I Have Switched to Wordpress!

After a while of deliberating, I have decided to switch over to Wordpress.

My NEW link is kelseymorgan1.wordpress.com

I have published most of my older posts on that site, and all of my new ones will be on that site. I hope anyone who is keeping up with my blog will continue over on Wordpress!


XOXO

-Kelsey

You're Leading, Lord, Thus Far..

I'm one of those people who, unfortunately, can often be an out-of-site-out-of-mind kind of person. I forget things if they aren't right in front of my face. I've even forgotten my passport in a hotel safe in Belgium before (luckily I got it back before I had to go to the train station). I had even said the night before I needed to get it out of the safe or I would forget it. Forgot to get it out of the safe, and –– of course –– forgot it when I left the hotel. I write down events, times, assignments, birthdays, everything and often put an alarm on my phone for them because I can be that forgetful.

The small script tattoo across the side of my foot reads, "You're leading, Lord, thus far..." Most people don't ask if there's any story behind it, because it does seem self explanatory. There actually is a little more behind it then just what it says, and I got it permanently embedded into my skin so that I would remember what's behind it.

I've actually been asked three times in the last weekend why I chose it, which I think is a bit of a sign in and of itself. So I thought it would be good to write something down so that other people could know, but also so that when I have trouble remembering I can look back at this.

Years ago at the church I grew up in, the couple that led the music would write their own songs inspired by different Bible verses and stories. The one that has always stuck with me was "Thus Far".

The chorus goes-

You brought us to the raging waters,

We stepped in, the waters parted

Sheltered by your faithfulness and love.

Stone on stone  we build an alter, 

For you are the Lord our God,

You're leading, Lord, thus far.

The song is a reference to Moses and the Israelites in the dessert. God delivered them out of Egypt, and right away they faced an impossible challenge. God parted the sea so that they could walk by on dry land, the first of many incredible miracles. As they continued on into the dessert on the way to the land God promised to them, they followed a cloud in the sky by day and a pillar of fire by night. Time and time again they questioned, argued with, and turned from and back to God and time and time again he continued to  meet their needs with an oasis, water from rocks, manna and quail, and something and someone to lead them. When they got to the Promised Land –– the Land of Milk and Honey –– they found giants were inhabiting it. It didn't look like what they were expecting. They thought they could just walk in and everything was theirs. They were confused and afraid and thought that maybe they were wrong about everything they had been thinking. But again, God delivered them and fulfilled his promise. 

The reason I chose to have it as a constant reminder is because there are so many things in that story that I forget. Because I've grown up with these stories and know them from beginning to end, I forget that the Israelites didn't really know what to expect exactly. They didn't really know how long they would be in the dessert, they didn't really know what all they would face, and they didn't really know what would happen when they got there. All they had to go on was a promise from someone they couldn't see and couldn't touch. It's easy to question how they could have doubted so often when God proved himself time and time again and in such super natural ways. But it's also easy to forget how often we do the same thing today. It's also easy to forget that we know how their story ended, but they didn't –– just like we don't know exactly how our story will end. 

God guided them by a cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night. To me, it reminds me that sometimes God's guidance is very subtle –– as subtle as a cloud in the sky. Sometimes his guidance is as blatant and unusual as a pillar of fire. Either way, He is always guiding us in one way or another so long as we are looking for Him. As I said before, along the way he continually provided things they needed, just as he does during the different seasons of our life. Finally, when they got where they were going it didn't look like anything they had expected. This happens to us so often, and it makes us question if had been wrong or done the wrong thing or made the wrong decision. The thing is, they weren't wrong. They were right where they were supposed to be, and in the end it was better than anything they could have imagined. I believe that it's the same for us. 

So that's the story, and it's a little more than what you might get just by reading the tattoo on my foot. It's something I continue to forget and am glad I got the reminder, and I'm thankful for the people who remind me of it without even meaning to.

Letters from Abroad: Gems in Paris

[Originally published in The Tiger Newspaper April 7, 2016]

I think one of the most important things you can do when you’re abroad or new to an area and school is to find places where you feel at home. I got really lucky and ended up in a program that leaves me a lot of time to travel –– and I mean a lot. I’ve actually gotten to spend the last month or so in Paris, and I’ve gotten a chance to look for some hidden gems to call my own. 

