15 October 2008

Czech it! Czech it!

Hola, me llamo rojo.
Ciao, Mi chiama rosso.
Ahoi, krasna.
Gehrmez if we were in Iraq.
Ich heisse rot.
I can say name in a few languages.
Foreign languages are a subject I don't think I'll ever get tired of. If I could major in every foreign language at BYU, I would. All I really want to do in school is learn languages then travel from country to country and make it on my own. Actually, I would not like to travel to by myself, I'd like someone to be there with me. The ideal travel buddy system would include someone map savvy and with any sense of direction while I stand around making friends with the locals in the native language. Also, this person would have to love food, mostly baked goods, because we would be hitting up every bakery in the town.

I have fond memories of traveling with my family. My dad was in the Air Force so we were able to live overseas and see some of the prettiest things in Europe. We've been pick-pocketed by gypsies on a train in Rome, we've been bumped by a scooter near the Arc d'Triumph, we've eaten french fries with mayonnaise and ketchup in Vienna, we've celebrated Christmas in Germany under the tallest snow-covered roof tops, and we've called Aunty Birgit from the first level of the Eiffel Tower. Let's not mention the autobahn where dad nearly killed us by not competing with the racing Ferraris.

On these long road trips Nate and I sat in the back seat making videos on how to ease the discomfort of road tripping. One such video addressed the problem of what to do with used kleenexes and having no where to dispose of them. In an effort to entertain his baby sister, the simple solution to this dilemma was to just eat it. just eat it. We still have that on film somewhere.

Venice was one of my favorite places we ever went. It was stunning. There were gondolas passing underneath the bridges and walkways which took us to the tiny stores selling the daintiest lace and prettiest charm bracelets (which would later be stolen from our home in Prada by gypsies which I would never be bitter about because how many people in Provo can say they've been gypsy-robbed)

Anyway, the purpose of this reflection I think is to remind myself that I have an archive of good memories, pictures, and quality time to think of when everything around me gets too overwhelming. like having absolutely no money. Instead of being reminded of deadlines and midterms and wheaties for every meal, I'm going to think of the little town of Nove where I bought ceramic pears and apples to paint with my neighbor Sabrina who taught me how to make dandelion jewelry with buds from Signora's garden and afterwards being offered wine at nine years old from said Signora.

Who cares about money when you have memories.


amber. said...

uncle jessie. you are so. fantastic. please write more of these premium tings. yah? lllllove you.

ms-mclaws said...
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John Murrugarra said...

mo money mo problems

i miss your blogs