Brainwashed by Mr. Brainwash

One of my favorite documentaries is without question Banksy's "Exit Through the Giftshop."
While I don't have many fond things to say about my education at FIT - getting a private screening of this little slice of genius with some of the producers present was a highlight of my fashion-filled days.

The film, which stars Banksy, Shephard Fairey, Invader and many of the world's most infamous graffiti artists, follows a Frenchie named Thierry Guetta who after following around and filming street artists creating their work in the hopes of making a documentary, decides he would like to become an artist himself. He adopts the moniker "MBW" or "Mr. Brainwash." Upon Banksy's suggestion, he starts creating art of his own and somehow to everyone's surprise becomes an overnight sensation with his first solo exhibition in LA "Life is Beautiful."

The best part of this whole thing is that Thierry is quite literally mad. Banksy admits at one point "he is actually a lot more interesting than I am."

When I saw that MBW had his first solo exhibition in the UK at an old warehouse in Holborn this week, I was so there.

I find him fascinating, in a crazy and insane sort of way. And while the art I saw him (slash his helpers) creating in the documentary seemed meaningless and mass produced, and while in reality some of it was - I found myself wandering around this enormous warehouse grinning at everything in sight. Maybe his name is more appropriate than I previously realized....

Perhaps I'd been brainwashed, but I found the exhibition and works within it clever, funny, interesting, and uplifting.

Nearly everything had some sort of positive message.
"Life is Beautiful"
"Never Ever Never Ever Give Up"
"Love is the Answer."
"Follow Your Dreams"

The exit, was indeed through the giftshop. But the giftshop was free.
Everyone leaving could choose 1 free poster and 1 free postcard. Naturally, I chose this one....

If only the Queen would wear aviators, she could be almost as cool as Prince Harry. 

I will be moving into a new apartment soon, so I was thrilled to get this free piece of artwork for my future English-inspired pad in New York. I think it will be nice tribute to my time here, and since I am suddenly a bit melancholy about my soon departure from the UK, I plan on doing a very funky-Kit-Kemp inspired English decor to bring a little of this place back with me. I would have never guessed back in January, when I was cursing myself for moving here and crying my eyes out on a daily basis - that by the time September started a part of me would be wishing I could stay. 

Feelings sneak up on you I guess, and when you least expect it everything changes. 

I spent this past weekend in New York and while I was walking around, I realized how many things had changed in the year I've been gone. Restaurants that closed, others that opened, buildings gone up, scaffolding taken down, people who left, people who came...

This whole year I've been anxious to get back to New York so my life could go back to the way it was before I left. Back to my old routine, my old hangouts, my old office, my old neighborhood . But I realized that instead, it's going to be a fresh start. I may come home to find that what I left may not be there anymore, but there's new things waiting. And that is pretty exciting. 

So the countdown begins.  

Tomato, Toe-mah-toe.

One of my favorite establishments on "The KR" (which is what us Chelsea-ers call The King's Road for short) is a restaurant called Big Easy.
It's a Crab Shack style, American-sized portions place that serves home-style cooking, and has a different "All You Can Eat (fill in the blank) + Free Margarita" special every night of the week.

Their slogan, "put a li'l south in yo' mouth..."

Big Easy view from The KR

Inside the Crab Shack

Eating at Big Easy is like coming back to America for a few hours. There's a live band covering "Brown Eyed Girl" and they have Red Velvet Cake on the dessert menu. It's tacky, but it's awesome - and the food is delicious. So I organized a night out at Big Easy to show all my English friends what dining in America is like.

A hungry group of 15, we crammed into two long tables surrounded by oversized twinkle lights and banged up road signs and began to evaluate the oversized menus and chalkboard specials.

I'm a fajita girl myself, so my mind was made up before I sat down. But all my friends were drawn in by the all you can eat shrimp and the lobster festival. Most of them had never tried lobster! Apparently its not very common in England, only in very fancy restaurants where it's priced at about £45 - so this is understandable. A £14 lobster was very alluring to the Brits.

I realized a strategy that if just one person ordered the shrimp, we could all have their fill of them because they were "all you can eat." I love cheating the system.

My mates were like kids in a candy store when the food came. 

"This is amazing," shouted my friend Nick sitting next to me, who had ordered lobster but was also sharing my fajitas.

"I've got unlimited prawns on my left, fajitas on my right and lobster and chips in front of me!"

