etc.) so we would both be happy and off we went!

“Well, that’s certainly new to me!” I responded as we stood on one of the bridges overlooking a man-made beach. We later learned, Paris Beach, or Paris Plages is an artificial beach built every summer for locals and tourists alike! How fun! Instead of lounging, we went to the opposite bank and had lunch on the Seine. I have to admit, it doesn’t get any more French than sitting down on the bank of the Seine with a baguette tucked under your arm and cheese, fruit, and more stashed in your backpack. I’m sure the French would have tsk-tsked us for having coffee instead of wine, but hey, we tried!

Our plan was to meet outside of Notre Dame Cathedral to go on another free walking tour of the Left Bank with Discover Walks Paris. (My mom and I stayed in a hotel on this bohemian side of Paris, but I didn’t know a whole lot about it and thought it might be fun to start our visit here!) We had enough time to check out the church before the tour started, but after seeing the loooong line to get in, we enjoyed the view from the outside instead. I was a little taken aback at the crowd- I’ve been inside the church not only as a tourist, but for a mass!  Where did all of these people come from? From what we heard, clearly they were all from North America- and it was weird. We were surrounded by tourists in Istanbul to the same extent, but it was a much more international crowd. Not so in Paris. I’m pretty sure everyone spoke English.

The Left Bank Tour started with a friendly and handsome Parisian tour guide, and we were immediately led across the bridge to the Left Bank right smack in front of Shakespeare and Co. bookstore. It was here where many famous writers hung out, sometimes just to write, sometimes to sleep, sometimes both. But more on it later, because Andrew and I knew we were going to come back and hang out a little inside rather than just in front of the shop in a big group.

Fun fact: Paris parks are awesome. Not only can you do whatever you want in them (eat. drink. sleep. work.) there is free wi-fi. Pay attention other international cities. This is a remarkable thing to offer, and chance are you can afford to provide the same amenity to your visitors!

We walked through streets with leaning buildings that we were told was done on purpose. Otherwise, at a right angle, the buildings would collapse due to the soil below. It’s a bit interesting because when you’re standing in the middle of the street, it’s not nearly as noticeable until you’re looking at it from the end and then you can really tell the difference!

Quick tip for when you go to pick up some cheese to go with your baguette: pick a shop that has a “Meilleur Ouvrier de France” sign. This store clearly won a competition and was voted the best of France! Similar signs will be on other shops selling bread and meat!

We did a quick re-enactment of Cyrano, walked past the Sorbonne, took a group picture, and then our guide bid farewell- but not before he suggested we give 10 (or maybe it was 20?) euros each as a tip. My eyes grew wide. Whichever amount it was, it seemed a bit ridiculous and after doing countless tours around Europe on this trip, I somewhat apprehensively looked around to see how much other people were giving. For the record, Andrew and I usually give somewhere between the equivalent of $5.00-$10.00 for an hour and a half tour. This tour was barely 45 minutes, and 20 of those minutes were our fellow tour members re-enacting Cyrano on the sidewalk! I saw one American (he was from Chicago. Gold Coast.  – I asked.) whip out not only 20 euros but an additional $10.00 bill to give from his family of four and I was somewhat shocked. With over twenty people on our tour, this dude made a killing. Not with any help from us- as we gave our usual amount…  But if everyone gave what he suggested… who needs a 9-5 when he can take advantage of first-time “free-walking tour” attendees and work less than an hour a day in Paris!

The BEST “free” tours are the ones who do it for the fun of it. Not for how much money they will make at the end. Furthermore, the best guides are those who don’t even suggest a specific amount! If you find yourself on one of these free tours, a great introduction no doubt, but certainly not the best we’ve been on- don’t be pressured into giving anymore than you feel is a worthy amount. Consider how long the tour was. Consider how many people are on it. Consider how much you learned. But definitely don’t consider their suggested amount. It’s undoubtedly inflated, and if anything, it makes me want to give less!

Now, about Shakespeare and Co. Aside from hosting the likes of Hemingway and more, the shop continues to be a bit of a refuge for writers and readers alike. Our guide told us about work-exchange positions that the shop offers to travelers. In exchange for a few hours of work each day, and the commitment to read at least one book per day, the shop offers free room (and maybe board? I’m not sure) to the lucky participant. I asked the guy standing at the door supervising the line (yes, there was a line to get into the shop) how he was enjoying his position. He said it was great. I asked how I could find out more information about it and he vaguely told me to ask at the desk. On our way out, I did just that, and the girl behind the register vaguely told me that the woman in charge was busy (she was right behind her and I’m fairly certain she heard our entire conversation) and that I should stop back in later. I asked if there was any information I could put up on my blog about our trip around the world and the girl responded…

“Well, you just have to come in and talk to her, she has to get a feel for who you are in person…” and she smiled, signaling the end of the conversation.

“That was weird…” I said to Andrew on our way out, relaying the conversation to him.

“Unless, she recognized me from the security camera taking pictures in the forbidden to take pictures area upstairs…” I wondered.

Sorry, Shakespeare and Co., but I couldn’t help it. For the record: another girl was taking pictures and I asked if we were allowed, she shrugged, and continued to take her own pictures. Why shouldn’t I?! Also, I don’t exactly understand your rule. I didn’t use flash. I wasn’t disturbing anyone reading (not even that dude below, who I super sneakily photographed in passing, I promise) and the old guy who looked so lovely in front of the window smiled and said something along the lines of “Feel Free!” Don’t you want others to see how beautiful your shop is and how full of wonderful character it is? Maybe I’m just another annoying visitor with a camera, but chances are someone is going to see these photos and know more about Shakespeare and Co. because of them! (Unless you email me demanding I take them down, which I will, albeit a bit sadly.)

