Last night Spain won the Eurocup 2008 and Barcelona went ape shit.
I spent the night in my hostel bed, sweating miserably and counting down the hours until I could get my new powder blue short shorts to the beach (with gold flojos to boot).
This morning I woke up (still wearing said shorts) and headed out to the open market with some friends from the Madrid trip. It wasn´t as interesting as I had hoped, minus the goat heads in the butcher shops.
After much debate over lunches, I was on my way to stand before the waters of the Mediterranean Sea. I shucked off those gold flip flops and dove into a body of water foreign to me. It felt fantastic, with as hot as it has been in Barcelona (I´m sure Madrid is even worse, being possibly to Spain what Fresno is to California) I was truly in need for a little swim. I floated around in the salty water for a bit, then went and laid on my towel and thought to myself "topless beaches are kind of like movie theaters where they have a bar", in that once you have been to one, a regular beach just seems kind of silly.
Monday, June 30, 2008
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Barcelona
My first impression of Barcelona was clouded by the fact that I stumbled into it at 8 am on a Sunday, after having slept very little in my train sleeping compartment. I don´t know if it was the motion that kept me awake, or simply the old man who stumbled in about 2 am and insisted on talking to everyone, only to fall out of a compartment about 5 feet off the ground in the middle of the night. Whatever it was, I didn´t sleep well. My hostel is right on the Las Ramblas strip, which empties into the harbor after about 8 blocks. The location couldn´t be better, but the problem is that this place is a swimming sea of tourists.
I got coffee at a cafe for breakfast (I couldn´t check in until 1 PM) and the next thing I knew, ever seat around me was filled with snickering tourists from the midwest, speaking in accents that make them sound as if education was as foreign to them as the idea of attempting to speak to someone, anyone, in Spanish. I know it´s hard to jump into a language, but the menu is printed in English AND Spanish, so you pretty much have it spelled out for you. I know you can read the Spanish part, because when the waiter is gone you whisper to your husband "eggs...huevos, toast....tostada..." and then giggle like a child as if to say "Isn´t their language just so cute?". This probably played a large part in my waiter stiffing me for my dollar change, assuming that I was unaware of the tipping practices in Spain. It also probably explains why my coffee and toast was eight Euros.
But I must say, despite the tourist vibe, the city is beautiful, with wonderful Gothic architecture everywhere. I hit the port and strolled down the boardwalk that leads to a floating shopping mall, huge movie theater and a large aquarium. I looked into the water to see fish, about a foot and a half long, swimming in large schools and a tennis ball sized jellyfish (Medusa in Spanish).
Tonight, despite being dead tired, I want to try and go out to a restaurant and watch the game. Spain is in the finals of the Eurocup against Germany. Germany is favored to win, but Spain beat them just a week or so ago, and if they win tonight, I expect all hell will break loose. It has been such an exciting spectacle to watch Spain advance this far in the Cup, as every resident of the country celebrates each victory.
Tomorrow it is the open vegetable and fish market, then I will dive into the Mediterranean Sea, and finish the day with a fine meal. Tuesday I plan to go to the aquarium as I cannot resist it´s treasures of the sea, and I have not really splurged on much this trip (minus piglett), and aquariums are sort of my thing. Speaking of, I am still fascinated by "20,000 Leagues", which it turns about, is basically documenting the adventures of a naturalist of the sea. The whole motivation for the Dr. staying with his captor for life on board the Nautilus, is because he has a chance to see so much underwater wildlife in it´s native habitat, something unknown to people in the 19th century. It´s absolutely fascinating as this is the bulk of the ficionalized diary entries in the novel. A truly beautiful book.
I got coffee at a cafe for breakfast (I couldn´t check in until 1 PM) and the next thing I knew, ever seat around me was filled with snickering tourists from the midwest, speaking in accents that make them sound as if education was as foreign to them as the idea of attempting to speak to someone, anyone, in Spanish. I know it´s hard to jump into a language, but the menu is printed in English AND Spanish, so you pretty much have it spelled out for you. I know you can read the Spanish part, because when the waiter is gone you whisper to your husband "eggs...huevos, toast....tostada..." and then giggle like a child as if to say "Isn´t their language just so cute?". This probably played a large part in my waiter stiffing me for my dollar change, assuming that I was unaware of the tipping practices in Spain. It also probably explains why my coffee and toast was eight Euros.