You're in American, Nick! They're called shrimp, and fries.

My Brit friends have started constantly making fun of my accent - like I'm the one who sounds ridiculous when I speak. They like to repeat everything I say in a high-pitched hick-voice, which could not be farther from how I actually sound. 

Peels of laughter last night when I said "no tomatos please." 

"HAHAHAHA You mean toe-MAH-toe?"

No, I mean tomato.

I've encouraged them all to come visit me back in New York, or better yet Ohio - where they will be surrounded by Americans and the tables will turn.

Despite making fun of my American-ness, they all LOVED Big Easy, and were extremely appreciative of my planning...perhaps a little too much! I suddenly got sung a shouting round of "Happy Birthday" as a token of appreciation, although they all well know my birthday is February. It may have been their free margaritas singing.

My night at the Crab Shack was a pre-cursor to my upcoming trip to America. I leave tomorrow night for JFK and am overjoyed by the fact that I will wake up in England, and fall asleep in America! I also get to see my best friends that I haven't seen in ages and work from my New York office for a day before continuing onto Ohio after work Friday night for a long weekend with my entire family! 

That's right - all 7 of us + 3 spouses + 2 babies + 2 toddlers + 3 dogs. That makes 17. 

This whole weekend was my bright idea, and somehow I got all 16 others on board. Perhaps I am a good group planner after. 

I asked my mates if there was anything they wanted me to bring back from America. 

Their requests?

"Those chocolate peanut butter bits, please!"(Reese Pieces)

"Proper tortilla chips would be lovely" (Tortilla Chips here in England look and taste like Doritos)

"Peanut Butter!" (You can get that here despite what they think...)

"Supplies to make those sah-mores you are always going on about" (They mean S'mores)

None of my friends have any idea what a s'more is - and I am very excited to show them on our camping trip in October. If they thought lobster was good - just wait until they get a load of s'mores!

48 Hours in Le Cote d'Azur

So, I'm out of vacation days more or less. The remainder of my 30 paid vacation days is going to be spent in Italy with my sister at the end of this month. But that didn't stop me from flying to Nice this past weekend when my friend asked if I would be interested in the spare room in their 10 bed villa they'd rented. I booked a flight to leave after work Friday night and the last flight back on Sunday night. 48 hours in Nice was better than none.

I'm a firm believer that when you have limited time, you need to make the most of it.

So at 3am the night of my arrival, I found myself in the middle of a crowded, seedy, bar on the Rue de L'Abbaye in Nice. The walls of the place were plastered with vintage Beatles, Stones, and other rock paraphernalia, I was standing in a puddle of what I can only hope was beer, drenched in sweat and screaming and twisting along to the live band covering "Hard Day's Night."  I climbed up on top of the table to get a better view of the band and saw the picture frames throughout the place were completely fogged. The bar was actually sweating. I was the only American in sight amongst the crowd of Eurokids, bikers, and neon-wig-wearing cross-dressers that were bartending. I sipped my gin and tonic between shouts of incorrect lyrics and danced with my friend until the place shut down.

A few hours later, I'm sitting on the terrace of a 14th century building in the Mideval village of Saint Paul de Vence perched high on a mountain, mangeing a baugette and a salad nicoise and admiring the view of rolling hills, villas, and lavender bushes around me that is Provence. I sought out glace afterwards and wandered through the ancient streets with my Nutella-flavored ice cream cone swooning left and right. I took off my sunglasses because I had to look around without anything impairing my view to believe that where I was was real.

By 3am that night, I'm laying under a cabana in the village of Colomars, France that is on the terrace of the gorgeous villa my mates have rented for the week, surrounded by empty pizza boxes and rosé bottles, admiring the millions of stars and chatting with the only other person in the group who has not fallen victim to their tiredness and gone to bed. My eyelids are already too heavy when they say to me, "I'm just going to the loo - don't fall asleep!" I  wake up a few hours later in that very spot, to find a blanket thrown over me and my friend passed out on the opposite side of the cabana.
In my half awake state, I realize I'm outside, in Nice, and that the sun is about to rise over the hills. It's incredible. As I prop myself up against a pillow to watch the sunrise, I just think....Oh, how I love France.

I spent the rest of that day between floating around in the pool with my friends and reading and napping in the chaise lounge, soaking up the soleil before heading to the airport at 10pm to go back to London. By the time I was finally tucked in bed in my flat at 1am, it almost seemed like the whole thing was a wonderful dream.

