Things I don't know

I've been meaning to get back to blogging for a while now. Not really to document anything specific, (my life here is less glamorous than paragliding in the swiss alps) but I'm slowly realizing how much sharper my thoughts are when I use paper and ink. And as anyone who's spent time with me will tell you, my mind is organized without any particular rhyme or reason, so when I go too long without writing things down, these thoughts run themselves ragged. I feel heavier when I don't write, but when I came home after a semester in Europe, I think I needed to feel a little weighed down to something. Much as I loved traveling, I needed to cast my anchor for a little bit and just float.

So I'm back to writing, mostly for my own sanity, within the pages of this blog. As I begin my senior year of college, I'm doing my best to soak up the uncertainty. I'm determined to ride the wave instead of letting it swallow me whole because this little season of life is both entirely terrifying and entirely full of possibility. So I'm choosing certainty in the things I know and trust in the things I don't.

Things I know:

1. I find all the security I need in the cross. This security stands independent of circumstances.
2. I can walk confidently the knowledge that God is molding me to look more like Christ.
3. My job is to listen. My job is to wait.

Things I don't:

1. Where I'll be in a year.
2. What I'll be doing.
3. How I'll feel about it.

When I look at this list, I'm overwhelmed by the magnitude of each item on the second list and also pleasantly surprised by the fact that I can fit all my uncertainty into three little lines. But my first list is so much bigger than that, and there's freedom in remembering that if those are the only things I know, they're enough. Jesus is better than knowing. 

"Blessed is the man who makes the Lord his trust, who does not look to the proud, to those who turn aside to false Gods. Many, O Lord, are the wonders you have done. The things you planned for us, no one can recount to you; were I to speak and tell of them, they would be too many to declare...

Then I said, "Here I am, I have come--it is written about me in the scroll. I desire to do your will, O my God. Your law is within my heart." -Ps. 40:5-8

So we sing

I have a confession to make: I haven't been soaking up this trip the way I planned to, mostly because the last 10 weeks still feel like a dream. Hence my journaling on the trains, hence this blog, hence the pictures. I'm trying to get it all down so I can take it in slowly when the dust settles. And I've become okay with things not fitting into the neat little boxes I like to put them in. I'm learning to embrace this kind of chaos.

But then, it hit me like a tidal wave. Right in the middle of an Easter service in a church we found in Budapest, Hungary -- crashing hard over me and swallowing me completely.

First of all, Budapest wasn't even on my list of cities to see, especially not on Easter Sunday of all weekends, but sometimes plans and lists and expectations need to get thrown out the window. That's part of the deal on a trip like this. It wasn't a long train ride from Salzburg, which WAS at the top of my list thanks to the Von Trapps. So, Budapest it was. 

Anyway, I guess I'm sort of a crier at home. It's one of those things that usually correlates directly with the amount of sleep I've gotten and how hungry I am. (The combination of those two things will get me. Sorry I'm a 3 year old.) But in general, tears are not my immediate reaction to anything except Les Mis and Marley and Me. So when I walked into the church in Budapest, I was surprised and confused by the tears that met the first chords of the worship song they began to play.

They played "At the Cross," a song I've heard a million and eight times at home. But this time, on the other side of the world, surrounded by girls I didn't even know a few weeks ago, I started crying.

And I tried to get myself together, I really did. It wasn't like this was my first time in a church for goodness sake. They were the silent kind of tears. Not the out of breath, body-wracking, hysterical kind, but the kind that just keep coming anyway. 

Because I forget how big the cross is. My vision had become clouded, my scope had grown so narrow. I get so caught up with figuring out who Christ is in my own life that I lose sight of the bigger story -- the one that's not actually about me at all. I had somehow forgotten that all God's people sing the same songs, the same praises, to the same God who gives me breath every morning. And His blood covers all of us.

It seems naive, I guess--to forget that Christ died for "the sins of the whole world." I know it sounds like gospel 101, but I think the idea of "the whole world" feels heavier because I've seen more of it. More of God's people, more of their depravity, more of grace.

