Hindsight Is: 2018 Edition

Holy frickin' cow, 2018. How is it nearly at an end? Literally, I fail to understand time, because she's a cruel mistress. Reading my 2016 and 2017 recaps was a hoot. A fun look back at an often angsty, but mostly doe-eyed past-Gina, and a great way to put this maelstrom year into perspective.

So here's a glance back on the past 365 -

• New Era: This was it. The year that straddled my twenties and thirties. Much the same way a drunken bachelorette straddles a mechanical bull after her fourth shot of tequila, it was both epic and sloppy. I held on for dear life, and despite the inevitable falling, I considered the overall attempt a great success... 2018 was an ongoing celebration as many dear friends likewise turned the big 3-Oh. The friend crew really stepped up the adulthood levels once crossing the thirty line, with an onslaught of new houses bought, new babies birthed, and new marriages celebrated.*  There was also a wave of grad parties, as my little cousins become not so little anymore and as friends have continued to check off advanced degrees. So many changes. Bowie would've been proud (RIP).
• Personal Adult Points Peak: 2018 was tops in my own personal adulting, as well. Besides having officially survived my twenties (it was touch-and-go for a bit there), I also finally crossed the threshold and became completely debt free. And, after soapboxing for over four years about how we were plenty happy as we were thankyouverymuch, we finally decided to put a ring on it and got engaged!** And, we're definitely not pregnant so cheers for not catching that particular cootie just yet! Besides those big moments on the personal front, I also was promoted again at work, twice. AND I joined a book club. So, I'm one glass of wine away from 40 and a mini van at this point. Go team! 
• Turn On: It was another year for watching the world unfold. The Winter Olympics. The World Cup. I finally watched The Office (I hate Jim - yes, there will be a rant about it some day). I voyaged back to Middle Earth with my sis, to watch the Lord of the Rings Trilogy (extended editions) in theaters once more. I rewatched all of Game of Thrones in anticipation of the upcoming finale. Beyond the silver screens, I saw plenty of action IRL, as well. An epic opening concert by The Killers at the new venue in MKE. A standout Summerfest show by Chromeo. Visits to the local theater, ballet, and symphony. Chuck full of culture, that 2018!
• Tune In: While everyone in 2018 was all about "saying no more" - I took that as a load of crap and tried to say yes more. Yes to meeting up with old friends. Yes to that extra phone call with a family member. Yes to giving a shit about people and your relationships to them, instead of just only focusing on yourself. I especially tried to stay in touch better with friends who don't live in close proximity. Hosted various friends (and groups) throughout the year, showed up for some birthday parties out of town, met up with people while in NYC for work, made a point to grab lunch or a drink when someone was passing through town (even if it was an airport lounge cocktail), attended a large reunion with my social group from college - overall just SHOWED UP (as much as I could - sorry for the times I couldn't manage). 2018 was about laughing with and learning from as many people as I could. 
• Drop Out: There was a huge rift in the middle of this year, as the beau's dad passed away suddenly in July (the day before my 30th birthday). It was truly a black hole that just sucked the light out of us. The support from friends and family was overwhelming, and we were more grateful than ever for having everyone, despite us taking a good deal of time to disconnect. Social media, blogging, all this fringe stuff is just so unimportant when you've got a bigger, life changing situation going on. A lot of things took a back burner while we tried to adjust to the upside down. As they should have. 
• Aboard AF: After several years of traveling domestically together, we finally made the leap abroad. This year we had quite a few epic adventures across the pond, visiting the Faroe Islands, Copenhagen, Iceland, London, Paris and Dublin. It'd been ten years (way too long of a hiatus!) since I'd last had a proper Eurotrip, and I'd been itching for the return to foreign languages, fabulous public transit, and delicious bread. It was also nice to see that the beau and I could travel well together in a more foreign setting. And hey, we got engaged in Paris, so now we will always have an excuse to return there (yas!). 
• Etc: Loved and lost a kitchen couch that rocked my world. Voted - twice - because primaries matter. Met our neighborhood graffiti artist. Finally went to the eye doc, dentist, and regular doc all within a 12 month span - hit that hat trick for the first time in way too long. Got over the Sunday Slump. Built more IKEA furniture than I have in a lifetime. Surfed various waves of anxiety. Spent a lot of time with family, as my grandma's house was fully cleared out and sold. Was a major spectathlete at the beau's SIXTEEN races this year - he put on over a thousand miles and ran his first full marathon in NYC. 

The year ahead is sure to be a busy one, and I won't make it out of it single. There are still plenty of big ch-ch-changes to come on the home front. The twenties felt like a decade of constant evolution, with a perpetual state of movement and few stationary points. This new decade feels like more permanent changes are afoot. Changes with longer term consequences. The fun and games aren't over, now it just feels less like the Hunger Games and more like chess. We've got to be three moves ahead and see a little further into the future, it's not just about surviving this moment, or living day by day. 2019 will kick that all off - may the odds still be ever in our favor.

2018: What a frickin' whirlwind!

* Though, this year there were only three weddings attended. A far cry from the eight-each-year pace we had been running at. It's official: a big chunk of us are "settled" -- HOW bizarre! Time for some renewing of vows, divorce parties, or something, because I'm already lamenting the lack of drunken dancing and playing dress up!
** Sorry in advance if you hate wedding talk - but, I frickin' love it. So, you can expect to see plenty more soul-searching and overly dramatic posts about wedding planning in 2019. If you want to tune out for those, I'll forgive ya. Shall try not to rabble too much about it.
*** Six of my top ten trafficked posts were in 2018 - and yet I had three months of radio silence to repay you all. Sorry, that's just the way it goes. Thanks for continuing to come back! 

Going to the Chapel... Or Some Variation Thereof

Now that I'm coming through the other side of my initial post-engagement-nervous-breakdown, and am receiving epic volumes of (often unsolicited) advice on the daily, I've settled on a few things. A few wedding and marriage related "this is how it's going down" things. Some of these may well get abandoned over time, but right now I'm feeling pretty certain about them. And since y'all know how I love to field questions in bulk, here are some answers to a variety of FAQs. You can decide what the questions were, and determine whether or not you think they were invasive or just in good fun....