It's always very difficult for me to leave France. I feel this incredible sense of belonging when I'm there, parle-ing with the locals, smothering a fresh baguette in some sort of fromage and soaking in as much culture as I can. I spent an hour talking to the villa owner, Luigi, who is about 50 years old now, but has had quite an interesting life.

He became a pro football (soccer) player at 16, and moved out of his house. He was good - really good, and played for various teams in Southern France and also played for Monaco where he befriended Prince Albert, who apparently is quite a football fan. After an injury ended his career at 27, a friend asked him to drop by the opening of his new nightclub and tell some friends. 2,000 people showed up because of Luigi for a club capacity of 300. The party expanded onto the streets and the club became the hottest place in town overnight. The owner handed the keys to Luigi the next morning, saying Luigi, "this is your club now."

By 30 Luigi had 5 clubs between Monaco, Nice, and Paris and just retired last year to pursue a quieter life. He never drank, did drugs, or smoked his whole life. He said, "there are so many things to be happy about, so many reasons to have a good time - I don't need that."

He attributes the way his life played out to "chance debutant," or as we call it, beginners luck. He said when he was young and inexperienced, he never knew what he was doing, he just went for things, went with his gut and made decisions and they always worked out. He insists things are much more difficult to pull off when you try to plan and focus too hard on them.

I love his mentality.

"You're young," he says to me in his thick accent. "You just have to go for it, be happy you know... love life, take holidays, be with your friends, be with your family, take chances, have a good time, and don't worry about things...and they will work out. C'est la chance debutant, tu connait?

Makes perfect sense to moi.

La Belle Bruges

This past weekend, I died and went to Bruges.

After just a few minutes in the city, I was already beginning to melt like chocolate fondue from the cuteness. I have never seen anywhere so adorable - so charming - so full of delicious things to eat.

I decided to dress to honor the city. I put on my Brogues of course, and opted not for a sundress, but rather my lace shorts. For the first time in my life I wished I was a brunett so my hair could match the chocolate. But you can't have it all....

Brogues in Bruges!

I was starving when I arrived. I had not eaten breakfast when I woke up because I wanted to save myself for a waffle. But at 9am as I walked through town there were not any open yet, so I joined up with Quasimido Bike tours on an empty stomach.

Bike tours are, in my opinion, the best way to see a city. We biked the entire area of Bruges in two and half hours. All around the Burg Square and Grand Place, out to the border of the city to see the beautiful Dutch windmills, along the canals, on beautiful bike paths, through a residential area that caused my jaw to nearly detach because it was so beautiful, and eventually stopped at the oldest beer house in Bruges for a drink.

I still hadn't eaten yet. Beer for breakfast? Pourquoi pas?

I got a Kriek, which is a girly beer that is cherry flavored and so delicious. Bonding over beers,  I got to know my fellow bikers.

A family of 5 from California who currently lives in Stuttgart, Germany. A girl from Canada who currently lives in the Netherlands for her work, a couple from New Zealand who in the middle of a 6 week tour of Europe, and fearless guide - a local Belgian who never wants to leave - and I don't blame him.

It's really fun to sit around with others and compare travel notes. I've found bike tours are rather social and full of interesting people, and by the end of the tour you feel like a bunch of friends rather than strangers. Back on our bikes, and slightly tipsy, we did a final loop before parting ways.
I could not wait any longer for a waffle, so I left my friends (who were now all headed to the chocolate museum together) and went to find the perfect place to get a gauffre.

A Belgian waffle in Belgium is nothing like a Belgium waffle in America.

In Belgium, there are actually two kinds of waffles you can get. One is the Brussels waffle - which is more similiar to texture and taste to what you might find in America - but is it better, fluffier, more cake-like.

Then, there is a Liege waffle. This is where things get crazy....

Rather than being made from batter, the liege waffle is actually made from waffle dough. And we all know dough = delicious. The waffle dough is speckled with pearl-sugar, and when the dough is pressed into the hot iron, the pearl sugar melts and carmelizes. The result: a chewy, gooey, doughy waffle with a carmelized exterior that is so sweet I would not be surprised if the eating of one results in a instant cavity.

