The Birds

Growing up, I had one of those uncles who, when you spend the night at your grandma's, wakes you up at 4am to watch Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dream Coat. Everyone has one of those, right? Anyways, it wasn't just JC that we woke up to watch; amongst his favorites were The Time Machine, Planet of the Apes, and The Birds. Given that I was maybe four the first time I saw The Birds, it completely terrified me. That's where my story begins.


The first couple months I lived in Australia, I was waiting for my teaching license to be approved. Because of this, I spent a lot time exploring my new neighborhood and reading Harry Potter. We lived about two blocks from a gorgeous beach so sometimes I went there to read or take pictures. I wasn't allowed to swim because Simon said I didn't know how... I learned later that he was right, the day I almost drowned, but that's a different near death experience for a different post. Also, I'm afraid of sharks.

Anyway, one day I thought I'd get some lunch and bring it to the beach, so I did- because when you're unemployed you can spend your days doing whatever you want. I got a sandwich and chips and found an empty picnic table by the shore. Little did I know that the horrifying seagulls with red rimmed eyes had the same idea and no lunch money. One second I was the luckiest girl in the world eating lunch on the beach in a gorgeous country, the next I looked like the bird lady from Home Alone, except that the birds were giant seagulls with red rimmed eyes and I was screaming and crying and throwing myself on the floor. I'm not exaggerating. I used the stop, drop, and roll technique firemen teach you to use when your clothes are on fire. Somehow I escaped and stood about a half block away watching the aftermath of the catastrophe and wondering how Harry was going to defeat Voldemort this time, seeing as the seagulls were using my book as a dinner plate. Then a woman about 100 years old and her 3 year old great granddaughter walked over and got it for me.

Here's a picture of me when some feathered friends approached about a month later:

And Simon laughed when I came running and screaming in the house when a 1000 pound kookaburra sat on our balcony.

Okay, so this doesn't sound so bad to you, right? Maybe its normal to be attacked by birds once in your life. Luckily, I was moving back to Chicago, safe from the all of the world's deadliest animals in Australia- snakes, crocodiles, seagulls, you know? 

Fast forward..

This summer I picked up the habit of running. Running along the lake is a pretty common hobby for Chicagoans. It had been about two years since my seagull attack, so I felt pretty confident about being near the water by myself again. Often, my route took me to museum campus before running north. On this particular day, I ran around the perimeter of the aquarium. When I rounded the back near the water, I felt a pebble hit the back of my head. Clearly, the first thing I thought was "what asshole is throwing rocks at me?"and turned around to give someone the death stare. Well guess what? It was a giant black bird with red wings. And it wasn't a pebble that hit me, it was his GIANT BEAK. Well, obviously I started running faster, thinking it was just a mistake and he accidentally ran into me. Maybe he was texting and flying or thinking about the errands he had to run today. No. He attacked again- bit the back of my head! I start screaming and running like Pheobe Buffay in the episode where she embarrasses Rachel. But no, this bird wants blood and gets me AGAIN. I fall, skin the crap out of my legs, and think about just laying there to be eaten alive by this asshole bird. Except that there were people around and I was a little too ashamed to let Hannibird Lector win this fight. So, again, I escaped, I ran/limped the 2.5 miles home at break neck speed (okay, maybe like 8 miles an hour, I'm not very fast) to safety. So far, I'm the only one who is taking these feathered death threats seriously. The brothers and husband who claim to protect me from anyone who does me wrong have yet to take up bird hunting. We'll see what happens when I move to Connecticut in June. Lets hope the east coast birds haven't gotten in on the conspiracy yet.

The Berghain: A Review

If any city knows how to party, its Berlin. I haven't been everywhere, but so far- Germany contains the craziest club heads of the 12 countries I've visited. A certain friend of ours, I won't name any names, told Lisa and I that Watergate was the best club in Berlin.. she didn't get in. This is shocking because she's one of the most beautiful girls I know; bouncers in Chicago let her into clubs immediately, even when there is a line of 50+ people. Anyways, we went to Watergate and it was incredible but not worth blogging about. The night we went, we kept hearing about The Berghain. Some quotes from the Germans:

"The Berghain is the craziest club you will ever go to. You will wait in line for 3 hours to get in, and it will be worth it!"

