Is there really a way to answer that question I'm going to be hearing endlessly this summer? "How was Italy?" Honestly, no. Only the people who experienced that year, that indescribably fantastic, challenging, life-altering year, along with me are going to understand. The brief sentence they'll be looking for, ("It was the most defining year of my life," etc.) doesn't even skim the surface. I guess this here blog skimmed the surface, so...hope ya read it.
The day before I left Florence was yet another one of those "most significant days of my life." I notice that I'm always wearing this one shirt when huge things happen to me. So I wore that shirt. HAHA. I had my university exam. The one for which I studied with a professor that Monica and Giovanna found for me, about two times a week in the month leading up to it (he was amazing, by the way). Where I had to familiarize myself with all the poetry by Giacomo Leopardi and Giosue Carducci in the books I had. In addition to reading another (torturously dull) novel and pages upon pages of critical studies. All in Italian. But that goes without saying. This is the thing, the "THING," that seemed way too impossibly terrifying to ever materialize itself in my mind as a reality. What they'd told us about Italian universities: there's no homework, instead your grade is determined by one giant oral exam taken in front of a panel of professors and all the other students. Essentially, the personification of all my fears: speaking, speaking in front of the class, speaking Italian to Italians, being judged and graded WHILE ALL OF THESE THINGS ARE HAPPENING. Something frightening for even the most outgoing of people. Right? And so I spent most of the year in denial that this thing would ever really, actually, truly happen to me: while auditing a class at the University of Florence the first semester, then while actually taking one the following semester, then after learning the date of my exam, even while meeting with Paolo (the professor who was my tutor). I'd say it was only the week before D-Day when my body (not so much my brain) realized what sheer terror I was soon to face. I lost my appetite. For those of you who know me, you know I love to eat. Thus, this is an indication of a serious issue. Two nights before, I threw up (although this was not entirely stress-induced...). The morning of, I woke up at oh I don't know, 6? And lay there on my back with my stomach in a continuous KNOT until I had to get up. Then I almost threw up my breakfast.
But I did it. I walked the 6 minutes to Piazza Savonarola, I waited in the hallway with the other Italian students, Paolo came to stand with me and comfort me (I told you he was amazing), and I took the exam. It wasn't in front of the entire class as I had feared (oh God I had feared). It was just me facing the professor and a random woman, who was nice and encouraging. There was one other student taking her exam in the same room but it wasn't distracting. I was in the ZONE. haha. In the end it wasn't so much a test of information as it was a test of bravery. And at this point I'd say this is far more significant. I survived--I didn't seize up and blank, I didn't burst into tears, I didn't faint, I didn't go into cardiac arrest. And so I walked out of there feelin' mighty proud. Paolo said I was "bravissima" several times. The oral exam was the grand finale of all that this year was slowly adding up to mean: me gaining courage, self-confidence, independence. It's nearly impossible for me to step back and see whether or not I've changed as a person but the fact that I did this exam and didn't keel over and die is nothing but proof that I have. Or that I was stronger than I thought this whole time. Nah, we're gonna go with the one where I changed.
The hardest parts about leaving Italy: saying goodbye to Giovanna and Monica, seeing my wonderful host brother wipe tears from his eyes after we hugged (he almost got me), leaving my permesso di soggiorno at airport security and the Italian conversation with a nice old man that ensued ("she speaks Italian," "what do you need?" "I have a permesso di soggiorno to leave," "to turn in?" "yes," "you're not coming back to Italy?" *pause* "to study?" "not to study, no." ), flying over the green Tuscan hills. The easiest part about leaving Italy: my family was with me. Trust me, if they hadn't been, I would have been a blubbering WRECK. Throughout my entire last week, while they were here, they reminded me of what I was going home to and not what I was leaving. And I never once broke down and sobbed, much to my surprise (although I came close while hugging Giovanna). Because--and oh God I resent how this cheese-fest of a fortune cookie sentence applies--"Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened." I had the most spectacular year of my life. I am immensely proud of myself for having studied abroad at all. I lived in the heart of the Renaissance. What is there to be sad about? All the people who mean anything to me I'll see again. Italy will always be my second home. There's no way I won't be going back.
giovedì 3 giugno 2010
sabato 15 maggio 2010
Spagna 4
Ok it is high time I finish writing about Spain, seeing as these are events that occurred over a month ago. And I have other things to write about, especially our group trip to Naples, Amalfi, Pompei and Capri! We all know this is not gonna be succinct so here comes another gargantuan post.
Day 10, April 9, 2010. After a breakfast of the Coco cereal Pepi had bought especially for us (their whole family is on an extremely severe regulated diet regimen so when the boys saw this cereal they nearly died of desire), little Richard came into the kitchen to shyly ask me if I wanted to play "Hotel." And for the next ten hours that is what we did. Yeah it was a hotel-themed version of Monopoly (which I've never even really played...) so it went on and on and on some more, but it was cute. And what a good sport Alex is, letting his brother revel in the victory of winning and making all the comments he wanted to hear about how badly he was beating everyone. He had won about an hour in but wanted to play until every last one of us had not one piece of property or unit of money. And who were we to stop him. Then Henry took us on a walk through their small charming town. He gave us bright yellow and green caps to wear, haha. We didn't really mind looking like fools. The whole time all we heard was how boring and dull life in Aielo is, and sure, it is a pretty low-key lifestyle, but it was just absolutely lovely. We went into this old warehouse/store and Henry talked to the woman there, who got us free samples of "Kola coca" aka "the original Coca Cola." We don't know if this is actually true but it was still pretty rad. It tasted like slightly alcoholic syrup. Then we wandered down a steep dusty road by an old stone church and down to a stream where little flies were buzzing in our faces and the boys resumed work on their stone "bridge." We helped by handing them rocks. Outside the house it was warm and sunny and we passed a citizen every now and then. We had lunch back at the house with Pepi's parents. Her mother has advanced Alzheimer's, which was so sad to see. I think it's the cruelest disease in the world. But there were moments when I swore she wanted to smile at me. The grandpa seemed really nice and we even communicated a little in Spanish. We had yummy salad, lentils and fruit. I even played piano, and me and Alex played a song together on separate keyboards. Basically throughout the course of our stay there I was granted all the beloved things from my childhood: piano duets, recorders, Spongebob, Roald Dahl, Looney Tunes, chess. I (slash Alex...) played chess with Richard. Then they wanted to play tennis, so off we went to the nearby courts. There weren't nets so we just hit the ball against the wall, alternating rackets frequently and mostly just watching Alex and Richard scrambling to be the first to hit the ball. Richard was kind of dejected by his lack of abilities in comparison with his brother so Alex kindly agreed to play hide and seek. Then a version of sharks and minnows they called "wolf," where one person is the wolf and can't move beyond certain lines while the others try to run past. It was adorable. Back at home I continued reading The Fantastic Mr. Fox and then we watched some more Spongebob and The Simpsons. We were overwhelmed to find that Pepi had brought us back clothes and bags from the store where she works! How unbelievably nice is that? So we tried them on for her. I have a red and white shirt that Henry said "will have the boys chasing you down the street. As usual." haah...sure. And an orange beach bag with butterflies. :) Dinner was pork in a yummy sauce, veggies, and delicious caramel ice cream. Then Henry set us up with the TV and we watched this HORRIFIC Katie Holmes movie. And of course, finished it.
Day 11, April 10, 2010.
WELL. Somewhere between 1 and 9 AM my stomach decided something I had eaten was not ok. To this day I don't know what it was. But whatever it was made me throw up. Won't go into the details for ya but all in all, not one of the more enjoyable experiences of my life. Luckily Camilla and Pepi were amazing and took care of me. In this sense I'm almost glad it happened there and not with my host family in Italy, who wouldn't have been able to do anything really. To have a nurturing mother figure was exactly and all I needed. She gave me warm lemon water and a bicarbonate "clay" drink, but I never really felt myself the whole day. Or even for the next TWO days. Luckily I was still up for going to the beach, after a game of Spanish Trivial Pursuit with the boys. It was a long drive, which I didn't expect, and I felt dangerously ill at one point and the constant curves in the road didn't help. Thank God it passed. On the way we played I-spy and guessing games. We had lunch at this nice restaurant with beautiful views of the ocean. And this is not the first time following a time when I've thrown up and have proceeded to eat a HEFTY amount of food the next day. I had salad, bread dumplings with mushrooms, some of Pepi and Richard's pasta dish, and cinnamon ice cream. We were the only ones there and the food was delicious. Then, the beach. We walked around as a family. The boys climbed on things and we mainly sat and watched. There was a bit of an incident when Alex got stuck on the climbing structure dangling by his legs upside down and it took a while for his parents to realize he was stuck because he just likes attention. But then his face contorted into a cry so Henry went to rescue him. Phew. Then we drove to a different town for another beach and had "tea" at a little snack place. Again, probably not the wisest idea for my stomach, I got the typical thick thick Spanish hot chocolate. SO good. The beach towns were very pretty. On the drive home we told stories and imitated Spongebob characters. Happy to amuse. My stomach kind of hurt again, and dinner was tuna fish which doesn't make my stomach happy under normal circumstances. But I managed to eat some yummy prosciutto, zucchini and tomatoes. And a microscopic amount of ice cream because I can never pass up dessert. The four of us ended up talking until 12:30.
