So, after my last exam today, I did something I’ve wanted to do for most of my life.

I went white-water rafting!

I’m honestly glad I waited until now to do it, because before this semester, I would have been too afraid to actually enjoy it. But I guess this whole semester’s taught me one really valuable lesson: the currents of life aren’t something we can control. To try to will only cause anguish and frustration. All you can really do is hold on for dear life, put a brave smile on your face, and let them carry you.

That’s sort of what rafting is. It’s relinquishing control, relying on the others in your craft to help you avoid danger, and just enjoying the ride. And I have never had as much fun as I had today.

The water was really cold. After all, it was a mountain river. But I soon got numb, and began to really enjoy getting wet. Hitting rapids was so much fun! Hitting them backwards was even better.

Imagine this: a boat full of four geeks, two of their friends, and the director of student life and his wife, hurtling down a wild river being aided only by a dreadlocked Austrian guide. Now, imagine that two of the geeks are on point, and the other two are singing songs from Dr. Horrible to set a rowing tempo. If that isn’t one of the craziest images ever, you’ve had a far more interesting life than I, and that’s saying something.

About halfway down the river, we stopped at a large rock looking out over a deep patch of water. And by large rock, I really mean small cliff. It was at least fifteen feet above the water.

When we stopped, I did something else I would have never even contemplated doing before this year. I dove off the cliff. Into a freezing river with a strong current.

It was insane! I didn’t even really think about it. I told myself I was going to do it, and when they gave me the ok, I didn’t hesitate. I just ran off the edge and leapt out into the air.

That was when I had an “oh, crap!” moment. Because just before I leapt off, before it was too late to stop myself, I looked down. And what I saw was terrifying. The water was way, way far below me. And it looked angry.

But before I knew it, I hit the water, bobbed to the surface, and began paddling for dear life. They threw out a line to me, but it slipped out of my fingers. Then they threw a second one. I caught that one, and they hoisted me back to shore safely.

It was awesome!

Before I knew it, we were back at the dock, and headed home to a barbeque. I was frozen solid, and had a bad cough, but it was worth it.

What a way to end the semester!

-DTA

RANDOM THOUGHT OF THE DAY: The adventure that is my life, however, is far from over! If you’ve enjoyed my writing so far, or just want to see what happens next, feel free to follow me at http://www.ducttapealchemist.wordpress.com . I guarantee that this is one adventure you are NOT going to want to miss!

Looking back on this semester, I’m amazed at how much has happened in my life, in my development as a person. Before I left for Austria, people said that this would be a life-changing experience. If I’d have known then what would happen to me here, I still wouldn’t have believed it. Or I would have been too afraid to come.

Things stared out rough, for sure. Losing luggage, health, comforts, a relationship I was comfortable and happy in,  and even consciousness at some points brought me to my knees. But, of course, I was supposed to be brought to my knees.

For too long, I’ve lived in a state of perpetual childhood, being coddled and protected while thinking that I was independent and strong. But here, in austria, I found out what independence really means. It doesn’t mean a complete separation between oneself and others. Rather, it means a proper understanding of one’s place in the world, and living a life suited to it.

True freedom is not to be found in a break from others. It is found within others, within God’s Will. I could not have made it through these trials without the people God put in my life. They weren’t there to be a crutch in the unhealthy sense. There’s nothing wrong with relying on others when you can’t rely on yourself, just as long as you don’t force your own will on those who are there to help you.

Not only did I learn to rely on God and the people around me, but I learned who I was underneath it all. There’s nothing like having everything stripped from you – even your ability to communicate — to show you who you really are. I am not a weak, pathetic, selfish, whiny brat. I am not insane, cursed, star-crossed, or any number of other words I have used to describe myself in the past.

No. I am a strong, beautiful daughter of God, a powerhouse of love, a writer of souls, and worthy of so much more than I could have ever dreamed possible. God has bestowed so many graces on me this year.