Liege Waffle Dough

Perfection

There are a variety of delicious toppings, but I like it plain and simple - waffle and whip.
Not only is Bruges quite possibly my favorite place but I've been - but a liege waffle is quite possibly my favorite baked good I've ever eaten. They are AHHHH-mazing. I straddled the side of the canal and savored every bite until it was gone, then thought very seriously about getting another.
But decided against it - I hadn't even gotten around to chocolates yet.

The streets of Bruges are streets of dreams.
Chocolate shop, waffle shop, cute cafe, frite stand, chocolate chop, lace store, chocolate shop, frite stand, waffle shop. As a result, the streets literally smell of cooking waffles and chocolate. It's impossible to not be hungry.

There are also a fair-share of bisquiteries: which are shops that make and sell cookies.

Mainly the Dutch speciality Speculoos, which is a spice/carmelized/ginger cookie that is crunchy and strangely delicious. Speculoos are also used in chocolates, as waffle toppings, and mixed into ice cream.... could I love this city more?

Chocolate Speculoos Truffels

Pralines - a Belgian speciality!

Decisions, decisions...

It was the perfect afternoon! I strolled the streets full of waffle-eating, chocolate-buying, French-speaking people in utter bliss. and I didn't speak a word of English! When I finished my canal tour - I realized it was time for a drink. I got a canal-view table at the cutest cafe in town and drank a Leffe Blonde followed by a Leffe Ruby while I read a few chapters of Keith Richard's autobiograhy, "Life."
I've gotten really into the Rolling Stone lately, and can often be found singing along and dancing to "Start Me Up" in my downtime. I think my new interest in The Stones is an appropriate compliment for other new interest: excessive drinking.

Kidding! Though I did throw back more beers this weekend than in the rest of my lifetime combined.
When in Belgium, right?

As dinner hour approached I headed to the Grand Place for the perfect setting to get some moules frites, another Belgian speciality.

I love moules frites, so I was unimaginably excited to have a big bowl full of fresh mussels and crispy fries. I noticed the cute, old, French couple next to me drinking Julipers, and I decided to copy them since I hadn't tried that beer yet.

It wasn't long before this couple had practically joined my table and we were talking about France and cheers-ing! Raoul and his wife, Vivienne, are from Lille. They pop down every summer because it's so close. They were very interested in my lonesome travels - and complimented my french accent - which made my day even that much better.  They also taught me the correct way to eat mussels. Rather than using a fork to pop the mussel out of it's shell, you use an empty shell as a short of miniature chopstick, and pull the mussel out by pinching it with the other shell! Genius!

It was nice to have friends to have dinner with after spending the afternoon conversing mainly with chocolate-shop workers and waffle makers.

As I began my walk back to the train station to go back to Brussels, I just couldn't stop smiling. It was one of the best days I've had on my own since I lived in Paris.  I felt like I was walking on air with happiness radiating out of me the entire day. Bruges blew me away!

The architecture in the city is simply stunning. Every building has this pointed roof, and nothing that looks even remotely modern or American. You don't see a McDonalds, or a Starbucks, or even an ATM machine around. Everything is old, charming, authentic, all the streets are cobblestone and you hear a continuous trotting of horse's hooves as the horse and buggy ride tours navigate through the streets. It simply does not seem real.

I continued smiling like a loon the whole train ride home and the entire next day wandering around Brussels. I felt drunk not on beer, but on euphoria. Belgium was everything I dreamed and more. A chocolate covered fantasy land of waffles, fries, and beers, packaged up and tied with bow. It's a little French, it's a little Dutch, it's a lot dreamy - and I adored it.

As if the weekend could have been any better - I came home to meet my new flatmate....

Drummer, the Parson Russell Terrier

I went mental. Talk about love at first sight. It was only a matter of time before we were cuddling together on the couch, his furry little head nuzzled on my shoulder.
My flatmate Suze is his mom, but I am going to be his girlfriend.

I love dogs more than I love sugar. There was no a minute that I was home growing up that I did not have my yorkie, Lucie, by my side. Since I can't afford a dog of my own, and am currently traveling far too often to have one , it has long been my dream to live in an apartment with someone else's dog!
Then I get all of the fun and none of the responsibility.

So two dreams came true this past weekend - I finally saw Bruges and I finally got a puppy.
Next weekend has a lot to live up to. But I will be in South of France, so my chances of dream fulfillment are already looking pretty good...

Bonjour Belgium!

Je suis arrivé en Belgique!

I have long wanted to come to Belgium. Mostly because of the waffles, but also for other reasons.
Like the chocolate, and the fries....