If you know me, you know I have an obsession with quirky and quaint little coffee shops. Desperately needing to fill the void that has been left by the absence of All In, I decided to start working my way through what a particular travel article claims are the “Top 10 Coffee Shops in Paris.” 

This include places that are little shoe repair shops turned coffee shops and places famous for baristas in bowties who serve all their drinks in lime green cups. 

I went to the first coffee shop and told myself I wouldn’t go back to one coffee shop before trying the other ten. I’ve been back to this safe place four times now. It’s called La Caféothèque de Paris and is in Le Marais; from the front door, you can see Notre Dame and the Seine River. I always go to the furthest room where they have some eclectic art on the walls and rustic, brightly painted but chipped wooden tables with tall grassy plants around the windows. I’m starting to get recognized there already, and I have my usual order: a cappuccino and a slice of cheesecake with strawberry drizzle. 

I can’t remember what made me even remember this; I was probably wishing I could go hang out in Barnes and Noble or Books-A-Million for a while. Whatever the reason, one day I decided to go hunting for Shakespeare and Company, hoping that they might have at least a section of books in English. Good news! All the books are in English, and it’s the coolest bookstore I’ve ever seen in my life. 

It’s a little overwhelming because it’s not a large space, but it’s packed ceiling to floor and wall to wall to wall with books, alongside book-filled tables in the middle of the room, a makeshift bookshelf running diagonally along the stair case on both sides, a makeshift bookshelf in the wall at the end of the stairs and bookshelves somehow squeezed into the mix on the first floor, with a similar set-up upstairs. All of the books upstairs are for reading in the store on the chairs, cushions and wall nooks. Anywhere you can think they might find a place for books, they did. They also offer the “random book” which is five euros for a book that in a small box, so you have no idea what book you’re getting. I got “The Racketeer” by John Grisham and read it in less than a week. 

Just because of space constraints, I’ll finish with this one last homey find. Like any good southerner, I managed to find a barbecue sandwich in Paris. Ironically enough, I was actually looking everywhere for a salad that was going to cost fewer than 15 euros. After finally moving into the Bastille area knowing it had a lot of bars and restaurants, I somehow happened upon a small half lounge/half pub called The Frog Revolution that was advertising “American Soul Food.” 

Of course, it was no Smokin’ Pig, but not everyone can be a barbecue god –– especially outside of the Southern USA. I sat at a little table by a big window in a big, old, fancy armchair that you might expect to see in a fancy home library of an old, well-read British man who sits in his chair and smokes cigars in front of a fireplace. 

I hope all of you Tigers are enjoying the last stretch of the school year. I know it’s a rough part of the semester, but you’re almost there, and I’m almost home. Not quite, but almost. 

‘Til next time.

–– Kelsey 

 La Caféothèque de Paris

Shakespeare & Co. random books

~Matthew 25:40~

P.S. sorry for pulling a blogging-foul and not taking a picture of my BBQ sandwich. I got a little too excited when I got it. I'll remember for next time though! 

Why Did I Leave Charleston?

If you know me, you know I love Charleston. You probably also know that before becoming a Clemson Tiger(one of the best decisions I've ever made), I was a College of Charleston Cougar. I often am asked why I left Charleston if I love it so much, and it's a great question.

I think it's funny sometimes when I think about my freshman year at CofC, because it seems as if there was no reason for me to be unhappy. But, I was. I was very unhappy. To sum it all up in one sentence, CofC was not what I needed at that point in my life. I knew when I left that I eventually wanted to come back, but I also knew that I was in need of something different.

So, I went to the school that I didn't give a second thought to in high school, the one I said I didn't want to go to because it was out in the middle of nowhere, the one my guidance counselor said she couldn't see me at, the one that I never could have seen myself at. Clemson is everything I imagined college would be and more. I've met amazing people that have completely changed the way I look at people and the way I look at the world, I'm known in my classes of 100+ people because I'm always talking in class, I've joined some clubs I never would have thought I would be interested in. I've grown up a lot. I've been living in an apartment and paying rent and bills, I've had internships, and now I'm studying abroad.

I had a lot of growing up to do to. I never realized I wouldn't be able to do the growing I needed to at CofC, but looking back it makes a lot of sense. I have family there and have grown up making several trips a year just two hours south of my hometown, my sister was a senior at CofC my freshman year, I was already familiar with the campus and with the dorms and the "to-do/not-to-do" of a lot of classes, professors, etc. There was nothing for me to figure out really.