"When you go to the Berghain, they will not let you in in a dress. You must wear a man's shirt and jeans that DO NOT EVEN FIT YOU!"

It was our last night in Berlin, we were leaving the next morning at about 8am and decided we didn't need (and couldn't really afford) a room for the night. We moved our belongings to the storage room at our hostel, got ready in the closet, and took off for the night. We got to the Bergahain before it opened and joined the line of at least 200 people. The only point of reference for a line like this is Raging Bull at 6 Flags on a Saturday afternoon in July. When I saw this, I was not happy. Germany at 11pm in May is still really cold and I saw at least 60% of club-goers getting denied entry into this place. After waiting for about 2 hours, I was barely speaking to Lisa for making me wait in this line for a club we definitely weren't getting into. I have no idea how they chose who was allowed in, but I didn't actually believe we were cool enough to make the cut. When we got to the front of the line at about 1am, the bouncer shockingly let us in- even though both of our jeans fit us. We were inspected to nothing short of a full-cavity search. No cameras, camera phones, etc. were allowed but I saw lots of people doing cocaine in the bathroom so I imagine that drugs are not what they were searching for.

The club is like a gigantic warehouse, 2-stories and several bars. There are cubby-holes where you can see gay strangers having sex, the only piece of art in the entire place was a giant photograph of a man's butthole, people are half naked and grinding in ways I've never seen, and nobody is phased by any of this. This is how I imagine Lady Gaga partying. The Berghain's theme song should be "Scheisse" off her latest CD.

We danced until 6am. I met a lot of interesting people, saw at least 15 people doing cocaine off of various bathroom surfaces, and left my gum under a stool so that a piece of me will always be at the craziest place I have ever been to. When we left at 6am, it was light out and there was still a line of party-goers hoping the bouncer would let them in. We got a schawarma and hopped in a taxi to the airport.

I will never go to the Berghain again. I'm still in amazement that such a place exists. As hard as I try to describe it- I don't think you will ever understand unless you go yourself. Nothing particularly exciting happened to me while I was there; I danced, had a few drinks, and talked to Germans but I will never, ever forget it- that is the magnitude of this place. It was one of the most fun nights of my life and I am so glad that it happened, but I'm still surprised those bouncers let me in because I really didn't fit in there. I DO suggest that you try it. When you go to Berlin, it is worth the 2 hour wait, its worth seeing things that made you uncomfortable, and its worth being hungover on your flight to Ireland. Just hope the bouncer likes you.


Note: While I am open-minded and very accepting of other peoples' lifestyles, I do not and never have done a drug in my life. I don't condone it, nor do I condone public sex. That is not the point of this story- I, nor do you, need those things to have a great time and experience really interesting, fun things.

The Stalker of Sacre Coure

At the end of our trip, Lisa and I rented an apartment in Paris for a month. It was a tiny studio in Mont Marte with a living room that transformed into a bedroom when you lowered the bed from the ceiling and a schawarma stand conveniently located next door. Mont Marte is famous for the Sacre Coeur Basilica, which is a beautiful church on top of a giant hill with a view of the entire city.

One day, Lisa had a date with the tall, dark, and French Tibo; as I've mentioned before, she is an international lover. I didn't want to stay cooped up in our apartment all day so I took my journal and walked to the Sacre Coeur to write.

At the bottom of the hill, there are always dark men selling bracelets (the kind you braid when you're in 3rd grade), but mostly harassing female tourists. I am pretty outspoken and not the kind of person who likes to be touched, especially by dirty French peddlers, so I yelled at one of them not to touch me. At this point (and many other times throughout that trip), they began to call me an ugly, ugly, mean girl and telling me to watch out.