Day 12, April 11, 2010. I woke up with stomach pain AGAIN but luckily it went away. I ate breakfast with Henry helping Alex with his Spanish homework to the left and the grandmother across. Then we went on an expedition to a town called Bocairent with Henry and the boys. The town reminded me of one of the many little Italian towns we've seen. It was pretty but a little too hilly for my liking. Our destination was the caves. The boys were going on about the "caves." Being little boys I assumed the caves were only impressive for little boys, just something they had happened to stumble across one day. Wrong I was. They were serious CAVES alright. If I had known what it would be like, I would have sooner...I've been thinking for about 5 minutes of what I would have sooner done...jumped into a pit of molten hot magma. Whatever, something bad. What baffled me was that there were SO many people waiting in line to go into these things!!! They're these little (keyword, little) holes in the side of a cliff in a valley-like area. Lots of exhausting stairs and long pathways were involved to reach them. Up a final set of metal stairs and you are at the mouth of the first cave. Inside you can stand and it's pretty sweet, ok cool it's a cave yeah alright I can do this. There's a ladder that goes through a hole in the ceiling and I'm like ok yeah that's cool, kind of adventurous, let's do this. I go up the ladder and there's a woman at the top telling me in Spanish (I still understood! woot!) to lean back as if I were sitting and push my legs into the wall and sidle myself up. Done. Next problem. Turned around and realized standing up to my full height would not be possible given the body-cave ratio. For the next eon (yeah I don't know how long it actually was, no more than a half hour) we would be crawling on our hands. and. knees. through tunnels designed by mole people. Ok, ancient Moors. It's where they stored their food. Did I tell you guys I'm claustrophobic and one of my greatest fears is being trapped inside an ancient Moorish cave? Haha well, elevator. Anyways I'm not even kidding, right now, just thinking about it, I start feeling ever-so-slightly panicked. I was NUMB with terror and it took all the will in my power to not just start hyperventilating and screaming and crying and oh God it was bad bad bad. Henry had to pull me and Camilla (mostly me) up by my elbows twice to get us through various connecting body-sized holes. (sidenote: you have to be in top-notch physical form to enter these things and I feel like they should have a SIGN of some sort warning people because if I'm not mistaken, there were many elderly people in line). And every time I got my body through a hole I'd ask "when's the next time we can we stand up?" And then there were lots of people. So you'd just have to calmly sit, waiting, on the bumpy stone floor. Luckily there were openings to the outside. And luckily I'm not afraid of heights so this was somewhat comforting because if worse came to worse I could just fling myself the 40 feet to the ground. My dad, on the other hand, is highly claustrophobic and afraid of heights so this would be his own personal hell. When we got to one particular cave where it seemed that only 3-foot-tall, monkey-ish Alex and Richard could get through the next hole, I decided right then and there that there was no way I was going any further. And GOOD THING because we were running late and there just so happened to be a prehistoric fire escape right there. We got out, I took a deep breath of mountain air and praised Jesus, Mary, Joseph, Peter, Paul, and all the other apostles and kissed the sweet earth. But hey, it was an adventure. I can't say I conquered my fear, but I sure faced it. Back at home we had lunch with the grandparents again. The grandpa (Angel, cool name) asked how the beach was yesterday, and I told him it was very pretty, en espanyol! Then we had to pack up and say goodbye :(. Pepi is one of the kindest most selfless people I've ever met and I'm so lucky to be friends with Camilla. Despite the vomiting and the cold, the vacation was perfect. Henry drove us to the airport and Alex came with us. WE WATCHED LOONEY TUNES IN THE BACK SEAT TOGETHER WITH HEADPHONES. I didn't even get carsick. :) :) :). Loved it. They came with us right up to the check-in line. A plane, two trains, and two buses later, we were back in Firenze.
Yesterday I sent a postcard to Pepi, Henry, Alex and Richard because I want them to know that I'll never forget that last part of our trip. Traveling really is the best part about being here.
Th-th-th-th-th-th that's all folks! For Spain at least.
Day 10, April 9, 2010. After a breakfast of the Coco cereal Pepi had bought especially for us (their whole family is on an extremely severe regulated diet regimen so when the boys saw this cereal they nearly died of desire), little Richard came into the kitchen to shyly ask me if I wanted to play "Hotel." And for the next ten hours that is what we did. Yeah it was a hotel-themed version of Monopoly (which I've never even really played...) so it went on and on and on some more, but it was cute. And what a good sport Alex is, letting his brother revel in the victory of winning and making all the comments he wanted to hear about how badly he was beating everyone. He had won about an hour in but wanted to play until every last one of us had not one piece of property or unit of money. And who were we to stop him. Then Henry took us on a walk through their small charming town. He gave us bright yellow and green caps to wear, haha. We didn't really mind looking like fools. The whole time all we heard was how boring and dull life in Aielo is, and sure, it is a pretty low-key lifestyle, but it was just absolutely lovely. We went into this old warehouse/store and Henry talked to the woman there, who got us free samples of "Kola coca" aka "the original Coca Cola." We don't know if this is actually true but it was still pretty rad. It tasted like slightly alcoholic syrup. Then we wandered down a steep dusty road by an old stone church and down to a stream where little flies were buzzing in our faces and the boys resumed work on their stone "bridge." We helped by handing them rocks. Outside the house it was warm and sunny and we passed a citizen every now and then. We had lunch back at the house with Pepi's parents. Her mother has advanced Alzheimer's, which was so sad to see. I think it's the cruelest disease in the world. But there were moments when I swore she wanted to smile at me. The grandpa seemed really nice and we even communicated a little in Spanish. We had yummy salad, lentils and fruit. I even played piano, and me and Alex played a song together on separate keyboards. Basically throughout the course of our stay there I was granted all the beloved things from my childhood: piano duets, recorders, Spongebob, Roald Dahl, Looney Tunes, chess. I (slash Alex...) played chess with Richard. Then they wanted to play tennis, so off we went to the nearby courts. There weren't nets so we just hit the ball against the wall, alternating rackets frequently and mostly just watching Alex and Richard scrambling to be the first to hit the ball. Richard was kind of dejected by his lack of abilities in comparison with his brother so Alex kindly agreed to play hide and seek. Then a version of sharks and minnows they called "wolf," where one person is the wolf and can't move beyond certain lines while the others try to run past. It was adorable. Back at home I continued reading The Fantastic Mr. Fox and then we watched some more Spongebob and The Simpsons. We were overwhelmed to find that Pepi had brought us back clothes and bags from the store where she works! How unbelievably nice is that? So we tried them on for her. I have a red and white shirt that Henry said "will have the boys chasing you down the street. As usual." haah...sure. And an orange beach bag with butterflies. :) Dinner was pork in a yummy sauce, veggies, and delicious caramel ice cream. Then Henry set us up with the TV and we watched this HORRIFIC Katie Holmes movie. And of course, finished it.
Day 11, April 10, 2010.
WELL. Somewhere between 1 and 9 AM my stomach decided something I had eaten was not ok. To this day I don't know what it was. But whatever it was made me throw up. Won't go into the details for ya but all in all, not one of the more enjoyable experiences of my life. Luckily Camilla and Pepi were amazing and took care of me. In this sense I'm almost glad it happened there and not with my host family in Italy, who wouldn't have been able to do anything really. To have a nurturing mother figure was exactly and all I needed. She gave me warm lemon water and a bicarbonate "clay" drink, but I never really felt myself the whole day. Or even for the next TWO days. Luckily I was still up for going to the beach, after a game of Spanish Trivial Pursuit with the boys. It was a long drive, which I didn't expect, and I felt dangerously ill at one point and the constant curves in the road didn't help. Thank God it passed. On the way we played I-spy and guessing games. We had lunch at this nice restaurant with beautiful views of the ocean. And this is not the first time following a time when I've thrown up and have proceeded to eat a HEFTY amount of food the next day. I had salad, bread dumplings with mushrooms, some of Pepi and Richard's pasta dish, and cinnamon ice cream. We were the only ones there and the food was delicious. Then, the beach. We walked around as a family. The boys climbed on things and we mainly sat and watched. There was a bit of an incident when Alex got stuck on the climbing structure dangling by his legs upside down and it took a while for his parents to realize he was stuck because he just likes attention. But then his face contorted into a cry so Henry went to rescue him. Phew. Then we drove to a different town for another beach and had "tea" at a little snack place. Again, probably not the wisest idea for my stomach, I got the typical thick thick Spanish hot chocolate. SO good. The beach towns were very pretty. On the drive home we told stories and imitated Spongebob characters. Happy to amuse. My stomach kind of hurt again, and dinner was tuna fish which doesn't make my stomach happy under normal circumstances. But I managed to eat some yummy prosciutto, zucchini and tomatoes. And a microscopic amount of ice cream because I can never pass up dessert. The four of us ended up talking until 12:30.
Day 12, April 11, 2010. I woke up with stomach pain AGAIN but luckily it went away. I ate breakfast with Henry helping Alex with his Spanish homework to the left and the grandmother across. Then we went on an expedition to a town called Bocairent with Henry and the boys. The town reminded me of one of the many little Italian towns we've seen. It was pretty but a little too hilly for my liking. Our destination was the caves. The boys were going on about the "caves." Being little boys I assumed the caves were only impressive for little boys, just something they had happened to stumble across one day. Wrong I was. They were serious CAVES alright. If I had known what it would be like, I would have sooner...I've been thinking for about 5 minutes of what I would have sooner done...jumped into a pit of molten hot magma. Whatever, something bad. What baffled me was that there were SO many people waiting in line to go into these things!!! They're these little (keyword, little) holes in the side of a cliff in a valley-like area. Lots of exhausting stairs and long pathways were involved to reach them. Up a final set of metal stairs and you are at the mouth of the first cave. Inside you can stand and it's pretty sweet, ok cool it's a cave yeah alright I can do this. There's a ladder that goes through a hole in the ceiling and I'm like ok yeah that's cool, kind of adventurous, let's do this. I go up the ladder and there's a woman at the top telling me in Spanish (I still understood! woot!) to lean back as if I were sitting and push my legs into the wall and sidle myself up. Done. Next problem. Turned around and realized standing up to my full height would not be possible given the body-cave ratio. For the next eon (yeah I don't know how long it actually was, no more than a half hour) we would be crawling on our hands. and. knees. through tunnels designed by mole people. Ok, ancient Moors. It's where they stored their food. Did I tell you guys I'm claustrophobic and one of my greatest fears is being trapped inside an ancient Moorish cave? Haha well, elevator. Anyways I'm not even kidding, right now, just thinking about it, I start feeling ever-so-slightly panicked. I was NUMB with terror and it took all the will in my power to not just start hyperventilating and screaming and crying and oh God it was bad bad bad. Henry had to pull me and Camilla (mostly me) up by my elbows twice to get us through various connecting body-sized holes. (sidenote: you have to be in top-notch physical form to enter these things and I feel like they should have a SIGN of some sort warning people because if I'm not mistaken, there were many elderly people in line). And every time I got my body through a hole I'd ask "when's the next time we can we stand up?" And then there were lots of people. So you'd just have to calmly sit, waiting, on the bumpy stone floor. Luckily there were openings to the outside. And luckily I'm not afraid of heights so this was somewhat comforting because if worse came to worse I could just fling myself the 40 feet to the ground. My dad, on the other hand, is highly claustrophobic and afraid of heights so this would be his own personal hell. When we got to one particular cave where it seemed that only 3-foot-tall, monkey-ish Alex and Richard could get through the next hole, I decided right then and there that there was no way I was going any further. And GOOD THING because we were running late and there just so happened to be a prehistoric fire escape right there. We got out, I took a deep breath of mountain air and praised Jesus, Mary, Joseph, Peter, Paul, and all the other apostles and kissed the sweet earth. But hey, it was an adventure. I can't say I conquered my fear, but I sure faced it. Back at home we had lunch with the grandparents again. The grandpa (Angel, cool name) asked how the beach was yesterday, and I told him it was very pretty, en espanyol! Then we had to pack up and say goodbye :(. Pepi is one of the kindest most selfless people I've ever met and I'm so lucky to be friends with Camilla. Despite the vomiting and the cold, the vacation was perfect. Henry drove us to the airport and Alex came with us. WE WATCHED LOONEY TUNES IN THE BACK SEAT TOGETHER WITH HEADPHONES. I didn't even get carsick. :) :) :). Loved it. They came with us right up to the check-in line. A plane, two trains, and two buses later, we were back in Firenze.