I remember when I was freaking out because after signing my lease in Clemson and getting my acceptance email, I suddenly did not want to leave. I cried every single day for probably a week and a half straight and I could barely eat for a week and a half straight. I have never honestly believed I couldn't go through with something until then. I ended up calling one of my old teachers from high school who was basically my Mr. Feeney because I knew he could be a voice of reason for me one way or another. I don't remember all of what he said, but I remember the phone call was almost an hour long and I spent a good part of the conversation in tears. I remember he said it was okay to be sad because I was also leaving behind a lot of good things. I remember he said he had been praying about the conversation while we were playing phone tag for a few days, and he was reminded of the story of Abraham. He said God told him to leave his home and to go to a place he would show him, so Abraham did. He got there and settled down for a little bit, and then God said "Okay good, now go just a little bit further."

(I've published a pretty detailed entry a while back["On Being Scared"], so I won't repeat all of the details again here.)

I think it's funny how despite how much I love Charleston, it wasn't right for me at that point in time. I've grown up a lot and changed a lot since then. In my post-high school life I've now lived in the wonderful Charleston, the mountains of upstate South Carolina, and in the crazy, bustling Paris. For a long time I said I might like to move somewhere else for a while, maybe Charlotte or Florida or somewhere up north or even somewhere abroad for a year or so before settling down in Charleston.

But now, I'm getting a little tired of feeling like I'm living a gypsy life. And that's something I never thought I would say.

Letters from Abroad: Two Hours from Terror

[Originally published in The Tiger Newspaper, March 23, 2016; written March 22]

This morning I was sitting in a four-hour intensive class; and like the good attentive student I am, I was paying more attention to Twitter than to the lecture. That’s when I saw the first tweet about an explosion at the Brussels airport. I immediately switched over to Google to find an article with more details but found nothing. I realized the first tweets about the incident had been sent within the last half hour, and I realized I was about to watch something terrible unfold.

My first thought went to a friend of mine that I knew had a connecting flight in Brussels today. Naturally, she was the first person I sent a message to. I found out a few hours later that she was about to land in Brussels when the explosion happened, so the plane changed courses and landed somewhere outside of Brussels instead. I kept up on Twitter and various news sites that were giving live updates. I got back to my room after class and started live streaming the news, searching Google, checking my emails. I was waiting for an email from the study abroad office or the US Embassy and waiting for President Obama to make a statement and waiting to hear if there was a threat in Paris or if I needed to stay where I was and avoid the city. I was just sitting there waiting for someone to tell me what to do or how to feel.

Just as a point of reference, Paris is about 2 and half hours away from Brussels by train. A lot was running through my mind. An airport had been attacked, a metro station had been attacked, a city had been attacked. Not just any city – the capital of Europe, the headquarters for the European Union, a city I was just in a month ago. No, I was not in the city for the attack; however, since I have been old enough to understand the gravity of terror attacks the closest one geographically was in San Bernardino. That was almost 2,500 miles away. This is the first time in my life that I have been only two hours from terror. This is the first time in my life that I’ve had to think through which of my friends are here in Europe, and which of them could be near Brussels today. This is the first time in my life that I’m living in a city that has experienced an awful terrorist attack within the last four months –– a city that could very, very easily be targeted again. 

Also today, the Gare du Nord metro station in Paris was evacuated when an abandoned suitcase was discovered. The station was reopened a couple of hours later when authorities determined there was not threat. I was telling someone earlier how it was crazy that despite the November attacks, I wasn’t afraid of coming here. Now though, despite how much I want to go see the Eiffel Tower lit in the colors of the Belgian flag, I’m too afraid to get on the metro.  

As far as Clemson goes, I have at this point received several emails from my program director and the study abroad office checking on my location and safety. As far as Paris goes, the state of emergency has been extended until May 26. Until now, that hasn’t meant much to me, because since I’ve been here you would never have realized Paris was in a state of emergency. Life here continues to move on, just as it does anywhere.

So, I am safe, and I am thankful that I was two hours from the attacks and not in the midst of them. And no, I haven’t once had second thoughts about coming to Paris. My thoughts and prayer are with those who have been affected by the attacks. Paris stood strong in the face of terror, and I know Brussels will too.

 Je suis Bruxelles.

