Introverts and dreamers: a response to Carl King's blog post about introverts, and a similar discription of dreamers

                Adam Young recently shared on his blog a post by Carl King, about the ten myths of introverts, taken from the book The Introvert Advantage by Marti Laney.  I think it was quite an excellent post, and I would like to share a few of the points he made that I find to be particularly relevant.  I would also like to give a similar review of a book called Strong-Willed Child or Dreamer? by Dana Spears and Ron Braund.  This second book is to me what The Introvert Advantage is to Carl King when he says “I feel like someone has written an encyclopedia entry on a rare race of people to which I belong. Not only has it explained many of my eccentricities, it helps me to redefine my entire life in a new and positive context” (see King’s blog post at http://www.carlkingcreative.com/10-myths-about-introverts).  Some of the descriptions Carl King gives in his blog post about introverts seem to overlap with the descriptions of the dreamer personality type in this book, and I think a distinction needs to be made.

First of all, I think all of the points Carl King makes are relevant and interesting, and I highly recommend you click the link above and read all ten of them.  However, the ones that are the most relevant to me are as follows:

1.     Introverts only talk when they have something to say.  This is very descriptive of me. 
2. Introversion and shyness are two different things.  It is a common misconception to think of the two as the same, but where introversion is a constant fact of my nature, I am only shy in very specific situations (ex. In front of crowds and around good-looking guys).
3.  Introverts don’t dislike people.  I LOVE people, but like most introverts, I can’t handle everyone, all at once, all the time.  Crowds wear me out. 

These are three points that stood out to me the most as an introvert.  There are, however, some things that stood out to me as a dreamer, because King seems to lump dreamers and introverts into one category, whereas I think a distinction is important.  Before I continue, though, I need to give some kind of definition of the term dreamer.  This is difficult, if not impossible, because dreamers, by nature, defy definition.  But to give you a general idea, I’ll give you a quote found on page 6 of Strong-Willed Child or Dreamer: “Dreamers are the most imaginative, sensitive, and idealistic of all children. They can be described as compassionate, moody, original, and stubborn.”  While some of those traits may have been more visible in me as a young child, I think I am still very much a dreamer at heart.

There are a few descriptions, however, that King gives of introverts that seem to be descriptions of the dreamer personality type… not that the two don’t overlap: much like shyness and introversion, they often occur together, but are two distinct traits.  First of all, King states:

“Introverts are often individualists. They don’t follow the crowd. They’d prefer to be valued for their novel ways of living. They think for themselves and because of that, they often challenge the norm. They don’t make most decisions based on what is popular or trendy.”

Yes, this is sometimes true, but not always.  I have met many introverts who, because of their introversion and possibly concurring shyness, try very hard to blend in and not be noticed.  They prefer to be a shadow, or a flower on the wallpaper.  Not a dreamer.  Even an introverted dreamer like me will occasionally do something unexpected, like wear a funky hat or take up the ukulele.  We can’t stand blending in.  On the flipside, I have met extroverted dreamers.  While extroverts are typically the people who understand the rules of social interaction so much better than we introverts, extroverted dreamers still like to break them from time to time and bring out that funky hat.

King also states: “Introverts are people who primarily look inward, paying close attention to their thoughts and emotions.” Yes, introverts do most of their processing of external events internally, such as making decisions and thinking before they speak, as opposed to my beloved extroverted younger sister, who has to process everything out loud and verbally, thereby chattering half the day.  But introverts are not the only introspective people.  Dreamers are full of a specific type of introspection, according to Strong-Willed Child or Dreamer: “Dreamers think about truth and beauty when their peers are thinking about bats and balls” (pg. 57).  While introverts are the type of people who are expected to come up with deep and thought-provoking phrases when they do speak, I have heard some very introspective and surprising things from the mouths of extroverted dreamers.

  That being said, I would like to share a few of the points found in the book Strong-Willed Child or Dreamer that I find most interesting and descriptive of my personality.

