Monday April Fool’s Day

 Sun

           Happy Easter! (At least, I think it's Easter. I guess I'm pretty removed from things so I could be way off) I just wanted to tell you something because I was very pleased about it. I was riding along this morning when a guy came up beside me on his bicycle. I told him straight off, “No comprendo Espanol” but he rode with me for about 1/2 hour and we tried our best to communicate with each other. He was asking questions about my trip and where I cycled from and it was very difficult for me to say anything. I've only been in Spain for a few days so I know very little. The funny thing was, I could tell him what I wanted to say in French! So I asked him if he knew any French and he said no. There went that idea. I've always been one to say that the language barrier can be hurtled armed with a brain, two hands, and a dictionary. I stand by that statement, but on a bicycle, all you have is your brain! So it's even more difficult! I'm beginning to get a handle on things now, so I'm not completely in the dark as I was when I got here.

           I'm about 15 kilometers short of Castello where there's a hostel. I could stay there or I could take a train (covered on the ticket I bought) to Valencia and from there to Madrid. I really won't don't want to get on an overnight train in my condition though, seeing that I haven't bathed since Tuesday. I probably wouldn't be making too many friends on that trip!

Monday, April Fool’s Day

           Yesterday was an interesting day. Not only did I meet the guy on the bike but I also washed my hair in the town square in Castello. I had some time to kill before my train left, there was a spigot there, and I hadn't put a comb through it for three days. I did not want to spend the night on a train in that condition. It's amazing what a difference clean hair can make. I was just sitting there in the square afterwards, combing my hair and basking in my cleanliness and in the sun and it felt so good. About five or six girls about 10 years old scrambled up behind me and were just watching me. That must have been the hair. I thought it was cute because they did it so unabashedly. And then this questionable-looking guy came up to me and asked me for a light but I'm sure it was just an excuse to come talk to me. I noticed later that he had his own lighter. He turned out to be really funny and I had a blast talking to him. His friend joined us a few minutes later. When about four guys came up a little later and things started changing hands I realized that some illegal business was going on. A woman I had befriended before I started talking to these guys practically pulled me away from them and motioned for me to leave. I kind of resented it because, even though she had my best interests in mind, I'm not ignorant. I know what was going on and I was just sitting there enjoying my conversation with them. So I continue to do so. The second guy ended up buying me dinner and we ate out there on the Plaza and it was all very enjoyable. And I left for my train unscathed, even though the old woman was just sure something horrible was going to happen to me. The train ride was long and unpleasant. It seems that this trip to Europe is turning out to be the trip when I learn what not to do. It was an overnight ride and I hadn't reserved a couchette because I thought I could save the $15 and sleep in a seat. I have a tendency to be able to sleep under all sorts of strange circumstances. Well, my seat ended up being in a section of 8 sardine-like seats. Five of the people were chain smokers and were very loud Spanish speaking people who never ran out of things to say all night. I was very unhappy because I couldn't sleep and the seats were uncomfortable and people were loud and the smoke engulfed me all night. I wasn't about to give up my seat to find another one, though, since I was lucky to have one at all. I was told by the Spanish guy I met on the train (who was delighted to meet someone from Nashville since he loves country music) that Easter is the biggest traveling day of the year in Spain. What luck!

           I will have to finish later because I must sleep. After last night's sleepless night in Madrid and today figuring out Madrid I'm exhausted. Hasta luego!

Friday 5 April

           I'm back in Barcelona in it's a beautiful, sunny, warm day. I am on top of Montjuic (Spanish war Jewish mountain or mountain of the Jews) where there is an old Greek amphitheater in which plays are held in the summer. The Olympic Stadium is up the road about 1/4 of a mile. I made an important realization just a few minutes ago. I had to climb a few 100 feet to get up to this mountain and then to get there I had to go through these paths in the forest and down lots of stairs, etc . . . So I had to continuously deal with the fact that I was accompanied by a bicycle. But I never felt (or feel) burdened by it. And I just made the realization that my bicycle has become my companion. I might get lonely, but with my bicycle, I'm never completely alone. And now I have a totally new relationship with it. I just bought a lock a few minutes ago. Whereas before I was afraid to get too close to her (since I was risking losing her with no lock), now I have a firm hold on her and it means we are now inseparable. Now I can really become emotionally attached. Twice I have had to ship my bike on a train since I was doing the same and it was so interesting to feel so excited to see her again. Some guy would bring her up to me and I just couldn't help but smile. I don't know maybe traveling is just making me a little crazy.