Somewhat overstimulated, we began walking back towards our little apartment we were couchsurfing in for the next three nights. I took advantage of my zoom lens to photograph the bouquanists on the other side of the street. These river-side vendors sell old books, prints (new and old) and some artwork. They are lovely.

Walking through the Louvre, we eyed the line outside and debated when we were going to visit. Certainly not this afternoon, not so late. It’s advised to enter through a different entrance, one that is flanked by lions, not through the giant glass pyramid.

We continued down the street, and I couldn’t help but overhear a father point out the Hotel de Louvre sign to his children.

“See that sign? And the window above it? That’s where Mommy and Daddy stayed and we have a picture right at that very window!”

I thought it was the sweetest thing. I whispered what I had overheard to Andrew and turned around to point the adorable family out. The father was taking a picture of his family. I cursed myself for not sticking around to offer to take a picture of all of them together.

Galeries Lafayette. We walked in at first and I was sure we were in the wrong location. And then… we found the atrium and I knew we were in the right place. How unbelievably photogenic is this store? I know, I know, you’re probably channeling my mother singing “Material Girl” to me, but I couldn’t stop taking pictures! Even the top of the dome, outside was interesting to me. The lines. The behind the scenes of what everyone else was concentrating on drew me in. Andrew was beyond patient (as always) while I went from window to window getting as many unique angles as I could.

And then we found ourselves on the roof. Another new view to me. I had never been here before! I always thought the best view of Paris was from the Georges Pompidou Museum… But now I think we have a fierce contender. We were there right around dusk and it was pretty smoggy, so we made plans to try to come back to capture a more picturesque sky.

Day 340: Barcelona Old City Walking Tour

Anxious to get out of bed, but still a bit sleepy, we headed across town to join the Runner Bean Barcelona Old City Walking Tour in the morning. It was great, but it was also very similar to other ‘old city walking tours’ that we’ve been on lately, and my attention wavered more than it should have. I tried to focus on what pretty pictures I could take of Barcelona Old City, and tried to forget that I was still a bit sleep deprived, but I wasn’t always so successful. After the tour, we meandered down by the seaport and walked around to some different eateries in hopes that our friend, Nat would be game to hopping around to a few for tapas at night. She was! We were all thrilled to see each other again (we met in Tanzania a few months ago) and spent a good deal of time trying to sort out where our respective travels have taken us since Arusha!

We met in Plaça Reial by the water fountain and soon we were winding our way through the little streets of the old town towards another square with a big church, and this beautiful still-intact building façade. While everyone couldn’t get enough of the facade and the church, I couldn’t get enough of the scissors and knife shop below.

We walked by a shrine to a young woman who refused to renounce her Catholic faith, then through the Jewish district and finally to one of the more major squares with political buildings on either side. Despite the tour being wonderful and our guide being very knowledgeable, I think Andrew and I were more keen on finding coffee.

We were told this is the most photographed bridge in Barcelona. A pedestrian one at that, the Carrer del Bisbe Irurita is between two buildings in a narrow alleyway in the Gothic Quarter of the Old City. It was beautiful and I could see why it is so popular to photograph. I’m always blown away by such intricate marble and wood carving and how they have survived over the years.

An interesting thing I noticed throughout our tour: all graffiti seemed to be contained to the doors. The beautiful stone buildings were left virtually untouched, but the doors would be COVERED with paint. If I hadn’t been to Greece, I would think it was a shame, but after seeing how everything was covered in Greece, I thought it was somewhat respectful that the walls weren’t covered with tags on top of the doors.

We made our way outside of the Barcelona Cathedral. I’m still working with one lens and knew I didn’t have a chance to fit the whole façade in using it, so I tried to get as much in as possible from where we were standing, looking up. It was immense. There were a lot of people. Instead of fighting our way through, we walked on, past another church, past several mouth-watering tapas restaurants and learned a little bit more about Barcelona Old City, but wasn’t able to retain it over my hunger and need for caffeine. (Sorry, friends)

One stop that I would have not known had it not been for this tour, was inside a small courtyard featuring three old Roman columns. Everyone filtered in, stopped to take them in, mostly in awe of them still being so well preserved, snapped a few pictures, and then we made our way out. One family still lives in one of the apartments surrounding the courtyard. I bet that’s fun dealing with a steady stream of visitors everyday… Afterwards, we made our way to Plaça del Rei (King’s Square) which is most well known for the steps where it is believed that Ferdinand and Isabella welcomed Columbus when he arrived home from his first voyage. Our guide didn’t seem to take a lot of stock in this story, insisting somewhat that it was more likely he was received at sea instead. But who knows! The steps were pretty and grand, so it makes for a good story regardless. Our tour ended not long after and we wandered through the backstreets in a similar direction from where we started. Of course, I was drawn to the street art and then this massive art installation in the middle of a side square. Unfortunately there wasn’t any information (that I saw) about it!

I couldn’t stop taking in the beauty of the apartment buildings. Someone somewhere said that ‘Barcelona knows how to do laundry’ or something similar, and I couldn’t agree more. Laundry, plants, even colorful plastic chairs… It all looks prettier in Barcelona! Close to the port, another modern sculpture dominated a square, otherwise surrounded by traffic. Getting a close up of the colors against the bright blue sky made crossing the street worth it.