1. Dreamers are idealistic.  We tend to see the world as it ought to be, rather than as it is.  Think of Don Quixote.  Ok, he was a little bit crazy fighting windmills and thinking he was a knight, but a dreamer will go out into the world with the idea of a knight on the inside, hunting for figurative giants to fight and figurative fair maidens to defend.
2. Dreamers can visualize all possible outcomes.  That’s why a dreamer may give up before they even start; because they can see all the ways a situation could go wrong.  Also, a dreamer may visualize an ideal into a particular person or situation, and become disappointed or even despair when confronted with reality.  “Dreamers weave colorful tapestries of what the world could be” (pg. 26).
3. Dreamers are sensitive.  A dreamer will read into every word or facial expression, and a dreamer is the kid who comes home from school sobbing, saying “my teacher HATES me” after being corrected for a simple mistake.  Even as an introvert who tends to hide her emotions, I am still very sensitive, and I work very hard not to read meaning into every little thing.
4. Dreamers are principle driven rather than rule driven.  In the book, a dreamer is described as a bird, whereas the dreamer’s polar opposite, the driver, is described as a charging bull.  A driver sets a goal and goes for it, and would run right into harm’s way if it weren’t for the fence (the rules).  For a driver, rules provide protection as well as guidance.  A bird, however, can get caught in a fence and hurt.  A dreamer needs to understand the principles behind a rule in order not to get snared, and needs to be able to make his/her own decisions based on principle rather than always being caged in by lots of rules.
5. Dreamers are imaginative.  Dreamer children see nothing wrong with coloring the sky green and the grass blue.  Dreamers also tend to tell tall tales, not to deceive, but just for the sake of telling a story, such as playing with invisible faeries and unicorns in the backyard (like I did all through childhood) or giving imaginary lives to favorite toys (I’m just sure the person who came up with the idea for the Toy Story movies was a dreamer).
6. Dreamers tend to link their moods to those of others.  Dreamers cannot always separate themselves from other people’s problems, and sometimes blame themselves when someone is upset even if they don’t know the cause.  Also, dreamers are particularly prone to grieving, whether it’s for someone they know, a pet, a fictional character, or even someone who died before they were born.
7. Dreamers tend to learn things better the hard way.
8. Dreamers have a natural desire to learn, although actual success in school depends on the individual.  We also prefer individualized instruction to make learning personal.  This is why homeschooling was great for me.
9. Dreamers need to be liked, and greatly fear embarrassment. “On a scale of one to ten for fear of embarrassment with ten being the most fearful, dreamers are a twelve” (pg. 214).

Well, I was going to try to come up with ten points I found interesting to match Carl King’s article, but I only came up with nine.  Oh well, I hope you enjoyed it, and learned something about me, and maybe something about yourself.  I highly recommend the book if you would like to learn more about dreamers.  And for the other dreamers out there, I will close with a poem:

I WAS BORN A DREAMER by David C. Page

It was a secret, of course, even to me.
To my parents, I was "frustrating".
To my teachers, I was "not working up to potential".
To my peers, I was "a loner".
To me I was an alien.

It has been a me and them world.
They did it their way, I did it mine.

They watched the surface of things.
I looked into them.

I saw relationships between things.
They saw things.

They learned to use equations and formulas.
I estimated answers.

They played baseball.
I sat in tree tops.

They rode their bicycles someplace.
I just rode my bicycle.

They slept at night.
I swam in darkness.

They lived according to rules.
I found order in chaos.

They lived today.
I lived yesterday, today and tomorrow.

They needed a reason to do anything.
I cried over nothing at all.

They survived on facts.
I survived their facts.

They know because they have learned.
I know because I know.

I was born a dreamer,
when pulled from the womb,
the drum beat I heard was set to rhythm by poets
and artists who had preceded me.
I found their parental guidance on gallery
walls and in music.
I was born a dreamer, I will die a dreamer,
and in between,
I will have seen a glimpse of eternity.

three kids and a monster

It was a dark and stormy night.

Ok, it wasn't actually stormy, but it was definitely dark.

There were three kids on a large, netted trampoline: a twelve-year-old girl, a six-year-old boy, and a seven-year-old boy.  The six-year-old boy was Simon, the seven-year-old boy was Luke, and the twelve-year-old girl was me.

The only light that reached the trampoline was a faint glow from the windows of the three-story, curtain-less house about fifteen feet away.  Twenty feet away in the other direction, the branches in the dark forest blew in the Oklahoma wind, and reached out towards the trampoline like dark, gnarled hands against the black sky.