           Anyway, last time I wrote I was in Madrid and had pitched my tent in a campsite with a guy from Melbourne, Alistair. He's also cycling but was headed north to take a ferry to England. We met at the hostel in Madrid which was booked up for the night and decided to camp out. The next day was when the wonderful event occurred which pretty much served to alter my view of Madrid. It's really strange how human intuition is so strong. We had had a picnic in this park and ended up just relaxing there for a long time because it was a nice day and it was siesta time. But I never could really relax. I always kept one eye on our bikes and I just had a general feeling of uneasiness. Something just felt weird. Alistair was usually the uptight one about locking the bikes and locking them to something and keeping an eye on everything but this time the tables turned. This is what happened. This scuzzy-looking Spanish guy came up and asked for a light from Alistair. I knew that was screwed up because anyone who smokes as much as this guy appeared to would have his own lighter. So I started to look around me. As I was looking over my right shoulder there were three guys coming towards us from my right and I'm sure they were shielding my vision from the guy who was going through my purse which had been snatched when the guy was asking for a light. Thinking about it now I realize how incredibly well planned and well-timed it was. It was almost like a performance. It at least serves to teach me a lesson. And when you think about it, it could have been a lot worse since they got such a minimal amount of money and kindly left me my traveler's checks. Really, the worst part about what happened was the psychological effect it had on me.

           The next day all I wanted to do was leave Madrid, but I did manage to spend about four hours at the Prado, which was the main reason I went there. I was really excited to see Picasso's Garnica and Goya's 3rd of May and others and Velasquez's Las Marinas, and lots of other good stuff. I caught the 9:45 train to Barcelona (having reserved a no fumar cabin) and had a good trip back to Barcelona. Not only was I happy to be Barcelona bound but there were two American girls in my cabin who were fun to talk to. They're staying in Madrid, one goes to Brown and the other to Williams. I was even able to get a good night's sleep! Then yesterday I went to the Picasso museum with these two girls studying in Paris, one studying fine art and the other fashion design so, of course, we hit it off well. Then last night I was at the produce market down the street from the hostel and I saw these two cyclists who were well weighted down with things and were obviously touring. So I of course asked them where they're from and they said Berlin. They are really strange-looking people they're both really tall Christian the guy said he's two meters tall so I guess that's about 6-6 or 6-7 and skinny and kind of ugly. They were looking for a place to stay so, of course, I recommended the Kabril hostel where I've been staying. They checked in there and we ate dinner together at the hostel. The woman is a painter and together they run a mail order so esoteric bookstore. They're really nice and offered to let me stay with them in Berlin and told me about a really great music festival in Purcell close to Munich in May, where they will have a booth. Then I stayed up until almost four talking with Tafiq a guy from Morocco who works and lives at the hostel. So I heard all about Islam and Muslims and why Morocco is so poor even though it could be a rich country. He told me he had to flee the country because the police were looking for him and I got the whole rundown on the political situation there and in Africa. It was fascinating. He taught me some Arabic and explained that well Arabic is a language, Moroccan is a dialect and is something you don't learn in school. It's just something spoken of course I slept late today and had kind of a boring day of errands running, but it was a beautiful day, and I was on my bicycle (not the subway thank goodness) so it's been nice. I came to Montjuic to relax for a while before going back to the hostel for dinner and socializing.

           One thing I like about Spain is that at 7:00 AM it's still pretty dark and at 9:00 PM it's still light barely. Seeing as how I'm such a night person and have always loved these long summer days. I think this is wonderful. And it's only April! I can imagine what July must be like!