I continued walking, not caring all that much, when I noticed that a 50ish-year-old dark man was following me. I started walking faster, hoping I was wrong, but when I sat down at a bench, he sat down next to me. I smiled to be nice but got up and started walking away. A few steps later, he was continuing to follow me up the hill. At this point, I was convinced that the bracelet peddlers sent him to stalk and kill me so I ran up the rest of the hill and straight into the church. I figured I was safe in there. This man was clearly not Catholic and I couldn't imagine somebody continuing to stalk you in God's house, either way. I. WAS. WRONG. He found me while I was in the gift shop buying Simon a rosary. Then he found me praying in front of a statue of Jesus. I was terrified at this point and sat down next to a family for protection.

He sat down right next to my fake family and me. This is the point when I realized that he stunk like he hadn't showered in a year, ran around wearing used garbage bags on 90-degree days, and got skunked regularly.  Finally, I did exactly what I learned in my female self-defense seminar, I looked him straight in the eye and told him "Leave me alone, I don't want any problems". Apparently he skipped that day in English class because he started asking my name and where I live. I didn't know what to do at this point, I was trapped in a church between a family and the stinky stalker, I didn't have a phone and even if I did, I didn't know the number to the police in France... So I hopped over the pew and ran all the way home crying; only falling down the hill once.

I'm still alive, so I'm guessing he wasn't fast enough to follow me to my apartment, but I must say that this may have been the scariest day of my life.

40 Rue Condorcet

After our flight in from Bratislava, Lisa and I took a bus and then a cab to our apartment in Paris. While Lisa had been in Paris the previous summer, it was my first time and I was amazed at how beautiful the city was. Coming from a more modern city with tall metal and glass skyscrapers, I was in awe of the detail that went into each stone building. It took us over an hour to get there from the airport, but we finally arrived at our apartment at 40 Rue Condorcet. We were a little bit late so we were surprised that Alan, our new land lord, wasn't standing there waiting for us. Some time went by, I went down the street to the Kebab Stand to get some chips (they gave me french fries instead, I didn't understand this until I got to Australia and realized the rest of the English speaking world calls french fries chips) and a diet coke for Lisa and I to eat for dinner. We waited about 45 minutes before we really started freaking out. We weren't near any hotels (not that we could afford one anyways), we had no contacts in France, and Alan was not answering our urgent e-mails. It was getting late and we were going to have to join the homeless on the streets if Alan didn't show up soon. Finally, I asked Lisa if she had the contract we signed with Alan, hoping his phone number was on there. After rummaging through her bag, we found the paperwork but didn't know how to dial his number (calling people in other countries is much more difficult than it seems. There are so many numbers and you don't know which ones you do and do not have to dial; I had the same problem when I got to Australia). Lisa went back to the Kebab Stand to ask for help, but that didn't seem to get us anywhere. We had no idea what we were going to do, when we flipped to the next page of the contract which told us that our address was 48 Rue Condorcet, not 40 Rue Condorcet. So we made a mad dash down the block where Alan had been waiting for us for an hour and a half, right next to the Kebab Stand.

My Love Story, Chapter five

I returned to Chicago one week after Simon proposed. When I got there, I had two weeks to spend with my friends and family before I took off for Sydney. It was really hard to say goodbye, especially because I was still catching up with them after two months away in Europe.

I've been living with Simon for almost five months now. We're incredibly happy and he makes me feel like I can do things I never thought I could, like share my writing with other people. We have the same quirks as other couples-- I take up the entire bed, Simon chuckles in his sleep. I beg Simon to come home from work early to hang out with me, he sends me text messages saying he misses me when we've only been away from each other for an hour. I make him watch True Blood, he's got me watching How I Met Your Mother. I pack him lunches in the morning, he helps me with my homework. We're getting married in June, after we move back to Chicago. Its going to be a small wedding in a garden and I cannot wait to marry the love of my life and be with him forever. We're very lucky; even though we've been through a lot of hard times to get to where we are and I'm sure there will be more obstacles in the future, I don't think everybody experiences love like we have and we're very thankful to have found each other.

