After making all these wedding venue viewing appointments, we learned that a couple at places that would normally charge an entry fee (because they are cultural centers/museums/historical sites) waive the charge when you tell them that you are there for a site viewing for a potential private event. One of the places we visited today, though there was no charge, was so stunning just to see, as it was atop a mountain in Malibu with panoramic views of the Pacific Ocean. The place could easily charge to be a tourist viewing point for those who want another spectacular glimpse of Malibu, the Santa Monica Mountains, and the Pacific Ocean. It was also great to see because this site is actually a current living quarters for the family that built it. They just happen to rent out their space and land for weddings, as they love working on wedding planning and with engaged couples. How often do you get invited into some stranger’s gorgeous private home with views like this?

I remembered that a number of very famous places, such as Frank Lloyd Wright’s Falling Waters and the Hearst Castle, do allow the rental of their property for private functions. And then I thought, wow, if we were really dishonest, we could just call or e-mail these sites and let them know we were considering them as a potential wedding venue. That way, we wouldn’t have to pay the usual admission fee and could get a free personalized tour quite easily. It sounds quite evil, especially considering a lot of these sites are non-profit, but I’m sure it’s something that others have thought about before.

I’m the same way at the end of pretty much every trip. With the exception of maybe two or three trips I can remember, toward the end of each, I’m usually saying out loud or thinking, “I don’t wanna go home.” Chris makes fun of me about this every time. Every trip, particularly these Thanksgiving long weekends in Europe, always seems too short and like we didn’t have enough time. We’re pretty good about planning in that we ambitiously cover a lot of ground and see most of what we had planned, but it never feels like enough, and I’m always left with this lingering feeling that I wish we just had a few more days.

The other thing about travel that always makes me want to keep traveling and sight-seeing and eating the foods I don’t normally eat is that because it’s a trip, it’s time away from my “real life,” my everyday in New York that includes work, chores, errands — the routine that isn’t as exciting or new to me. In some way, it’s like escaping reality to enter into a new reality that is far away and foreign, and that in itself is an adventure.

It’s our second Thanksgiving long weekend in Europe, where Christmas is just another part of the ingrained culture of society. It doesn’t matter if you are Christian or Jewish or Atheist or undecided — you will most likely still be visiting these markets regularly to browse and sip gluwein and eat pretzels and other delicious hot stacks at these Christkindl markets. It’s hard to imagine anyone visiting these markets and not enjoying it; the feeling is just so festive and casual, and despite all the alcoholic drinks, we haven’t seen any overt drunkenness or even a single broken mug (which you pay a deposit for, and if you break it, you don’t get your 2.50-3 euro deposit back for).

Chris pointed out something I didn’t think much about last year in Germany or this year in Austria or Hungary. He said that despite the considerable Jewish population in both countries, we never saw a single menorah or Jewish star at any of these markets — or really, anywhere. To be PC in the U.S., we oftentimes will see Christmas trees alongside a massive menorah. In Europe, it’s not about religion — it’s just about enjoying Christmas culture for how beautiful it is. I want to be a part of this culture at this time of year every year for as long as possible.

After spending this morning trying to squeeze in our last bits of Budapest, we boarded a train to Vienna and arrived in about three hours. I know it’s a terrible comparison, but in the States, in three hours, I couldn’t even get from New York to Boston. My train ticket would cost over double the approximately $40 USD it cost to get from Budapest to Vienna. This trip further accentuates how terrible train travel is back in the States.

Vienna is a modern city — shinier, glitzier, and richer than Budapest, and unfortunately, much more expensive. When we got on the train, I knew I had about 550 Hungarian Forint left to spend that I wanted to use up. I also had some leftover Euros from our Germany trip last year in my wallet. When I went up to the counter to ask for what I could potentially buy, I could barely get an apple juice and a Toblerone and needed three extra Euros to get me there. Five hundred Hungarian Forint just at the train station in Budapest got me two large, good-quality pastries and a coffee. It’s quite a contrast, but I’m excited for the Christmas markets and the Viennese cakes and desserts we will be seeing and eating for the next two days.

If I weren’t traveling to Budapest, I’d probably never have known that Budapest came about because of two cities, Buda and Pest, that united, separated by the Danube River. People still refer to the Buda side of Budapest and the Pest side of Budapest. It feels very quaint to hear of the city being spoken like this because it’s almost as though people are embracing its rich historical past while also enjoying it for what it is today.

It’s a stunning city to me mostly because of many of its old, still standing and otherwise restored architecture; the Danube River separating the two sides adds to its European charm. Many buildings have retained their original facades, such as the Four Seasons, the Gellert Spa, and even our hotel, the Nemzeti Budapest, but the interiors have been completely renovated and modernized. Both day and night, the city is beautiful, particularly from high viewing points such as from the Fisherman’s Bastion and the top of Gellert Hill. After we walked up to the peak of Gellert Hill to see the Liberty Statue, we also got to see and photograph Budapest from high above. I felt very thankful during those moments; today is Thanksgiving after all, and I know how lucky I am to have what I have today. These are the moments where I think, I can’t imagine for a second anyone coming here and not being impressed by this city and these views. If you can’t appreciate this, you probably can’t appreciate anything in life.