–– Kelsey 

Letters from Abroad: What No One Likes to Talk About

[Originally published in The Tiger Newspaper, March 10, 2016]

No one ever really likes to talk about the hard part of studying abroad. 

Your program will mention culture shock and the different stages, and how it will be more difficult for some than for others. It will reference reverse culture shock, and how hard readjusting to American life will be., But nobody wants to talk about how hard studying abroad is. Nobody wants to hear it, especially when they’re dreaming of life in another country, of freedom like they’ve never had before, and of the chance to book plane tickets to neighboring countries for under $50. 

It’s hard to justify complaining when you’re abroad.
It’s an amazing opportunity. 

It’s incredible to get to casually eat dinner within sight of the Eiffel Tower twinkling at night, or to spend rainy days looking at priceless art in the Louvre, or to go country hopping on long weekends. It seems like you should have nothing to grumble about, and complaining just makes you look like a spoiled brat. At least, that’s how it can feel. 

No one really likes to talk about how isolating it can feel to be in such a different time zone compared to your friends and family. It’s something that didn’t seem like it would be a big deal to me, but I can’t tell you how many times it’s been 10 a.m. for me and I go to text someone and I realize that it’s 4 a.m. at home and it will be hours before I hear back from anyone. Once school picks up for people back at home, the time change can make things even harder. When I get up, everyone is asleep. When everyone gets up, I’m in class. When I’m out of class, everyone is in class. When everyone is getting out of class, I’m getting ready for bed. 

No one likes to talk about how people get busy, and after a while you start hearing a lot less from your friends, getting fewer and fewer “I miss you” texts. You know it’s not because they don’t miss you anymore, but it doesn’t stop you from thinking about how everyone’s life is moving right along despite the fact that you aren’t there.

No one likes to talk about how much the weather can affect you. I grew up in the south. It was 80 degrees on Christmas day at home. Here, I can probably count on two hands the number of times I’ve seen the sun in my two months here. 

No one likes to talk about how there are days when you just want to get on a plane and go home. Sometimes you hit a point where it feels like home is so far away, and I don’t mean in terms of distance. I mean that you look at a calendar and the three months you have left feel like they’ll take three years. 

Sometimes you get in a funk, and it’s hard to get out of. 

Obviously, I’m in a bit of one myself. Today I tried to go for a run and get some fresh air and exercise. I was thinking something along the lines of Elle Woods, “Exercise gives you endorphins, endorphins make you happy. Happy people just don’t shoot their husbands.” Problem is about every other person you pass on the street is smoking, and constantly breathing in second hand smoke while running in the cold makes your lungs dry and burn like fire. I think I got more asthma than endorphins. 

To the friends and family of those studying abroad, I can’t ask you this enough. If your loved one abroad is having a hard time, don’t make them feel like they have no right to be sad because they’re in an incredible city. Homesickness is to be expected, but I can tell you that sometimes it’s not just a matter of missing home. 

Yes, life abroad is a bit of a fantasy world. But it would be  unfair to not warn future travelers about the low points of this wonderful world. Sometimes the fantasy wears thin.  I’m not saying you shouldn’t go abroad, because it really is incredible. I just think it’s only fair to warn you that while it can be one of the most rewarding things you will ever do, it can also be one of the hardest. 

I can’t say everyone will experience this; but, if you do, I can promise you aren’t alone. While right now I may not have the solution, maybe I’ll be able to give it to you soon.  

Au revior for now. 

-Kelsey

Cheers to You, London

Sorry for always taking so long to write these blogs. A lot of times I really have to just kind of wait it out so that I can look back on whatever it is I want to write about with fresh eyes.

As promised before, I'm giving London it's own blog.


First I'm going to give everyone some tips for visiting London:
Places to see:
-Westminster Abbey and Big Ben. Definitely worth the £18 (that's just to go inside, not to admire from the street).
-The London Eye. I still haven't had the chance to actually ride the London Eye yet, but it's on my bucket list. Even if you don't ride it, it still makes for a pretty picture.
-The British Museum. A museum with lots and lots, what primarily interests me are the Egyptian antiquities. I haven't been there in about five years, but it's definitely one that I want to go back to.
-Harrod's. Even if you don't buy anything, who wouldn't want to visit the world's most famous department store?
-The Covent Garden Market. It reminds me almost something of the Charleston market. There are table venders with art and jewelry, but there are also indoor cafes, designer boutiques, old school toy stores, and tea shops. Out front there's typically a magician or a man on a bike-on-stilts juggling swords, or break-dancers and really any kind of street entertainment.
-Picadilly Circus. Basically London's Time Square. Full of restaurants and things like M&M World, a Disney Store, designer boutiques, souvenir shops, and -my favorite- street musicians galore.
-Trafalgar Square. It's beautiful, and it's super relaxing to sit on the edge of the fountain and drink a coffee and spend a little time people-watching.
-Platform 9 3/4 at King's Cross Station.  Yes, it's a thing, and it's not just a thing at the Warner Brother's Studio Tour.