It was powerful to come to grips with the responsibility that comes with traveling and seeing how broken our world is and humbling to remember how broken I am too. And more than that, how Christ can meet with me right in the middle of the big story anyway. Even in Budapest, Hungary on a rainy Sunday morning, when we stumble our way through the public transportation system and into the back row of a church we've never been to.

So, if you have to go 10 weeks without going to a real church service in Europe, tears might happen. Just warning you. 

the six amigas or whatever

For a lot of this trip to make sense, I feel  it's important that you know a few things about the girls I am traveling with. They are wonderful and funny, quirky and brilliant. Strange, charming and absolutely lovely. They have seen me groggy and trying to get to the airport at 4 a.m., tired after a long day, and frustrated with the fact that I still can't read maps.

And yet, they choose to love me anyway. There's something about traveling with and living in a community this small...It doesn't leave any dark, shadowy places to hide things. It shines harsh, honest light on every part of who we were and how we treat the people around us, and it has been incredible to watch us learn how to meet each other where we fall short.

Plus, I'm quickly figuring out that it's more about those things and less about the places we go. Although that part is pretty sweet too.

1. Steph. My roommate and personal cheerleader. This girl has more energy and encouragement than she knows what to do with.  She does things like get flowers for me after a long day of class presentations or surprise me with ingredients for a roommate cooking night just because I mentioned how much I wanted to use the kitchen a few weeks ago. She's also a morning person, which is convenient since I'm not. She lets me talk her ear off really late at night as we both try to process this incredible trip and even brings me coffee from breakfast when I decide to sleep through it because she's just that great. She asks me hard, good questions, and decides to find the fact that i'm all over the place endearing instead of highly irritating.

2. Jess. A seemingly normal girl who is actually just as strange as me. Jess is a dessert girl, and will always say yes to coffee and a pastry, so naturally, we get along well. She describes her dream style as "flower child bohemian meets rocker chic," which confuses the rest of us, who are slightly less savvy with fashion lingo, but we all agree that she is, indeed, half hippie and half rockstar. And although she's great at making anything more adventurous and fun, Jess has depth and wisdom beyond her 21 and a half years. She is rooted and steady, which makes her a fantastic listener and friend. Jess is one of those people who teaches you to float through life a little more, and I am a firm believer in the fact that everyone needs one of those.

3. Mads. The listener. And arguably our most valuable player. Madison is good at making anyone feel understood without uttering a single word. I think she's the easiest of us to be around because spending time with her is energizing. She is patient and kind and gentle with all of us, even if she's frustrated that we're running behind schedule. She doesn't want to talk about the fact that the fondue place we just ate at was really sketchy and weird and that I really shouldn't drink wine in warm restaurants, but instead just gives you water and a hug, which is what you really need. Mads is good at loving people consistently and WELL. Plus, she doesn't have class on Thursdays so we usually get to go on little train station dates which is kind of the best.

4. Kels. The nurturer. Kelsey is pretty much a more responsible and collected version of myself. We love to talk about Pine Cove things and introvert things and how much we both love Jessie Carver. We probably should have become friends a long time ago, but I guess it worked out okay. She's a little hard to get to know at first, mostly because she's so determined to get to get right to the heart of people. She just asks you so many dang good questions, and all of a sudden, you realize you've been doing all the talking. Kelsey lets the way she loves Jesus pour into all her conversations and interactions with people, which is wonderful and challenging. She likes to vandalize things, snapchat and drink coffee from a cute french press that doesn't actually belong to her in her spare time.

5. Lissa. Our resident hipster/Austin girl /cool, flannel-wearing girl. Lissa is basically up for anything all the time. She's a perfect mixture of being serious and silly, which makes her one of those people that you want to bring everywhere with you. She loves books, black coffee and doing English major things like reading out loud in class, so she's automatically a great person to see the world with. Our favorite ways to communicate include passing notes during philosophy and making strange faces across the table, neither of which involve actual words. Lissa has mastered the wool socks under lace up boots with a cable knit beret thing, so I am trying to learn her ways. A christian hipster if I ever saw one.