Passing the time to meet our friend, we walked through more streets, and looked for suggested tapas restaurants to check out later. When we met Nat, we knew exactly where to go and which places we wanted to try out! We started at Bodega Biarritz for sangria and tapas and then hopped in and out of places we liked the looks of as we walked around the Born and Gothic neighborhoods. Nat told us that the pinchos were tapas put on bread so patrons could cover their drinks so flies wouldn’t get in! So clever! Some of the restaurants were so busy, we couldn’t even get an order in- at one, we actually gave up and went elsewhere because after fifteen minutes or so of trying to get to the counter, we didn’t have any luck! Even though eating so late could take some getting used to, I love the idea of tapas and getting to sample so many different tastes in one sitting. Restaurant hopping to try even more settings and sangria made the evening even better!

Day 310: If only a Sarajevo Rose was as sweet as it sounds…

We went on another free walking tour. This time in Sarajevo. As always, the tour proved to be educational and a great way to wrap our heads around the latest city we rolled into. I say ‘educational’ because I’m fairly positive I’m learning (and hopefully retaining) way more information than I ever did in any history class. I remember seeing Sarajevo in the news a LOT when I was young, but I had no connection to it, and no understanding of not only what was going on, but why I should concern myself with the conflict. When you find yourself walking through the streets of Sarajevo and seeing all of the bullet holes in the buildings and then you’re given an explanation of the ‘Sarajevo Rose’ you feel like a fool for not being more aware with what was going on in the world when you were younger. At least that’s how I felt as I stood in front of a Sarajevo Rose on our walking tour du jour. So what is it? Wikipedia rather beautifully defines it as “a concrete scar caused by a mortar shell’s explosion that was later filled with red resin.” Our guide explained that the Sarajevo Roses are filled in as a memorial to those who were killed by a mortar shell during the Bosnian War.

Throughout the tour, we learned all about the Ottoman Empire’s influence, the start of World War I, and bits and pieces of the Bosnian War. It was a lot. So much that I kept having to ask Andrew stupid questions like: “Ok, wait, which one was World War I?” “Who was shot?” and “Who was bombing Sarajevo?”  “But WHY Sarajevo?!” because my head was so full. of. history. All through the Balkans, I’ve been trying to wrap my head around the fall of Yugoslavia and keeping track of who was with who and who was against who… Before the Balkans, it was trying to understand Greek Mythology. Before Greek Mythology, it was the rise and fall of religions in Turkey. Before Turkey, it was apartheid in South Africa. My list of books to read is growing longer and longer. If I can remember just a teensy bit of all of this information we’re trying to absorb on a daily basis, it’ll be a success! (Educationally, that is. Obviously it’s already a success on so many other levels.) If my memory proves unsuccessful, at least the past ten months have been cheaper than one year of tuition at my alma mater!

During our stop at this Orthodox Church, a ceremony was going on, of what we weren’t told, regardless, the chanting was beautiful to listen to.

“Who told them there were two ‘t’s’ in Kentucky?” I grumbled to Andrew as we passed by the local KFC, I mean VFC?

“Probably someone from Kentucky.” Andrew snarked.

My favorite part of the tour was arriving in the park to quite the kerfuffle over a heated game of chess. These men were not messing around. Our guide told us that legend has it if you lose the last game of the day, you have to set up the pieces at seven o’clock the next morning. He asked his uncle or father (I forget which) if this was true, but was told that “they’ve never lost… so they don’t know!”

The eternal flame (just down the street from the park above) is a memorial to those who have died in the Second World War in Bosnia. Our guide told us that one day, the flame was not so eternal (it had gone out during a storm the night before). A tourist, I think on a walking tour, asked his guide if there was still gas coming out, and then walked up to it and re-lit the flame. He also burned his arm (to what degree, I’m not sure) in the process.

We ended our tour in a park that held the Memorial to Murdered Sarajevo children during the siege of the city from 1992 to 1995. The sculpture represents a mother protecting her child. Around the base, made from melted bombshell cases, are children’s footprints, friends of those who died during the siege. Sad. That’s all I have to say. Even sadder was when our guide talked about the ‘Sarajevo Red Line.’ It was a memorial of the 11,541 killed during the Bosnian war. 11,541 empty red chairs were arranged down the street that passed in front of this sculpture dedicated to the children on April 6, 2012. Just last year. Our guide said it was a sight to see, and it was rather difficult to do the walking tour during the installation because it was simply so moving to have a visual of all that Bosnia had lost during the war.

On a much (much) lighter note, after the tour, we waited for Josh and Leanne to get into town! Our fifth country together, we were excited to see them, and share an apartment with them again! Excited, yes, but again, it was driven home how much they ‘get it’ as in this whole trip. We were all tired, and despite just arriving into a new city that afternoon (or evening) the best part of meeting up with friends who ‘get it’, was that they readily agreed to a low key movie night before passing out in an attempt to get some rest before a busy day tomorrow.

Day 287: Sofia Free Walking Tour

What’s better than a hop-on hop-off bus tour around a new city? A free walking tour. This was our first one, you know, with a guide and not Andrew reading from Lonely Planet or Trip Advisor where we should go and what we should do. I’ve become more and more appreciative of opportunities on this trip where we can hand over the reigns to someone else for a couple of hours, and this was no exception. I don’t know if this is a trend or not (being as it is my first one) but it seems as though guides for free tours are exceptionally better than guides for paying tours. Our guide, Radina was nice, knowledgeable, and made all of the historical facts and timelines entertaining! For a complete list of free walking tours around the world, check out their post on the Sofia Free Tour Blog. (They’re the free tour that just keeps giving!) You can also find them on Facebook here, if you’re interested.