But I must say, despite the tourist vibe, the city is beautiful, with wonderful Gothic architecture everywhere. I hit the port and strolled down the boardwalk that leads to a floating shopping mall, huge movie theater and a large aquarium. I looked into the water to see fish, about a foot and a half long, swimming in large schools and a tennis ball sized jellyfish (Medusa in Spanish).
Tonight, despite being dead tired, I want to try and go out to a restaurant and watch the game. Spain is in the finals of the Eurocup against Germany. Germany is favored to win, but Spain beat them just a week or so ago, and if they win tonight, I expect all hell will break loose. It has been such an exciting spectacle to watch Spain advance this far in the Cup, as every resident of the country celebrates each victory.
Tomorrow it is the open vegetable and fish market, then I will dive into the Mediterranean Sea, and finish the day with a fine meal. Tuesday I plan to go to the aquarium as I cannot resist it´s treasures of the sea, and I have not really splurged on much this trip (minus piglett), and aquariums are sort of my thing. Speaking of, I am still fascinated by "20,000 Leagues", which it turns about, is basically documenting the adventures of a naturalist of the sea. The whole motivation for the Dr. staying with his captor for life on board the Nautilus, is because he has a chance to see so much underwater wildlife in it´s native habitat, something unknown to people in the 19th century. It´s absolutely fascinating as this is the bulk of the ficionalized diary entries in the novel. A truly beautiful book.
Saturday, June 28, 2008
One Night In Madrid and the World´s My Oyster...
Last night I spent my last full night in Madrid. I realized as I stared out of the window of the bedroom I have lived in for the past month, watching the trees blow in the breeze as the sun starts to set at about 10pm, that I am going to terribly miss Madrid. I met a couple of the girls out for Chinese (sort of, more like Asian Fusion) food that was fantastic, and Sangria that was not. We decided as we walked out that we simply HAD to have our last Madrid experiece be to go back to the metal bar. There we were greeted by the same huge bartender, only this time the place was packed. There were three types of people in the bar; dude with shaved heads wearing all black, dudes with long hair wearing all black, and the women who loved them. The guy next to me started asking me something in rough tone of voice, and I was stumped for a moment, wondering if this would be my first bar-brawl. Turns out he was asking if we wanted to sit at their table since we had a group and it was just he and his friend. Why are the nicest people in Spain found in the Death Metal bar?
I had to run to the metro to make it home on time. My last long and lonely train ride, bleary-eyed and in love with Madrid. At 4 am when my roommate was picked up to go to the airport, I felt a tinge of panic that I was at last, on my own in a country I hardly knew, with travel plans long ahead of me. But today as I awoke I was filled with nothing but contentment and excitement at what lies ahead.
I had to run to the metro to make it home on time. My last long and lonely train ride, bleary-eyed and in love with Madrid. At 4 am when my roommate was picked up to go to the airport, I felt a tinge of panic that I was at last, on my own in a country I hardly knew, with travel plans long ahead of me. But today as I awoke I was filled with nothing but contentment and excitement at what lies ahead.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
The Piglett
Last night was the most magical eating experience of my life. We ate at Las Cuevas de Luis Candelas, an authentic Spanish restaurant that specializes in Suckling Roast Piglett. Las Cuevas means "the caves" and this is how the place is set up, underground, small rooms that branch off of each other. We had a large party for the birthday of one of the girls in our group, and we had a little cave all to ourselves. The meal began with good bread and little pork sausages. Next we had a plate of mature Manchega cheese, followed by our main course. I knew that my pig would not be a whole pig, and what I got was a leg quarter. To get past the crispy skin, you must crack it with a fork or knife. Once inside, the pork is so tender and juicy that pork juce kept runing down my chin. The skin and fat were even better than roast duck, rich and crispy. I can honestly say I have never tasted anything as wonderful as this in my life. I ate the entire leg quarter and was sad that it was gone.