For a while we just jumped and laughed, enjoying our freedom from the grown-ups and their endless gossip over coffee.  The social dramas, disagreements, and political agendas of the adult world did not concern us.  We wanted something otherworldly.

"Tell us a story!" they begged.  I smiled, and thought for a moment.

"Ok," I replied, "but first I have to tell you something.  I'm not really Chloe."

They seemed confused, but they kept jumping and listening, their attention caught.

"I may look like Chloe, but I'm actually a monster, disguised as her.  The real Chloe is tied to a tree out there in the forest, with her mouth gagged so you can't hear her scream."

They watched me, two pairs of wide, blue eyes.

"And now," I said, as I sat in front of the entrance to the trampoline net just so my face was dark in the shadow, and I blocked off any exit, "I am going to eat you."

Simon, ever the hero, let out a warrior's cry and catapulted his tiny body towards me.  His small mass was not enough to even knock me over, but he used the velocity of the trampoline's bounce to his advantage, attacking again and again, constantly yelling.  I braced myself against his attacks.

Luke, ever the lawyer, started yelling as well.  "Chloe, say you promise you're really you!  Say it, Chloe!"

I gave them a minute or two of suspense as the three of us jumped around, I laughing, the two of them yelling and making their various attacks.  Finally, I caught my breath enough to say:

"Ok, ok, I promise I'm really Chloe!"

"Let's go inside!" they said immediately.  I was in no position to argue.  We slid off the trampoline and entered into the comfort of the bright, safe, air-conditioned home, filled with the familiar sounds of chatter and laughter.

Segue

I sat shivering in the air conditioner that I had not yet readjusted to after five months in France as I watched my-movie-star-thin mother eat her tofu stir fry microwave dinner while contemplating my question.

“You need a segue,” she said at last.

“A what?” 

Laughter ensued.

“Not that kind of Segway,” my mom replied.  “a literary segue.  Something to connect the last phase of your blog into the next one.  Journalists use them all the time."

I considered this.

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Thank you for joining us at let felicity fly: stories from a dreamer.  Tune in next time for our latest installment jam-packed with literary something-or-other-ness.  In other words, I think I might have fun with this.

There's no place like home :)

It is morning in America, and I am writing again.

My last week in France was lovely, and E-mama (my grandmother) and I had many adventures.  First, I had to clean out my dorm room, all by myself, and reduce my amount of belongings enough that I could carry everything myself.  That was a challenge, but I finally did it.  Then I had a miserable 5-hour train ride (kind of a round about way) to Paris, where all the toilets on the train were broken.  It smelled awful.  Then when I got to Paris, I had to get myself and all my luggage to the hostel where I was to stay for one night before meeting E-mama.  I took the metro, which ended up being a huge mistake because it was rush hour, very crowded, and I had to lug all my suitcases up and down many flights of stairs.

Finally, though, I made it to the hostel.  It was very nice to get cleaned up, eat a hearty dinner in the restaurant downstairs, and rest.  Then the next morning, I was up early.  I can never really sleep in in a hostel because I'm a light sleeper and wake up when everyone else does, but it didn't really matter because I had to pick E-mama up at the airport anyway.  I took the metro again, and luckily it wasn't quite as crowded as the night before, but it was still a real challenge.  Then, once I got to the airport, I had to figure out where to meet E-mama.  It turned out I had to go to another terminal, but before long I found where I could meet her, and waited.  It was so nice to see her again!

Then we took a TGV train (stands for train grand vitesse, or high speed train) right from the airport to Rennes, in Northern-ish France.  That train was much nicer because the bathrooms worked, and we both slept some.  Then, in Rennes we rented a car: a dark silver Clio, stick shift, so E-mama had to drive because I don't know how to drive stick shift.

We drove straight to Saint James.  It's a little town in Normandie, where we stayed in a cozy little one star hotel, which in France just means it's old, small, and has few aminities (like no room service).  We rather liked it though, because it was very friendly, the kind of place where you would get to know the owners.  Also the kind of place that's really and truly French.  Take this picture for example.