1. Nope, we don't have a date picked yet.
2. Why yes, I do plan to lose weight for the wedding... because I've been treating my body less like a "temple" and more like a dumpster with broken wheels. A stationary thing you dump garbage into. It's not for the dress - it's for me. I'm a firm believer that one of the essential things you're committing to in a marriage is living as long as possible. You've signed up til death you do part, and you better work your ass off to make that you last as long as you can on this good earth to do your part of fulfilling that vow. So, as I jump into this new role as a wife, I'd like to do it in peak condition, and show up properly for this thing. Hopefully this whole "better eating and exercising" thing will become a trend, so our marriage can be less "in sickness" and more "in health."*
3. I know, you're right. I AM a wedding crier. And yes, I'll probably be a hot sobbing mess at mine, just like I was at everyone else's. Because I frickin' love weddings, and they make my heart feel overwhelmed with joy, and that joy leaks violently out of my face.** Have tissues at the ready, please and thanks.
4. No, I don't have a Pinterest board, so I can't share a link. No vision board either. You'll just have to trust me when I say that this'll all turn out just fine, and that people got married before the internet existed. 
5. Yep, DIY is happening. Why? Not because we can't afford certain things (#blessed), but because I'm a thrifty bitch and probably won't want to afford certain things. We all know that if you tag the word "wedding" on to just about anything, the world sees emotional dollar signs and jacks the price up tenfold. So, because I love sticking it to the man, I'll be trying to win this game as much as possible. Also, I like crafting. And since I'm usually a ball of anxiety, I'll need something to distract me and keep my nerves ocupado. I'm expecting a lot more DIT than DIY to be honest - doing it together... over cocktails.
6. Not getting married in a church, nope.*** 
7. Sorry, yeah, no date picked yet. Not even a particular season in mind, nope. It all depends on the venue availability. 
8. That's correct, we're paying for the wedding ourselves. We're lucky enough to be getting married at an age where we're financially stable. We've worked hard to pay off all our debts and to save up. And now we're going to take that savings and chuck it at a big ass party. Because we want to. And we can. And, to be honest, there aren't many excuses to gather literally everyone you love into one space - it's usually just weddings and funerals. And the latter isn't very much fun. So, we're happy to spend the money to fill a space with people we love, to celebrate happiness.
9. No, my ring isn't loose or needing to be resized. I already resized it. My hands are just cold. Really, I'm happy with the sizing, I promise. 
10. The wedding will definitely be in Milwaukee. Milwaukee is "us" - it's where we met, it's where we live together, it's where "me" became "we." We want it to be a day of us. 
11. Old, new, borrowed, blue? Yeah, I'll probably try to do that, but haven't though much on it yet, to be honest. Times like these, I wish I did have a hope chest lying around somewhere. 



Do these dollar store decorations count as new and blue??

12. Thank you so much for sharing that advice. It's been wonderful to hear so many different approaches for how to go about (insert wedding element here). We'll be taking all this into consideration as we decide. Super grateful to have a community of people who care and want to help.... ((Except, we do get the final say on all decisions. And that might mean not following  your advice later. Please don't secretly hate us. We still value your opinion. We're doing our best here.))
13. Yes, we're getting a prenup. Not because we don't believe our marriage will last, but because we're children of divorce and want to protect each other from our future selves. (Future Gina is a real diva, I hear.)
14. Really, truly, I wish I could tell you the date, but we haven't picked it yet. Nope, it's not just throwing a dart at a board. Yep, most venues are booked out to 2020. Crazy, I know. So yeah, honestly, I don't have a date for you. 
15. I will be taking his last name. No chance of that not happening. 
16. Sorry no, we haven't finalized our guest list yet (we've only been engaged like a month...). We're very fortunate to have so many wonderful people in our lives, who've each had a big impact on us in their own way; but, we will have a limited amount of space for this shindig. We won't be able to have everyone physically present that day. ((So again, please don't secretly / openly hate us -- we'd love to have every single person there if we could. But we can't.)) 
17. How many people are we inviting? See previous answer. In summary: a bunch, but not nearly enough. 
18. No, I'm not pregnant. Yes, I haven't been pushy about getting married previously, and now suddenly I'm engaged. It really wasn't all that sudden though. This isn't a shotgun wedding. (KNOCK ON WOOD)
19. Yes, there could potentially be a rabbi. We'll definitely have a chuppah and will be smashing a glass (though I'm still terribly disappointed that I personally don't get to be the one to stomp it, blah blah traditions). And the odds of us getting hoisted up on chairs and dancing the horah at some point are alarmingly high. So, get on board and work on your upper body strength, because I don't want to get dropped. 
20. Nope, our colors aren't baby blue and safety orange. Quit listening to my fiancé, he's just messing with you.
21. OH yeah, I've definitely considered doing a white pantsuit. You KNOW how I feel about pantsuits. I would love to pull that off, but I probably won't.... probably. 
22. Sigh. No, we don't have a date yet.

If at any point in the next twelve to eighteen months, you hear my tone shifting between jovial, bitchy, forceful, downright giddy, etc... it's because I really am stupid excited to be doing this whole wedding thing. But, I really do feel awful when I don't have answers for people. Or when I just don't have time to dive into it. Or when the answers I give are clearly something that seems disappointing or wrong to the person asking. Please know this: I love that you care enough to ask. And I love talking about this stuff. And I know that this is really like my one chance to just strut around being bridey and spewing taffeta out of my palms like Spiderman does with webs (spew spew!), but to be honest, I'm just trying to do my best to make sure everyone is happy and that at the end of this all, the beau still wants to walk down that aisle with me... or some variation thereof. As long as we end up married, it'll be the best day ever.

If face masks are the key to a practical wedding, I'm on board. 
Pass the frickin' avocados! 

* And yeah, of course I want to look good in the dress, too. I'm not a fucking monster.
** For the record, the titular song of this post, Going to the Chapel, makes me bawl like a baby. In the mountains of Colorado, myself and the other bridesmaids piled into a van, lovingly driven by my dear friend's brother-in-law. It was her big day, and we were on our way, and he popped on that song as a ha-ha-how-perfect tune, and I promptly started tearing up, because my girl was getting married. She'd found the love of her life and I was so happy for her, and so sad for me because that meant our relationship would forever be altered as well. AKA I was a glass case of emotion. Still am. To this day. Because their happiness makes my little heart explode. 
*** Though I'd love to just take photos in a cathedral, but you know, that dream can die. 

Breaking Up Is Hard To Do

We spend all our lives developing and nurturing relationships. Some are fleeting or tumultuous. Others come in and out. Then there are those that last for years and years, but change over time. Most are not constant. Save for one. The most important one. I'm not talking about finding the one. I'm talking about the one that you can never truly get away from. It's that person who I've been in a relationship with for the past thirty years.... myself.

It's that me, that she, that's been having a hard time this past month. Because this is it. We're done. There's a beautiful shiny rock on a very important finger now, which means it's time for one final breakup - with any luck, the last breakup I'll ever have in this lifetime* - the divorce from my singledom.

***Let me preface this by saying I literally could not be happier to be starting this new adventure with the ridiculously wonderful man who has agreed to stick by me for, you know, eternity. I'm stupid lucky to have found him. BUT, being engaged does not mean that the only emotion you're allowed to feel is giddy giddy joy joy all the time. So, just let me get this lament out and if you'd rather hear the glowing rosy-eyed bride-to-be ravings, I'm sure those will come later. For now you get a scatter-brained panic, because that's how my brain feels.***

Don't get me wrong, I know this all is going to sound terribly melodramatic. I'm not losing a leg, or moving abroad, or switching jobs, or altering my gender, or dying here - nothing so hectic as all that. I'm just getting married. It's just a name on a piece of paper really.... right?