So, they're alright. I guess.

thin places and clovers

3:45 a.m. came just as early as I expected it to. People shouldn't even be allowed to wake up then, but no one asked me when they scheduled flights out of Maastricht at 7 something in the morning.

The good news was that I was going to Ireland, so I don't really expect any sympathy for any of this. If you're going to wake up in the middle of the night, it might as well be to catch a flight to Dublin for the weekend...so it's okay that you don't feel bad for me. I don't really feel bad for me either.

Packing was a little different for this trip since we were flying, so we had cleverly (I'm just going to pat us on the back for this one) put all our big stuff in one backpack to check and had rolled up the rest of our clothes (thank you Tridelt for teaching me how to fit 5 zillion tshirts in a basket) and crammed them in our tiny carry-on bags. So now I know I can pack lightly, which good and bad because now my father also knows I don't need as many clothes when we go places.

Anyway, we all made it out to the cab on time and headed to the airport. When I stepped up to the counter with my boarding pass in hand, I learned something horrible:

I had filled in my boarding pass with "Katie" instead of "Katherine," which is the name on my passport. So yes, that's my real name for those of you who didn't know, and yes this is a stupid rule. So now I was supposed to pay 160 euros both ways to get to Dublin, and considering that our tickets had cost us about 1/10 of that, I knew it wouldn't be worth it. Fortunately, I asked the woman at the counter if she could make a call to confirm the fact that I couldn't get on the plane without paying all this money, and it turns out that it was all fine and dandy. Praise the laaaawd.

It was all uphill from there. Once we landed in Dublin, we hit the ground running. After figuring out the bus situation, we got a bus pass for the three days and went to Brewley's for a lovely little Irish breakfast of pancakes and lattes. Also, Kels and Steph got porridge with Irish honey, just like the three lil bears. Cute people and cute porridge. I love it.

Then we were off to Trinity College Library, which is far and away the most beautiful library I've ever been in. After wandering around the library and filling our lungs with the smell of old books, we went back to our hotel to check in and drop our stuff off. This is why it's important to travel with people who are into the same kind of nerdy stuff you are.

Having had a little more than 3 hours of restless sleep the night before, I was about to fall over, so we took a nap break for my sake before finding our way to the Guinness warehouse. This was obviously a little out of my element, but the warehouse was one of the most fun and interesting parts of the weekend! We finished the tour at the top of the building, which had a view that overlooked all of Dublin. After dinner at one of the best restaurants I've eaten at so far, we went back to the hotel and were asleep by 10. Also, I got a certificate that says I can "craft the perfect pint of Guinness." My mama is proud.

The next morning, we woke up early again (although it's all relative I guess...it wasn't 4) to go back to the city center, where we would be departing for our day-long tour across Ireland. The Irish countryside was incredibly green, and the rain that sprinkled on and off throughout the day felt perfectly Irish.

After stopping at a few castles and in Doolin for lunch, we finally made it to the Cliffs of Moher. The Irish call these cliffs a "thin place," which means it's a place where they believe the veil between heaven and earth is a little thinner. I don't think thin places are just supposed to be scenic--there's something about them that makes God's presence more palpable. Something that makes you stop and pray. According to random and  unreliable things I've read about it on the internet, you can't really "look" for a thin place--it finds you.

These cliffs were that for me. I don't think these pictures do them justice at all, but the ones with people in them seemed to come the closest because you can see the sheer size of what we stood beside. We had about two hours to spend exploring the cliffs, and we spent all two hours climbing around and trying not to get blown over the edge.

So that was magical Ireland. And I got back home without paying 160 euros so there's that.