           Sunday the 7^th

           I'm presently lying about 15 feet from the water in a little inlet which I plan to inhabit for a couple of days. Yesterday I was leaving Barcelona for Montpellier, a five-hour train ride. But I was told it will take my bicycle three days to get to Montpellier. I was upset at first but then I realized that equipped with a train ticket and the beautiful Mediterranean coast within minutes, there was no reason to be upset so a road to Portbou, just before the French border. I got off the train at 8:45 and, under the guidance/cover of the sunset, set off to find an out-of-the-way spot where I could sleep for the night. I found a place and settled in and had difficulty falling asleep, I think because I was so happy to be here. This area is of Spain is called the Costa Brava, a popular tourist area known for its beautiful beaches and quaint little seaside resort towns. This place is different, though, because the beach is very rocky and the cliffs are abrupt. So there aren't many tourists. The place I managed to find is pretty out of the way I had a difficult half-hour or so lugging my things over the rocks. There were a couple of shaky moments when I thought I was going to have to sacrifice one or the other of my bags to save my own skin but I just hung tight and I'm still in possession of everything. The night was beautiful clear starry sky and the sound of waves lapping across the shore. And the sunrise was absolutely beautiful with brilliant hues of purple, pink, and orange. And it preceded an equally beautiful day which was warm and cloudless. The water is so green and so cold! It took me a while to realize that my present situation is one that most people only dream about. I have two days to squander away while laying on the sunny Mediterranean seaside. No job, no responsibilities, etc . . . what more could you ask for? Were I the complaining type I could ask for warmer water and perhaps a traveling companion named Andreas. But I don't see much good in wasting time wishing for things I haven't got when what I have is so good.

           Yesterday morning I had made plans to ride up to Montserrat, a mountain where there is a monastery and a boys choir which sings twice daily. It's about a day's ride northwest of Barcelona. It's amazing what types of things make me change my plans. I was not having fun trying to get out of the city and one of the major roads I'd planned on getting me going in the right direction was one way and going the wrong way. So I instantly decided to just take the next train to France. Besides, I really don't like to backtrack large distances and I would have had to in order to catch my train. Plus, I want to be heading towards Munich, as it is April and Andreas said that April was a good time to get there.

Monday on a train to Montpellier from Portbou.

           I don't remember if I told you about the nice man at the hotel in Montpellier who, upon my and Keith's departure, Wished us a good holiday. Immediately I said thank you but then I realized I had no idea what he was talking about. So I asked him what's the occasion? And he said your holiday. It was as if I had forgotten that this was supposed to be a vacation. Since then, though, I've realized that I never, even from the beginning, considered this to be a vacation. Vacations are supposed to be made easy as possible, a time to relax and not have to think of or worry about responsibilities. But when I was planning my trip to Europe I looked upon it as a discovery trip, and adventure. I didn't want to reduce it to this, but, really, it's something I had to do. And I'm glad I'm here. It has its ups and downs, but that's all part of the adventure. Since the beginning of my trip, I guess I've been waiting for some big epiphany of sorts, some sudden realization of which direction I should go in life. But I don't think it's going to happen, not suddenly at least. No matter what happens to me out here, I will still have to be the same person I was when I left. I may have different opinions of some things and I will be a little more geographically intelligent and be able to say I've been to the Louvre but my name will still be Julie Wahl daughter of Howard O and Sylvia R Wahl.  I have blonde hair and brown eyes and I have my faults but I'm basically a good person. One big realization I've made here is the importance of the family. I've always been a bit of a bridge burner when it comes to relationships but I will never turn my back on a member of the family. I know now more than ever that, while my upbringing might not have been the most privileged, I was extremely lucky to have been born into a family whose parents love not only their children but also each other.

           A funny thing happened a while back as the train passed from Spain into France my spirits lifted considerably. I didn't realize until I saw them again that there were things about France that I missed the extravagant cemeteries, the signs painted in French, the vineyards. The vineyards! You'd think that the soil in France just knew it was French and so it sprouted vineyards, whereas the soil one kilometer away in Spain was not suited for it because it was Spanish. Funny. And when I got off the train at Perpignan to catch one to Montpelier, one of the first people I saw was an old man with white hair and beautiful blue eyes. It's like I'm back in civilization again.

           As I continue to travel I realized that the original goals of this trip have become subordinate to some vague, higher goal, upon which I probably won't be able to put my finger until or if I actually reach it. The art and architecture I came here to see all of a sudden seems less vital to the success of my adventure. I realized this when seeing Goudi's things was not quite the experience I thought they'd be. And seeing Andreas as well . . . well, of course, I'm looking forward to it but what if I do fall head over heels in love? That doesn't mean I'll stop traveling, and stop looking for whatever else it is I'm looking for. After all, love only compliments one's happiness or eases one unhappiness it doesn't make one happy. It might seem like that in the beginning, but after that initial euphoria, there's got to be something else.

           I was sitting on the train waiting for it to leave the station when I heard someone on the platform whistling Yankee Doodle. Just try to imagine how that made me feel!