The restaurant had two kitties that were both very fat, probably fed from table scraps.  This one had a favorite spot, this table.  I like to think of him as Phantom of the Opera Kitty, demanding that table 5 be kept empty for his use.  But the owner never bothered to shoo him down.  This is very French, because French people love their pets, take them almost everywhere, and aren't so worried about keeping everything sanitized as we are.

Our first morning in Saint James, we went to the Saint James American Cemetery, where E-mama's cousin is buried, who was killed in WWII.  We went to visit his grave.  It was very nice because the cemetery was very well kept up, and they rubbed sand from Omaha Beach on the engraving in the stone so it would show in the pictures, and put a flag in the ground by it that E-mama got to keep.

The cemetery was kind of heartbreaking to see all those crosses and imagine who they all were.

That afternoon we went to Fougeres, about 20-30 minutes away by car, and toured a medieval castle.  It was very beautiful, and huge.  Probably in the best condition as I've ever seen a medieval castle.

The next morning, we went to Mont Saint Michel.  It was incredibly beautiful, although very touristy: probably one of the most visited places in France, and maybe the world.  But besides the crowds, it was almost magical.

There is a castle on a cloud,
I like to go there in my sleep,
Aren't any floors for me to sweep,
Not in my castle on a cloud.

Sorry about the incorrect date on that one; it was taken on E-mama's camera and for some reason it kept putting the wrong date on her pictures.

This castle was built around a monastery high on an island just off the coast of France.  Back before the causeway was built, the only way to reach it was crossing the sands during low tide, which was very dangerous because of sinkholes, sinking sand, and the ever-present danger of being washed out to sea if you got lost in fog and didn't make it across before the tide came in. 

Inside, there were narrow cobblestone streets that were crowded with tourists.  Also, there were a lot of stairs.  E-mama and I found a very narrow stairway when we were wandering around: it was so narrow one
 person could barely fit through.

Later, we went back to Paris.  Because Paris was so crowded with tourists at the time, we couldn't stay all four nights in one hotel, so we had to split our stay between two hotels.  The first place we stayed was a very small but clean place that catered towards American tourists on a budget, called My Hotel.  The morning after we arrived, we took a bus tour and saw most of the major sights from the street.  That was really nice.  E-mama had wanted to go up the Eiffel Tower, but when she saw how long the line was, she changed her mind, as I had suspected she would.  That was fine with me; I didn't really want to stand in line all afternoon.

Here's the proof that she was there

Later, we went to L'Orangerie, which is the impressionist museum that has the famous Water Lilies.  E-mama was impressed by those, and I loved them even though I had seem them before.  I think the Water Lilies are probably my favorite.  One day, when I'm rich and famous, I'm going to have a house big enough that I can hang a life-size copy of at least one of them on the wall.

Then we spent all day at the Louvre.  That was really nice; even though I had been there before, I only really spent the latter part of an afternoon there, and with a whole day I got to see so much more.  Even so, I don't think we got to see even a fraction of what's there.  Honestly, I think the Louvre is bigger than a museum has any right to be.  A museum should be small enough that people can actually take the time to appreciate everything that's there.

On the 21st we were going to go to D'Orsay, the larger impressionist museum that has many of Van Gogh's works, but it was closed, and had a sign on the door that said "We may or may not be able to open at all today."  So very French.  So we hopped on a train to Versailles.  That was incredibly beautiful, but so crowded I could barely breathe.  After walking through there, though, I now want to re-watch the Doctor Who episode called The Girl in the Fireplace because it was set in Versailles.  The Hall of Mirrors was incredible.

 Also, that day was La Fete de la Musique, where all the musicians go out and play their instruments on the street.  That was a lot of fun to walk around and hear all the different varieties of music.

a Hawaiian guitar

Reggae in front of the cathedral

an American gospel band just down the street

Rock on a balcony (I thought it was funny that they played "I don't wanna be an American Idiot")

guitar player on the Bridge of Love

Then early on the 22nd, we flew home.  E-mama and I were on the same flight to Houston, about 10 hours and 20 something minutes.  Of course it was even longer since we had to go around some storms.  Then E-mama drove on home, and I got on a flight to OKC (which was delayed because they had to change a tire), where Daddy met me and drove me home to Tulsa.