Our party had been drinking strong house Sangria for an hour when the musicians came in and I thought we might colapse the building with our clamorous appreciation of the music. As we stumbled outside, it was pouring rain and there was a fantastic thunder and lightning storm going on. We ran next door to an empty wine bar, where an old man played an accordian and sang. Four Bottles of wine later, I walked out of the metro to stand in the pouring rain and watch the lightning flash. It took me three and a half weeks to open up to our group, but I can honestly say that I wouldn have missed last night for anything.
Our party had been drinking strong house Sangria for an hour when the musicians came in and I thought we might colapse the building with our clamorous appreciation of the music. As we stumbled outside, it was pouring rain and there was a fantastic thunder and lightning storm going on. We ran next door to an empty wine bar, where an old man played an accordian and sang. Four Bottles of wine later, I walked out of the metro to stand in the pouring rain and watch the lightning flash. It took me three and a half weeks to open up to our group, but I can honestly say that I wouldn have missed last night for anything.
Sunday, June 22, 2008
So Hamdan says to me...
On the Metro this morning (4PM) on our way to get food (McDonalds, two days in a row, disgusting, but it´s what Hamdan wanted)...
"It´s a good thing you didn´t get drunk last night"
"Absolutely. Apparently you did not hear me singing in my room all night"
"Yes, I did"
That Hamdan is a funny motherfucker. So after our meal of rabbit and potatoes last night, I killed the bottle of white wine (I hardly ever drink wine) and was shocked that I did not feel the slightest bit drunk. Then Hamdan asked what Amstel tasted like, so I cracked open the Litre I had bought (about a 40 oz bottle) and poured us some glasses. After taking one sip, he mad a face like I held him down and farted into his open mouth. Well now the beer was open, and before the night was done I had finished that as well.
Then all of a sudden, at 3 am, I was super drunk. Room-spinning drunk, and it occurred to me that I should be listening to music, since I wanted to read, but I was a critical part of my book and knew I wouldn´t understand what I was reading anyways.
I don´t know what all I listened to, but I remember Sabbath, The Band and the Eagles. I know there was more, and that I managed to listen to a dozen random songs and about three complete albums, it just escapes me at the moment what they were. What I do remember is listening to the Eagles Live record and singing along to Hotel California where I held imaginary conversations in my mind with people at a bar where I dared them to not recognize the genius of the song. It all made perfectly good sense at the time.
Needless to say, I sang along to most of the songs I listened to, for a good two hours. I don´t recall singing loudly, but I do remember singing incredibly well. Had any of you heard me, you would most likely agree.
"It´s a good thing you didn´t get drunk last night"
"Absolutely. Apparently you did not hear me singing in my room all night"
"Yes, I did"
That Hamdan is a funny motherfucker. So after our meal of rabbit and potatoes last night, I killed the bottle of white wine (I hardly ever drink wine) and was shocked that I did not feel the slightest bit drunk. Then Hamdan asked what Amstel tasted like, so I cracked open the Litre I had bought (about a 40 oz bottle) and poured us some glasses. After taking one sip, he mad a face like I held him down and farted into his open mouth. Well now the beer was open, and before the night was done I had finished that as well.
Then all of a sudden, at 3 am, I was super drunk. Room-spinning drunk, and it occurred to me that I should be listening to music, since I wanted to read, but I was a critical part of my book and knew I wouldn´t understand what I was reading anyways.
I don´t know what all I listened to, but I remember Sabbath, The Band and the Eagles. I know there was more, and that I managed to listen to a dozen random songs and about three complete albums, it just escapes me at the moment what they were. What I do remember is listening to the Eagles Live record and singing along to Hotel California where I held imaginary conversations in my mind with people at a bar where I dared them to not recognize the genius of the song. It all made perfectly good sense at the time.
Needless to say, I sang along to most of the songs I listened to, for a good two hours. I don´t recall singing loudly, but I do remember singing incredibly well. Had any of you heard me, you would most likely agree.