Actually, one of Belgium's greatest appeals for me is that it is a Francophonie, a country outside of France where French is the official language. I feel instantly at home anywhere where people are speaking French, so since I planned this trip alone, it was a comfort to know that language would not be a barrier, but rather a bonus! I never feel alone when I can wander down the rue saying "bonjour" to everyone I pass and smiling.

I arrived this evening in Brussels after a delightful Eurostar ride, dropped off my bags and hit the cobblestoned pavement for an adventure! It was sunset as I started my stroll and the sky was glowing pink - my favorite color. Parfait!

I love being in a new place! It's so exciting to walk down streets you've never walked before. It takes me ages to walk a few feet because I am stopping to investing everything I pass, peering through windows, and instagramming left and right. I was also on a mission of finding a place to eat dinner, which as Josh can tell you - can be quite an ordeal.

On vacation, I can't just eat anywhere. I want to make sure I am in the cutest place, with the best atmosphere, and the prettiest view, at the best table. This often involves me searching and evaluating for  a long time, looping around the streets, doubling back, checking out every menu and every street before I finally can settle. I get this from my mother, who does the same thing only to a worse degree.
It's genetic.

Tonight after a through search, I nestled into an outside table at the Cafe Leffe, overlooking the Place du Grand Sablon. It was quaint, it was bustling, and it had baskets of fresh baguettes on every table.

Leffe Blond, for the Blonde Parisienne

charmant!

Place du Grand Sablon

"You only?" the asked when I sat down. 

Europeans must not learn the word "alone," because this is always how they phrase the question, "are you by yourself? Something about "only me" sounds more depressing than "by myself" or "alone."

"Oui," I responded. "Je suis en seule."

I've really come to love my own company. There was a time I found it a bit odd to travel alone and dine alone, but now I quite like going on dates with myself. There are some serious perks: I don't ever have to compromise with myself, I don't get into fights with myself, I don't have different opinions than myself, and myself doesn't get frustrated with myself for searching for a dinner spot for 2 hours. Myself totally gets it, all the time.

Also, traveling alone means there is no one to witness my caloric binges, so I can pretend they never happened. It's kind of wonderful. 

Don't get me wrong - I'd much rather be strolling around with parents, or hand in hand with Josh, or skipping through the streets with one of my sisters - but I don't mind being alone. Pas du tout. 

So after sipping my Leffe and indulging in baguettes, I went with an amazing toasted goat cheese salad for dinner (that I sadly couldn't photograph because my phone had died already) and sat soaking up Belgium for a while before heading to find an ice cream cone.

The city was beautiful at night - all lit with old, art nouveau-ish street lamps like Paris. I walked up and down some of the fancy shopping streets devouring my Speculoos and Carmel ice cream sundae and grinning.

Alone with my thoughts and my ice cream in Belgium, I wanted to kneel on the street and shout a huge thanks to God for giving me the courage to move to London. Because moving to London made nights like this possible.

And though I feel guilty that my parents find it hard to sleep when I am roaming about Europe by myself, and I am sad that I choose to put an ocean between myself and everyone I love, and though I've cried a fair share of tears in the past 9 months - I'm so glad I'm here.

It's amazing, and it's also rather empowering knowing I can make it out there alone. Just me "only".

EU v. USA

Today I spent the afternoon in the Cotswolds, on site for a big project I am working on.
The house, originally built in 1760 is more like a stone mansion. Set over 70 acres of English countryside, it has everything a country family could dream of  -  four reception rooms, a kitchen, a large master suite, six additional bedrooms and four bathrooms in the main house. There is also a three-bedroom lodge, and two-bedroom stable flat. It's all built of Cotswolds stone, which is this beautiful, warm golden-brown stone that is quarried in the area that glows on the rare occasion that sun is shining on it.

A whole home made of out of it, is simply stunning. This one is definitely one of my favorite projects at the moment, especially because the homeowner is American. And a New Yorker at that! Her husband and her moved to England and bought this multi-million pound palace because they want their 3 boys to grow up in England rather in America.

I couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to grow up on 70 acres of English countryside rather than New York City. They'll play crickett and rugby instead of football, they'll grow up on Marmite sandwiches instead of peanut butter and jelly, and their school field trips will be to Stonehenge and Bath rather that the natural history museum. But what cultural things will be different?