So now I'm home!  It's good to be able to be with my family, speak English, and relax.  I'm still a little jet lagged, but I've already had a good American breakfast of biscuits and eggs.  Now that my adventures in France are over, I'm looking forward to my next adventures.  However, I will have to change the name of my blog, since my France trip is now over.  I haven't decided yet what I will do, but next time you come back, my blog may be completely revamped. :)  I may have to think of a new theme to keep me motivated to write.  As much as I enjoy writing, I tend to be more of a sporadic writer, and writing regularly takes discipline.  But we shall see. :)

Au revoir Clermont-Ferrand...

Hi everyone, I only have time for a brief update since I'm packing and cleaning, and don't have much time.  But several people have been begging for an update, so here goes.

First of all, I would like to announce that I survived finals week.  Mostly.  Those of you who are friends with me on facebook might know that on one particular day, I had three finals (all oral presentations).  Well I later discovered, much to my horror, that I was actually supposed to have another (three-hour written) final that morning that I missed because I was confused about the schedule.  Despite all my efforts contacting my professor and various people in charge, I have learned that the only way to retake a final is with a doctor's note, which of course I don't have since I wasn't sick.  So that's frustrating, since I worked hard in that class and would rather not fail.  Grades will be posted at some future undecided date on a bulletin board in some obscure hall in some administrative building, publicly for all to see, as typical of French cultural norms.  So if grades are posted by the time I leave (Tuesday just after 1pm), then I'll know what they are.

Originally, my plans were to fly home early July with Ashley.  However, for several reasons, Ashley decided to change her flight, and will be heading home early tomorrow.  So, due to the lack of my favorite travel buddy and good friend, and also due to homesickness and general fatigue, the prospect of staying an entire month in France after school was out seemed daunting.  But rather than having me miss out on seeing a bit more of France before I leave, my dad arranged for my grandmother to meet me in Paris on the 15th of June.  We will spend several days in Normandy, where we will see an American cemetery, the beaches, and a castle, and then several days in Paris, where we will see some of the major sights and, of course, celebrate La Fete de la Musique.  For those of you who don't know what La Fete de la Musique is, it's a celebration on the summer solstice every year (June 21st) where musicians all go out and sit on street corners and make music after dark.  So I challenge you musicians who read this, on the evening of the 21st you should go out to some public street corner and play a song or two.  Emama and I will be strolling the streets of Paris on the night the City of Lights is transformed into the City of Music.

The next day, we both fly home.  I have had adventure after adventure, but I will be so glad to be home.  More later.

Bonjour vingt-et-un!

Hi everyone!  My spring break has definitely been an adventure.  On Saturday, the 23rd of April, I got up before the sun and hopped on a train to Lyon, and watched the sun come up through the train window.  The train was delayed just before arriving at the station, so once I arrived I rushed to find the train across town to the airport.  Upon arriving at the airport, I rushed to find the EasyJet terminal, which was tricky because they were outside the main part of the airport, in a gigantic tent.  But when I went to check in, I was told check-in had closed 15 minutes before.  I went to talk to someone else about getting on the next flight to Bristol, which unfortunately was not until the next day.  So after waiting in several different lines, making several international calls to both my Aunt in Bristol and my Dad in Oklahoma where it was the middle of the night, waiting for the plane to finish boarding and take off so I could "officially" be counted as having missed the flight, and waiting for lunch break to end, I got a ticket to Bristol for the next day, which was Easter Sunday (or Pâques as they call it in France).  So all I had left to do was find a hotel room and figure out what to do while I was stuck, by myself, for 24 hours in Lyon, France.

Luckily, there was a hotel right across the street.  It wasn't the cheapest hotel, but it wasn't too outrageously expensive, plus it was clean, safe, and close.  So I booked a room, took a little nap (I had had a very long day, after all), and then set out to explore Lyon.  I took a train to downtown, the same one I had taken from the train station upon arrival in Lyon.  I wandered around and took some pictures.  Lyon, I found, is a true mix of the old and the new.  Not only do they have the traditional French architecture, but they have the glass skyscrapers of modern cities.