A love letter to Switzerland

Dear Switzerland,

I've never seen beauty like yours. I didn't know mountains could actually take the breath right out of me before I met you. The alps and their snowy peaks, the heavy fog that hung right outside our window in the mornings, the dark-stained wooden chalets that sprinkled the mountain. You are as close to a real-life snow globe as it gets. Filled with pine trees, chocolate, flannel and snow...swoon.

I don't want to jump the gun, but I think we might be soulmates.

You have a charm I can't quite put my finger on. Everything about you is just so effortless and lovely, and it seems that you have everyone else under the same kind of spell. During our short stay, we met so many people who came for a few days and stayed for a few weeks--a few months even. Believe me, if I didn't have this school thing going on, I would seriously consider spending the rest of my semester with you.

Your adventurous spirit inspired me, and considering all the rock-climbers, skiers and hikers, you must have that effect on a lot of people. Seeing your beauty made me want to take a stab at being brave, which is I guess what translated into my jumping off the side of a cliff. When the whole paragliding thing kind of fell into our lap, I knew I had to see you from the sky. Running down that hill and into the air is about as close to flying as I'll probably ever get, and experiencing you from those heights made me jealous of the birds, but also thankful for the fact that I don't have wings because I probably wouldn't ever come down. Or fly south for the winter or whatever.

Just know that you are such an incredible picture of our God's creativity. Everything about you pointed me back to Him.

Don't worry, I'll be back soon.

Love and eskimo kisses,
Katie

the middle of nowhere, germany

For those of you who know me really well, this probably won't come as a surprise...but I've come to realize that I love the still parts of this trip the most. Don't get me wrong--this little adventure is not at all about being still. It's about moving up and around mountains and oceans and about seeing new people and new places halfway across the world. It's about growth, about being tired in the best way, about changing. But it's been the train rides, the long, snowy walks to our hostel, the moments when we have a split second to soak it all up that really resonate with me.

I think it's because these moments are rare. It's because they meet me in the middle of nowhere, Germany, when I'm standing out in a blizzard and remembering how little I am. They find me on a train ride through the French riviera or beside the black forest, when I realize how much beauty in the world I haven't seen yet. How much I still need to see.

While the pace of this trip as a whole has been exhausting, I've been tired in the best, sore the day after a good workout kind of way. It's been challenging, for sure. Being tired, hungry and lost a lot of the time in strange cities will do that to you. But the Lord has been faithfully reminding me of the opportunity I have to serve those around me by choosing patience, joy and gentleness. Every. Single. Time. As I've gotten caught up in unfamiliarity and inconsistency, I am learning so much about what it looks like to stay close to my source and so much about investing in my community here.

SO. Germany was interesting. In an attempt at spontaneity, we googled "German cities by water and the black forest," threw them in a hat and chose one at random. After throwing the first few out (hehe)...we finally decided on Titisee and Stuttgart. We were really rooting for the black forest, and I'm not really sure why. I think we were imagining fairies and forest creatures. Maybe.

We woke up early to catch the 6 something train ride to Titisee, which is when this magical, snowy train ride through the black forest took place. When we finally connected our last train, we promptly got off at the wrong stop and realized we couldn't get back in the next hour or so. We killed some time inside a chocolate shop and played in the best snow I've ever seen. Once we got back to the right town, we were pleasantly surprised to see that Titisee was, indeed, a magical little lake town, covered in a thick blanket of snow. Still carrying our backbacks, we found our way to the lake we had seen on google images and found this.

Although you probably can't tell from the photo, the frozen, desolate lake was actually beautiful in its own kind of way. We found shelter from the snow in a tiny German restaurant, where we spent a lot of the afternoon eating spatzel, black forest cake (IN THE BLACK FOREST, GET IT?) and drinking hot chocolate while we watched the snow fall and relaxed. After dinner, we went back to the train station to catch the train to Stuttgart, where we would be spending the rest of the weekend.

First off, the hotel we were staying at was about a mile from the train station, which probably would have sounded a lot worse four weeks ago when I wasn't used to walking anywhere. The strange part about this little journey was that we ended up trekking through a residential area. Past a high school track, past little neighborhood streets. We walked silently, for the most part. Enjoying the peace and quiet of the snowy streets. Breathing in cold air is wonderful when the rest of you is warm.