My Love Story, Chapter four

I was off to Europe for the summer with my best friend.  If I had to spend my time doing something while I waited to be with Simon again, this was the best way to spend it. Lisa and I were off to Germany, Ireland, Slovakia, France, and England- I was going to be as distracted from missing Simon as I possibly could be, and that was a good thing.. except that I wasn't. Even though I was having an amazing time, I still missed Simon. He made it a bit easier, sending me sweet e-mails and letters to each country as soon as I arrived. He even sent me a sweater of his while I was in France because summer just wouldn't come (it never came, we recently picked it up from the post office in Sydney). It made no difference though, I was still upset. I hung out in clubs alone while Lisa met foreign, exotic men and fell asleep wishing Simon was falling asleep next to me.

Then it occurred to me, Simon was going to show up. It was just like something he would do.  He surprised me at my house in March when we barely knew each other, why wouldn't he do it now? So I kept my eyes open everywhere in case he jumped out from behind a corner. I made a task of bugging Lisa about it, in case she'd drop any hints. I whined to Simon constantly about how much I missed him and couldn't spend another second without him. But it wasn't happening. Simon wasn't hiding in the Memorial to the Murdered Jews, he wasn't strolling down the Champs Elysee, he wasn't  in Europe at all. By my last weekend in Paris, I realized he wasn't coming. Simon had a business trip in Melbourne and when he didn't show up 48 hours after he left, I realized that he wasn't showing up at all. I stopped looking for him, I stopped bothering Lisa, and got back to enjoying my trip before it was too late.

On June 18th, Lisa and I went for a picnic in the Parc de Belleville in Paris. We brought salads and chatted, mostly about how we missed our friends. After being there for about an hour, Lisa told me she invited somebody and hoped I didn't mind. I turned around and there he was. It was like a dream, Simon had shown up in Paris. Before I realized what I was doing, I was running and jumping into his arms. I hugged and kissed him for a few minutes before I even let him speak. When I finally gave him some room to breathe, he got down on one knee and started talking. In my rage of excitement, I have no idea what he said. But he asked me to marry him. Instead of answering, I sat right down on his lap and started kissing him more. Finally, it  dawned on me that his question required an answer and I said yes.

Lisa was there to take pictures of all of it. She also noticed that I was wearing horrible blue nail polish and brought remover and some nice nail polish to fix my fingers before we took pictures of the ring.

We spent the remainder of Simon's time in Paris together (48 hours.. he flew for 60, what a guy) drinking wine at the Eiffel Tower, eating pizza across from the Notre Dame, enjoying the view from the Sacre Couer-- it was an incredibly romantic weekend and I am the luckiest girl who ever lived.

My Love Story, Chapter three

Somehow, we survived the month apart. With lots of skype, mailed gifts and emails, we came through unscathed and Simon came back to me; this time I had him for two weeks! He had work training in Fort Myers in April, so I met him there for the weekend and he came to Chicago after training. Since I had the chance to plan this time, I was able to take him to his first Cubs game, first college town, the Sears Tower, even his first time at the Cheesecake Factory. These two weeks were even better than last time, but once they were over.. Simon was going to be away for even longer.

We planned that I would visit for a month in July, he would come back for some time in October, I'd go back to him in December, and we'd figure it out from there. But it wasn't enough; that meant a lot more time apart than we'd have together. We tried to figure out a better plan, but it seemed impossible. Simon had a yearlong work contract and I had a scholarship to fulfill; there was no way for either of us to move to be with each other. Until Simon took a better look at my scholarship. Within one year of graduation, I had to begin teaching special education in the state of Illinois and complete two years of teaching within five years of graduation. Well, that gave me a year.

So I broke the news to my family, and lets not begin to pretend that was easy. Nobody was happy with me; I was single-handedly responsible for breaking my family's hearts. So did I stay? I couldn't. I could not wait a year to be with the love of my life full time. So I made the decision, I was going move to Sydney until Simon's work contract was up. But I was scheduled to leave for two month Europe trip before then. If we could make it through that.. we'd be set.