Yesterday I sent a postcard to Pepi, Henry, Alex and Richard because I want them to know that I'll never forget that last part of our trip. Traveling really is the best part about being here.
Th-th-th-th-th-th that's all folks! For Spain at least.
sabato 24 aprile 2010
Spagna 3
WOW that was still only 3 days' worth of description. So much for being SUCCINCT.
Day 7, April 6, 2010. We had to check out so we could move to a different room. This is because when we were booking online it told us the room we wanted wasn't available for both of us for all the nights we needed, so we stealthily booked twice...once for the room until it was no longer available, then again for a second room for the remaining nights. This is all RIVETING I know. Anyways we packed up our stuff (I defied many laws of physics when I managed to zip up my suitcase), stripped our sheets, and "checked out." Our new room wasn't ready yet so we left our things and headed out to do stuff. First we went to the indoor market that was about 20 seconds away from the hostel. It was like a food toy store or mall or something...never has food shopping been so FUN AND EXCITING! The building itself was pretty sweet, all glass and sunny and spacious, it probably used to be a train station. And then there were infinite stands of food...fruit, veggies, chocolate, cheese, skinless bloody goat heads. Ok so some things weren't as enticing. We bought sandwich supplies, made sandwiches back at the hostel, then headed out again to do stuff. We stopped in some lovely churches, got money from an ATM (don't even get me started on how much we spent that trip...), and made our way to El Museu de Bellas Artes. Well first we ate our sandwiches in an industrial parking lot. Naww, it was a park. Just wanted to mix things up. Turned out, the museum was FREE! aww yee. The paintings were nice. So were the couches. The main features were Velazquez' self-portrait and an El Greco. I didn't want to walk to death again so after that we headed back in the direction of the hostel. We saw LOS TORRES SERRANOS and it seemed that one could go up. But it wouldn't open for another hour so, to pass the time, we ate some cake. We found this little outdoor cafe and I got dulce de leche cake and Camilla got coffee. Most satisfying. But the towers were still closed...lame. So we decided, instead, to see a little trinket you may have heard of called THE HOLY GRAIL. Yes, Valencia is where the holy grail is kept. But first, TO THE TOWER! It only cost 2 euros to climb the Cathedral's tower. Absolutely worth it...the views were stunning and it was a beautiful sunny day. Climbing and descending 200 some-odd stairs was made easier by the fact that the walking we had done thus far was limited. Indeed. We timed it perfectly! (and unknowingly) because when we were done with that it was just after 5:30, which is apparently when the church becomes free. Alas you must pay to see the grail. But the interior of the Cathedral is incredible. There are two huge GOYA paintings! Back at the hostel we met our new roommate, who was unimaginably nice, and made dinner (pasta with "sauteed" aka pulverized cherry tomatoes and arugula). Then we were craving somefin SWEET (when am I not) and so we went to this nice place that the girl at the desk had recommended, for amazing dessert. I got a MOLTEN BROWNIE AND MINT CHOCOLATE CHIP ICE CREAM. Extremely appetizing. Then we wanted to find a bar or SOMETHING but we were rather discouraged to find that nothing was open/alive/appealing, so it turned into a stroll that brought us to 1 AM.
Day 8, April 7, 2010. We went to the market once more. And this time, we got a MANGO!!!!!!!!!! Enthusiasm because mangoes are my favorite fruit in the world. I have NEVER had a bad mango. It was a tad pricey but insanely worth it. We chilled at the hostel til about 2:15 when we left for the TAPAS TOUR that the hostel offers every day. It sounded extremely appealing. They take you to 5 or so tapas restaurants and the whole thing is only 10 or so euros. So we came outside to find it was raining. Pouring, more like. Even under our (decrepit) umbrellas we got SOAKED. As we approached the plaza where we were supposed to meet we realized there were very, very few people in the general vicinity. So we hoped to God that the group of people huddled under some trees was the tapas tour. Two of them were. One of them was the guide. We needed at least 4 people to do it or else they would lose money. Of course, nobody else showed up. SIIGH. As we waited we discovered the extent of our guide's personality. He was an exuberant young Scottish rogue. I could NOT understand the words coming out of his mouth. At one point he said "it's getting kind of red," indicating the sightly rust on my umbrella, but I heard "red" as "wet," and so I was just like, yup, that tends to happen in the rain...Anyways all was not lost. After pumping the tire in his bike he brought all 3 of us to the best tapas place he knew of. The other girl was Australian and we had a pleasantly mature and uninspiring conversation while we ate. EVERYTHING ON THE MENU WAS ONE EURO. EVERYTHING ON THE MENU WAS ONE EURO. Had to say it twice in case you missed it the first time. But seriously. Awesome. I probably could have ordered more food than I did...I just got 2 ickle sandwiches (one with tuna...not TUNA, but rather tuna fish. Difference. Me no like. The other had baby shrimp and aioli sauce, SO GOOD), which came with chips, AND FRENCH FRIES. The fries came late (I was extremely proud that I understood the Spanish the woman said to me..."the French fries are missing to you. We'll call you later." This was VITAL information). They were literally the best fries of my life. They came with 4--count 'em, FOUR--dipping sauces: ketchup, aioli, and others that I forget. It had stopped raining, perfect for botanical garden seeing. But before that we stumbled upon something that turned out to be free to enter and so we entered. It was the most bizarre modern "art" "museum" I've ever seen. One piece was just three suits hanging on the wall that, at random intervals, would just randomly start SHAKING, to scare the bejesus out of people. Or at least me. It was just too bizarre to enjoy. How can you not feel like you're on drugs when you see such WEIRD THINGS. After that we went to the Botanical Gardens. Twas nice. There were approximately 400 cats, and that was the best part. Black cats, white cats, calico cats, big cats, small cats, nice cats, scardy cats. It got hilarious. Especially when we were sitting on a bench and one of them literally ran up to us, jumped onto our same bench, and crawled into Camilla's lap. Then mine. And when we had had enough scabies, it made its way to a woman wearing headphones on another bench. The face she made was most amusing. After that we went to a museum we had passed. I liked it a lot--there were Picasso drawings and a painting from the blue period, the painting that's on the cover of my copy of The Awakening (I've never read it, it was a gift I got at the end of my summer job at a writing camp 4 years ago), and William Kentridge films (in the more modern section) that we had watched in my drawing class last year. That's modern art I can appreciate. We stayed until it closed. When we got back we had this whole plan to make authentic Spanish tortilla. It was an ordeal. And it failed. :( Flipping the thing requires EXTREME SKILL that neither of us have. But it still tasted aite. Plus we had the MANGO, which always makes up for any food that is not as tasty as a mango. Then we tried to go to this place called The Music Box--the hostel had free mint mojito coupons that we wanted to take advantage of. We had passed by it the night before and it was heavy-duty-BARRED up. But tonight, the Scottish guy (who is also the pub crawl leader, another activity organized by the hostel) announced that The Music Box was on the list of destinations. A total of 0 people had shown up for the pub crawl. Then he saw us and asked how the tapas were, but because I didn't understand him again I thought he was asking if we wanted to come out just for food and I said "no, I don't think sooo....OH THE TAPAS! YEAH IT WAS GREAT!" Camilla and I still wanted to go out. We passed by The Music Box and it was as vacant and barred up as ever, so we went to this other terrible over-priced place first to wait and see if it was just because we had come to early. Nope, it was barrrrrrrrrred up still at 12:45. Irritation. Oh well, can't say we didn't try.