As always, on this trip, I find myself facing the fact that I did not pay nearly enough attention in my history classes in school. Andrew and I have talked about this many, many times. I feel like I did everything backwards. I should have gone on a trip around the world and THEN school. I would have been a much better student if I had. Now I find myself playing catch up and going down the rabbit hole of Wikipedia every other day. If I’m not looking up history, I’m looking up religion, or at least adding to the growing list of books I want to read about both and cursing the Kindle makers for pricing e-books so high. The more countries we add to our list, the more my news feed grows as well.

When we first started traveling, we would send each other articles about North and South Korea. Then articles on India were added to the list. Then Palestine and Israel. Then South Africa. Lately we’ve been keeping up with Turkey, Greece, and now Bulgaria. Sometimes my head is so full, I have to clarify who is what and from where and what politics they practice to keep up (ahem, to attempt to keep up) with it all. Instead of trying to remember, and/or spend all morning looking up the history that Radina shared with us on the tour, I’m simply going to post pictures and let you enjoy. You know how to look things up on Wikipedia if you need to, right? Right.

Within one square in the middle of Sofia, there were four different buildings of worship, each of a different religion, and each from a different time period. Our guide also told a fun story of how the department store (the first in the country) was also built on this square. When her family would come into Sofia, she would be so excited to ride the (first, and only- if I remember correctly) escalator during communist times.

When we were in Africa, we met and became friends with a lovely Romanian girl, Christina. She was ecstatic when we shared a box full of melty chocolate with her (that Andrew’s mom had sent to us in Tanzania). She told us about growing up without chocolate until one day it was available and she went crazy. Isn’t that fascinating? Can you imagine chocolate and escalators being a special thing?

Government buildings. These poor guards were wearing such heavy, heavy uniforms. I felt bad for them having to stand outside in the HOT sun, but then we were told they change out every hour because it is so hot standing outside in the sun even for just one hour.

Churches were Everywhere. The biggest, and most impressive was the Alexander Nevsky Cathedral. It’s one of the largest Eastern Orthodox Churches in the world. We weren’t allowed to photograph the interior, but I assure you it was equally impressive. And dark. Not many candles nor lights were lit, I’m guessing to help preserve the murals on the walls. We sat for awhile inside. To escape the heat outside, and because we’re both fasciated with religious traditions around the world.

Fun fact: Sofia is not named after Saint Sofia. We were told this is a common mistake, even in Bulgaria. It’s named after Ayasofia, which in Greek, means wisdom. If this question comes up in your next trivia game, you’re welcome!

Another fun fact (one that might not be as useful in your next trivia game): It is unbelievably awesome to have friends scattered around the world. Who knew I’d have a friend in Sofia who we could meet up for dinner with?! He ordered a mountain of food for us, insisted we try the Bulgarian rakia. When in Bulgaria… Despite having a baby on the way (update the little one was born a week after our visit) he insisted on contributing to “our cause” of trying to make it a full year (or more) around the world. So, not only are my friends leading amazing lives in foreign countries all around the world, they are generous to boot. (Thanks a million, Mark. Dinner is on us next time!) Below, he threw up the Bulgarian thumbs up and I threw down the Korean peace sign. Because we’re gangster travelers like that.

Day 271: The Acropolis and more

Another walking tour. This time from the “start.” I say “start” because we walked there. We walk everywhere. So, we started the walking tour off by sitting down, with a Nescafe frappe for me. It wasn’t as good as the one in Thessaloniki, but I enjoyed it nonetheless and then, we started walking. First through Syntagma Square, past the Parliament building, through the gardens, to the old stadium, then back around to the Temple of Olympian Zeus, and finally, to the Acropolis and the Parthenon. It was a long, yet very awesome day. One of those days that makes all of the 12 hour bus rides worth it. One of those days that makes missing nachos and cheese coneys worth it. One of those days that makes not being as connected with old friends worth it. It was one of those days where I didn’t think about how I’m spending all of my money and I don’t have a job or an apartment or leads for either when we get back. It was one of those days where I was reminded that I’m continuing to make my dream of traveling around the world come true, and recognizing how fortunate I am to have somebody so wonderful to share it with.

Now I’ve come to value these days even more than I normally would because as the trip is over the halfway point, I have found myself sometimes getting caught up in negative feelings of how expensive this trip can be. How hard some of these long bus rides can be. How difficult it is to have a reasonable sleeping schedule when we’re sleeping in different places every other night. And how maybe everyone who thinks we are crazy for doing this trip just might be right. Sometimes I panic a bit about about being in my 30’s (barely) and how I don’t have a job, let alone a career, or everything else that is expected of someone my age. I even find myself getting frustrated over the lack of South Korean internet speeds in other countries around the world and falling behind on the blog. Sometimes, (aside from Andrew and the much appreciated almost daily emails from my cousin, Amy) maintaining the blog is the only “normal” I have of this trip.  It helps me process everything I’m seeing and motivates me to take pictures and videos and be creative even when I don’t feel like it. But, it can be a bit of a bubble at the same time. Having recently met up with Josh and Leanne, I was relieved when they said could relate to not always knowing what was going on in friends’ lives because of this trip. Everyone knows what’s going on with us and our trip because of our blogs, but that doesn’t mean we know what’s going on with them… with YOU! SO, as they say, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, right? Well, I’m taking a page out of their book. Comment. Tell me what’s going on with you. And if you do, I’ll send you a Postagram from Greece!

Now, back to our day: After my frappe, and Andrew’s coffee, we went to the Parliament building and ogled the guards and their funny uniforms. My favorite part? Their shoes. Who doesn’t love a good pom-pom?