Lyon

The next day, I arrived at the airport very early.  Even so, I STILL almost missed my flight, due to long lines to get our passports stamped before we got on the plane.  But luckily I didn't, and finally I was on my way to Bristol!  When I arrived, it felt like such a relief to hear people speaking English, and read signs in English.  It was not a relief when the first thing that came down the luggage conveyor belt was a broken suitcase handle.  Luckily it wasn't mine, so I collected my entire suitcase and went through customs pretty quickly.  Then I was met by Auntie Molly and Uncle Peter, and my cousin Clare and her husband Richard, whom I hadn't met before.  It was wonderful to be with family!

The first thing we did, in our vacation (they were all on vacation too), was visit Bath.  The city Bath, England was named after the ancient Roman bathhouse that still exists there, in excellent condition.  I first heard about Bath in reading Jane Austen.  In her book Northanger Abbey, the main character, Catherine Morland, spends several weeks in Bath, and goes to The Pump Room regularly to socialize and meet Henry Tilney (<3).  Besides that, I've heard about it from my sister, who visited Bath a couple years ago, so it was really cool to see.

a view of the Bath, with the Bath Cathedral in the background

Richard, Clare, Uncle Peter, and me sitting by the bath

The Pump Room

After Bath, we packed up for several days and headed north toward the Lake District and Lake Windermere.  What a beautiful countryside!  Uncle Peter, Auntie Molly, Clare and Richard checked into the quaint b & b where they were staying, and because they were already full when I decided to go, I checked into the hostel where I stayed.  The hostel actually turned out to be really nice; it was an old manor house in the middle of nowhere, practically empty, and they served a full English breakfast. :)  Then we took a boat tour of the lake; it was beautiful!

This is Wray Castle as seen from Lake Windermere

Unfortunately I had a bad cold the whole time we were in the lake district; probably something I caught on the plane due to a low immune system from having some kind of bug for a couple days shortly before I left.  But I wasn't about to let that stop me; there was too much beautiful country to see.  We went to see Wray Castle; it's a newish castle that was built by a doctor as a "surprise present" for his wife, using her fortune.  When she saw it, she hated it and didn't spend one night in it.  Now it's been sold and is being turned into a hotel.  It doesn't sound like a very romantic honeymoon getaway to me.

Wray Castle

Beatrix Potter's House

We also went to see Beatrix Potter's House.  It had a lot of original furniture, and it was really cool to compare the house to her drawings and see where she got a lot of her inspiration.  Then on the way back to Bristol we stopped by Hardwick Hall, which is also known as Malfoy Manor.  That's right, it's the mansion that was seen in Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows as the Malfoys' house.  Of course, it was really a much brighter place than it appeared in the movie.  It was really beautiful.

Harwick Hall (that's a coffee cup in my hand, just in case you wondered)

 Later, Clare, Uncle Peter, Auntie Molly and I went to Lacock Village.  It's an entire village that's owned by the National Trust, which is some kind of program in the UK that preserves old places for tourism.  We walked around the quaint old village, and looked in Lacock Abbey.  Some parts of Lacock Abbey were used as parts of Hogwarts in various Harry Potter movies.  It's very beautiful, and incredibly old.

A fluffy cat in front of a quaint cottage in Lacock village

A corridor in Lacock Abbey; Harry Potter fans might recognize this beautiful architecture

A room in Lacock Abbey; this beautifully arched ceiling was used in the Harry Potter films as well

Then on the first of May, we heard about the death of Osama Bin Laden.  Since I've been out of the country so long, I feel a little out of touch with things that are happening back home.  Of course, this made world-wide news, and it affects everyone, especially Americans traveling abroad (or so they say).  Honestly I haven't felt any less safe than usual, I haven't been attacked by a terrorist yet, and I'm not going to let any travel warnings stop my adventures.  But I will have to be careful and stay away from protests.


Later Clare's brother Carl came over, with his wife Caroline and their twin daughters Charlotte and Chloe.  It was so nice to meet all of them, and the girls are adorable!  We all went to the zoo together, and then we went out to TGI Friday's (the British version), where we ate dinner and then sang happy birthday to the twins, whose birthday is a little after mine, and to me.  So the waiters asked everyone in the restaurant to sing to Charlotte, Chloe, and Chloe, which was kind of funny, and then we ate cake.

The next day we went to a may fair.  It was cool to see how they celebrate May Day in England (even though we went on May 2nd; maybe the fair lasts a couple days?)  But we listened to the band, walked around some, and I got a Doctor Who action figure for 40 pence. :)

The May Fair

The Doctor (10th; my favorite!)