Day 9, April 8, 2010. We checked out of the hostel of excellence (for those planning on going to Valencia, I HIGHLY recommend it: Home Youth Hostel), but we kept our stuff there (they don't charge you for it unlike the LAST hostel of non-excellence) so we could do stuff. We went once more to the market in search of flowers for Camilla's aunt and uncle, who would be hosting us for our last few days. :) Smiley face to the max. We couldn't find any so she ended up buying them chocolates from a very nice Spanish lady instead. I was broke for the eighteenth time and I guess I anticipated this happening because I had brought the $50 my grandparents gave me for Christmas. It was high time to exchange it for euros. After waiting in a huuge line, I realized I couldn't communicate with the tellers. They got some man standing in line to translate: I needed my passport. Embarrassing. Back to the hostel to fetch the passport. A few more embarrassing miscommunications and I got mah money! Believe me, 35 euros felt like a LOT. After that we started wandering in a new direction, went into a few stores before they all closed up for the 5-hour lunch break, and ended up at the bull fighting stadium. Cool! Well not really, I NEVER want to see a bull fight. So cruel. But it was still cool. Then it was time for almuerzo so we decided on a tapas place that we had passed several times and was always crowded when everything else was dead. It was a restaurant experience unlike any other: dozens upon dozens of plates of little sandwiches (bocadillos? the word just came to mind because it seems like it would translate to "little mouthfulls" which is exactly what they are) topped with brightly colored things. You get a plate and then proceed to fill said plate with as many sandwiches as you want, making more trips as necessary. I ate 7 or 8. They charge you based on how many toothpicks you leave. Something Camilla rightly pointed out: could you not theoretically pocket these toothpicks? I guess Spaniards are honest folk. I have no idea what was in the vast majority of my sandwiches but my favorite had jam and cream cheese. Then there was one with fried mushroom cream that was also yummy. Actually they weren't really sandwiches because there was only one piece of bread involved. Anyways it was good. Then we made our way to the train station. The confusion that ensued was so stressful I do not want to recount it because it will stress me out again, but frantic sprinting and broken Spanish/English questioning and answering were involved. After a half hour of stomach-ulcer-inducing chaos, we found ourselves on the CORRECT TRAIN, BOUND FOR XATIVA (pronounced Jativa, with a soft Spanish J, accent on the first syllable)! WOO! The scenery got progressively prettier along the way. 35 minutes later we were meeting Camilla's Spanish aunt, Pepi, and her two adorable 9-year-old twin cousins, Alex and Richard (I don't know why there are suddenly so many twins in my life, but it rules). It's the coolest thing ever: Camilla's uncle is British, so the boys know both English and Spanish. They're a little more fluent in Spanish, though, so they have the CUTEST accents when they speak in English. After stopping to pick up nuts at a warehouse (yes there are nut warehouses in Spain), we drove to their house. They live in an even smaller town, called Aielo. They mentioned many times about how there's nothing to do there and their life is very boring but the town was so charming I don't think I would mind. Their apartment is very nice, with an amazing view of the green hills in the distance. Right away Pepi made us tea and we had cookies and this yummy honey cereal that the boys were eating. Then it was decided that we would accompany the boys to this park. Which was essentially kiddie paradise: an endless line of MOON BOUNCES. I used to LOVE those things. I probably still would if I wasn't too old/big to go inside. So Camilla and I watched and waited like the rest of the Spanish parents (weeird) while they bounced away. It was a feeling that I will never have again, being directly in the middle of the most community of community activities in the most provincial of provincial places. After we finally were able to drag them away (not literally but we did have to tell them it was time to go...it was getting cold and impatient), we went back home, where we watched cartoons together! :D :D :D Can I say how much I miss watching TV? Italian "game shows" that are on every night do NOT count. And guess what we watched. SPONGEBOB. Because the twins LOVE Spongebob. As do I, not gonna lie. And they were GOOD episodes that I hadn't seen before. I severely enjoyed myself. Then Pepi came in and said we could read with the boys. Camilla and I sat on Alex's bed (Richard was too busy spazzing around in his room, I don't know what he was doing but it was pretty bizarre) and we all read until dinner was ready. Dinner for the grown-ups, that is. Camilla's uncle, Henry, teaches English during the day so we didn't really get to see him until then. He is the most hilariously bitter and pessimistic man I have ever met. My favorite was how he calls Pepi, who is as skinny as I am, "Chunky." When discussing really any item of food in the kitchen, he'd have some comment like "Oh that's nasty isn't it." Hahaha. We ended up talking til about 11:15. The only only only unideal thing about our stay there was the cold in the house. I've never been as cold in my life in a bedroom, and that's saying something given the subzero temperatures I've experienced in my room in Florence. However, my concluding line in my journal for this day is "It's FREEZING in here but I don't mind as much in these circumstances."
Day 7, April 6, 2010. We had to check out so we could move to a different room. This is because when we were booking online it told us the room we wanted wasn't available for both of us for all the nights we needed, so we stealthily booked twice...once for the room until it was no longer available, then again for a second room for the remaining nights. This is all RIVETING I know. Anyways we packed up our stuff (I defied many laws of physics when I managed to zip up my suitcase), stripped our sheets, and "checked out." Our new room wasn't ready yet so we left our things and headed out to do stuff. First we went to the indoor market that was about 20 seconds away from the hostel. It was like a food toy store or mall or something...never has food shopping been so FUN AND EXCITING! The building itself was pretty sweet, all glass and sunny and spacious, it probably used to be a train station. And then there were infinite stands of food...fruit, veggies, chocolate, cheese, skinless bloody goat heads. Ok so some things weren't as enticing. We bought sandwich supplies, made sandwiches back at the hostel, then headed out again to do stuff. We stopped in some lovely churches, got money from an ATM (don't even get me started on how much we spent that trip...), and made our way to El Museu de Bellas Artes. Well first we ate our sandwiches in an industrial parking lot. Naww, it was a park. Just wanted to mix things up. Turned out, the museum was FREE! aww yee. The paintings were nice. So were the couches. The main features were Velazquez' self-portrait and an El Greco. I didn't want to walk to death again so after that we headed back in the direction of the hostel. We saw LOS TORRES SERRANOS and it seemed that one could go up. But it wouldn't open for another hour so, to pass the time, we ate some cake. We found this little outdoor cafe and I got dulce de leche cake and Camilla got coffee. Most satisfying. But the towers were still closed...lame. So we decided, instead, to see a little trinket you may have heard of called THE HOLY GRAIL. Yes, Valencia is where the holy grail is kept. But first, TO THE TOWER! It only cost 2 euros to climb the Cathedral's tower. Absolutely worth it...the views were stunning and it was a beautiful sunny day. Climbing and descending 200 some-odd stairs was made easier by the fact that the walking we had done thus far was limited. Indeed. We timed it perfectly! (and unknowingly) because when we were done with that it was just after 5:30, which is apparently when the church becomes free. Alas you must pay to see the grail. But the interior of the Cathedral is incredible. There are two huge GOYA paintings! Back at the hostel we met our new roommate, who was unimaginably nice, and made dinner (pasta with "sauteed" aka pulverized cherry tomatoes and arugula). Then we were craving somefin SWEET (when am I not) and so we went to this nice place that the girl at the desk had recommended, for amazing dessert. I got a MOLTEN BROWNIE AND MINT CHOCOLATE CHIP ICE CREAM. Extremely appetizing. Then we wanted to find a bar or SOMETHING but we were rather discouraged to find that nothing was open/alive/appealing, so it turned into a stroll that brought us to 1 AM.
Day 8, April 7, 2010. We went to the market once more. And this time, we got a MANGO!!!!!!!!!! Enthusiasm because mangoes are my favorite fruit in the world. I have NEVER had a bad mango. It was a tad pricey but insanely worth it. We chilled at the hostel til about 2:15 when we left for the TAPAS TOUR that the hostel offers every day. It sounded extremely appealing. They take you to 5 or so tapas restaurants and the whole thing is only 10 or so euros. So we came outside to find it was raining. Pouring, more like. Even under our (decrepit) umbrellas we got SOAKED. As we approached the plaza where we were supposed to meet we realized there were very, very few people in the general vicinity. So we hoped to God that the group of people huddled under some trees was the tapas tour. Two of them were. One of them was the guide. We needed at least 4 people to do it or else they would lose money. Of course, nobody else showed up. SIIGH. As we waited we discovered the extent of our guide's personality. He was an exuberant young Scottish rogue. I could NOT understand the words coming out of his mouth. At one point he said "it's getting kind of red," indicating the sightly rust on my umbrella, but I heard "red" as "wet," and so I was just like, yup, that tends to happen in the rain...Anyways all was not lost. After pumping the tire in his bike he brought all 3 of us to the best tapas place he knew of. The other girl was Australian and we had a pleasantly mature and uninspiring conversation while we ate. EVERYTHING ON THE MENU WAS ONE EURO. EVERYTHING ON THE MENU WAS ONE EURO. Had to say it twice in case you missed it the first time. But seriously. Awesome. I probably could have ordered more food than I did...I just got 2 ickle sandwiches (one with tuna...not TUNA, but rather tuna fish. Difference. Me no like. The other had baby shrimp and aioli sauce, SO GOOD), which came with chips, AND FRENCH FRIES. The fries came late (I was extremely proud that I understood the Spanish the woman said to me..."the French fries are missing to you. We'll call you later." This was VITAL information). They were literally the best fries of my life. They came with 4--count 'em, FOUR--dipping sauces: ketchup, aioli, and others that I forget. It had stopped raining, perfect for botanical garden seeing. But before that we stumbled upon something that turned out to be free to enter and so we entered. It was the most bizarre modern "art" "museum" I've ever seen. One piece was just three suits hanging on the wall that, at random intervals, would just randomly start SHAKING, to scare the bejesus out of people. Or at least me. It was just too bizarre to enjoy. How can you not feel like you're on drugs when you see such WEIRD THINGS. After that we went to the Botanical Gardens. Twas nice. There were approximately 400 cats, and that was the best part. Black cats, white cats, calico cats, big cats, small cats, nice cats, scardy cats. It got hilarious. Especially when we were sitting on a bench and one of them literally ran up to us, jumped onto our same bench, and crawled into Camilla's lap. Then mine. And when we had had enough scabies, it made its way to a woman wearing headphones on another bench. The face she made was most amusing. After that we went to a museum we had passed. I liked it a lot--there were Picasso drawings and a painting from the blue period, the painting that's on the cover of my copy of The Awakening (I've never read it, it was a gift I got at the end of my summer job at a writing camp 4 years ago), and William Kentridge films (in the more modern section) that we had watched in my drawing class last year. That's modern art I can appreciate. We stayed until it closed. When we got back we had this whole plan to make authentic Spanish tortilla. It was an ordeal. And it failed. :( Flipping the thing requires EXTREME SKILL that neither of us have. But it still tasted aite. Plus we had the MANGO, which always makes up for any food that is not as tasty as a mango. Then we tried to go to this place called The Music Box--the hostel had free mint mojito coupons that we wanted to take advantage of. We had passed by it the night before and it was heavy-duty-BARRED up. But tonight, the Scottish guy (who is also the pub crawl leader, another activity organized by the hostel) announced that The Music Box was on the list of destinations. A total of 0 people had shown up for the pub crawl. Then he saw us and asked how the tapas were, but because I didn't understand him again I thought he was asking if we wanted to come out just for food and I said "no, I don't think sooo....OH THE TAPAS! YEAH IT WAS GREAT!" Camilla and I still wanted to go out. We passed by The Music Box and it was as vacant and barred up as ever, so we went to this other terrible over-priced place first to wait and see if it was just because we had come to early. Nope, it was barrrrrrrrrred up still at 12:45. Irritation. Oh well, can't say we didn't try.