If I had not lost my luggage, I might have never learned to accept charity from others. If I had not lost my health, I might have never learned what a gift health is, and how it should not be squandered. If I had not lost my comforts, I would have never learned to be content with little. If I had not lost my romantic interests, I may have always been too blind to see how shallow it was, never learning what love really meant. And had I not lost consciousness, I would have never learned the ecstasy of awakening to the world in a new way, being reborn and refreshed every time.

I will never forget what I have learned here. There is no going back. Only moving forwards along the path I have chosen. And, for once in my life, I know that this is the path I am supposed to be on, for as long as it goes.

-DTA

Last night, the women here at the Kartause were given a most beautiful gift.

All the men banded together to hold a Ladies’ Appreciation Night in honor of us. The event started the evening before as they prayed for our intentions, held a 12-hour vigil, and worked on getting things ready.

We were told to dress up and meet in the Audi-Max (a classroom). When we got there, we were each crowned with a tiara the men had made the night before, and were then personally escorted down to the Mensa. As we entered the door, a man spread his coat out over a “puddle” for us to walk over. Then, they served us dinner, complete with wine and dessert.

Meanwhile, the musically talented men wandered from table to table serenading us, while others delivered hand-written affirmation letters to each woman.

After dinner, they put on a show for us, and then one of them offered us a speech on what it means to be a woman, and what it means to be a man.

It was the most incredible thing a group of guys at our school has ever done. We were all very emotional, and even I got a little misty-eyed. These are some of the finest men I’ve ever known.

To any of you who are reading this, I just wanted to say thank you so much for your wonderful display of brotherly love. I want you to know that, just as you affirm us in our Womanhood, we wish to affirm you in your Manhood. Thank you so much for defending us, loving us, praying for us.

I, for one, am praying for you too.

-DTA

So then there was the Austian Easter Ball.

We all aquired traditional Austran garb (my dress isn’t quite a durndl, but I look really cute in it), and had a glorious time taking bictures, learning traditional dances, drinking beer, and making complete fools of ourselves in the traditional southern Germanic way (Austrians are like Bavarians on crack. In a good way.)

I was dressed in green, which is always a great color on me. Green and blue. That’s all I’m going to say, mom and dad, because you’ll get to see me in the dress when you pick me up at the airport. I’ma wearin’ that puppy home!

The Kartause kids (children of the staff) were on their most insane behavior that night. They kept stealing people’s hats and making them kiss people to get them back. Fortunately, Andy and I are far too cunning and dodged that bullet. We have a hard enough time convincing people we aren’t dating as it is!

All in all, it was a fantastic time, and I danced quite a bit later in the evening, to the point where I fell asleep with little effort.

-DTA

So sorry it took me this long to get this blog up. I’ve been really busy lately with finals coming up and all. I’m not even sure where we left off.

So, Holy Saturday in Florence was very interesting, because it was our Medici day. We went to the Palace and toured the gardens, which made me really miss my dad. It was so lovely, with all manner of statues mixed in with the natural beauty. We were there at the perfect time, as many of the flowers had just begun to bloom. It was lovely.

Afterwards, we went to the Uffuzi and Brian got “friendly” with a street performer who was playing as Dante. I wanted to participate, but I got scared, so I asked him to do it. And boy, was I glad. As much as having my hair stroked by Dante is a sick fantasy of mine, I’m not sure it would have had the same effect coming from some guy on the street.

Afterwards, we went to several museums, including an interactive one on DaVinci’s inventions and a really creepy one about serial killers. Guess which one was my fault. . .

afterwards, we just wandered around Florence, enjoying the quiet beauty of the town before it got mobbed for Easter (as well as finding me a copy of an FMA manga in Italian. I’ve been collecting, but only in languages I know well enough to read it in. That’s why I have one in French, one in Italian, and two in Spanish. I consider it fun review of languages I like.)

Easter was insane! We woke up early, because silly Liz forgot to find out what time Mass was at. It was at 11. We got there at 9. And had to check out at 10. But everything worked out. The hotel agreed to hold our luggage until 6 PM, so we didn’t have to cart it through the crowds.

When we came back after checking out, we could barely see the Duomo square, there were so many people! It was crazy!