Tonight I was watching one of my favorite movies, "17 Again," which takes place in a classic, American high school. I was watching with my flatmates and I asked them if their school was anything like that. The rows of lockers, the student-made banners hanging from the hallways routing on the football team for that Friday's game, the trophy cases with old photos and shiny awards....

They just laughed, "NO! Not at all!"

"Wait a second," I replied. "You didn't have a spirit club that made banners and hung them in the halls? You didn't have a big auditorium where you had pep rallies every Friday? You didn't have cheerleaders?

No. They didn't have anything like that! My flatmates were convinced I had been a cheerleader, and nearly died when I said I was actually in the choir and drama club. I explained never had any interest in cheerleading because I hate sports. It would have been torturous to have to go to every single football and basketball game, and wear those uniforms, and scrunchies, and it was all just - not for me.
I preferred going to the football games to socialize and find inventive ways of cutting and sewing old jerseys into cute tops.

Their knowledge of American high school comes entirely from American movies, so based on my description of my extracurricular activities they assumed I was a social outcast.

"Choir was cool" I defended! "If I could just show you my yearbook you'd see!"

THEY DIDN'T KNOW WHAT A YEARBOOK WAS! I had to explain...it was so sad!

They found the "senior awards" the most entertaining. They thought that we actually chose and awarded someone as "most likely to be at a party," "most school spirit," "most athletic," etc was insane.

"So what did you win," they questioned?

And sitting there in my sweatpants, a neon pink tank top, and my Dutch tulip-print, clog slippers, I shamefully muttered "most fashionable," as they laughed.

If they could see me now!.....They'd revoke my title.

Their school did not sound nearly as fun as mine was.
Strict, uniforms, curfews, no co-ed classes, no dances!

It all made me quite thankful that I grew up in America. I've always thought how wonderful it would have been to grow up in Europe but I take it back. I wouldn't trade my high school experience for anything. So I pity those little boys, even though they are growing up in an amazing mansion, they are being deprived of the possibility of being the quarter back, or being on the yearbook team, or joining Student Council, or asking a girl to the Prom one day and going in a white Tuxedo because they think it's cool, even though it's the worst thing that ever happened to menswear.

So I've determined, America is better for school years, but Europe is better for work years. I don't know how I'm going to cope with no longer having 30 vacation days and being able to take weekends to explore the continent.

Tomorrow evening, for example, I am going to Belgium after work, where I will spend the weekend eating waffles until I have to go back to the office on Monday.

Every weekend this month I will be in a different country. Last weekend was Germany (Munich), this weekend Belgium (Bruges), then France (Nice), then America (NYC and Canton), then Italy (Venice and Rome). Then I have a breather - then I hit Switzerland (Zurich) and then Monaco (Monte Carlo).

I'm trying to see as much as I can before I leave, because I think it will be a while before I am back in Europe. My travel bug is moving to Asia and Africa, and I'm dying to visit my cousin in Thailand and go on an African Safari. And as I've said before - one of the biggest perks of living in London is how easy it is to leave it! So bon voyage for now - I'm off to Bruges!

Back in Bavaria

What a wonderful treat it was to spend the past weekend back in Munich, and to get to have a European rendezvous with my parents! When they found out back in April that they got invited to a convention through my dad's work in Germany, I immediately booked my travel to join them. A great perk of being in London is that I can hop on a flight Friday after work and find myself in Germany an hour and twenty minutes later. Any chance I get to see my parents, and to eat a brezen - I take it!

I was in Munich earlier this year with my sister-frau, Amanda. We had a blast paling around Bavaria on a budget with our braids -  and I left absolutely loving Germany and feeling sad that I may never make it back to Bavaria! Well it's funny how things work out.

What made my second trip here extra exciting was that I was catching on the tail end of this convention my parents were attending. So I got to move into their 5 star hotel, and happened to be just in time for the final night's "goodbye" private party at BMW world. After spending the day biking around the city and enjoying the 80 degree sunshine, we got to get all dressed up and go to a fun soiree!

After a private tour of the BMW Museum we were escorted next door to BMW World, where the drinking, dining, and dancing began. It was all extremely cool - vintage BMWs everywhere, clips of old bond films playing, everything very sleek and chic, and stunt men riding motorcycles up and down the enormous, steep staircases in the venue. And of course - more food and drinks than one could ever dream of consuming in one nights' time.

BMW Museum, Munich

1955 Istetta!

Drinking what the locals drink - when they're not drinking beer.