Things to Do:
-GO TO A SHOW AT ONE OF THE THEATERS. Seriously. You can get tickets for as low as £39. At the moment this converts to about $50, which for a show of the caliber you'll see in London is an incredible price. I've seen The Lion King and Wicked and have been blown away by both.
-Go into the bookstores. London is full of them, and they're all fantastic. As much as I love Books-a-Million(don't judge), these bookstores are better than any we have in the US.
-Eat fish and chips. So far my favorite that I've had were from Garfunkel's. It is a chain, but it's relatively in expensive compared to many of the other places. My fish and chips were I think £12.50, but a lot of places will run £16+. There's one right off of the plaza in Picadilly Circus, and I'm pretty sure there is also one really close to Trafalgar Square.
-WARNER BROS HARRY POTTER STUDIO TOUR. You HAVE to book tickets online in advance, they do not sell tickets at the studio. Also, to get there(if you're taking public transportation) is to take a train to Watford Junction, and then a charter bus will take you to the studio. The charter bus costs £2.50, so have some coins on you. And spend the £5 to get the audio guide, there is so much to see and the audio guide really helps you go in a logical order and helps you to not miss anything. Stop for a butterbeer!! Take your time, it took me from 9:30am until probably 1 in the afternoon to get through everything. Also spend sometime in the souvenir shop :) I plan on doing this again.



London is probably the happiest I've been since being in Europe. I think I have a little bit of a special bond with London. Going to London my junior year of high school was my first time to Europe. I loved everything about London from the second I landed. The people are extremely friendly, the accents are addicting - as are the fish and chips, and London is just beautiful. On my high school trip, we were going from London to Paris. The last day in London we went to Harrod's, and I was talking to one of the school admins. on the trip about how I absolutely did not want to leave. That's when she suggested something that at the time I didn't even know what an option - study abroad for a semester. I decided then and there that it was something I was going to do. London and Paris is also where I found a love for historic architecture, and what actually set me on my original college path of Historic Preservation and Community Planning at the College of Charleston.

No, I'm not at College of Charleston anymore; no, I'm not a HPCP major(I won't bore you with that story, but I didn't switch out of it for a lack of loving it); and, no, I'm not studying abroad in London. While part of me kept wishing I had picked London, part of me was very glad I didn't. The British pound to US dollar conversion rate absolutely sucks for anyone who's money is in dollars. While I was there, £1 converted to about $1.47. Meaning you had to add $0.47 to every pound you were spending to get that amount in dollars. Also, as it is, Paris is one of the most expensive cities in the world. London is even more expensive. Also, both times I've been to London I've gotten lucky with uncharacteristically good weather. The UK in general isn't exactly known for being the sunshine capital of the world.

My trip to London was actually really really great and something I desperately needed. It came at the end of the week and half break from classes where I got to go city hopping, and at the first of those cities I had an absolute meltdown from homesickness. While I was in London though, I was honestly so happy. It was one of those "happys" that is so hard to explain because it was one that came after a fairly long period of always being kind of down. It's almost like that feeling of when you can finally breathe through your nose after a while of being sick, and you didn't realize until that moment just how much you couldn't breathe just a day before. It was one of those moments where I felt like myself again - where I had fun exploring by myself and where I could just walk around or sit in a bookstore and be happy or where I was excited to figure out the metro system or where I could sit in a restaurant by myself and not feel awkward. It was one of those moments where I could be alone, and I wasn't lonely. To me, that's one of the most freeing feelings in the world –– to not have to depend on anyone else or anything else to make you happy, to be happy with simplicity and with quiet and with your own presence.