After a grueling 24 hours of working, commuting to the airport in what looked to be early Thanksgiving traveling traffic, taking an overnight flight from New York to Helsinki, then a connecting flight from Helsinki to Budapest, and finally spending our Wednesday (six hours ahead of New York time) exploring mostly the Buda side of Budapest, we decided we wanted to have dinner at a restaurant close to our hotel. We walked in two different directions to try to find a place, and somehow, we failed. The only spots we seemed to find were cafes (with no real food), bars (with no real food), takeout spots, Burger King, and McDonald’s. We finally settled on a Turkish takeout spot. They were a typical takeout food place that had different dishes in big metal trays behind a glass wall. We chose a moussaka and Turkish fried rice, and brought it back to our hotel.

When we brought it back, we realized immediately that it was all cold. Those metal trays that are set up that we are used to knowing there are burners beneath — well, those clearly do not exist here. I brought the food back to the takeout spot and asked the guy to warm it for us. “You didn’t tell me to warm, so I didn’t warm!” he said, half apologetically, half defensively. He warmed each for about less than a minute and gave it back to me. It was still cold; I was annoyed but didn’t feel like asking him to warm it again. So I asked our hotel, which warmed our food adequately.

What I’ve learned during our short time here is that not only will takeout food spots not warm your food unless you either tell them you are eating it immediately or explicitly ask, but restaurants do not serve your food piping hot like I am used to back home or in other countries. When we have eaten out here, I’ve noticed that the food is a comfortable temperature for eating, but as I am eating, it’s getting colder far faster than anywhere else I’ve been to. It’s not the best situation, but I’m fine with it since we’re only here for 2.5 days.

Tonight was my first night in Tampa, and my friend insisted that I meet his friend who lives down there. His friend picked me up from the airport and took me to dinner with a few of his friends and colleagues. Before even meeting him, I was so surprised by his warmth and generosity. He originally planned to pick me up and take me back to his house (which apparently I found out is like a castle, complete with a moat!) so that I could have a home-cooked dinner with him, his wife, and his 2.5-month old baby, but because his wife wasn’t feeling well, there was a change in plan.

New York has jaded me in a lot of ways. I rarely expect anyone to go out of their way to do anything for me; in fact, I expect the complete opposite. I barely even expect that people will respond to my text messages in a 24-hour period, much less drive to the airport to pick me up and offer me a home-cooked meal when they have no idea who I am or what I even look like. Based on my six years of living here, it’s always felt that everyone wants to project the image that they are always busy and not available when in fact, it’s really because they don’t care that much and are waiting for something better or potentially more fun to come along (or they are just fearful of commitment, even to the smallest possible things). In New York, you can be friends, even “good” friends with someone for years and never get invited to their apartment. It’s just the way things are here. And for me, it’s getting a bit tired.

Three days of traveling around the Tennessee and Kentucky area have left us wondering what ethnic groups exist in this area of the South, if any at all. We’ve been getting our fix of fried chicken, barbeque, grits, and other Southern specialties, but us being us, we want some good ethnic food. Chris did a quick search today to find out that there are Kurds, Cambodians, and Vietnamese in the area, though their populations are quite minuscule. When doing a search for Turkish food in the Nashville area, only two restaurants popped up. A search for Cambodian yielded zero results, and about eight came up for Vietnamese. We opted for Vietnamese food for lunch, although at a quite trendy and slightly pricy spot, and had our fix of pho and banh mi.

If I were not Asian and of two different ethnicities growing up in the South, how would I even begin to explore other foods and cultures? The food scene, while quite varied with different takes on Southern and budding “New American” restaurants, is quite lacking in other options that represent the rest of the globe. Like most places in the South, the area seemed quite segregated, and we didn’t see many people of different races mingling. In fact, we saw mostly white people with a sprinkling of black people along Broadway. The only place we saw Asians was around the Vanderbilt campus. We think times have changed so much, but perhaps some places never change at all.

We crossed the border today from Tennessee to visit Kentucky, a new state for both of us. I had no idea that Tennessee and Kentucky were in different time zones. Even though Kentucky is directly on top of Tennessee, Tennessee is on Central Time and Kentucky is on Eastern time. I realized this when we crossed the state border and my clock said we were one hour ahead suddenly. Then, I called the Jim Beam Distillery, and the automatic message said, “Please note that Kentucky is on Eastern Standard time.”

Everyone we saw in Kentucky was white. I don’t remember seeing anyone who was another race. It reminded me of one of the trainers at the gym I go to. He was born in Nashville but was raised in Birmingham, AL. He lives in New York now and says he never wants to live in the South again. He said he has the worst memories of driving through Mississippi with his family as a young child. He and his family are African American, and they were treated very poorly and were surrounded by whites everywhere. I remember when we were in Mississippi in the summer. Our only encounter with actual people was in a seafood restaurant, where the host eyed me carefully and complimented me on how beautiful I was. He probably thought I was an exotic China doll.

It’s sad to think that there are areas of this country that are still so deeply rooted in the racism that we study about in history books. But as my friend who lives in the South said, racism is everywhere in this country and in this world. The South may be very overt about it, but is it any better in places like San Jose where the underlying racism and hostility still exists against Asians?

I suppose I am biased, but I rather be in the latter area.