           Later

           I have never been so happy as I am right now to see the youth hostel. I got to Montpellier at six and I didn't know where Paquete express was or the French term for it. So it took me a long time to find the place and once I got there my bicycle was nowhere to be found. "Dumas" (tomorrow) they told me happily, as the three of them seemed to be consuming much alcohol. That must be the rage in French train stations or something. So I went outside to the park across the street and had a bite to eat, trying to decide what to do. I thought of [illegible] people, but I haven't had much luck with them so I thought better of it. Then I thought maybe there'd be a youth hostel, but something in the back of my mind was telling me I'd heard that it was closed. I decided to try to call anyway. So I finally found a phone which took money and didn't require a telecard I dialed the number and as soon as the guy said: "Oui, Hello?" It disconnected obviously two francs hadn't been enough. So I took my so it took my money and demanded more. But I didn't give it any I decided that it was a good enough sign that there had been an answer so I found the street for the hostel on the map and set off in search. I realized a couple of perhaps important things as I was walking over here. 1) I was extremely glad to be back in France. I'm only a short distance from where I was earlier today, but that national boundary makes a world of difference. I think I like France more than I realized before. That's it. Only one realization. So I got here and collapsed on my bed. I've already met a girl from Munich who's studying art in France. Enough. I must rest.

Tuesday

           I am presently sitting beside the etang (pond) where the flamingos are having their siesta, at the park 200 logique de lunaret. I checked at the train station to find my bike is not here still so I decided to come to the zoo. Entry is free and it's another beautiful day. Also, I wanted to have a nice place to read my book (Les Miserables I bought it this morning I figured when in Rome . . .) and to try to learn some more French.

           As I sit here watching the flamingos I realize how little I know about the behavioral characteristics of most animals. It's been a long time since I've been to a zoo and I rarely watch animals on television, so I really don't know how they behave. For instance, the outer feathers of the flamingo are a very pale pink, but when they spread their wings the feathers underneath are a deep and intense pink, and the tips are black! And I cannot figure out how in the world they manage to sleep comfortably while standing on only one leg. When they stretched their limbs they look like lanky and ungraceful ballet dancers with pink tights and leotards.

           Last night I met two girls from Dusseldorf who are using their two weeks of break to cycle around the South of France. I really enjoyed meeting them and they both invited me to stay with them when I come to Germany. One goes to school in Dusseldorf and the other in Stuttgart. The one in Dusseldorf even made the suggestion that perhaps this summer we could cycle together somewhere, as she did some touring in England alone cycling and I don't think she much cared for it. Good idea, but I don't know where I'll be this summer.

Wednesday

           You can't imagine how happy I was to get my bike back this morning! I went to the station at about 10 and it was there. The only thing was, it was missing the rack which is necessary for the support of my handlebar bag. I mentioned it to the guy who wheeled the bike out to me and he just shrugged his shoulders. What can you do? So before I left I had to go buy another rack and pick up some food. I shoved off at a little past noon, heading South towards Palavas. Stopped for lunch at the wonderful town called La Grande Motte, where there was some fantastic architecture. It seemed the entire city's buildings were designed by the same guy. They were all very new, nautical ish, white, and inventive. I really enjoyed just lazily pedaling through town looking at the buildings and had lunch in a sunny green park the town sits right on the beach. In fact, my entire ride today practically was along the beach. It's all very similar to the Florida keys. The area is called the Camargue and though I don't know what it means it's very swampy.

Thursday

           As I was writing last night one of my roommates either decided to give me a not-so-subtle hint or mistakenly thought everyone had retired for the night. I will kindly believe that the latter was the case. I am now in Arles, a beautiful town but a little too touristy which was the home of Van Gogh for a few years before his death. He painted many views of the city. I am quite a fan of Van Gogh and am presently sitting in a nice little park waiting for the Espace Van Gogh (museum) to reopen after its afternoon nap. Also in arles is a Roman arena dating from the [Frence words] (1st century AD) and a Roman theater from the 1st century BC the considerably damaged Baths of Constantine, and the Alyscamps- a Roman cemetery. When I found out that all of this was here I became excited but my excitement greatly diminished when I discovered that there is an entry fee for all of these sites. There's a special Picasso exhibition going on at the Van Gogh museum for which the entry fee is 40 francs $8.00 so my opinion of all is now altered, but it is no less beautiful.