When we arrived at the hotel, the lobby was dark and completely empty. Once we finally figured out the German area code, (there were lots of shambly attempts at this) we called the number (displayed on a very tiny and unimportant looking sheet of paper) and were directed to a tiny metal box, where we punched in a series of numbers. A key fell out, and were were directed to room 212, which the key would open...where we would find another keep for room 312. We then proceeded up an unlit flight of stairs and walked down an empty hallway to room 212. It was all very spy movie/horror movie, which was funny in hindsight but significantly less funny in the moment.

The next morning, we enjoyed the best breakfast ever and set out to explore the city of Stuttgart. After a little snowy shopping and sightseeing, we finished off the day with dinner at a great German restaurant (normal meat and potatoes finallyyyy) and spent the last part of the night at a trendy little college bar near the university.

Not too bad for drawing it out of a hat. Although we probably won't be doing it again any time soon.

bonjour, france

So I survived my first planning/train-booking/hostel finding trip to France and it was the loveliest.

We stayed in Maastricht until Tuesday for a holiday called Carnaval, which is mardi gras/Dia/the fourth of July/Halloween times a million. I'm writing an article for my feature writing class over it so I can elaborate a little more then...Until then, feel free to look through my pictures to see mobs of Dutch people in costumes. Dancing in puddles of beer.

Anyway, we left really early on Tuesday morning and spent the day traveling through the French countryside. Strangely enough, the train ride was one of my favorite parts of the trip because it was the first time I felt like I could really unwind and enjoy the scenery since we got here...I got to journal and read a lot, which is always so so good when I'm trying to process things.

Once we got to Nice, we found our hostel pretty quickly and were pleasantly surprised to find that they had upgraded our 6 person room to 3 private rooms. Ravenous (ahem)...as usual, we quickly unpacked and went out to find large quantities of food. We spent the rest of the evening playing fishbowl with an interesting group of Latin guys whose first languages were not English and threw some rocks in the ocean at midnight. For being so pointless, that kind of thing is strangely therapeutic and invigorating.

The next morning we got to sleep in a little bit and headed to the flower market around 10, where I bought a precious little oil painting from our new friend Martel. Here's to me trying to become artsy while I'm over here. We explored different parts of the market and Old Nice and had a little picnic lunch on the beach. Old Nice was all kinds of perfect--with ice cream colored buildings, painted window shutters, cobble stone streets, and ivy growing on everything, I was in Pinterest heaven. We hiked a little bit on some cliffs right of the beach, where we realized we could see mountains and beach at the same time. Dreaaaamy.

We headed to Paris the next morning at the crack of dawn, just in time for Vaaaaalentine's Day, which was only MOSTLY a coincidence. We hit the ground running after we dropped our backpacks off at the hostel and did a little sightseeing. For dinner, we went to a really sketchy fondue place which provided us with a lot of stories, all of which I will tell you if you ask. We headed to the Eiffel tower in hopes of witnessing a few proposals and ate some chocolate while we watched the little twinkle lights go off. So romantic.

The next day we were literally running around everywhere and didn't have quite enough time at everything we went to..Which just means I'll have to go back sometime. We went to the Louvre, Notre Dame, the Shakespeare and Company bookstore (the bookstore of my dreams, complete with little ladders and nooks filled with books) Saint Chapelle, and the shops on Champs Elysee. Sigh. A full day of wonderful Parisian things.

The next day, we went to the Eiffel tower for a picnic lunch (just for the sake of being cute...we are under the impression that eating bread and cheese is very french) and explored the flea market before heading to the train station. While trying to connect trains, we realized we were running much later than we had anticipated and took off running through the station with our giant backpacks on. After 10 minutes of this and lots of panic, we made it onto the train and had to sit on the floor in the bar area, which wasn't actually terrible. We finally got back late on Saturday night and had all day Sunday to catch up on sleep.