We walked through the gardens on the way to the first modern Olympic stadium. It was everything I expected it to be. Big. Stone. Flags flying. We took a picture and headed to the Temple of Olympus Zeus. We were both in absolute awe getting closer to the ruins than we were the night before. The columns were gigantic and just knowing how old they were is enough to make you stand… and stare… and gawk at the possibility of how it was created without modern day technology. Later, Andrew told me visiting this site was his favorite part of Greece so far. I readily agreed it was mine, as well. There weren’t so many people around. We felt small and like we really were in the presence of greatness. I felt a little guilty I enjoyed it more than the Parthenon, but as you can see above, I’m not necessarily one to do or like what everyone else does or likes…

Some fun facts: The temple took around 700 years to complete. Hadrian had a statue of himself built right next to that of Zeus. They were the same size. Hadrian was so full of himself. (Ok, maybe that’s not a fact, but my own opinion…) When it was begun in 520 BC it was built in hopes to surpass the Heraion of Samos  and the Temple of Artemis at Ephesus- the temple (what’s left of it) that we just saw in Turkey!

The column that has fallen was blown down by a gale of wind in 1852. I’m assuming that it has laid there ever since. Equally incredible is how the column is still impressive in pieces on the ground as it was standing up!

After a lot of lingering around the Temple of Olympian Zeus, we made our way up around the Acropolis and the Parthenon. I didn’t pay too much attention in my Greek Mythology class in college. Big. mistake. So I find myself absolutely clueless about the Greek gods and moreover about the difference between the Acropolis and the Parthenon. So. Let me attempt to explain. The Acropolis is the ancient citadel that contains several buildings, the most famous is the Parthenon- the one specific building that the mess of photos below is of. (Sorry, it was one of those buildings that I felt like I HAD to take a bajillion pictures of. Different angles and vantage points and all that jazz…) The Acropolis (the city-hill) and the Parthenon were constructed by Pericles sometime in the fifth century BC.

The Parthenon is the temple itself. It’s dedicated to the maiden goddess Athena, the goddess of everything. Seriously, you can look it up on Wikipedia. She knows everything. The best story about her, is the story of her birth. If you paid attention in your Greek mythology class, feel free to skip ahead. I read about it in the Acropolis Museum and thought it was awesome. Zeus, her father laid with Metis (goddess of wisdom) but then was afraid the child would be more powerful than himself. So he swallowed her. Unfortunately for Zeus, it was too late and Metis was already with child. I don’t know how much later, but Zeus was suffering from a headache and Prometheus struck an ax into Zeus’s head. Athena then burst out of his head fully grown, and armed.

I overheard another tourist say that was pretty much how her daughter came out and had to chuckle.

Every part of the Parthenon tells a story. There are relief sculptures all around it and there is a recreation of the sculptures in the Acropolis Museum below the Acropolis. It’s a wealth of information. There was even a video that recreated the Parthenon and described how it was destroyed (Persian invasion), then converted into a Church, then a mosque… The worst part of the Parthenon’s history was when a Venetians blew it up and then an Earl, or a Scottish diplomat (whichever title you prefer) removed some of the sculptures. Those sculptures are currently in the British Museum in London. Greece wants them back. But London hasn’t agreed. yet.

I overheard a woman exclaim that to get a picture of the Parthenon without anyone else in it the last time she visited was impossible. She was so surprised not many others were visiting the ancient site. Her guide said our timing was good, usually the cruise ships drop their passengers off at eight in the morning. We were there in the middle of the afternoon, around three.

I got tired of yelling at Andrew to get out of my shot all the time, so now I just take one with him in it. I’ve even started tagging the images on Instagram #andrewlookingatthings. Obviously he loves this idea. He says he doesn’t. But we all know he secretly does.

Day 270: Athens

Greece has been one of those countries that has been on my list for awhile now. I tried to go when I lived in Prague, it didn’t work out. I looked up flights from Seoul, they were too expensive. It was one of the first countries on the “Round the World” list that I was not going to cross out no matter what. While Thessaloniki was nice, it didn’t really feel like we arrived in Greece until we were walking the streets of Athens this afternoon. Don’t tell Thessaloniki.

We arrived super early and even though we could walk from the station to our hotel, Andrew knew it wasn’t in the best part of town. Taxi drivers were telling us the three minute ride would cost us 10-15 euro. We took the metro, and probably ended up walking farther from the metro stop than we would have had we just walked from the station at dawn. Despite it being a “bad part of town” I wasn’t phased after some of the stops on this trip. It seemed quiet when we walked to our hotel before six. I was also looking forward to immediately crashing, as we were told we would be able to the night before. Unfortunately the attendant on duty did not seem to think this was possible and we had to wait. I had unintentionally stepped in pee on our way. So there we sat in the lobby, me smelling like pee, trying not to fall asleep until we were able to check into our room. An hour later, the shift changed and we were able to get a room, at least for the morning to shower and sleep.

By early afternoon, we were walking back out of our hotel, ready to hit the town. I still wasn’t thinking the part of town we were in was that bad until a man walked by with blood dripping down his face. Andrew was a few meters ahead (per usual) and I almost chuckled when I saw Andrew notice and react to the dude’s bloody face. Meanwhile, the dude seemed oblivious to the fact that blood was dripping down his face and continued to walk down the street, checking a message on his phone at the same time. It was like he was an extra in a television or film shoot and had fifteen minutes to go get a coffee or something. Only there wasn’t a set around. What might be more troubling about this encounter is how remarkably not phased we were. We just exchanged a look like “Did you see that?” and kept walking.