What is in a name?

But that's just it. It's my name. A name that I've built an identity around my entire life. It's silly that a few letters (or in my case, a lot of frickin' letters) can form such a core identity, but they really do. It's that long last name that spun off into countless nicknames, and awkward explanations of how to attempt to pronounce it. It's a name that most of my friends probably still can't say, which settled me into my position as just "Gina K." That last name immediately signals my heritage (it's so German that it literally is wearing lederhosen and chugging a litre of beer) and anchors me to my family.

It's a name that's also coming to an end. Unless my sister decides to keep our name and pass it to her children, there won't be a next generation. It will become just an archaic reference on someone's family tree some day. There won't be anyone walking around proudly carrying it with. (Then, you can sure bet that there really will be no one who can pronounce it!) And the thought of that kind of makes my heart hurt a little bit.

Yeah, yeah, I know what you're thinking: I'm the one opting to make that name change, so if it really bothers me, I don't have to do it. But, I do want to. It's a symbol that we're a new little family. That we're merging those branches together. I'll be proud to don that new last name - and thrilled to get some ambiguity going forward - but that change is a mental hurdle that I'm still working on getting over. I have a long time before I have to properly face said hurdle. Right now I'm getting a running start, so later I don't just barrel straight into it and end up a crumpled, crying mess on the ground.

Who the heck even am I?

It's all a part of the mental shift. There's a new constant, now. It's not just me: it's we.

How do you like THEM apples?? ... I like them fine, thanks.

Never fear: I'll still fight against being pigeon-holed into just specific titles (see rant #9). But, as much as I might argue that I get to be just-the-same-as-I-ever-was-thankyaverymuch, it really is true that marriage does fundamentally change something. Besides literally changing my name, I'm changing my perspective on the future.

As I evolved from a scrappy trailer-park kid, to a painfully nerdy band geek student, to an aggressively-social-butterfly, to an independent career-girl, I was by and large single. And to be honest, I was good at it. Yes, I had loving family and friends who had my back, but on a whole I was solely responsible for the outcome of my life. My decisions and their consequences were all on me. So if I messed up, it was just me who was impacted. If I was poor, it was okay because I only had one mouth to feed. It was all on my shoulders. I decided what took priority, and how to spend my time and money. Just me...

Even though we've been together for almost five years now, I still was always cautious about the potential of reverting to that single status. When we moved in, I  kept my pots and utensils. I made sure I was financially secure enough to go solo again at any point. I didn't get rid of all my furniture. I knew exactly which friends had a couch I could crash on... just in case. I lived life in "just in case" mode.

Because, let's be real, relationships can just end on a dime. I could've come home any day from work to find him gone for no good reason. Because even though you care, a relationship isn't set in stone. It's a loose knit that can unravel fairly quickly.

This is it. Don't get scared now. 

Marriage ups the ante. It ties big old knots into that loose knit. It's more binding. Sure, marriages still do end sometimes, but divorce is messy and expensive. If you want out, it takes a lot more effort. That's why (most) people don't enter into this legal union lightly. And it's not like we are, and it's not like this wasn't building up for awhile - I'm not shocked and suddenly having to come to grips with this identity change. This wasn't something we rushed.** I guess I just didn't realize that my obnoxious last name and single-status meant so much to my wonky brain.

So here's where that leaves me.... a bride-to-be, having a quiet meltdown / identity crisis while trying to keep a good poker face. Mentally preparing to go all in on this big bet, and hoping that this two-of-a-kind is enough to win. This doesn't feel like a gamble. It feels like a sure thing. Besides, my cards are all on the table at this point, and there's no going back now. I have no regrets about how I've played the game up to this moment, and no regrets about how it will all turn out. Because you can't win if you don't play. And the prize is happily-ever-after.

In it to win it...

* Yes, I did bust out all the best breakup songs. Because even if breakups suck, there is nothing more cathartic than openly sobbing in ones car will blaring "I will always love you" or "It must've been love" or some other sap anthem. Anyone who has never had one of those moments has lived their life at half emotional capacity. 
** I managed to keep conversation about marriage pretty practical and non-threatening. No major ultimatums were made. My fiancé never came home to me laying in a pile of wedding magazines and taffeta fabric samples with "Wedding Bell Blues" on repeat and "Say Yes to the Dress" queued up on the TV, wearing a "Why aren't we engaged yet?" t-shirt. No offense to the forward-thinking women who made such displays, it just wasn't my style. 
*** Also, for the record, getting married will not make me get off my feminist soap box. I'm gaining a legal life partner here, not a master. So while my mental title shift to be a little less 'Miss Independent' and a little more 'Mrs. Woman of Her Own Mind' - don't expect too much else to change in terms of my attitude on gender roles and contributions to a household, loves. 

(What) About Me

Here it is. It's coming. It can't be stopped and it's now less than a week away. That tiny little identity crisis in which I can no longer be trendy and call myself a "twenty something." That's right, it's finally here: 30.

NO, I'm not all that worried. I've gotten a lot of questions in the past 360 days about anything I wish I'd have done before "turning." You know, as if 30 is literally the grave (or I change into a werewolf??) and this was it, my last chance to make something of my life. Each time someone has commented, I usually had a retort along the lines of, "Yeah, I mean, on Wednesday I'm going to skip work, snort some coke and go BASE jumping, but after that I'm all set."

Like, what was I supposed to have done in my 20s that I can't do later? Be childish and irresponsible? Pfft, did that* - and plenty of people still do that in their 30s. Looking back on the past decade, I really don't feel like I "missed out" on anything. I mean, sure, regrets? I've had a few. But then again, too few to mention.... IE I did NOT regret all the Frank Sinatra I listened to...

Seriously though, I consider myself very fortunate. I'm skidding into 30 with some wonderful friends and family in my life, a beau who seems generally on board with my madness, a good job, no debt, and a pocketful of experiences (good and bad, at home and abroad) that have helped me smile, learn, and grow. True, it hasn't all gone exactly "to plan" but, sometimes life is more like an IKEA purchase with missing instructions: you'll still end up with a table, even if it's not quite what it looks like on the box, and you'll likely consult the internet along the way to figure out if it seems right but then just say "fuck it" and start guessing til it works.

What's my age again??

BUT, I digress...

What I'm really struggling with is not the actual transition. I'm satisfied with my semi-gray metamorphosis and continuation of general badassery as I launch into the big 3-Oh. What I am struggling with is nailing down an exact "definition" of where I'm at right now. Because, it's probably finally time to update my "About Me" page....