In the center of all the chaos was a huge red cart, covered with fireworks. At 11 on the dot (out of our line of sight), the bishop lit a rocket shaped like a dove. We heard a WHOOOSH!, and it connected with the cart, starting a 10 minute chain reaction of explosions. It was intense!

Afterwards, we went to mass in the cathedral, which was awesome and huge and lovely.

Then, we wandered back to the Uffuzi, because after having slept on it, I had decided I wanted to get my portrait done.

I had gotten it done in France the last time I was in Europe, and it had cost me a ton. Fortunately, the artists in Florence work better for less money.

Enter a man in his late middle age, with laugh lines and a hardened face that had seen a lot in its day. Enter his sardonic smile wrapped around a cigarette, his twinkling brown eyes that betrayed that somehow, in spite of his exterior, his art had kept him young. Enter Marcello, street artist, chow dog owner, and pretty much coolest guy ever.

As I sat for my portrait, a crowd began to form. And for good reason. Before their eyes, magic was about to happen.

Marcello, like many artists, did not draw his subjects as they were. The artist in France had drawn me much younger, turning back the clock on my innocence, revealing how childish I was. Marcello, on the other hand, drew me older.

I looked much the same, yet there was something in the face that suggested maturity, as though I were in my late twenties rather than my early twenties. It is almost impossible to describe, but somehow he captured in that portrait the transformation which was occurring within me at that very moment. It was fantastic!

Needless to say, as soon as he was done, Maria decided to get hers done. And then a line formed. I think he must have made a killing that day.

Afterwards, we coaxed the men into getting caricatures, which were so insane that we decided to get our own done as well. It was a good time.

Before we knew it, it was time to go for our last meal in Florence. We had made dinner reservations at a beautiful resturant by our hotel, and had a nice, if simple meal there.

Afterwards, we wandered to the train station, got on our train to Austria, and fell asleep, dreaming of Tuscany.

-DTA

I apologize greatly for my serious lack of posts this week. Life’s just been crazy over here with all the studying for finals and stuff. I hope to have Florence and the Austrian ball up tonight though.

BTW, happy Divine Mercy Sunday to all of you, especially my household sisters!

Jesu Ufam Tobie!

-DTA

Florence is now my most favorite city in the world, followed by Rome and Munich. This is because it has everything: the sights, the history, the flavors of a large city; the charm, the peace, and the comfort of a small town. I’m not sure how it works, but I’m glad it does.

We arrived on Maundy Thursday by train, sleepy but ready for a good time. We took our time to enjoy the city, tasting gelato and going on the first of several tours I organized for us.

This one was by far my favorite to plan, for an obvious reason to anyone who knows me: it was the Dante tour.

We visited Dante’s home, which is now a small museum. It was kind of lame, but their bookstore had all sorts of cool Dante stuff. I stocked up.

Afterwards, we went to the Basilica Santa Croce to visit the monument there. I almost burst from happiness at the sight of a giant Dante glaring at us from across the piazza. It was love!

After that, we returned to the Basilica Santa Maria Novella by our hotel – the first basilica in Florence — and had mass. It was in Italian, so I couldn’t understand all of it, but we followed along pretty well.

Afterwards, we went out for a nice dinner at a restaurant by the hotel, and went to bed, having saved much of the sightseeing for Good Friday.

On that day of Inferno (as Dante started his journey on Good Friday), we visited all of the places we were supposed to visit for our history projects. Father Seraphim insisted that we all write a paper on a place which was important in the 19th Century, as well as visit the site. Florence was hugely important then as the capital of Italy during the nationalist movement, so we were all writing on things in the city.

We had lunch at a cafe in the Piazza della Republica at a cafe which used to be a meeting place for revolutionaries, and then we visited the Palace Veccio Museum. It was stunning. Every room was designed differently, with different classical figures adorning it. So pretty!

Afterwards, I went pigeon herding for the umpteenth time. It’s harder than it sounds, actually. They don’t like being led anywhere. But the pigeons of Florence are so bold that they don’t fly away if you stay three feet behind them, so I was much more successful this time.