Day 9, April 8, 2010. We checked out of the hostel of excellence (for those planning on going to Valencia, I HIGHLY recommend it: Home Youth Hostel), but we kept our stuff there (they don't charge you for it unlike the LAST hostel of non-excellence) so we could do stuff. We went once more to the market in search of flowers for Camilla's aunt and uncle, who would be hosting us for our last few days. :) Smiley face to the max. We couldn't find any so she ended up buying them chocolates from a very nice Spanish lady instead. I was broke for the eighteenth time and I guess I anticipated this happening because I had brought the $50 my grandparents gave me for Christmas. It was high time to exchange it for euros. After waiting in a huuge line, I realized I couldn't communicate with the tellers. They got some man standing in line to translate: I needed my passport. Embarrassing. Back to the hostel to fetch the passport. A few more embarrassing miscommunications and I got mah money! Believe me, 35 euros felt like a LOT. After that we started wandering in a new direction, went into a few stores before they all closed up for the 5-hour lunch break, and ended up at the bull fighting stadium. Cool! Well not really, I NEVER want to see a bull fight. So cruel. But it was still cool. Then it was time for almuerzo so we decided on a tapas place that we had passed several times and was always crowded when everything else was dead. It was a restaurant experience unlike any other: dozens upon dozens of plates of little sandwiches (bocadillos? the word just came to mind because it seems like it would translate to "little mouthfulls" which is exactly what they are) topped with brightly colored things. You get a plate and then proceed to fill said plate with as many sandwiches as you want, making more trips as necessary. I ate 7 or 8. They charge you based on how many toothpicks you leave. Something Camilla rightly pointed out: could you not theoretically pocket these toothpicks? I guess Spaniards are honest folk. I have no idea what was in the vast majority of my sandwiches but my favorite had jam and cream cheese. Then there was one with fried mushroom cream that was also yummy. Actually they weren't really sandwiches because there was only one piece of bread involved. Anyways it was good. Then we made our way to the train station. The confusion that ensued was so stressful I do not want to recount it because it will stress me out again, but frantic sprinting and broken Spanish/English questioning and answering were involved. After a half hour of stomach-ulcer-inducing chaos, we found ourselves on the CORRECT TRAIN, BOUND FOR XATIVA (pronounced Jativa, with a soft Spanish J, accent on the first syllable)! WOO! The scenery got progressively prettier along the way. 35 minutes later we were meeting Camilla's Spanish aunt, Pepi, and her two adorable 9-year-old twin cousins, Alex and Richard (I don't know why there are suddenly so many twins in my life, but it rules). It's the coolest thing ever: Camilla's uncle is British, so the boys know both English and Spanish. They're a little more fluent in Spanish, though, so they have the CUTEST accents when they speak in English. After stopping to pick up nuts at a warehouse (yes there are nut warehouses in Spain), we drove to their house. They live in an even smaller town, called Aielo. They mentioned many times about how there's nothing to do there and their life is very boring but the town was so charming I don't think I would mind. Their apartment is very nice, with an amazing view of the green hills in the distance. Right away Pepi made us tea and we had cookies and this yummy honey cereal that the boys were eating. Then it was decided that we would accompany the boys to this park. Which was essentially kiddie paradise: an endless line of MOON BOUNCES. I used to LOVE those things. I probably still would if I wasn't too old/big to go inside. So Camilla and I watched and waited like the rest of the Spanish parents (weeird) while they bounced away. It was a feeling that I will never have again, being directly in the middle of the most community of community activities in the most provincial of provincial places. After we finally were able to drag them away (not literally but we did have to tell them it was time to go...it was getting cold and impatient), we went back home, where we watched cartoons together! :D :D :D Can I say how much I miss watching TV? Italian "game shows" that are on every night do NOT count. And guess what we watched. SPONGEBOB. Because the twins LOVE Spongebob. As do I, not gonna lie. And they were GOOD episodes that I hadn't seen before. I severely enjoyed myself. Then Pepi came in and said we could read with the boys. Camilla and I sat on Alex's bed (Richard was too busy spazzing around in his room, I don't know what he was doing but it was pretty bizarre) and we all read until dinner was ready. Dinner for the grown-ups, that is. Camilla's uncle, Henry, teaches English during the day so we didn't really get to see him until then. He is the most hilariously bitter and pessimistic man I have ever met. My favorite was how he calls Pepi, who is as skinny as I am, "Chunky." When discussing really any item of food in the kitchen, he'd have some comment like "Oh that's nasty isn't it." Hahaha. We ended up talking til about 11:15. The only only only unideal thing about our stay there was the cold in the house. I've never been as cold in my life in a bedroom, and that's saying something given the subzero temperatures I've experienced in my room in Florence. However, my concluding line in my journal for this day is "It's FREEZING in here but I don't mind as much in these circumstances."
venerdì 23 aprile 2010
Spagna 2
WOW that was only 3 days' worth of description. I guess I'll try to be a little more SUCCINCT. Continuing...
Day 4, April 3, 2010. "Today is the day my feet died." Ah yes, I remember that feeling. Beyond discomfort, beyond pain...just, death. But it was a good day! In the morning we went to the bus station to get our tickets to Valencia. In the "nothing can be easy" category (as my mom would say), we had to wait in a huge line because the machine had messed up the time on Camilla's ticket. And then the machine didn't accept my card. Because nowhere in Europe accepts American Express. Maybe I should've gotten a European Express. HOoo boy. Anyways we got it all sorted out and then had our sandwiches in a little park right next door with an iceberg sculpture and many cool-looking doggies. Then we made our way to...guess what!....a PARK! Another famous one, called Ciutadella. It is the second best park in the world (first: Park Guell). There was the most amazing fountain I had ever seen, complete with golden chariot of splendor, stone mermaids and dragons, draping plant life, brilliantly turquoise water. Walking a bit further we came across a pond jam-packed with families and friends in row boats. It looked AWESOME. So we decided to spend the 6 euros and join in. I got mah row on. Eventually I got the hang of it, but Camilla was way better. Despite the chaos of all the boats it was still a peaceful and extremely pleasant scene. The funny part was when a couple drifting by asked us to take their picture. By the time Camilla took it, we had drifted apart. So we spent the next 10 minutes in the most awkward and ungraceful attempt to get close enough to return the camera. After our half hour was up (I'm sure no one was really timing) we headed for....wait for it....THE ZOO!!!!!!!!!! And we saw a great variety of species. Including human children. It was a day WELL spent. (Except for the rip-off about the albino gorilla...they had all these exciting signs about the elusive albino gorilla but he was NOWHERE TO BE FOUND. Oh well, we forgot about it pretty soon.) It was pretty tiring, though, being on our feet all the time. After we had seen all the awesome animals, we left. And came to...any guesses? A PARK! We sat there in a comatose state until I decided I guess I could force myself to walk to the beach. When we finally got there I forgot about how tired I was because there were....RIDES!!! I convinced Camilla to go on one with me. It was a spinny roller coaster. As in, the cart we were in spun as it went down. It lasted maybe 15 seconds but it was worth it. Especially the exhilaration of being at the top of the hill, surrounded by nothing but the ocean and the clouds in Spain. Then we descended and walked next to the beach until I literally was about to collapse. And then we did collapse. On the beach. With many other people as eager as we were for summer. You can tell that's when the city is really alive. On the beach two men selling beer who we rejected offered us marijuana ("I have vedy good hash"), to see if THAT caught our interest. That was a first. The rest of the day was spent walking. Barcelona is a wonderful city. When I got a waffle with strawberry sauce (and ordered in Spanish...a very satisfying experience all in all) I gained a bit more energy to continue walking its entirety. Camilla had another park in mind. I don't know how I PHYSICALLY was able to reach it, especially given it involved walking up a hill. But when we found out there was a metro stop in the park that we could take back I felt a little less doom-y. Plus, we got to see the magic fountain. That is literally what it's called. And it was indeed magical. Another thing that made me think "Barcelona is everything Las Vegas WISHES it was." It was a fountain show with colors and music, which we first watched on the steps of a beautiful massive museum at the top of the hill and then at the bottom of the stair-flanked waterfalls. We were right next to it and got sprayed with water. It was magnificent. Following the fountain-lined street, we found the metro--which is BEAUTIFULLY orderly and clean and speedy, might I add--and took it back to the hostel. Welp we sure got lost now didn't we. It's ok though cuz we hadn't walked quite enough that day. When we finally made it back we made dinner, then left in search for a bar (we wanted to go to a discoteca to experience Barcelona's legendary night life...but at the end of every day we never had NEARLY enough energy. Alas). It took forever for me to realize that every decent bar allows smoking, so I finally just decided to suck it up (literally) and go into one. I only decided I wouldn't mind after the joyous and shocked realization that they were playing my favorite song in the entire world, Just Like Heaven. And they continued to play The Cure so I stayed. We got delicious mint mojitos and sat in this weird cave dwelling set-up, which was not conducive to my deteriorating state of mind. When we left I felt rather...unusual.