That's right, the About Me for this little blog. That solitary little time capsule of a post. I purposefully wrote it to avoid needing maintenance, over three years ago, and only popped back to read it a few times since. Knowing that this would be the point that it may need sprucing.

A little snapshot. Like a wayback machine for me.

As you can see, it's still my 'voice' overall, but after three years of tinkering on GTTP, I think it's time to refine a bit. OR, maybe not. Maybe that's still just perfectly accurate and I should be thrilled that I'm nothing if not consistent, and accept that really not a lot has changed to my overall personality and that page is still fairly spot on. So for the next week, I'll be racking my brain, deciding on if I need to make changes or if I'm still just me.

To be honest, I don't trust bloggers who constantly update their "About Me" page. Like, who are you and why are you telling me how to live my life if you can't even figure out your own self out? Yes, we all change and evolve (blah blah, good good), but as a whole, when it comes down to your persona, I honestly don't think people change that much. Sure, you may change jobs or cities or relationship statuses, but that's just putting yourself in different place or by different people, your disposition usually remains the same.** At least, after a certain point, you know, like maybe... thirty. 

* And thank goodness I stopped going at that "live it up" pace of my early twenties, or like, I'd probably be dead. Zero sleep, being irresponsible, and borderline alcoholism just aren't sustainable. 

** Unless you're one of those people who just chameleons to whoever is around you and isn't good at having any character of your own. Someone who mirrors and doesn't have any original thoughts/actions. Don't worry, we've all been there before. I tried that out in my twenties... thank goodness those twenties are just a phase! But in the meantime, like... go do you. 

Faroes: Packing Wins and Fails

Now that I have thoroughly ranted about all the amazing adventures in Copenhagen and in the Faroe Islands, both IRL and all over this blog, it's time for a wee bit of retrospective on one of those linchpin things from the trip: our luggage! For a full rave about packing, check out this post on how I fit seven days of stuff into one carry-on. I was glad to have read a lot of packing suggestions before we went, but some just didn't hold water, and others were SPOT on.

When it came down to the stuff I opted to bring along, I had some serious wins, and a few fails...

Things I was happy I brought:

• The number one top thing(s) I brought that I loved: bags!
• Cross body bag was a MUST! It was so easy for carrying around cameras and miscellaneous stuff. It was easy for hiking but could easily be worn to dinner, too. (One doesn't need to pack more than one purse!)
• A reusable grocery bag :
  A) most grocery stores in Europe don't give out bags
  B) it made it easier to move between different hotels: I didn't have to pack up tightly into the carry-on and could just toss extra stuff into the bag to be figured out later
  C) it was a fabulous snack bag
• "Vacuum seal" bag: this was a lifesaver for my sweaters! I was able to pack almost all the sweaters I wanted but still have tons of space in my carry-on for other essentials.
• Lots of extra bags in general : zip locks and just grocery store bags. For stuff like smelly socks and muddy boots, it was nice to have something to wrap that stuff up tight in before storing it for our transatlantic flight.
• Menthol patches : Fun fact, I sit at a desk all day normally. I do not have an extremely "active" lifestyle. So, with a trip that consisted entirely of hiking and tromping about, my bod was a little confused. IE by the last day, I was basically covered in these life saving patches! At the end of a long day, I could slap one of these on a puffy knee or aching back and it was fabulous relief. 
• Paper tape : The beau has used this in the past to prevent his toes from rubbing together while running, to help avoid blisters. I took a page from his playbook and likewise used it to avoid / protect blisters while hiking. It also was awesome for sealing up various snacks we bought (ain't nobody got space for chip clips!).
• Good waterproof hiking boots : Seriously. This was SO essential. I'm glad I invested in a good pair (also, I only got one tiny blister - see paper tape), whereas if I'd have had a shitty pair of shoes, I may have ended up either with perpetual wet socks (I HATE WET SOCKS) or a serious injury. These bad boys kept me dry and stable! 
• A Pen : Europe has a great system with chip credit cards and pin numbers. Unfortunately, our American credit cards don't have pins, so most places we'd still have to sign. This caused much confusion as various vendors and restaurants were like "Uh, you have to sign?" Since it's so uncommon, they'd scramble about looking for a pen. But voila, we had our own! So, BYOP if you want to just speed things up. (Thanks, internet, for this tip!)

Waterproof boots: because the wilderness isn't as dry as Abbey Road!

Things I could've done without:
Luckily the big theme of these all is that they were small things that didn't take up much space. So it wasn't like I filled half my suitcase with unnecessary junk. Go team!

• Waterproof everything : The Fores get approximately 300 days of rain a year. We lucked out and it was perfectly sunny! Since we had heard a lot about the rain and sudden turns in weather, I had packed monsoon gear basically. Waterproof boots, pants, jacket, and even waterproof mascara. While the boots and jacket were still great, the pants and mascara were not necessary at all - and waterproof mascara is just more of a bitch to take off.
• Gloves : Would've been great if it had rained, but it didn't. And it was never too cold - plus my coat had the thumbhole sleeves, so that was good enough.
• That extra hat : It was tiny, so no major foul here but... I brought an additional hat solely for vanity (so every photo wouldn't have me wearing the same exact hat). One hat was more than sufficient. Lesson learned, ego.
• Dramamine : Because I don't know if I even get seasick, and we didn't end up getting to take the ferry anyways.
• PJ pants : For some reason, I imagined I'd be lounging more often? But, obviously I was lying to myself, because when I'm in vacation mode, I get very "don't waste a single second! adventure awaits!" Should've known this trip would be no different and that I'd run us around like crazy as long as the sun was still shining. (Which was approximately 4:30am til 10:30pm every day! Yay for being so far north!) Again, didn't take up much space, and I could have worn them as leggings really, so it's my own fault they went unused. 
• SO many snacks : I'm forever worried about a shortage of food. So while it was nice to have  hiking specific snacks, I didn't need to pack enough food for a small army.
• Plane activities : I brought two sudoku books and my old school mp3 player for the plane. But ended up either talking, sleeping, eating or watching movies the whole time. So neither was really needed. The beau also brought a book (yes, a physical book) that he didn't end up reading at all.
• A few honorable mentions that the beau said he didn't need to pack:
• An extra pair of pants : because boys don't change pants hardly ever!
• A hat : his ears don't funnel the wind like mine do, so for me, my hat was essential - but he never even wore his once.
• Running shorts : since we were getting in so many steps hiking, he didn't have that energy to get up a 5 am to go for a run before our day like he thought he might.

Snack Attack! Mama needs her treats!