Our first stop was Monastiraki. It’s known as the ‘flea market’ neighborhood of Athens. Unfortunately it seemed as though tourist shops selling the same selection of trinkets had taken over the area and we were nonplussed. Andrew had a Lonely Planet walking tour on his phone, but the subway stop where the tour began was closed for the day, so we were more or less working our way backwards of the tour. Haphazardly working our way backwards as the tour quickly unfolded into a meandering of sorts.

Athens seems to be covered with just as much graffiti as Thessaloniki was. I kept getting distracted by the quality (in my opinion) street art mixed in.

As we were walking, looking for a church we thought we were near, a chef stopped to help point us in (what he thought) was the right direction. Then he came back up to us to ask where we were from. After we told him we were American, he informed us that he was from Pakistan. He had a few words for us about our country’s involvement in Pakistan and our media’s response to the American involvement in his country. English obviously not being his first language, I’m not quite sure what his message was. But he tried really hard to deliver it to us, and we listened, because it seemed important to him. We didn’t even comment or give a response when he felt he was finished. He thanked us for listening and then turned and walked away.

We continued walking and I couldn’t help but be intrigued and a little bit proud? of the interaction. Before I lived abroad, and probably before we started this trip, I was always quicker to talk. To make sure someone else knew my opinion about something. Andrew will tease me that I still am… But now, especially I think, with those from another country I’m quicker to listen.

A few stairways later, we found ourselves in the middle of an Anafi community of houses. It was like we had been suddenly transported to an island, not at all as though we were a short walk away from downtown Athens. Signs pointed up to the Acropolis, but all you could see was the wall and all you could hear were the birds and one older man watering his rooftop garden. It was serene and absolutely beautiful.

We walked down to the more traveled touristy roads and out towards the Temple of Olympian Zeus.

It was closed, but we could still sneak a picture through the gate. And a snapshot of another Hadrian’s Gate. We made our way back the way we came and stopped off to get a huge Greek salad (YUM), feta fries (YUM), and a gyro (YUM). As if that wasn’t enough, when we stopped at a bakery on our way ‘home’ the chef behind the counter laughed at me making fun of Andrew not being able to decide what to get. Then he came around to our side to hand us some little treats on the house.

Day 93: Jaipur: the pink city

Jaipur should really be called: The pink city that’s not so pink anymore. Because, I was expecting a PINK CITY, not really a city that sometimes had a pink building in it. I also thought it was going to be a lot smaller and less chaotic than Delhi, but it almost seemed just as busy, especially in and around the bazaars that seemed to fill the pink city. We spent the day doing a Lonely Planet walking tour- a walking tour that would have been better had it said: Get dropped off at the palace and then walk around for a few hours. We had a great day exploring, it was just not exactly what I envisioned… which is becoming a daily thing here in India.

Let’s start from the very beginning: the train station.

I have to admit, I was less than thrilled with the rickshaw drivers bombarding us on the train platform in Jaipur the night we arrived. Usually, they at least wait outside of the train station before utter chaos ensues as we try to fight your way to the pre-paid stands. It gives you enough time to brace yourself for the army of drivers demanding you get in their rickshaw. However, when we arrived in Jaipur, as soon as we got off the train, a rickshaw driver was already chatting Andrew up. When he could tell Andrew wasn’t interested, he fell back on me and tried to get me to agree to what Andrew wouldn’t. As if we were being tag-teamed, another immediately approached. First Andrew, then me. We took turns, politely declining and insisting we did not want a rickshaw. One persisted. I started losing my patience. I spoke loudly to Andrew, with the rickshaw driver walking alongside me, like we arrived at the train station together.

“Andrew, I think I might just start yelling. You know, instead of FIRE! FIRE! (like you’re supposed to do in the West, right?) I could just start yelling STOP TOUCHING ME!” The rickshaw driver hesitated, understanding everything I was saying.

“Ma’am, I’m just doing my job.” He countered.

“No, you did your job, and we both said ‘no’ several times, so why are you still walking with me? This is not part of your job now.” At this point we’re walking through a gate with a police officer watching those who were going through.

“This man is bothering me.” I said loudly, pointing to the rickshaw driver. Several women stared. The rickshaw driver disappeared.

As soon as we were outside of the station another one came up to us. When he gave up, another one came. At this point, we’re walking outside of the gated in area of the station parking lot, dodging traffic, trying to politely decline the fifth rickshaw driver who is walking alongside me, again, while Andrew is several paces ahead. I finally stop.

“I know you’re doing your job, but please, we do not want a rickshaw, please let us walk alone.” And the driver walks away. According to the map, we were within walking distance to the guesthouses we were going to check out. We both agreed to try to walk there. Andrew had the book out, he was convinced he could get us there. But after fifteen minutes, we didn’t know where we were, and I threw in the towel. A rickshaw driver pulls up, we agree on a price, get in, and then the driver says to me,

“I think you don’t remember me…” and I realize it’s the last rickshaw driver who I asked to leave us alone.

“I do. Let’s go.” and we listen to him talk about how he can take us to a very cheap guesthouse, politely decline and insist we want to go to the one we told him was our destination. He takes us there, insists on waiting with our bags. Again, we politely decline, grab all of our bags and check the guesthouse. It’s full. We pay the driver and begin walking to the other hotel we knew was down the street. The rickshaw driver starts driving next to Andrew. Then drops back and drives alongside of me.

“Please, it’s been a long day, we don’t want to go with you, please leave us alone.” I start insisting, begging perhaps?