Then, May 3rd was my 21st birthday!  Clare cooked me the traditional pancakes with strawberries and whipped cream, a birthday tradition in my family.  Clare is an excellent cook, and she can make some very American-tasting pancakes!  Uncle Peter took me to old downtown Bristol, and we walked around, had some lunch, saw the University of Bristol, the Bristol Cathedral, and had some traditional cream tea.  Cream tea is afternoon tea with scones that have clotted cream and jam spread on them.  It's very good and very rich!  So I had an excellent birthday.

The next day, I got on a plane to Prague to meet Martin, a friend of my dad's.  I stayed with him and his wife and two daughters for three days, and visited Prague.   It was incredible!  By the way, I can't say it was awesome, because in Czech the word that sounds like "awsome" means "eight," and I was told that if I were to go into a bar and say "awesome" they would bring me eight beers.

The first night I was there, we went to see the Prague Castle.  It was closed, so we couldn't go in, but it was all lit up and very pretty, and I took a lot of pictures of it, and of the Cathedral which is sort of surrounded by the castle.

looking across the river in Prague at night

Prague Cathedral, inside the castle

Artwork on the cathedral

back view

The next day we saw the Praque Exhibition Grounds, which was very beautiful, and unfortunately the building had been partially burned down a few years earlier.  They were preparing for a marathon that was going to happen that weekend, after I was gone.  We also walked through a beautiful garden by the Prague Castle.  There were peacocks; it was quite lovely.  We ate lunch at a sushi bar where the sushi came on a conveyor belt and you could just grab whatever plate looked good from where you were sitting at your table.  It was delicious and entertaining!

Prague Exhibition Grounds

Gardens by the Castle

the ceiling just next to the gardens

at the gardens; under the arches you can see where the ceiling picture was taken

sushi lunch

Later, we went inside the castle.  We walked around the cathedral; it was very beautiful; lots of Gothic architecture.  We also went in a part of the castle where the horses came inside for indoor jousting.  It was very beautiful, and the balconies had some amazing views.

inside the cathedral

view from a castle window

the jousting hall

the king's chapel in the Castle

Also, we went to the Petrin lookout tower, which is sort-of Prague's version of the Eiffel Tower.  Basically, it's like the top of the Eiffel Tower built up on the top of a hill.  So, it's not the entire Eiffel Tower, but from the bottom of their river to the top of their tower it's as high as from the bottom of the Seine to the top of the Eiffel Tower.  

view of Prague Castle from the tower

View of St Charles Bridge from the tower

One evening, we went out with the whole family, including both daughters.  We climbed to the top of a clock tower to look out at the city at nightfall, and then we went down and watched the clock chime.  It was really a show because it was an astronomical clock and there were statues that moved, and it was really complicated.  The amazing thing is how old it is; it was first built in 1410!

the astronomical clock

view of Prague Castle at nightfall from the clock tower

The last day we did some touring in the morning, and also watched some French movies.  Then in the afternoon, I left on a plane for Paris.  I stayed in a Hostel in Paris (so I wasn't alone; I had people to hang out with some of the time).  Between the two walking tours I did and my wandering around alone, I saw Pont Neuf, L'Arc de Triumphe, The Bridge of Love (I forgot the traditional name for that one, but of course I remembered the romantic one lol), the Champs Elysees, The Eiffel Tower, and the Orangerie (impressionist museum, including The Waterlilies).  I had a great time!  Then I hopped on a train back to Clermont-Ferrand.  I arrived around 10, very tired, and very sore.  I collapsed in bed and managed to wake up for my 3pm class the next day. :) 

Pont Neuf

Bridge of Love

Les Champs Elysees

L'Arc de Triumphe

Cafe where Amelie was filmed

Sacre Coeur Cathedral

Moulin Rouge (I didn't go in)

La Tour Eiffel

The Water Lilies

So I have survived another marvelous adventure.  I have also survived 21 years of life.  I think those are both pretty cool.  So now that I've spent all day writing up this blog post and uploading pictures, I think I'll go take a walk before it gets dark.  Honestly, as amazing and incredible as this semester has been, it's also been very long.  Sometimes, the best part of an adventure is coming back home afterwards.