Saturday, June 21, 2008
For Me This is Heaven
After a somewhat frightening few days, I find myself quite content tonight. I came to the realization yesterday, while trying to book the rest of my train trips and hostels and whatnot that I do not have enough money to do what I need to do. Foolishly, I assumed that if you buy a eurorail PASS that your train trips are PAID FOR. They are not. You have to pay for a seat reservation, and the prices are different depending on where you want to go. Needless to say, just for these reservations, I would have spent more money getting from Italy to Paris to London (where I am flying home) than I have to eat or shelter myself with. This caused me to wake up today in a horrible depression where I was afraid that I would simply lie in bed and weep to myself all day long.
Instead, I was determined to make the situation work somehow. I got up and started booking my necessary hostels, made a budget so that I knew exactly how much I could spend and on what, and I used my roommate's laptop to start looking on the web. Hopefully, with the help of my Italian friends, who are well versed in the cheap ways to travel within Europe, I will be able to make it work.
Now I was free to enjoy the rest of my day. I started by asking our host mother if I could cook dinner, since she does not provide it on Saturdays. Not only did she say yes, but also that she was leaving for the night, and since I was missing a meal on Monday (due to eating roast piglett, remember?) that she would go to the store and purchase whatever I wanted to make. Conejo, I told her. I had a recipe that Hauser sent to me that sounded promising.
I set out to Sol to get something to eat as it was 4PM. I ate at McDonalds, which I know sounds terrible, but I am fast becoming broke and I have yet to have eaten there, so consider it a science experiment. I wasn't looking at porn, just doing research. My findings? Their fries are delicious, the coke is the same, and their ketchup is sweeter than ours, which is kinda gross.
As I made my way to the train station to buy my ticket from Barcelona to Turin, Italy, I passed a guy with a backpack and a GOATSNAKE T-Shirt on. I stopped him and asked where he was from, in Spanish, to which he relplied in Spanish, Why? I laughed and told him it was because of his shirt and after introducing ourselves, we were off to a cafe for beers. He was a sweede who had spent the last year in Argentina and was on his way to some ridiculous metal festival in Europe where Iron Maiden, Whitesnake, AT THE GATES, and just about every other metal band you could think of were playing, if not reuniting specifically for. We had a couple of beers then I had to run off to buy my ticket.
That being done, I stopped to buy some ingredients I had forgotten to tell my Senora about. Lemon juice, white wine, BLACK PEPPER!!!! (I have yet to see the stuff in Spain, and I should have thought to go buy it at the store long ago). I head back home to find a table filled with buther cut rabbit, garlic, onions,potatoes and a baguette and rosemary. One problem, my recipe is for a whole, roasted rabbit, and this one is cut up into pieces. No time to argue, I use what I can from the recipe and set about preparing my veggies and meat. I consider the head, which is split in half, revealing the tongue and brain. Having never had rabbit, I couldn't decide if this was adventurous enough or if I should go full force. I was leaning toward full force, but let my Saudi Arabian roommate, who would be joinging me, decide. He made a face and said "no head". You got it Hamdan!
I melted some butter in a pan, and threw the rabbit that had been washed, dried and covered in butter, inside. I threw in some whole, peeled garlic cloves and some onions. Then I threw in some potatoes. I fried it all up until a nice brown coloring, then I deglazed with some wine and lemon juice. The result, after a bit of fussing, was pretty good. Rabbit has a mild, kind of sweet flavor (which might have come from the wine and lemon juice). I was concerned that I would somehow manage to kill us by doing it wrong, but so far so good.
With any luck tomorrow I will have most of the details for the rest of my trip worked out, and if not, um, I dunno. I guess we'll see when I get there. Until now, I am going to keep drinking this wine, go smoke my pipe (pipa) and fall asleep happily, if only to spite how I woke up.
By the way, for no reason at all today I was singing Jimmy Eat World in my head, and I have discovered that "Twenty Thousdand Leagues Under the Sea" is one of the most exciting books I have ever read, despite knowing full well what happens. This story of high seas adventure has triggered a child-like sense of wonder in me that I can't wait to fall into the arms of as I fall asleep.