“This is not Agra or Delhi! Give me a chance!” he counters. Andrew is too far ahead to interfere, too far ahead to see how frustrated I was, too far ahead to see that I was ready to sit down on the street and start crying because I was so. tired. of rickshaw drivers. I was really proud of myself for being able to deal with India. I haven’t let the poverty, trash, me getting sick, Andrew getting sick… I haven’t let any of it get me down. Maybe appalled at times, and a little annoyed at others, but I’ve maintained a pretty positive attitude considering. Until now. Maybe it was having to be the strong one the whole time in Delhi, or becuase it was nearly midnight and we didn’t have a place to stay, or that he was the tenth? rickshaw driver to bother us, or maybe a culmination of it all? Whatever it was, I could not deal any longer. I started sniffling, and then secretly wiping tears away while the rickshaw driver continued to drive next to me and tell me he wasn’t trying to scam me. I stopped responding. I pretended he wasn’t there. I caught up to Andrew at the second guesthouse. It was full. We walked back out, past the same rickshaw driver still waiting for us to the third guesthouse across the street. Thankfully they had one room left. Thankfully, the same rickshaw driver was not waiting for us in the morning.

So that was our welcome to Jaipur. Probably not the best start. I felt better after some sleep, but admitted to Andrew that I needed him to be the strong one for a day or two. And that I felt more comfortable walking in front of him rather than behind him. I explained that when I’m behind him I feel as though I’m leered at a bit more (in Delhi, a driver made kissing noises at me and I yelled at him and Andrew never knew about it because he was ahead) and that men on the street know Andrew can’t see, so they can be a little more aggressive. If I’m in front of him though, the can immediately see him and I don’t feel as vulnerable on the street as a white girl with light hair, in pants, without a scarf over my head and/or eyes.

We spent the entire walking tour with me walking in front of Andrew. And he graciously dealt with all rickshaw drivers for the day. I was able to breathe a litle easier. The walking tour itself, was confusing. Lonely Planet usually has good directions and landmarks, but this one did not offer either. We randomly began walking through a motorcycle repair street, then a tailors row before we walked through the marble sculptors and parts of the market. The markets seemed to bleed together in Jaipur. I’m not sure if it was one big bazaar that made up the pink city, or if they were indeed several different ones stacked up on top of each other. 

We ended up at Jantar Mantar; this huge astrological park that was built by King Jai Singh II. It’s advised to get a guide to explain the different astrological devices, but we didn’t really feel like it and prefered to continue our laid back meandering. I overheard one guide, and I’m pretty sure he got his information from my guidebook because it was the same. Either way, I didn’t feel too bad about not having a guide.

After Jantar Mantar, we crossed the street, dodged a snake charmer (Seriously.) and checked out City Palace. Btw: both entrance fees were ‘spensive! I can kinda see why for the City Palace, but not so much for Jantar Mantar. Maybe if you’re super into astrology or something… Anyway- we began our tour through City Palace in the arms room.

Andrew and I ask eachother a LOT of silly questions while traveling. We’re all over the What ifs… Would you rathers… If you could… When we move back to America… Today, Andrew asked me which piece of arms I would pick if I were in The Hunger Games. He was not satisfied with my pick of the bow and arrow. He kept trying to dissuade me. Offering up lightweight armour instead, or a suit I wouldn’t be able to die in, among others. I stuck to my guns. What would you choose?

As we sat in the courtyard people watching and resting after nearly three? four? hours of walking around, he asked a slew of “Would you rather” questions regarding my pet preference. Worn out, we made our way out, through a temple with some kind of guru speaking, and then out of the market (with a little pit stop inside a fun art deco decorated snack shop and restaurant.

Day 66: Walking through Kathmandu is my new favorite thing to do

Yes, laying on a Thai beach would have been a lot warmer than Nepal in November, But, I'm officially in photographer's heaven in Kathmandu. Before we even figured out where to go for the (Lonely Planet recommended) walking tour from Thamel to Durbar Square, I was already tickled with some images and only that much more excited to see what else Kathmandu was going to let me take a picture of.

Andrew and I have a (not serious) on-going argument you should probably know about. It's become a major part of our travels, or at least our communication throughout our travels. Here's the thing: I think he's an almost always awesome travel partner. He thinks he is always awesome. He also thinks I'm always awesome, which we all know cannot be true. We don't always agree. However, he IS always awesome when it comes to walking tours.

After stopping for directions a few times, we walked back through Thamel (the backpacker/tourist area of Kathmandu) and found Thahiti Tole; a stupa built in the 15th century with legends differing between keeping snakes and thieves away. I prefer the snake legend. It was busy, and we were asked if we wanted a taxi, or a trekking guide, or even "smoking" more than once, so we didn't stay long. We both preferred immersing ourselves in the small streets and alleyways lined with shops and front steps anyway.

From there, we headed west to the Kathesimbhu Stupa. This was (like many we later discovered) was located in a courtyard surrounded, but what appeared to be average Nepali inhabitants of Kathmandu. I wonder if living expenses differ when your house just happens to be looking over an ancient Buddhist stupa or not… Regardless every courtyard containing a stupa became a bit of a refuge from the hustle and bustle that was the Kathmandu street outside.

Right after the stupa, there was a tiny enclave; Nag Bahal. I felt like I was in someone's private courtyard it was so small, but the men sitting on the steps or in the windows above didn't seem to mind, or even notice we were there. We didn't stay long, as there wasn't much to really see and the shade was much cooler than the sun streaming out on the street.