Things I wish I had packed:

• MORE SOCKS : Because waterproof boots are great at not letting moisture in, but also kind of trap in sweat. It'd have been nice to swap out socks more often, because, as y'all know, I frickin' hate wet socks.
• Detangling hair spray : Yes, like a child. Do you have any idea what the ocean breeze, on a mountain top, does to one's hair? Let alone having a hat on all day while that wind assaults half your hair?? It's a wonder I'm not completely bald after all the knots of hair I ripped out of my skull every night. 
• A little trinket : In the past, when travelling, sometimes I've taken a little trinket, or a paper heart, or something. A little tchotchke that I could take photos with at various locations to make cute little contingent photos. I was too panicked about packing to remember this time though. 
• Honorable mention from to the beau :: Briefs instead of boxers : something closer fitting to protect the boys when hopping around on rocks, ya know!

Because i just made a list, I can't honestly say "there's not a thing I would change!" about our trip. But I will say that the trip was pretty near perfect, just the same. At some point, you'll get a new series of posts for our next visit to the Faroes, because it is definitely a place I plan to return someday. I already have a little list going of place for next time.... Mykines (I'll be back for you, puffins!); Múli (and the other abandoned settlements in northern Borðoy); the entire island of Suðuroy (with it's awesome sea cliffs); the Kallur Lighthouse and the Kópakonan (aka selkie) statue on Kalsoy... Some day, friends. Some day. And next time, I'll know exactly what to bring along.... 

Copenhagen Round 2: The Denouement

After three absolutely perfect days in the Faroe Islands, and one day of picture-perfect views and heartbreak, it was time for our return to Copenhagen!

Feelin' so fly like a G6...

Saturday

• We thoroughly enjoyed one last Faroese breakfast in our grassy-roofed hotel, and spent some time rearranging what had become rather messy suitcases during our two day stay in Tórshavn, before checking out. After one last quick visit to the harbor and a stop by the post office (the beau's ma collects stamps!), we were back off to Vagar airport - the scene of much heartbreak less than 24 hours prior. 
• En route, we made one quick stop at the lost hamlet of Kvívík - aka the village we couldn't find on our first day because Google thought it was inside a mountain. This time: we found it! And it was awesome. I'd say the beau had to "drag me back to the car," but really he just said "Okay well, I'm going back to the car, we can't linger too long because we have to return the car by xyz time, and if you don't get to the car in a few minutes then I'm going to leave...." and I said "Good, then I can stay forever, bye!" and ran off into the hillside. Typical.

Where in the world is Kvívík? Right there!

• Right near the airport, we stopped alongside the road to explore some old boathouses along Sørvágsvatn and finish up our remaining road-snacks. Since we had to return the car several hours before our flight (so as not to pay the extra day), we were a bit stuck. For a small fee, you can leave your luggage with the tourism office there and go on foot to explore, but I was only able to drag the beau out to sit in the parking lot (which still somehow had stunning views). From there, it was a two second walk through security and several hours as the only people in the gate area. Which meant tons of time to explore the duty-free area! Unfortunately, we had security to go through the next day in Copenhagen, so couldn't smuggle along any Faroese beer (they have one brewery on the islands!).

I try to get one of these photos everywhere we go.
Fun fact: there are very few sewer covers in the Faroes,
and none of them that we saw had any Faroese on them, so...
you'll just have to trust me on this one. 

• After our day in the airport and a flight in which we watched a newly married couple get all the free swag (seriously, should've just invested in Mr and Mrs shirts), we were finally back in Denmark proper.  
• Copenhagen on a Saturday night is a far cry from the chill city vibe we got on Monday night. The downtown was alight with trolleys carrying drunken bachelorette parties, their off pitch  ABBA singalongs echoing in the streets. The bar crowd was spilled over into the streets. And there was a clear lack of regard for OWI when it came to bicycles. Amongst that chaos, we were starved.
• Because I'm all about tourism (and never miss a chance at fireworks), we rapidly checked into our hotel first and then ran to catch the lights and explosions over at Tivoli - the amusement park that Disneyland is based off of. Unfortunately, by the time that was over, almost all the food options were closed. Which means, after a long week of hiking and exhaustion... we opted for a last resort. We got Burger King. 
• We took our Whoppers back to the coolest frickin' hotel: Hotel Alexandra. Upon arrival we claimed our free glass of wine, grabbed our giant brass key from the witty man (Jonas) behind the desk, and had ourselves a picnic on the floor of our room. Each room had a different layout/decor and is furnished with awesome midcentury modern pieces. It is so damn retro chic that I was totally obsessed. Our room was how my dream tiny New York apartment would look. It was perfect.

In an ideal world...

Sunday

• The next morning started early so we could leave the hotel by 9 am to grab breakfast. We headed to the "Next Door Cafe" adorable hipster spot with limited seating (ie we sat on a random bench out on the cobblestoned street), awesome food, and witty / fabulous service (our "table marker" was a rubber duck). It was a good thing we got there early, because it's clearly a hot spot. 

Good Eats.

• Back at the hotel, I did one final recombobulation of my suitcase. Between our two carry-ons, we managed to squeeze in everything we'd bought and all our dirty laundry. As we packed up, there was an unfortunate turn of stomach in which I deeply regretted our adorable glass walled bathroom and made the beau leave for a stint (#traveltruths #burgerking). And then, it was time to leave, we had a plane to catch...
• Not one to miss an opportunity to see a church, I insisted we hop off the metro on our way to the airport and see the Church of Our Saviour. Known for it's iconic helix spire, we'd seen it in the distance throughout our time in Copenhagen. We unfortunately didn't have enough time to climb the winding external staircase up to the top to see the view, but it's definitely on my list for next time!
• At the airport, we made it through the highly efficient security line so fast that we found ourselves with several hours of wait time. If you have to wait anywhere, it may as well be in CPH - the place is HUGE! Their shops and duty-free area were extensive. We both took turns  exploring the massive duty-free shop. Mostly because hauling suitcases around in there would be insane (there are hordes of people literally stockin' up), and because I wanted to surprise the beau by buying him some Danish beer. (Yes, that beer did shake around in my backpack for the next twelve hours as we journeyed home. And yes, I did panic a little about having "nothing to declare" as it sloshed back and forth. But, it all worked out and he was indeed surprised!)
• After putzing around for a good long while, we started to work towards our gate. Only to discover: there was another line. Had we known, we'd have not lollygagged around! This time was an additional passport check - with the EU citizen line flying by, and the rest of us piled up waiting. Following some mild worry on my part,* we were through. In fact, we made it just in time really. So thank goodness I didn't dilly dally longer before realizing there was that extra line!
• With a departure around 4pm Copenhagen time and an arrival back to Chicago around 6pm, we both settled in to stay awake! (NOT TODAY, JET LAG!) This flight had another delicious dinner and a "snack" meal - I was once again stupid impressed by the meals on SAS. We both also had a movie binge. I had enough time to tackle: the newest Maze Runner movie (awful, fast forwarded most of it), The Shape of Water (people were really judgey about what I was watching), and I, Tonya. 