France, you were magical. Well done.

Istanbul

So this is more of a reflective post since I couldn't possibly sum up the last 2 weeks in Turkey and Maastricht. I promise I will lighten up and just tell you what I'm up to next time. But for now, here it is. I warned ya.

So, Istanbul.

Turkey was beautiful in ways I was not expecting. It was layered and gritty, with the old and new mixed right in together. I could see it in the people and in the buildings everywhere we went. With the lights of Taksim square right beside the old 6th century walls in the city, I found Istanbul's history woven right in with the buzz of the crowded city. Driving faster and eating slower than we do, the people presented an interesting dichotomy of their own.

Everything about Istanbul was strikingly vertical. Because it's such a crowded city, even the wealthiest families live in apartments. Everything is stacked high, with parts of old and new buildings all melted together. As we traveled and went sightseeing, I found that I spent most of the time looking up. The city, the mosques and the palaces all drew so much of our attention toward the skies, and their beauty was rich and and nuanced in an unfamiliar kind of way.

I am learning so much about people--both through conversations I've had with friends on the trip and through the different cultures I've gotten a taste of. Here, I am getting the opportunity to start over a little bit. Friends on the trip are starting with the me I am right now, and I am getting to learn about their lives here and at home quickly. It's been incredible to see and experience these things with friends who were strangers only a week ago, and mostly to see the way our paths are crossing in more ways than one. I'm fascinated with the way people work, and getting to see so much more of humanity as I travel has begun to quench that thirst in me. 

The most striking part of travel so far has been the common threads I've found. I think maybe the point of traveling is to find the differences and to appreciate them, but for some reason, I've found a lot of  peace in knowing that children and their parents show affection in all the same ways on the other side of the world. That coffee and dessert sound good no matter where you are, and most of all, that smiles are universal  Our hearts were created with all the same capacities, which is such a testament to the God we serve. 

With the culture and language being so far from ours, Istanbul was challenging in ways I don't think we'll encounter for rest of our trip, but it was the perfect start to an adventure like this. As a group, we had lots of time to bond as we scavenged for restaurants and braved the bazaars in groups of at least 4. I consumed lots of baklava, apple tea and kebabs over the course of the week and got very close to buying some genie pants. I decided our first week felt a lot like freshman year would have if we all got to do it over again. It's been great to begin feeling a sense of community when I'm so far from home.

Now that we're finally settled in Maastricht, Turkey feels a million miles away. Getting to unpack and explore the city has brought a little calm to such a crazy week and a half. Oh and school started this week...

More to come on Maastricht. I luv it hereeee.

Roots

I can't believe it's here. I leave in 5 days and it still feels as uncertain as it did a year ago when I began planning this adventure. I love that this trip is coming at the beginning of a new year, as if it somehow marks the beginning of a new season of its own. I am starting fresh for the first time in a while, wiping the slate clean with new people and a new place to call home for a few months.

Although I'm scared, I know I need to leave. I can feel it in my bones--this desire to to run, to stretch my legs is stronger than my fear. It is strange to crave unsettledness.

2012 was sweet in ways I could not have imagined last January. The Lord has done so much work in this little heart of mine, and I feel changed in an entire self kind of way. Rooted...Strong. Ready.

And so, God has called me on this grand adventure, far from all these things I consider comfortable. Far from where I've put down my roots. 

I spent the last week in Austin and Waco, getting filled up by the people who know me the best. There is truly nothing like leaving a place to make you realize how much of your heart other people will be keeping there. How sweet it was to be reminded of how much love I get to come home to in 3 months, to be reminded of the things that won't change within the span of a semester.

I am getting used to the idea of things here moving forward without me, and am praying that I will come home changed also.

It's when I draw too far inwardly that fear creeps in, so I am praying for vision this semester--for "the big picture" kind of eyes as I see so much more of the world and so much more of people.

There is so much waiting for me.