We were going to go to one of the classic Good Friday processions in nearby Grassina, but I made a serious calculation error. There are no night buses between Florence and Grassina, so I should have booked a hotel there for the night. I didn’t think of that, and so we were unable to go. Instead, we had a quiet prayer service in our hotel room, as all the churches were closed.

The last two days of our trip coming soon!

-DTA

RANDOM THOUGHT OF THE DAY: I wonder if bird dogs could be used for pigeon herding. . .

So I ran out of time to write about Spain before our trip. Therefore, I decided to do this one in a fun list form so I can save the serious writing for Florence (next).

1. Father Alberto, Dave’s priest friend. He reminded me a bunch of my boss. Actually, almost every boss I’ve ever had.

2. Meeting Martin, Maria’s little second cousin. He was an adorable baby.

3. Shopping in two of the largest shopping centers I’ve ever been to!

4. The realization that I’ve developed a girly obsession with shopping. . . Lord help me. . .

5. Eating tapas in the Deluge Bar, Santender

6. Las Remblas in Barcelona: street performers, live animals for sale, and an enormous open air market full of FOOD. . . including emu eggs. And fresh squid.

7. Learning how to live on a budget due to all the cool stuff I wanted to buy but couldn’t because of the other cool stuff I’d bought and those pesky things known as “necessities”

8. Learning to appreciate SOME modern architecture/realizing I actually like Gaudi.

9. Chilling out in a priest’s house because it was raining too much to go outside.

10. Standing on a cliff looking over the sea, thinking about how blessed I am to be alive. . .

-DTA

Getting to Lourdes was probably the greatest challenge we faced over ten-day break. When you hear that French trains are a nightmare, you’d better believe it. We got stuck in Alsaice for eight hours waiting for a connection to Paris. Why? Because the trains were all overbooked. We finally had to pay extra for a sleeper car.

This turned out to be a blessing in disguise, as we were able to actually get some rest for once, so by the time we got to Lourdes, a day after we were supposed to, we were relatively refreshed.

Of course, this was the start of even further refreshment, as the skies proceeded to pour buckets on us for most of the rest of the trip.

If you don’t know me particularly well, this is about the point where I should tell you that I despise rain with a passion that I typically reserve only for people who talk in the library and spiders. So it’s a complete surprise to both myself and everyone around me that I actually found it fitting.

The reason is because it felt right for it to be raining in Lourdes. It’s hard to explain, but I think a place so associated with water has a certain feel about it that requires rain to be complete. Especially because it wouldn’t be long before more water was added to the equation.

We entered the crypt chapel after lunch at the Joan of Arc Cafe (yay quiche!) to discover that the chapel was open for adoration. Now I’m not normally one for adoration, because I have a hyperactive mind and I get bored really quickly. But this time it was different. As I sat in a pew near the back, I felt my heart begin to swell. I can’t even begin to describe what it was like, but my closest approximation was the sensation of being torn apart from the inside. It was so powerful that I had to leave.

But I wasn’t able to stay away. The beautiful pain I experienced pulled me back into the chapel, burning so I couldn’t even stand. All I could do was weep. Weep, because I was in love for the first time with someone who would never abandon me or let me down.

I had been praying for weeks that God would make me a purified vessel of His love to the world. I probably should have given more thought into what that meant.

As we left the crypt, I calmed down a bit. That was until we entered another part of the shrine. This repeated over and over again for the rest of the day, spiking whenever we entered a church. I couldn’t stop crying. I didn’t understand how anyone could love me that much after all I had done.

For me, the purest water of Lourdes was that which flowed from my own eyes, breaking down the walls which still surrounded me, making me a slave to my less-than-stellar past. There lay the healing, there the truest gift God could give me. Freedom.

-DTA

Hey everyone!

 I apologize that the blogging has become so scanty. We’re just swamped over here.

I just wanted to let you all know that we’re off to Spain for ten days, so no blogs until we get back. But there’ll be a LOT to talk about then, so stay tuned!

Yours until then,

-DTA

RANDOM THOUGHT OF THE DAY: I wonder if my parents will be down with my current school plan: two minors rather than an associates? Hmm. . .