And then, just like that, we were back. Dealing with the insane customs process at O'Hare, chasing after our bus, riding in the sweltering heat back up to Milwaukee, and home. There's no point in pretending that I was happy to be back (sorry, friends and family - no offense!). After such a whirlwind adventure, yes, I was beyond exhausted, but I was also eager for more. Still am. So in the meantime, I'll just keep enjoying the here, until I can go back out and get to the there... 

"I don't wanna go home and you CAN'T MAKE ME!"
she said, stubbornly hiding at the top of a waterfall.

* Because I'm definitely one to jump to conclusions... the beau and I stayed in the same line until we were close to the front and were split into two. My line ended up putting me through very swiftly. Super easy, no issues. So, on the other side of this large glassed off area (with detainment rooms,  security gates, etc.), I waited. And waited. And waited.... And as I stood there waiting, I noticed that there was a specific demographic of other people waiting as well for their loved ones to pass through. I had a horrible flashback to that one episode of the Handmaid's Tale (the one where that Gilmore Girl is at the airport) and started to quietly panic. This was it. This was the moment they started to detain the Jews again... Helllooooo overreaction, it's me, Gina! (But yes, I was already Googling the number for the U.S. Embassy....) 

Faroe Islands Day 4: No Puffins For You!

While I've avoided mentioning it (#toosoon) throughout my posts about the first three days in the Faroe Islands, one of the highlights of our trip was to be slated for day four: I was finally going to get to see PUFFINS. These adorable, derpy birds are absolutely everywhere in guides for the islands. Every tourist lure has a shiny little puffin dangling on the end of it. For MONTHS leading up to our trip, it was my favorite thing to mention. I built up a whole dialogue of hype. "Puffin Watch 2018" I dubbed my quest as, joking on social media for the first several days.

Day four arrived and, spoiler alert: it was the day my puffin dreams went to die. And here was how it came about....

Friday

• After a ridiculously awesome hotel breakfast, we departed for what I labelled our pre-puffin adventure. Map for the morning jaunt can be found here.
• To start the day, I had saved one of the most iconic views. We hopped islands and drove under and ocean and through a mountain to get to the village of Gasadalur to see the Mulafossur Waterfall. For several kilometers of that route, it was apparently field trip day and the one lane (two-way traffic) cliff roads were swarmed with children... Children we almost knocked off said cliff with our car because, like the local sheep, they would not move out of the way. 
• No infant lives were lost, and when we got to our destination: it was just as picturesque as they say. Only a dozen or so people live there, and prior to 2004, you couldn't even reach this area via car. Now that it's accessible: it's a must-see stop! We hiked around for awhile before I got antsy and began our journey south again.

Looking out to Mykines, where my puffins awaited!

• Next up, I really wanted to hike out to see Drangarnir, but since it's such a difficult hike and I knew we'd be going by the gorgeous formation on our ferry ride later, we instead went to Bøur to see it from across the way. Once again we wandered among cute little grass roofed houses, as I quietly jumped for joy that we'd soon be boarding a helicopter to go to the magical puffin island. IE I was so excited that we had to leave, and got to the airport an hour before our flight. 

Eyeing up the dragon rock from the other side.

• And that is when the puffin shit hit the fan...
• As I mentioned previously, there is a fair bit of logistics involved in getting to certain spots. To get to this puffin paradise, the island of Mykines, we were going to helicopter from Vagar airport. Helicopters can only be taken one way (and only fly M-W-F), so we planned to take a ferry back, knowing we'd only have about 2 hours to explore the island, which would be JUST long enough for us to hike to the lighthouse on Mykines and back, allowing even minimal time for all the puffin snuggling/smuggling that I had planned. 
• When we checked in at the airport for our chopper trip, they asked how we planned to get back (since some people forget it's one-way), we explained the ferry we were taking and that we already had tickets. They asked if we knew there was a special fee to hike on Mykines, and we said yes, explaining we'd already purchased that pass as well. We were set. They directed us to watch the helicopter safety video and I ran to the bathroom thirty times as we waited, since I was so excited. A) Neither of us had ever been on a helicopter before and B) it was FINALLY puffin time!
• That's when I began to notice several different groups of people arguing with the desk people, and leaving. So, mere moments before we were to board, I finally got curious and went to the desk to ask what was going on. Fun fact: the ferry back was cancelled. NO announcement was made, there was no indication, and when we called the ferry, they said they were NOT cancelled officially, but had cancelled the last several trips.... the odds were not in our favor. Cue me having a nervous breakdown at the Atlantic Airways counter. 
• Then all the stages of grief kicked in....
• Shock: In which I gestured to the perfect, sunny day outside, I asked why on earth it'd be cancelled. WAVES. Fucking waves. Doesn't matter how beautiful the weather is, the waves can still be jerks and be too rough for a ferry docking on a tiny island with a tiny harbor. There was not the usual rain and storms though, it was perfect out, and we had done everything right. 
• Denial: In which I pleaded with the beau: there was a chance. I mean, the ferry wasn't FOR SURE cancelled. We could risk it - and risk being stuck there and risk missing our flight the next day....
• Anger: In which I yelled at the woman at the counter and she explained that "it's just the way it is" because they're just used to being at the mercy of waves and not having alternative solutions available.
• Bargaining: In which I told the said woman at the counter she would just HAVE to make an exception, and allow us to helicopter back. And in which she told me no, the helicopter back was full because it was carrying the people who'd been stuck their since Wednesday (the day of the last flight) because the ferry had been cancelled every day since.
• Depression: In which I openly sobbed at this poor woman who I was witnessing the full gamut of my breakdown. 
• Lying/Melodrama: Okay, these aren't real stages, but at this point I started telling the beau to just lie to them and convince them to somehow make this happen. Suggestions like, "Tell them you were going to propose on that island, or that I have a terminal illness" came out. I'm not proud, but I don't regret.
• Testing: In which we discussed with a blue haired Instagrammer and her man, who had been trying to get to the island in vain for days. We thought aloud the options with them, but all pointed to too much risk and us likely missing out flight back to Copenhagen, and thus spending an exorbitant amount of money switching flights, after several days of camping (with no equipment / food) on a tiny island. (Not to mention our rental car would end up overdue and our stuff was still back in a hotel in Tórshavn.)
• Acceptance: So... we told them to fly without us, and that we, like the other dozen people who had been counting on that ferry, would not be going to Mykines. There would be NO puffins today.
• Through my tears, I had the beau Google where to find puffins elsewhere. There was one possibility, but we had to hurry. So we dashed to the car and kicked it into high gear. Here's a map of what happened next....
• En route, we booked online for a boat tour in Vestmanna, which lead out to the sea cliffs where many puffins and other birds call home. It was our second chance! We could still see the puffins! We would have just enough time to make the drive and board to catch the last tour of the day, per their website. So when we arrived, the beau ran ahead to get us checked in, while I quickly ran to the restroom. 
• When I came out, I could see him arguing with the woman at the counter, and my heart sank. I knew something was wrong. Fun fact: their website was a lie. They'd decided to leave at a different time today (despite the fact that it LET US BOOK online) and there would be no more boats today. The next one was in the morning - if we tried for it, and the tour ran even a half hour longer than expected, we'd miss our flight... again with the risk. 
• So, I stomped out of the boat house and looked up towards the hills. Cliffs, they'd said. Too difficult to hike to without a guide. Very far. I instructed the beau to drive us to the foot of the mountain.... we were going to climb those damn hills. I was GOING to see my puffins, if it killed me.
• And then we climbed... we climbed and climbed. Til we were at the edge of a cliff. The first cliff of many, with little gorges in between that you'd have to spend hours to hike around. And where were the puffins, you ask? Well. Not on that first cliff. Staring down into the gorge I knew - it just wasn't in the cards. 