Day 5, April 4, 2010. We checked out of the hostel by 11 and then walked to see more of Gaudi's marks on Barcelona: Casa Batllo, and the very famous Casa Mila, which I had studied in my architecture class last year. It was very cool. However, it was disgusting and rainy out and lugging my suitcase and backpack around was NOT enjoyable. We spent the next hour dragging our feet around looking for a place to eat. Because, oh yeah, it was Easter. The weirdest, most nonreligious Easter of my life. We had sooo much trouble trying to find 1) a place that was open, and 2) a place that served food. I ended up having to speak Spanish (goooo me) to a woman in one restaurant, in order to find out that they didn't serve food. FINALLY we found a Japanese place. It was a buffet...not bad, especially the sushi. It was inhumanely costly, though. The rain stopped by the time we left and we sat in the sun by the triumphal arch until it was time to go to the station (sidenote: I was forced to buy sunscreen there. I didn't read the label and it turned out to be tinted. It requires a GREAT deal of rubbing in, since everyone knows I have absolutely no tint to my skin. I started calling it, politically incorrectly, the Mexican sunscreen.) Anyways then we had a 4 hour bus ride to Valencia. It was SO LOVELY just sitting and resting. I slept a little. Also our driver looked like Fabio. When we got there we were ridiculously confused by the "MAP" so I used my forgotten, abandoned Spanish to ask a taxi driver. We decided to let him drive us. And thus we came to our hostel. It was INFINITELY better than the first one in every way. So much so that it was hilarious. Especially because it cost less. First of all, we had a room with a DOOR (the last hostel just had what were basically scarfs hanging from the doorway) and a KEY. A MAGNETIC key. There was only one other girl in our room and she was nice. And our beds were white and clean and heavenly. Basically the place was like a hotel with character. Funky decor--we had a giant pink pony on our wall. We asked the very nice and very tiny girl at the desk if there was a grocery store open, and she gave us directions. We bought sum fude and stopped in a park to eat a bit. So far Valencia seemed no less enchanting than Barcelona. We made dinner at the hostel, then went out to a place we had passed before that had caught our eye and ear (sight of sombrero lamps and giant smoothies, sound of a blender making smoothies). Unfortunately it was another smoke tank, and the drink and crepe were too bitter with alcohol. Yes, the banana chocolate crepe we got somehow had alcohol in it. But it was nice. I also loved that in Spain hardly anyone tried speaking to me in English (it's PRETTY obvious I am not Spanish), despite my vacant stare and drool that indicate I do not understand Spanish, whereas Italians verrrry often speak to me in English.
Day 6, April 5, 2010. First full day in Valencia. The only thing that the girl at the desk knew was open today (the day after Easter is also a holiday) was the Museum of Science and Arts, so there we went. It was one looooong-ass walk. We stopped in some churches and ate our sandwiches innnnnn...where else but a park! We actually walked through that park a lot. One interesting thing we came across was a giant plastic Gulliver. Or I dunno, the giant from Gulliver's Travels. I never read the book. Upon which kiddies could climb up and slide down. When we finally came to The City of Arts and Sciences we felt like we had stepped into a science fiction movie. I thought it was incredibly cool. It was a collection of buildings that looked like futuristic shells or seapeople warrior helmets. Surrounded by a giant pool of light shallow water and endless wide pathways. It took us a while to find the one that was the AQUARIUM. But, we found it. We went to the AQUARIUM. It was fantastic. We enjoyed ourselves a great deal. Especially...THE DOLPHIN SHOW. For those of you who don't know, dolphins are my favorite animal. They're like the dogs of the sea: cute, very intelligent, social, and able to form meaningful relationships with humans. I've been so lucky in my life to have seen them before. The first time we did was on a whale watch when I was maybe 8 or 9 and I almost cried at the sight of their fins in the distance. The last time I saw a dolphin show was when I was 11 in Chicago with my grandma. So needless to say this may have been the best part of the vacation. How many other girls could say they saw a dolphin show over their break? The walk back to the hostel was brutally long and painful but Valencia was beautiful. We stopped to sit/die in the same park and I watched three little French girls (triplets I think) jump rope with their parents swinging. For dinner that night we decided to go on a quest for the famous Spanish paella. It took us a while to find a place that was within our budget, but we finally found one. It was clearly a tourist trap kind of place with a 10 euro special--appetizer, main course and dessert--to drag 'em in. We didn't really know what we were ordering...Camilla got "emperador" which turned out to be swordfish, and I got "lenguado" which is sole. And French fries? And then chocolate mousse. It was actually pretty good, but I'm willing to go back to Spain to find GREAT paella.
Day 4, April 3, 2010. "Today is the day my feet died." Ah yes, I remember that feeling. Beyond discomfort, beyond pain...just, death. But it was a good day! In the morning we went to the bus station to get our tickets to Valencia. In the "nothing can be easy" category (as my mom would say), we had to wait in a huge line because the machine had messed up the time on Camilla's ticket. And then the machine didn't accept my card. Because nowhere in Europe accepts American Express. Maybe I should've gotten a European Express. HOoo boy. Anyways we got it all sorted out and then had our sandwiches in a little park right next door with an iceberg sculpture and many cool-looking doggies. Then we made our way to...guess what!....a PARK! Another famous one, called Ciutadella. It is the second best park in the world (first: Park Guell). There was the most amazing fountain I had ever seen, complete with golden chariot of splendor, stone mermaids and dragons, draping plant life, brilliantly turquoise water. Walking a bit further we came across a pond jam-packed with families and friends in row boats. It looked AWESOME. So we decided to spend the 6 euros and join in. I got mah row on. Eventually I got the hang of it, but Camilla was way better. Despite the chaos of all the boats it was still a peaceful and extremely pleasant scene. The funny part was when a couple drifting by asked us to take their picture. By the time Camilla took it, we had drifted apart. So we spent the next 10 minutes in the most awkward and ungraceful attempt to get close enough to return the camera. After our half hour was up (I'm sure no one was really timing) we headed for....wait for it....THE ZOO!!!!!!!!!! And we saw a great variety of species. Including human children. It was a day WELL spent. (Except for the rip-off about the albino gorilla...they had all these exciting signs about the elusive albino gorilla but he was NOWHERE TO BE FOUND. Oh well, we forgot about it pretty soon.) It was pretty tiring, though, being on our feet all the time. After we had seen all the awesome animals, we left. And came to...any guesses? A PARK! We sat there in a comatose state until I decided I guess I could force myself to walk to the beach. When we finally got there I forgot about how tired I was because there were....RIDES!!! I convinced Camilla to go on one with me. It was a spinny roller coaster. As in, the cart we were in spun as it went down. It lasted maybe 15 seconds but it was worth it. Especially the exhilaration of being at the top of the hill, surrounded by nothing but the ocean and the clouds in Spain. Then we descended and walked next to the beach until I literally was about to collapse. And then we did collapse. On the beach. With many other people as eager as we were for summer. You can tell that's when the city is really alive. On the beach two men selling beer who we rejected offered us marijuana ("I have vedy good hash"), to see if THAT caught our interest. That was a first. The rest of the day was spent walking. Barcelona is a wonderful city. When I got a waffle with strawberry sauce (and ordered in Spanish...a very satisfying experience all in all) I gained a bit more energy to continue walking its entirety. Camilla had another park in mind. I don't know how I PHYSICALLY was able to reach it, especially given it involved walking up a hill. But when we found out there was a metro stop in the park that we could take back I felt a little less doom-y. Plus, we got to see the magic fountain. That is literally what it's called. And it was indeed magical. Another thing that made me think "Barcelona is everything Las Vegas WISHES it was." It was a fountain show with colors and music, which we first watched on the steps of a beautiful massive museum at the top of the hill and then at the bottom of the stair-flanked waterfalls. We were right next to it and got sprayed with water. It was magnificent. Following the fountain-lined street, we found the metro--which is BEAUTIFULLY orderly and clean and speedy, might I add--and took it back to the hostel. Welp we sure got lost now didn't we. It's ok though cuz we hadn't walked quite enough that day. When we finally made it back we made dinner, then left in search for a bar (we wanted to go to a discoteca to experience Barcelona's legendary night life...but at the end of every day we never had NEARLY enough energy. Alas). It took forever for me to realize that every decent bar allows smoking, so I finally just decided to suck it up (literally) and go into one. I only decided I wouldn't mind after the joyous and shocked realization that they were playing my favorite song in the entire world, Just Like Heaven. And they continued to play The Cure so I stayed. We got delicious mint mojitos and sat in this weird cave dwelling set-up, which was not conducive to my deteriorating state of mind. When we left I felt rather...unusual.
Day 5, April 4, 2010. We checked out of the hostel by 11 and then walked to see more of Gaudi's marks on Barcelona: Casa Batllo, and the very famous Casa Mila, which I had studied in my architecture class last year. It was very cool. However, it was disgusting and rainy out and lugging my suitcase and backpack around was NOT enjoyable. We spent the next hour dragging our feet around looking for a place to eat. Because, oh yeah, it was Easter. The weirdest, most nonreligious Easter of my life. We had sooo much trouble trying to find 1) a place that was open, and 2) a place that served food. I ended up having to speak Spanish (goooo me) to a woman in one restaurant, in order to find out that they didn't serve food. FINALLY we found a Japanese place. It was a buffet...not bad, especially the sushi. It was inhumanely costly, though. The rain stopped by the time we left and we sat in the sun by the triumphal arch until it was time to go to the station (sidenote: I was forced to buy sunscreen there. I didn't read the label and it turned out to be tinted. It requires a GREAT deal of rubbing in, since everyone knows I have absolutely no tint to my skin. I started calling it, politically incorrectly, the Mexican sunscreen.) Anyways then we had a 4 hour bus ride to Valencia. It was SO LOVELY just sitting and resting. I slept a little. Also our driver looked like Fabio. When we got there we were ridiculously confused by the "MAP" so I used my forgotten, abandoned Spanish to ask a taxi driver. We decided to let him drive us. And thus we came to our hostel. It was INFINITELY better than the first one in every way. So much so that it was hilarious. Especially because it cost less. First of all, we had a room with a DOOR (the last hostel just had what were basically scarfs hanging from the doorway) and a KEY. A MAGNETIC key. There was only one other girl in our room and she was nice. And our beds were white and clean and heavenly. Basically the place was like a hotel with character. Funky decor--we had a giant pink pony on our wall. We asked the very nice and very tiny girl at the desk if there was a grocery store open, and she gave us directions. We bought sum fude and stopped in a park to eat a bit. So far Valencia seemed no less enchanting than Barcelona. We made dinner at the hostel, then went out to a place we had passed before that had caught our eye and ear (sight of sombrero lamps and giant smoothies, sound of a blender making smoothies). Unfortunately it was another smoke tank, and the drink and crepe were too bitter with alcohol. Yes, the banana chocolate crepe we got somehow had alcohol in it. But it was nice. I also loved that in Spain hardly anyone tried speaking to me in English (it's PRETTY obvious I am not Spanish), despite my vacant stare and drool that indicate I do not understand Spanish, whereas Italians verrrry often speak to me in English.