I've never spent more than five days in London, but somehow I always feel a little changed for the better when I leave. Each time I have found a new love –– first it was of old architecture, and this last time it was with the theater. I've been to quite a few places in Europe at this point; and while I have liked all of them, I don't necessarily have any plans to revisit some of them. London is not one of those. I already can't wait until the next time I can go to London. Part of me is a little scared to go back, because I know I've kind of idealized it in my head at this point. It's always scary when we do that, because eventually the real thing will stop living up to how we remember it to be.

Right now, I'm content to remember London the way I do.

Cheers to you, London. I hope to see you again soon.



-Kelsey

~Other London photos are in my "Ticket for One" entry~

 Lyceum Theatre

 Covent Garden Market

Trafalgar Sqaure

City Hopping: Brussels, Amsterdam, Berlin

Like I've said in a recent post, I just had a week and a half break from classes - yes, I promise, every now and then I do actually have a class or two here in Paris. During this break I was able to go to Brussels, Amsterdam, Berlin, and London.

The break began with a class trip to Belgium where we toured the European Parliament and listened to a few lectures on the Euro, Greece's financial crisis, and the economies of various European countries. Later my group and I got a traditional Belgian dinner, got Belgian waffles for dessert (probably one of the most wonderful things I have ever eaten), and went to a bar that offers over 2,000 craft beers, The Delirium, afterwards. I've already talked about how some of us got lost trying to make it back to our hotel that was about a seven minute walk away followed by my homesick meltdown, so I won't repeat myself here.

The next day was a free day, and I didn't have to be at the train station until that evening, so we went exploring. Brussels is surprisingly small as far as the "touristy" things to see. The Grand Place is unbelievable, as is the chocolate. That night I took an overnight train to the Netherlands to stay with a friend from College of Charleston.

Amsterdam was great, no surprise. We walked all over, went to the Van Gogh Museum, Anne Frank House, did a little vintage store shopping, took a quick visit to the Red Light District, and explored the city. The weather was too cold and rainy for a bike or boat tour, so I'll have to save that for the next time I'm back.

The next adventure was taking the overnight bus to Berlin. The initial difficulty was finding where in the work my bus stop was. It was actually outside of the station, across the street, down a "hill" for lack of a better description, towards a tunnel under a bridge. It was also after 10pm, about 35 degrees, and I was loaded down with a duffle bag that probably weighed more than me. For a few minutes I did feel extremely anxious and like I wasn't going to be able to find this bus stop, I had no phone service, the information desk was closed as was everything else in the train station except for Starbucks, and the people I asked for directions didn't speak much English so I had a really hard time figuring out exactly what they were trying to tell me. If you haven't figured it out, I was also all by myself for this. I never realized how stressful it is to travel alone.

Luckily for me, after a less than comfortable night on the bus, my AirBNB host gave me really great step-by-step directions on how to reach the flat I had rented for the night. Finally I was able to set out to do the number one thing that brought me to Berlin for the day –– The East Side Gallery. For anyone who doesn't know, the East Side Gallery is what is left of the Berlin Wall with sections that have been sold to various artists to create something beautiful out of something that created something so terrible. I had seen pictures of various paintings, and there was one in particular I wanted to see.

If you can't read the English section, it says, "I painted over the wall of shame so freedom is ashamed no more. Inferno ruled too many years, until the people chose the light. I put my faith in you, Berlin, and give to you my colors bright." I had to get this picture off of Google, and here's what happened. I began at one end the wall and walk down the entire thing looking for this particular painting so I could take my own picture of it. The more I walked, the more I wondered if the spot had been re-sold to another artist and painted over. Finally as I'm getting towards the very last piece of the wall, I notice a familiar pattern. I ran up to it, and saw this ––

It's the same painting, only completely vandalized. I was kind of heartbroken. It appears as though the city is going section by section and doing restoration because parts are blocked off by gates, and those areas are completely un-vandalized, even by Sharpie signatures. One day it will be beautiful again, but my luck. Next I went to Checkpoint Charlie and the Berlin Wall Panorama Museum. Unless you're a history buff, there's not a whole lot to do in Berlin besides museums, and I've done a lot of the museums and sites the last time I was in Berlin, so I wandered around Alexanderplatz and waited to hear from the group I was meeting up with. 

The next day we were off to London, and I think London deserves it's own blog so I will stop here. 

Enjoy my pictures of the East Side Gallery! And of Amsterdam :)

 Amsterdam Canals

 Amsterdam Canals

Amsterdam Canals