Dear Puffins, are you there? It's me, Gina.

• So we left Vestmanna, my puffin hopes dashed, and headed back over the island of Vágar to visit the last iconic location on my list: Sørvágsvatn. It's the largest lake on the islands and feeds into the ocean near Trælanípan, a large cliff area that is only a short hike and towers above the lake. Thanks to this awesome blog, we had the perfect coordinates for parking and details for the hike.

Lake life: only slightly different than lake life in Wisconsin...

• After an emotional roller coaster, the scenic hike along the lake and subsequent dangling off a cliff edge, were just what I needed. It was stunning. We saw more people than normal (since this was an easy hike and close to the airport, it's more visited by tourists probably), and witnessed various photographers go way further to the edge of different areas than we dared. We sat and watched the sun begin to set in the area where lake meets ocean, and it was, dare I say, fucking magical.

Seriously though: lake goals.

• Post-hike, we rushed back to Tórshavn to try and catch dinner somewhere before everything closed. One of the only spots open still (after 10pm) was an Italian restaurant called Toscana. This was one of those meals where we didn't care the cost, we just needed the relaxation of a good meal with a cozy atmosphere. (It was a good thing we didn't care, because it ended up being rather expensive lol) They played nothing but Frank Sinatra music (yas) and we binged on fresh salmon, shellfish, and escargot. Very much worth it. 

It was a day with many very high notes of the trip, and a very low point as well. We missed out on both the helicopter ride and the puffins that we had been talking about for months leading up to the trip, yes, but we also saw some of the most striking views on Vágar. Picture-perfect spots and beautiful walks. A lot of zig-zagging and island hopping during my puffin-conquest, but otherwise just a day of impressive sights. This day, more than any other point in our trip, solidified one fact: when it comes to the Faroes, we'll be back. 

"And they never saw her again..."

For tales of the journey home, pop by my Copenhagen Round 2 post!

Faroe Islands Day 3: In which we Accidentally Kidnap a Dog

Following our Copenhagen whirlwind and two days of stunning hiking throughout the northern islands, it was time to gallivant our way to the "big city." Our final two nights in the Faroe Islands we'd be staying in the same hotel, the only two days in a row that we were kept consistent sleeping quarters! (Which meant I didn't have to keep my suitcase tidy for once!) You know what they say, prone to wonder, prone to wander... 

Thursday

• For those who love treasure maps - here is today's journey! Well, mostly. The part you can't see from this one is the fact that we didn't drive to Kirkjubøur, we walked. From Tórshavn. There and back again, like devoted hobbits off on an adventure. More on that to come...
• After breakfast at our hotel in Runavík, we left for our "final" home for the Faroes: Tórshavn, the capital and largest city on the islands (the population of the town and its surrounding area is the size of Marshfield, Wisconsin - for reference). 
• Originally, I had ambitious plan to ferry to the island of Suðuroy, but based on timing we opted to stay closer. This meant we could take our time driving along the coast to get to Tórshavn. In fact, we decided to overshot the city and instead explore the nearby village of Velbastaður, one of the oldest settlements in the islands.

I wanna know, have you ever seen the rain, comin' down on a sunny day?

• Meanwhile, back in Tórshavn, since it still wasn't time to check in, we went to the "largest mall" in the Faroes (the SMS). Got a good kick out of that. It's rather small when compared to an American mall, but had a few cute shops and a grocery store - so we were able to snag a few random gifts for people to bring home. The SMS also has one of the only fast food spots on the islands (they are one of the only European countries without a McDonald's): a Burger King, which we did not partake in. 
• From there, we wound our way through the tiny streets (later we had to back our way up a hill and around a corner because the road just became someone's front stoop without warning - typical of all villages in this country) and headed towards the harbor. 
• We had an amazing lunch at The Tarv (a place I had stalked on Instagram for months before going), on what was yet another perfectly sunny day.* We order pintxos, which I chuckled and apologized for not being able to pronounce, to which our waiter replied, "It's Spanish..." Despite my being dumber than a box of rocks when it comes to alternative naming conventions for what are basically tapas, we later had a right good chat about how I was an Instagram fan girl of their establishment. 
• After lunch, we checked into our badass grass roofed hotel (Hotel Føroyar). We honestly thought we were on the first floor, looking out right into the grassy knoll overlooking the town. Wrong-o! Our room was on the second floor, overlooking the grass ROOF of the floor below us! (Good thing I didn't follow through on climbing out the window to walk outside...)
• All checked in and ready to go, we headed to the edge of town to start our two-hour hike to Kirkjubøur. At the start of the trail, we made new friends with two of the HANDSOMEST sheep dog. They loved us, and we loved them. And THAT, my friends, is when we accidentally stole a dog.... 

I don't even LIKE dogs, but I loved these dogs more than life itself.

• For eight kilometers, as we hiked from one village to the next, the one dog followed us. Every gate or barricade we got to, I'd say goodbye and wish him well, and shed a little tear for my puppy I was leaving behind.... and then he'd hop over or crawl under said gate and happily run ahead. Eight. Kilometers. Over a mountain. 
• He would not be deterred. Every time the beau tried to shoo him to go back home, he'd just look happily at us, head cocked, tail wagging - like we were the funniest, nicest humans he'd ever had the pleasure of knowing. And even though I dislike / am rather allergic to dogs... I loved that puppy and we were best friends. I named him Idéfix, after the dog sidekick in the French Asterix comics. Because, like in the comics, he was my sidekick, and, with my allergies, it was comical.
• We followed the trail of rock piles. Yes, just rock piles. You could go out, set up a bunch of rock piles and lead tourists off a cliff - such was our trust of those piles. 

ROCKin' it - with our faithful puppy!

• In Kirkjubøur, we had some other tourists comment on how friendly our dog was. And when a much bigger dog came over to shit-kick our puppy, he hid right behind me, his mama, for protection.... And then he decided he liked some other people better and started following them instead.... So no, he didn't follow us back over the mountain to his home and real family. Or maybe that wasn't his home in the first place even, and he was actually from Kirkjubøur. We will literally never know. All I know is that that adorable dog broke my heart outside of Saint Olav's Church! (jokes...ish.)