           Yesterday towards the end of my ride an older gentleman passed me as I was stopped on the roadside. He was heavily laden with bags and it was obvious that he was touring. I started back up a minute later figuring I could easily catch up with him. However, he was going at a pretty good clip and I wasn't able to meet up with him until he stopped in St Maries de la Mer about 15 kilometers later. Turns out he's a 47-year-old Englishman touring France for a couple of weeks. He said he knew I was behind him but he didn't want to stop and wait for me until we got to a city because he didn't want to intimidate me, he being a man and me being a woman traveling alone. English! You gotta love him! From St Maries, we looked for the hostel together. I didn't want to stay there I just wanted to see if Dina and Sonja the girls from Duesseldorf had stayed there the night before. I was going to use the kitchen and then go find a place to camp. We got to the hostel and I saw it was a really neat place check the roster and Dina and Sonja had come the night before and checked in for three nights! I went off to find a spot to camp before it got too dark and was completely unsuccessful so I decided to stay at the hostel. I'm glad I did because I got to talk to the girls some more and the Englishman (whose name I never learned) also met Thilo a guy from Darmstadt. He seemed quite smitten. Another address in Germany! I don't think I'll have to pay for accommodations much in Germany! Got a late start today at 11 and road 30 kilometers to Arles. Along the way, I did a lot of thinking. Since I left home and began writing this journal I've had this vision in my mind that days when you received the latest installment of my journal, are days of great celebration. I envisioned the two of you making a pot of coffee and, maybe with some Fig Newtons by your side and a map of France on the table you read my journal with great interest and intensity. It would be very disappointing if I were to find out that the arrival of my letters went virtually unnoticed. Sure, I put a lot into them because I will enjoy having them years down the road, but I'm also doing this for you. I have this idea that you are kind of vicariously experiencing Europe through me so I try to make the images and feelings as vivid as possible. And for me, they are a source of great introspection as they are a source of information for you.

           I must go to the museum now; I will write some more later, I hope. It never seems I have enough time to do all the reading, writing, sightseeing, people meeting, cycling, unresting I'd like.

Saturday 13 April

           I am in Aix-en-Provence, sitting on a bench alongside the Cours Mirabeau. This is Aix's equivalent of Champs Elysses: The main road where everything is and where everyone goes to see and be seen. It is the prime people-watching/strolling time: Saturday afternoon/evening. It is the one day of the week when everything is closed, save Sunday. In small towns Sundays make them seem like ghost towns whereas in large cities the entire day is like Saturday afternoon. Aix-en-Provence must be where all the beautiful people in the world came to be beautiful together. It is taking me 30 minutes just to write what I have written so far because I can't help but continuously look up from my writing and watch the people. The interesting and most pleasing part of their beauty is that they don't flaunt it. I guess since everyone is beautiful, why should they make an issue of their share? As a whole they are exceedingly fit; Even the mothers who lead one child by the hand and push the other along in the stroller have the figures of 16-year-olds. And the clothes! They dress distinctively different than Americans; Though I haven't quite figured out why it's different. I think for me it's this: if I were to sit along a sidewalk in America I would constantly wonder how people could be content to wear clothes which are so unattractive and so unflattering. Whereas here people seem to have better taste, and besides, they don't have to wear a particularly flattering things since they're all so skinny! And since I've been making such grand generalizations I may as well continue by saying that to be a European is to be a smoker from the advent of the teenage years. Most of the time I can avoid it but at times I get into situations where it's almost unbearable. And it's very fashionable presently for young men to have crew cuts or very short hair. Needless to say, my guy watching has been particularly uninspired. Another un-American phenomenon is the affection that female friends show each other. I remember when I was sitting on the beach in Sitges and four girls walked by in pairs with their arms around each other. To me, it looked a little odd, but to them it was the most natural thing in the world.

           OK after having sat here for a while I must make a concession. There are a lot of beautiful people here, but there are also not so beautiful people and the strange. The important factor is, it doesn't matter anything goes. I don't see how anyone here could be an outcast because there's all types.

           When I first came to France I was surprised that the people weren't more different than Americans. I mean, the clothes were different, as was the language, but the people seemed the same. I can see now that that's not the case. It's something deeper and harder to define then just the clothes. I guess it's the mindset. It's taken me a long time to make this realization but I think that OK a change in perspective such as this means that I'm seeing things differently; Perhaps less as the Europe-initiate.