Instead, I was determined to make the situation work somehow. I got up and started booking my necessary hostels, made a budget so that I knew exactly how much I could spend and on what, and I used my roommate's laptop to start looking on the web. Hopefully, with the help of my Italian friends, who are well versed in the cheap ways to travel within Europe, I will be able to make it work.
Now I was free to enjoy the rest of my day. I started by asking our host mother if I could cook dinner, since she does not provide it on Saturdays. Not only did she say yes, but also that she was leaving for the night, and since I was missing a meal on Monday (due to eating roast piglett, remember?) that she would go to the store and purchase whatever I wanted to make. Conejo, I told her. I had a recipe that Hauser sent to me that sounded promising.
I set out to Sol to get something to eat as it was 4PM. I ate at McDonalds, which I know sounds terrible, but I am fast becoming broke and I have yet to have eaten there, so consider it a science experiment. I wasn't looking at porn, just doing research. My findings? Their fries are delicious, the coke is the same, and their ketchup is sweeter than ours, which is kinda gross.
As I made my way to the train station to buy my ticket from Barcelona to Turin, Italy, I passed a guy with a backpack and a GOATSNAKE T-Shirt on. I stopped him and asked where he was from, in Spanish, to which he relplied in Spanish, Why? I laughed and told him it was because of his shirt and after introducing ourselves, we were off to a cafe for beers. He was a sweede who had spent the last year in Argentina and was on his way to some ridiculous metal festival in Europe where Iron Maiden, Whitesnake, AT THE GATES, and just about every other metal band you could think of were playing, if not reuniting specifically for. We had a couple of beers then I had to run off to buy my ticket.
That being done, I stopped to buy some ingredients I had forgotten to tell my Senora about. Lemon juice, white wine, BLACK PEPPER!!!! (I have yet to see the stuff in Spain, and I should have thought to go buy it at the store long ago). I head back home to find a table filled with buther cut rabbit, garlic, onions,potatoes and a baguette and rosemary. One problem, my recipe is for a whole, roasted rabbit, and this one is cut up into pieces. No time to argue, I use what I can from the recipe and set about preparing my veggies and meat. I consider the head, which is split in half, revealing the tongue and brain. Having never had rabbit, I couldn't decide if this was adventurous enough or if I should go full force. I was leaning toward full force, but let my Saudi Arabian roommate, who would be joinging me, decide. He made a face and said "no head". You got it Hamdan!
I melted some butter in a pan, and threw the rabbit that had been washed, dried and covered in butter, inside. I threw in some whole, peeled garlic cloves and some onions. Then I threw in some potatoes. I fried it all up until a nice brown coloring, then I deglazed with some wine and lemon juice. The result, after a bit of fussing, was pretty good. Rabbit has a mild, kind of sweet flavor (which might have come from the wine and lemon juice). I was concerned that I would somehow manage to kill us by doing it wrong, but so far so good.
With any luck tomorrow I will have most of the details for the rest of my trip worked out, and if not, um, I dunno. I guess we'll see when I get there. Until now, I am going to keep drinking this wine, go smoke my pipe (pipa) and fall asleep happily, if only to spite how I woke up.
By the way, for no reason at all today I was singing Jimmy Eat World in my head, and I have discovered that "Twenty Thousdand Leagues Under the Sea" is one of the most exciting books I have ever read, despite knowing full well what happens. This story of high seas adventure has triggered a child-like sense of wonder in me that I can't wait to fall into the arms of as I fall asleep.
Friday, June 20, 2008
\m/ \m/
Went to the metal bar last night. A dark, small joint with the walls painted black, and blacklights offering the only illumination. The bartender was a fat, bald man with a long goatee and a sleeveless black denim vest. One room had a mural of a broadsword sticking down into a grave, amid a backdrop of a mist filled cemetary. The other room was adorned with old (and some new) metal posters, and the benches were small, black rectangles with small white crosses painted on them, and they were made to look like little coffins. It was awesome, and I will be going back tonight, by myself to sit in the dark, listen to metal and brood.
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