On the edge of heaven's gate...

• After examining the old church and ruins along the coastline in Kirkjubøur, we hauled ass back up the cliffside (read: I died sans inhaler while the beau remained posed and gazelle-like), without our canine companion, and back to the capital, because it was getting late. No, we weren't worried about the sun setting, because like the British Empire, the sun never seems to set there. No, it wasn't darkness that drove us onward, it was hanger. This girl was worried about getting FOOD.
• Not just any food. Sushi. Fresh Faroese fish, wrapped up in sushi goodness. etika. etika Sushi is where we found peace after the loss of the dog that we accidentally stole. We made it just a half hour before they were closing and dug into langoustine, salmon, and other local sourced noms. It was brilliant.

En route back to our grass-topped hotel, "House of the Rising Sun" randomly came across the Faroese airwaves. From our hotel window, we could see the dense fog that had rolled over the harbor. The clouds reached their breaking point, and it started to sprinkle. It was the only rain we saw the entire trip - despite the fact that it had been pouring rain for the past three months straight. It was perfect weather for this exhausted adventurer to pass right the hell out.

"And it's been the ruin, of many a poor boy..."

* Given the number of photos I've seen of waterfalls blowing uphill due to erratic weather in the Faroes, we really lucked out.

Faroe Islands Day 2: All My Sci-Fi Children

After our 24-hour Copenhagen whirlwind and an eventful first day in the Faroes, it was time to really dig in and explore a few more islands. The was a day of many more tiny villages nestled into ocean-view cliffs, all with strange names that I'm certain we were pronouncing incorrectly. Names that I'll use some day to name characters in my semi-autobiographical Sci-Fi novel...

I shall name you Lambareidi and Glyvrar. And you will be the heroes of my story.

Wednesday

• Today's adventure map can be found here!
• After yet another carry-on reconfiguration (that's what we get for hotel hopping!), we had an awesome breakfast at the hotel (thanks, Europe for the filling breakfast goodies). Since we had only gotten to do a little sight-seeing the night prior, we wanted to do some additional hiking in Gjógv. 

Still struggling with the sand in my boots from the day before #outdoorsyAF

• This time we aimed for the cliff across from the cute little bench we'd sat at the night prior, and started up the other side of the gorge. However, as we got higher/further our, the WIND got so strong that we literally had to turn back. I was so sure we were going to blow off a cliff, that I was ready to just lay down flat and not move for days, til the wind subsided or I was eaten by a sheep (whichever came first). Because of the wind, we also decided against our potential hike up Slættaratindur (the highest point in the Faroes) and instead moved further south.

Little boxes, on the hillside

• We had a brief stop to admire Funningur, an adorable little town in which I had the most horrifying bathroom experience of my adult life. Due to this, we swiftly moved on. Which is really the beauty of the islands: there are so many cool things to see that if you're not feeling one spot, you can easily move on to something else!
• Our target: the city of  Runavík - a port city in the southern part of Eysturoy (the island we were already on). It was too early to check in at Hotel Runavík, where we were staying, so we went to wander the town. We found a trail around a large lake area (Lake Toftavatn) which was also a sheep / bird preserve -- jk, they don't have preserves, sheep and seabirds are just everywhere. It ended up being a very easy trail walk, and was a nice way to pass the windy morning.

Walkin' on water, Jesus style

• Despite out very chill walkabout, we still had more time before check-in so went to travel along the southernmost tip. We visited Æðuvík, Nes, Toftir, and several other little villages that I'll name the children in that aforementioned Sci-Fi novel after some day.... #jokesnotjokes 

Down south, looking out

• After a loop back and a speedy check-in (in which they were alarmed by our promptness, because no one in the Faroes rushes to do anything, those chill souls!), we hit the road for our day trip to Klaksvík, on the neighboring island of Borðoy. The second largest town in the Faroes, Klaksvík is roughly the size of my tiny hometown in northern Wisconsin (twins!). Which is... literally insane.
• To dodge the misty chill, we ate "lunch" at the cutest coffeehouse: Fríða Kaffihús (Kaffihús = coffee house?? Get it? Because we didn't... for like an hour...). The had awesome Faroese tapas (all the fish, all the lamb), plus it was BOGO happy hour, which meant ALL the hot cocoa I could handle! As an added bonus, they played only American oldies music, and I was the only one there who properly knew all the words. IE, I had the best time and likely terrified the locals.
• Once properly fed, I was of course ready to climb mountains... We hiked up a hill overlooking the town and hopped the fence* to head towards the further cliffs. From beyond the fence, towards what appeared to be a weather station, there was a clear view of neighboring islands of Kalsoy, Kunoy, and Eysturoy. Oy oy oy, was it gorgeous! Along the way we saw several locals. People just out for a stroll. Because those stunning views are just part of their daily routine.... Mind. Blowing.

Bench break for me, world conquering power-pose for him

• After our hike, we figured, why not keep going? So we got in the car and carried on to another new island and went to the little town of Viðareiði - the northernmost settlement. There, I was totally obsessed with yet another picturesque church and we walked through the town, observing the locals gathering at what appeared to be a school for a rousing game of "stick your children in squishy plastic and watch them bounce about" - aka bubble soccer. Apparently that shit is popular everywhere. Why? Well, because they're like hamster balls for people, and it's hilarious to what kids bounce around like that. But, I digress....
• At the edge of town, we awkwardly asked some sheep wranglers if it was cool that we ripped out a fence post so we could climb up another mountain - they were cool with it.* So, after pulling out said post and then returning it to it's hole after we crossed, we followed a sheep trail up above the town. There, I could get a bird's eye view of the little church I'd fallen in love with lower down. I obsessively photographed it like a creepy stalker, or a private eye hired to see if it had taken on a secret lover... and I have no regrets. 

Climb every mountain, ford every stream.

• Took a different route on Viðoy (the northernmost island) to make our way back to Runavík. Upon arrival back to our city of sleep, it was so late that the only place for food still open** was an "American pizza" joint. Which, we of course got. We closed the night munching greasy pizza in the hotel while watching random Danish television.

We had gone into the day without much of a plan, but somehow ended up exploring three islands, hopping from point A to B to everything in between. Thankfully, many of the islands are well connected, making it easy to roam. We spent the whole day reading unpronounceable names of unspeakably magnificent places. And we still had several more days to rove... 

Got the world on a string, sitting on a mountain...

* One of my favorite parts of our trip was hopping fences. No one is like, stopping you or yelling at you. You can just carry on through. Any fence or gate, we just assumed was for sheep.

** Many villages don't have restaurants at all, so, we did have our snacks just in case.