           Well, I'm enjoying my people watching but it's getting cool and I've only had a t-shirt, and should I say the t-shirt. Different city, same shirt! So I return to the hostel and write more later.

Sunday

           Am presently sitting on a little terrace outside the IYHF youth hostel in Marseille. I have spent the day here with Lindsey and Katrin, two English girls from the hostel in Aix-en-Provence. We were driven here by a guy who works at the Aix hostel; I guess he had to attend to some business here. We spent about four hours lounging on the beach, reading and sleeping. Marseille is really a beautiful city. It is a port city, I think a major European part. So it has its share of industry but there are also a lot of nice beaches. As we drove into the city I was just kind of daydreaming, as it felt really strange to be hauled around in a car again. I was looking up at this large dark, dreary-looking building Lindsey said to me, "that's the prison where Jean Valjean lived for 19 years." Jean Valjean is a character in Les Miserables a notorious convict. And then on the right of us out on a little island slightly offshore, was where the Count of Monte Cristo was to have lived. History is everywhere in Europe!

           Want to know something funny? (OK now I we have to make a mental transition back to Arles) the space Van Gogh has no Van Goghs in it! It's just an exhibition hall. In fact, there's nowhere in Arles to see Van Gogh's works, as they are too expensive. Disappointed by that I left aArles and went back towards Les Boux, a city, ancient city, on the type of a mountain (I'll be at a small mountain) about 20 kilometers from Arles. I got there after having expended much sweat and really enjoyed my visit. It's a tiny village with tiny, windy, steep streets full of quaint cafes, gift shops, candle shops, etc . . . There were many places to spend your money, in other words. It was a really beautiful place but I couldn't really appreciate it because of all of the tourists and the commercialism. Beside the village is La Vielle Morte the dead city, for which they charge admission so, of course, I didn't go in. Just down the hill from les baux was the cathedral of images which was the main reason I went to Les Boux in the first place. Here I had one of the most interesting experiences of my life. What the cathedral is is a space carved out of a rock in which slides are projected onto the walls and floors and ceilings. of course, the place is closed off so as to make the images as bright and colorful as possible. The images are on a very large scale and of a religious nature such as stained glass when does from famous cathedrals. For example, at the same time (all of the projectors were coordinated so that they changed lives at the same time) the whole area would be plastered with images of weeping Jesus and other images of a religious nature which you might see were you to closely inspect a stained glass window of a nature similar to that from which the photos were taken. All this was accompanied by loud, religious-sounding yet unconventional music. It all combined to create a really eerie and awe-inspiring effect. I thought it was a quite an ingenious idea on the part of the artist. It must be a huge moneymaker, too. There were only two people running the place the girl who sold you your ticket and some guy whose purpose I don't know. It was really great at any rate.

           Before I forget them for good, I have to mention the Canadian skate punks I met the first time I was in Barcelona. Somehow the subject of my journal came up and so of course they wanted to know if they were going to figure into it. I told them they'd only be mentioned if they made some sort of an impact on my life (said only in half seriousness) so of course the rest of the night they consistently were asking me if they'd said anything which merited being mentioned in my journal and on and on it went. These are the types of guys who rate the cities they go to according to the cost of a Snickers bar. If the chocolate cheap, they stay for a while. If not, onto another city. So I think they made a significant impact on me if only for the lesson they taught me, that you can't take everything seriously. I tend to do that too frequently.

Monday

Now I'm at the office again Vandy and France with Jason and his friend from Vandy who is visiting him. Scott is an overseas student in Regensburg. Get this: Scott is great friends with Nick Hartshorn, was Scott's best friend at Vandy. And this Scott has given me his and Nicks address in Regensburg so when I get up to Germany I can go stay with them!

Last night at the hostel I met these two guys from Freiburg who drove down for their vacation and are returning today. I asked if they had room for a bike and an additional person and they said "yes," so in a few hours I'll be leaving for Geneva! It's amazing how quickly your plans can change when you're traveling! I'll be staying with my friend Andre and his phone is 022 -462355 if you need it. After that, I plan go (cycle) to Munich. In the meantime today I'm going biking to some ruins with Jason's friend Scott.

It was so great getting your letters! I got both of them the letter and the one with the cashier's check. I really enjoyed reading them. So I'd love to hear from you in Munich, too. Oh, what's this about Richard's news letter? He wrote to you? Anyway gotta go. Very excited about getting to Switzerland and Munich!

Love,

Julie