With an Aperol in hand, I was visibly the youngest person in the crowd of 800 people by 30 years, and everyone seemed to know who I was.

"Oh - you must be the daughter from London! We heard you were coming," a complete stranger would say to me!

"Yeah, that's me - I'd reply," embracing them because they were also from the midwest, and that's what we do. After learning about their kids, and pets, and hometown for a bit, we'd hit the bar and the dance floor.

I admit I find it slightly concerning that I have more fun partying with people 30 years my senior than people within my own age bracket - but it's true.

Take me to a club in central london with pounding techno music and drunken 20-somethings and after about an hour I'm ready to go. But give me dance floor with a live band singing Earth, Wind, and Fire and drunken 50-somethings, and you're gonna to have drag me out of there - kicking and screaming.

My dad used to quiz me on oldies music on the way to church Sunday morning. We had about a 20 minute drive across town, which included a stop at Mary Ann's for coffee and chocolate frosted cake donuts. As each song came on, my dad would start to drum along to the beat on his steering wheel and say,

"I'll give ya five dollars if you can tell me who sings this song."

Now I was no dummy as a kid. Five dollars could buy me 5 vanilla cones at Dairy Queen, or some assorted Wet n' Wild Nailpolishes at Rite Aid, or maybe even that giant Troll at the neighbor's garage sale that I'd been eyeing....
I learned what I needed to do excel at this game quickly.

So it's due to those Sunday morning church rides with my dad that I came to learn an extensive knowledge of, and develop a love for the golden oldies.

The dancing  -  that I inherited from Moe.

Just put on "Signed, Sealed, Delivered," and watch us go.

Moe was actually out-dancing everyone, including me. People kept coming up to me and saying "your mom can really twirl!"

Yes, yes she can.

Moe kept saying she was going to pass out  and needed a rest, but then a good song would come on and she'd keep twirling with me. I think it's important to note that this was not drunken dancing from the Kloots' - and not barefoot dancing either. It's our own little rule: we stay in our heels  - no matter how much it hurts, and no matter how high they are. And they are always high.

We had a couple drinks each, but ate enough dessert to cancel it out, so we were far from drunk. I can't say the same for anyone else there though...

The crowd was shockingly rowdy - getting progressively drunker and funnier until a noticed a woman dancing to "Lola the Showgirl" in a way that no one ever should ever be dancing in a public place. Somewhere between "September" and "Stand By Me" I went to take a breather and realized it was past midnight! Mind you, we arrived at 6pm. Holy bavarian cream!! At least I burned off a brezen or two!

The bus home was hilarious - the driver had to ask if everyone could please quite down a bit, there was a group in the back singing "Edelweiss," and a woman had to evacuate right before we took off because she realized her husband wasn't on the bus.

Back in our suite, we all passed out when our heads hit our pillows.
When my mom woke up the next morning, she opened her eyes in bed and said,

"I'm paralyzed."

Like a knight in shining armor - Freddy came to the rescue with a croissants, coffee, and fresh fruit - all delivered bedside!

You see why my parents are my favorite people to hang out with?

We found another gorgeous, clear blue-sky day waiting outside, so we picked up some bikes and hit the paths for a day of exploration. I had my map in one hand as I biked and kept pulling over to consult it as I was trying to navigate us towards the river-side path.

I've found throughout my travels in Europe that all I have to do is pull out a map and instantly some friendly local is at my side offering help. So I was not surprised at all as I pulled over to find a friendly, white-haired German man by my side on his bike asking me in German what I could only assume was "where are you trying to go?"

He spoke no English - at all. But I pointed to where I thought we were, and were we wanted to end up - and after surveying my map, my parents, and myself the nice German herre let out a series of little laughs and strange words that could have been in German or could have been in his own, made up Elf-ish language by the sound of it, hopped on his bicycle and gestured, follow me!

And so that's how Freddy, Moe, and I ended up biking through Munich with an adorable, old German man for 20 minutes - all of us laughing for the duration of the ride to the river. The only way it could have been better was if he'd been wearing Lederhosen.

We biked all day! From the river into the English Garten, stopping for a delicious lunch at the Seehaus, past the meadow of sunbathing nudes - which to my surprise Moe found extremely interesting, into the Schwabing, and eventually down by the University to Ballabeni, Munich's best ice cream shop - which was beyond worth waiting in the enormous line on the strasse for.