Given our instruction was to walk past a string of dentist shops, I was amused by all of the signage, and wondered how comfortable Dr. Walker (my dentist since I was a child) would feel with me going into one of the shops to get some work done.

Our next stop on the tour was the Sikha Narayan Temple. I was more enamored by the city life surrounding the square. Rickshaw drivers were parked, some napping at the edge of the temple platform. On the opposite corners, men sold flowers, women sold vegetables, and it seemed that nearly everyone had a newspaper to read. 

At the far corner of the square, there was a twisted piece of wood with thousands of coins nailed to it, offerings to the toothache god. We speculated that maybe it could look like a mouth? a set of teeth? Any thoughts?

Back on the tour, I trailed behind Andrew, fascinated by the bright tikka powders for sale on the street. Given that I've only seen red tikka powder before, I was curious what the bright colors were used for. Some google searches led me to discover that it's used largely for decorations for Diwali, which is part of the bigger festival season of Dasain & Tihar, here in Nepal. Regardless of what the tikka powder is used for, the colors are beautiful and really light up a dusty city street.

Asan Tole was our next stop. Bustling is not an accurate word for this busy junction. Andrew and I went our separate ways exploring and observing. Tea vendors operated out of shops lined up on one side of the junction. Motorbikes parked in the middle next to a shrine that men sat around and watched the traffic flow in every direction around them. Women sold flower garlands in front of the Annapurna Temple at one end. Vegetables lay in front of vendors on what appeared to be the street for cars and motorbikes. When Andrew found me and asked if I was ready to go, I smirked, unsure if this was one of those places you could ever be "ready" to leave.

Back in the day, the diagonal street that we took from Asan Tole was the main commercial street in Kathmandu. It was the main caravan route to Tibet, that is, until the construction of another road after an earthquake in 1934. 

After walking through the busy street, and eyeing some Ganesh marionette puppets, we ducked into another courtyard to see the Seto Machhendranath Temple, also known as Jan Bahal. Attracting both Buddhists and Hindus, this was the most busy courtyard/temple so far on the tour. According to our Lonely Planet: "Buddhists consider Seto (White) Machhendranath to be a form of Avalokitesvara, while to Hindus he is a rain-bringing incarnation of Shiva." I think, although I'm not sure, it was a group of Hindu women who arrived shortly after we did for some special prayer or blessings. They bought grain and scattered it for the pigeons in the courtyard (for karma), circled the temple before us, and then sat in a line while each received blessings. I wish I knew what was going on, but enjoyed watching all the same.

After this courtyard and temple, we ended up on New Road, which basically sold a lot of imported goods, most interesting to me were the Nepali traditional dresses (daura suruwal) on display when only two months ago I was photographing Muslim headscarves on similar rows of manequins in Kuala Lumpur. Just opposite these dress shops, blanket vendors took up an entire shrine to sell their wares. Had I more room in my backpack, I would have gotten one!

We walked on, weaving through more narrow streets, rarely bumping into other tourists along the way. Later, Andrew and I agreed this was our favorite part of the trip so far. When you're surrounded by dozens of other tourists with cameras (as is the case half of the time on this trip), it takes the beauty away from exploring a new place. Being able to explore, without having to wait for someone else to take the picture you were going to take, or interact with locals without worrying about the "ugly tourist" on the same street as you is just one of the many reasons I wanted to go on this trip…

Our next stop was into another courtyard, this time a longer (much longer) one named Itum Bahal. Apparently it's one of the oldest and largest bahals in the city, although the only difference I could see was that it was much much quieter than the others. We sat and shared some baked goods we got along the way and watched a baby run around without her (his?) pants on. Our favorite part was when she (he?) went up to antagonize a dog until it barked and scared the poor thing away, much to the amusement of the women also watching nearby.

On our way out, we walked past a business (I'm assuming) that was making incense. No one was around, and I admired that there seemed to be an air of trust with the open doors, and goods sitting out. I wish I felt the same sense of trust in all countries! We then passed the junction of the Nara Devi Temple. More interesting though were the uniforms hanging outside of the offices to book bands for weddings and other celebrations. Opposite the band uniforms and dance platform (so Lonely Planet described it to be) I watched a man make snacks that we later discovered to be a big hit for the festival celebrations. 

After another stupa, we arrived at our destination: Durbar Square. There are three of these Durbar Squares, and all of them are UNESCO World Heritage Sites. This one, Kathmandu Durbar Square is basically a square that was built in front of the royal palace of the old Kathmandu Kingdom. Somehow we managed to sneak into the square without having to pay the 500 Rs (nearly $6.00) entrance fee. We didn't really realize there was a fee to get into the square because it was also a busy thoroughfare with what looked like people walking through the square to get from one side to the other. Perhaps this is how we blended in. We strolled through, climbed atop one of the pagodas and people watched for awhile.

Back on the ground, we wandered around the different structures, I caved and bought a Ganesh marionette, and upon exiting in a different direction, we realized to get back in, we'd have to pay… So we went through the back alleys instead. 

We had planned on going up to see Swayambhunath (also known as Monkey Tmeple) after Durbar Square, but worried by the time we would get there or have to walk back, it would be dark. Dusk rolls in around five, and the darkness isn't so much of a problem as the cold that sets in without the warmth of the sun. We headed back to Thamel the way we came, had dinner and I promptly got in bed as I have quickly discovered restaurants in Kathmandu are largely outdoors and buildings are not heated. After two months in SE Asia, and the warmest clothing in my backpack being a pair of yoga pants and a NorthFace fleece… this doesn't bode well for me being warm in Nepal…