Day 6, April 5, 2010. First full day in Valencia. The only thing that the girl at the desk knew was open today (the day after Easter is also a holiday) was the Museum of Science and Arts, so there we went. It was one looooong-ass walk. We stopped in some churches and ate our sandwiches innnnnn...where else but a park! We actually walked through that park a lot. One interesting thing we came across was a giant plastic Gulliver. Or I dunno, the giant from Gulliver's Travels. I never read the book. Upon which kiddies could climb up and slide down. When we finally came to The City of Arts and Sciences we felt like we had stepped into a science fiction movie. I thought it was incredibly cool. It was a collection of buildings that looked like futuristic shells or seapeople warrior helmets. Surrounded by a giant pool of light shallow water and endless wide pathways. It took us a while to find the one that was the AQUARIUM. But, we found it. We went to the AQUARIUM. It was fantastic. We enjoyed ourselves a great deal. Especially...THE DOLPHIN SHOW. For those of you who don't know, dolphins are my favorite animal. They're like the dogs of the sea: cute, very intelligent, social, and able to form meaningful relationships with humans. I've been so lucky in my life to have seen them before. The first time we did was on a whale watch when I was maybe 8 or 9 and I almost cried at the sight of their fins in the distance. The last time I saw a dolphin show was when I was 11 in Chicago with my grandma. So needless to say this may have been the best part of the vacation. How many other girls could say they saw a dolphin show over their break? The walk back to the hostel was brutally long and painful but Valencia was beautiful. We stopped to sit/die in the same park and I watched three little French girls (triplets I think) jump rope with their parents swinging. For dinner that night we decided to go on a quest for the famous Spanish paella. It took us a while to find a place that was within our budget, but we finally found one. It was clearly a tourist trap kind of place with a 10 euro special--appetizer, main course and dessert--to drag 'em in. We didn't really know what we were ordering...Camilla got "emperador" which turned out to be swordfish, and I got "lenguado" which is sole. And French fries? And then chocolate mousse. It was actually pretty good, but I'm willing to go back to Spain to find GREAT paella.
Spagna
I promised myself I wouldn't be emo in this blog. WOOPS!!!! Can't stop the angst. I have something to be emo about right now but I'm going to refrain ((and inside my heart will bleed T_T)).
So let's talk about SPAIN! Time to bust out my handy-dandy...notebook! Well, journal. But that isn't in keeping with the Blues Clues reference that I'm sure you all got immediately. I kept a journal diligently throughout all 11 days of our journey. This post gon' be HUGE. But I have nothing better to do right now.
Day 1, March 31, 2010. Commence spring break. Packed in the morning. Managed to stuff 11 days' worth of clothes...er, more like 8 or 9 actually...into my rather small never-before-used suitcase (my mom brought it out for some reason when she came in October). Each time I closed the zipper--and it seemed to get harder and harder to do throughout the trip--I was in awe. At the same time, my suitcase seemed to get lighter and lighter throughout the trip. Probably because my muscles were expanding to fit my new body-builder physique. Anyways we took a bus, a train, a plane, and a taxi in order to get to Barcelona. Not without issues, however. Bus: late. Train: we thought we had missed it, but our desperate and very public sprint across the station turned out to be for naught. Plane: Also late. By about an hour. So all 8 of us from the Smith group going to Barcelona sat around, talking and eating Christine's food until it finally came. Good ol' Ryanair. The flight was frickin' TURBULENT and I kind of screamed at one point. When we got to Barcelona it was extremely late so we decided against trying to walk to our unfamiliar hostel in an unfamiliar city in the unfamiliar dark. And got a taxi. And I spoke in Spanish for the first time (just "gracias"). The hostel turned out to be part of a fancy-looking apartment so it came as a bit of a surprise that the hostel was....not so fancy. In my journal I have "HOOO boy what an experience." We didn't get the warmest of receptions from the man at the desk (it was 1 AM but still...). He told us stuff and brought us to our room. Our room, and 7 other peoples'. Now this was something new to me. The light was on, people (strangers who I tried to smile at given that we had been forced into the most private of settings together) were in bed sleeping or reading. The man gave us our sheets. Everything we did made rustling sounds that I was very aware of. Funny story about the sheets. Didn't fit. I tried a few different ways but instantly resigned to the fact that no, it would never work. Camilla's bed looked like a hammock or one of those inflatable pool beds, with the edges bent up. I just left one corner of mine off. It was NBD. The pillow case was even more ruthlessly absurd. The pillow was a geometrically perfect square, the case was as long and skinny as...I dunno, a pipe. A garden snake. The snake metaphor is good because it looked like it had just swallowed a small animal when I got it in. Miraculously it wasn't uncomfortable. At about 2 when we had gotten ready for bed (and I dried my face with my shirt due to lack of towel) a German dude said "Gute nacht" and turned off the lights. Wish I could say I slept like a baby after a long day of traveling. False. I got no more than 3 hours of sleep. Due mostly to the sounds of snoring and phones ringing and me being the lightest sleeper in the world (WHY I didn't remember to put in my earplugs I do not know). I heard some Italian guys talking about me in the bathroom ("capelli rossi"...red hair...obviously I was the only redhead in the hostel, if not the city). But my FAVORITE part was when a group of Americans (of course) came in at some ungodly hour. "Dude did you just get back?" "Pretty much yeah." "Oh she's puking." etc etc. Very unlike me, I didn't feel desperately frustrated to the point of misery, instead taking it as "the typical hostel experience." Ironically this would be the most "typically hostel" night of the ENTIRE TRIP. haha.
Day 2, April 1, 2010. The first thing we did in Barcelona was go to Starbucks. hahaha I know it sounds bad, but neither of us had been to a Starbucks in Italy or in America in a very long time. Neither of us had had breakfast, either. So I got my usual caramel frappaccino and it was WELL worth it. Also I was struck by how friendly the girl behind the counter was. We were off to a good start. We then went to the Museum of Modern Art. Part of the exterior resembled a roll of toilet paper. The inside was starkly white and full of sunlight. In my journal I have "It was cool but weird but cool but we were exhausted." Normally I'm not a huge fan of modern art. Normally it makes me scoff. You should NEVER be able to say "a blind 3-year-old could do that" about a piece of art, say I. Camilla and I were in agreement, especially when we came to a shirt in a box that was on display. What the HELL. There was a lot of bizarre stuff in there, and after a while we were just too tired to pretend to be enjoying it. But I guess it was kind of cool just in that it was so different from all the Renaissance art we have in Italy. After that we had some mediocre empanadas in a tiny place for lunch. Then we walked down the famous La Rambla, where approximately 600,000 animals were being sold. It was some weeeeird outdoor pet store. There were many bunnies (!!!!!), hamsters, turtles, mice, and, my personal favorite, PIGEONS. Pigeons. Come on, really?! Because you couldn't just capture one from the street if you really wanted one? I said to Camilla, "I think some have escaped." Then there was a variety of street performers and the soon-to-be ever-present whistle-vendors. They're these whistles that you can't see when they're in your mouth that make very realistic tropical bird sounds. Popular in Spain, apparently. And oh I can see why, they're not annoying at ALL!! So La Rambla was the most bizarrely happenin' street I've ever walked upon. At the end we found the sea. We crossed the bridge (designed to imitate a wave--just the beginning of an abundance of fantastic architecture in that city). There we found a HUGE movie theater, a HAAGEN-DAZS (I was extremely. extremely tempted to purchase), and an aquarium. All of these things lead to me writing "Barcelona is owning Florence." I loved it because it was modern, clean, and impressively well-structured. It had it together. We kept just walking, and we found an important cathedral that, of course, was under construction. And, like the aquarium, too expensive to go inside. Then we were kind of cranky so we went back to the hostel and read/slept. We asked the man at the desk (a different, nice one) where the nearest grocery store was so we could get foodstuffs. Never have I been to a grocery store so grand. The entire city of Barcelona was shopping there at that moment. The place had ESCALATORS, that's how huge it was. I dunno, this was impressive to me. I am often dazed by food. Back at the hostel we made dinner--luxurious soup, salad, bread. Afterwords we asked the man if he had any suggestions for a chill place to chill and he recommended a tea place. (While we were asking the German dude from our room invited us to a couch-surfing meeting...I'm sure that would've been awesome times). So we found the place and we felt extremely classy. We sat on pillows (I think...there should have been pillows).The waiter was a real character. He was consistently hilarious. And yet annoying. Before, after, and during our tea (I got apple cinnamon-flavored tea. He came with a box of tea-filled vials and we got to pick) there was this ongoing commentary about how Camilla was doing all the talking and how she needed to shut up so I could speak because "she can speak! let her speak!" and so he'd ask me questions and it was just generally weird and awkward but in a dumb funny way. We got politely kicked out at 11 or 12 or whenever it closed and he gave me some inspirational (and IRRITATING) words of wisdom before parting. He told me to be loud, to yell right then and there, because "shyness won't get you anywhere in life." I was like "thank you! I'll take your advice." and punched my fist into the air and marched triumphantly out the door, onward into my BRIGHT FUTURE THAT AWAITS!! THANKS, TEA MAN!