Dessert at the Seehaus!

Frau Moe

After more biking and biergartening, we ended up in the Marienplatz at the Ratskeller for a final German feast: veal sausage, spaetzle and cheese, german potato pancakes with applesauce, and of course - biere and brezen. We ended the night on the rooftop bar of the our hotel, enjoying the stunning view of the city lit up before us.

Our wonderful weekend  in Bavaria confirmed that Munich is on my shortlist for top cities in Europe! It has such a unique vibe, it's so easy to get around and well laid out, it's full of gorgeous architecture, it's got the enormous Englischen Garten, there are so many fabulous things nearby for fun daytrips, and German cuisine - aside from pork knuckle - is so different and delicious. I know I'll be back again, because I must experience Oktoberfest.

But I must say Auf Wiedersehen for now and start practicing my French, because this Friday I leave for Belgium! So I will trade pretzels for waffles and Hofbrau brew for Lambic, and likely consume unthinkable amounts of chocolate and pommes frites.

And though I'll be there alone - I know all I need to do to make a fun, Flemish friend is pull out my map and look a bit lost.

If the Shoe Fits...

I have a small, and rather strange DVD Collection. I only buy and own movies that I really love and watch again and again without tiring of them. So sandwiched between Legally Blonde, the 7 Harry Potter films, Annie Hall, and Music & Lyrics is my collection of beloved Disney favorites. Most notably at the moment, The Little Mermaid. But come this fall there will be a new addition to my collection that will be the star: Cinderella. 

Forget the Diamond Jubilee, this is the year of the Diamond Anniversary of Cinderella, and Disney is releasing the classic fairytale on Blue-Ray, and commemorating the event in style.

As a child I loved the Wizard of Oz, but as an adult I fell in love with Cinderella.
6 years ago I revisited Disney World for the first time since I was a toddler and realized that it is, in fact, the most magical place on Earth. I got Mickey Mouse ears engraved with my name on them, I got autographs from the characters, I ordered kid's meals because they came in Mickey ear-shaped containers. I rode the tea cups, I kissed Chip and Dale, I watched "Wishes," in front of Cinderella's castle and had goosebumps, a pounding heart, and teary eyes. It was all just - magical.

I was lucky enough to be there during "Cinderellabration," where Cinderella and Prince Charming did a special show on the castle grounds hourly, joined by all the other princesses, of course.
I watched it too many times to count, jaw dropped.

So, as you can imagine - my Ruby Slipper obsession turned into a Glass Slipper obsession around this time. Well, earlier this summer I found my Dorthy Dream shoe at Ted Baker, but leave it to Christian Louboutin to create the true shoe of my dreams: Cinderella's Glass Slipper.

Unveiled in - where else - Paris - on July 4th by Louboutin, the Fairy Godfather himself. These slippers are making Cinderella's - at- heart around the planet ask, who needs a prince when you can have these?

Cinderella's Glass Slipper by Christian Louboutin

Bippity-Boopity-Beautiful!

Christian Louboutin, the most talented man who ever lived.

Disney approached Louby about bringing history's most iconic shoe to life, and the result is spellbinding. These stunning stilettos are limited edition - only 20 pairs will be made.

According to USA Today, the pairs will be given away worldwide this fall, and Louboutin will choose one lucky U.S. fan as his Cinderella and gift her with a free limited-edition pair.

Now let's get serious for a minute here....

HE HAS TO PICK ME!!!

Now that I know they exist, I can't go on without these shoes!! They are a nothing less than the most gorgeous shoes I've ever seen. Lace, tulle, crystals, butterflies, they are a fairytale come true. 

Christian's Drawing of his glass slipper, "lace over tulle pour Cendrillon"

I love Cinderella and I love Paris more than anyone on the planet.

I also happen to love Mr. Louboutin's stilettos. As a poor, struggling, college student I splurged my birthday money at Barneys buying my first pair. The best purchase I ever made. I'll never forget what it felt like to carry that shoebox home, knowing the red-soled shoes inside it were mine. I am now a poor, struggling, working girl who no longer can afford to splurge on stilettos because she must pay the rent. And the rent is high where I choose to live. Maybe I should consider moving... I could purchase more so many more pairs of shoes with the cost savings.

I don't know anything about the details of this contest yet - but I know I must win. 

I have never been so sure of anything in my life. Those shoes were made for me. 

And if the shoe fits....You wear it.