Day 3, April 2, 2010. The earplugs my uncle gave my mom, and that my mom gave to me, are UNBELIEVABLE. I owe my well-being to them. After breakfast (we got yummy Spanish Special-K with red berries) and directions from the hostel lady, we made our way to the Guell Park. I honestly had never heard of it before. But I'll tell you this: it is the BEST park in the world. And I don't have to see all the other parks in the world to know this. It reminded me of so many wonderful things: Candy Land,the Jungle Book , Roller Coaster Tycoon, dinosaurs. Gaudi's fantasy world was like an amusement park without the rides. We ate the sandwiches we had brought on a bench in the designated picnic area with tree flowers and the sound of several musicians/bands draped around us. It was a stunningly gorgeous day. I got a sunburn so bad that the hostel man asked me if it HURT later that night. But it was worth it. We explored the whole place: the famous mosaic bench curling around the perimeter of the largest open plaza area upon which all 600,000 people were trying to sit, the strange little mound with a cross on top that continually drew people up (and from a distance it looked like ants on a Christian anthill), and, of course, the bumpy-columned tunnel through which CariDee and Melrose from America's Next Top Model Cycle 7 walked the final runway challenge as vampire brides. Despite the 600,000 people, not one of them annoyed me. This is rare for me. No one was rude. Or if they were I didn't notice. So after that we made our way to another of Gaudi's masterpieces: La Sagrada Familia. It was amazing to see a cathedral so UN-cathedral-y. Completely unique and inspiring. How often do you see colors other than brown and gray in a church's exterior? But of course it was under construction too. And waaaaaay too expensive to go in. But we found a part that you could enter for free, and it was much better this way because we accidentally stumbled upon the tomb of Gaudi himself. We sat for a while in the chapel, then headed to the cool-looking hospital that Camilla wanted to see. I could not physically move my feet any longer by the time we got there so I NEEDED a hospital. Back at the hostel Camilla got a text from our friend Emily, who was also in Barcelona (12 of the 20 Smith girls would be in Barcelona at some point that break), asking us if we wanted to meet for dinner. So we met her and her two friends for dinner. Or, a quest for tapas. It was pretty good! We all got different things and shared. Such is the tapas tradition. We then wanted to find dessert. We were detained for about a half hour as a result of a RELIGIOUS PROCESSION, complete with huge elaborate Jesus and Mary floats (deeeefinitely the wrong, and inappropriate, word) and black pointy hats and robes and music. The place we wanted to go to was literally 10 steps diagonally across the street but a police officer wouldn't let anyone through until the procession had gone by. It was hilarious. But no it really was an interesting cultural thing to witness. It was Good Friday, after all. At the dessert place I got ice cream. Ice cream IN hot chocolate. Dulce de leche ice cream. Best idea ever? Yes. Then we wanted to see flamenco dancing but we got there just a few minutes too late. Dang it. So we called it a night. Back at the hostel apparently the people in our room were all born with some sort of special eyelids that makes them completely oblivious to 4 sets of fluorescent lights blaring into their face. I didn't want to be the one to turn off the light. But by the time it was 2:30 I had had QUITE enough of suppressing screams of frustration under my covers, so I got up, crept across the room, took a deep breath and slowly extended a shaking hand 1 centimeter above a girl's head to hit the switch. I muttered "Was that REALLY that hard" under my breath before getting back into bed. JEESH.
So let's talk about SPAIN! Time to bust out my handy-dandy...notebook! Well, journal. But that isn't in keeping with the Blues Clues reference that I'm sure you all got immediately. I kept a journal diligently throughout all 11 days of our journey. This post gon' be HUGE. But I have nothing better to do right now.
Day 1, March 31, 2010. Commence spring break. Packed in the morning. Managed to stuff 11 days' worth of clothes...er, more like 8 or 9 actually...into my rather small never-before-used suitcase (my mom brought it out for some reason when she came in October). Each time I closed the zipper--and it seemed to get harder and harder to do throughout the trip--I was in awe. At the same time, my suitcase seemed to get lighter and lighter throughout the trip. Probably because my muscles were expanding to fit my new body-builder physique. Anyways we took a bus, a train, a plane, and a taxi in order to get to Barcelona. Not without issues, however. Bus: late. Train: we thought we had missed it, but our desperate and very public sprint across the station turned out to be for naught. Plane: Also late. By about an hour. So all 8 of us from the Smith group going to Barcelona sat around, talking and eating Christine's food until it finally came. Good ol' Ryanair. The flight was frickin' TURBULENT and I kind of screamed at one point. When we got to Barcelona it was extremely late so we decided against trying to walk to our unfamiliar hostel in an unfamiliar city in the unfamiliar dark. And got a taxi. And I spoke in Spanish for the first time (just "gracias"). The hostel turned out to be part of a fancy-looking apartment so it came as a bit of a surprise that the hostel was....not so fancy. In my journal I have "HOOO boy what an experience." We didn't get the warmest of receptions from the man at the desk (it was 1 AM but still...). He told us stuff and brought us to our room. Our room, and 7 other peoples'. Now this was something new to me. The light was on, people (strangers who I tried to smile at given that we had been forced into the most private of settings together) were in bed sleeping or reading. The man gave us our sheets. Everything we did made rustling sounds that I was very aware of. Funny story about the sheets. Didn't fit. I tried a few different ways but instantly resigned to the fact that no, it would never work. Camilla's bed looked like a hammock or one of those inflatable pool beds, with the edges bent up. I just left one corner of mine off. It was NBD. The pillow case was even more ruthlessly absurd. The pillow was a geometrically perfect square, the case was as long and skinny as...I dunno, a pipe. A garden snake. The snake metaphor is good because it looked like it had just swallowed a small animal when I got it in. Miraculously it wasn't uncomfortable. At about 2 when we had gotten ready for bed (and I dried my face with my shirt due to lack of towel) a German dude said "Gute nacht" and turned off the lights. Wish I could say I slept like a baby after a long day of traveling. False. I got no more than 3 hours of sleep. Due mostly to the sounds of snoring and phones ringing and me being the lightest sleeper in the world (WHY I didn't remember to put in my earplugs I do not know). I heard some Italian guys talking about me in the bathroom ("capelli rossi"...red hair...obviously I was the only redhead in the hostel, if not the city). But my FAVORITE part was when a group of Americans (of course) came in at some ungodly hour. "Dude did you just get back?" "Pretty much yeah." "Oh she's puking." etc etc. Very unlike me, I didn't feel desperately frustrated to the point of misery, instead taking it as "the typical hostel experience." Ironically this would be the most "typically hostel" night of the ENTIRE TRIP. haha.
Day 2, April 1, 2010. The first thing we did in Barcelona was go to Starbucks. hahaha I know it sounds bad, but neither of us had been to a Starbucks in Italy or in America in a very long time. Neither of us had had breakfast, either. So I got my usual caramel frappaccino and it was WELL worth it. Also I was struck by how friendly the girl behind the counter was. We were off to a good start. We then went to the Museum of Modern Art. Part of the exterior resembled a roll of toilet paper. The inside was starkly white and full of sunlight. In my journal I have "It was cool but weird but cool but we were exhausted." Normally I'm not a huge fan of modern art. Normally it makes me scoff. You should NEVER be able to say "a blind 3-year-old could do that" about a piece of art, say I. Camilla and I were in agreement, especially when we came to a shirt in a box that was on display. What the HELL. There was a lot of bizarre stuff in there, and after a while we were just too tired to pretend to be enjoying it. But I guess it was kind of cool just in that it was so different from all the Renaissance art we have in Italy. After that we had some mediocre empanadas in a tiny place for lunch. Then we walked down the famous La Rambla, where approximately 600,000 animals were being sold. It was some weeeeird outdoor pet store. There were many bunnies (!!!!!), hamsters, turtles, mice, and, my personal favorite, PIGEONS. Pigeons. Come on, really?! Because you couldn't just capture one from the street if you really wanted one? I said to Camilla, "I think some have escaped." Then there was a variety of street performers and the soon-to-be ever-present whistle-vendors. They're these whistles that you can't see when they're in your mouth that make very realistic tropical bird sounds. Popular in Spain, apparently. And oh I can see why, they're not annoying at ALL!! So La Rambla was the most bizarrely happenin' street I've ever walked upon. At the end we found the sea. We crossed the bridge (designed to imitate a wave--just the beginning of an abundance of fantastic architecture in that city). There we found a HUGE movie theater, a HAAGEN-DAZS (I was extremely. extremely tempted to purchase), and an aquarium. All of these things lead to me writing "Barcelona is owning Florence." I loved it because it was modern, clean, and impressively well-structured. It had it together. We kept just walking, and we found an important cathedral that, of course, was under construction. And, like the aquarium, too expensive to go inside. Then we were kind of cranky so we went back to the hostel and read/slept. We asked the man at the desk (a different, nice one) where the nearest grocery store was so we could get foodstuffs. Never have I been to a grocery store so grand. The entire city of Barcelona was shopping there at that moment. The place had ESCALATORS, that's how huge it was. I dunno, this was impressive to me. I am often dazed by food. Back at the hostel we made dinner--luxurious soup, salad, bread. Afterwords we asked the man if he had any suggestions for a chill place to chill and he recommended a tea place. (While we were asking the German dude from our room invited us to a couch-surfing meeting...I'm sure that would've been awesome times). So we found the place and we felt extremely classy. We sat on pillows (I think...there should have been pillows).The waiter was a real character. He was consistently hilarious. And yet annoying. Before, after, and during our tea (I got apple cinnamon-flavored tea. He came with a box of tea-filled vials and we got to pick) there was this ongoing commentary about how Camilla was doing all the talking and how she needed to shut up so I could speak because "she can speak! let her speak!" and so he'd ask me questions and it was just generally weird and awkward but in a dumb funny way. We got politely kicked out at 11 or 12 or whenever it closed and he gave me some inspirational (and IRRITATING) words of wisdom before parting. He told me to be loud, to yell right then and there, because "shyness won't get you anywhere in life." I was like "thank you! I'll take your advice." and punched my fist into the air and marched triumphantly out the door, onward into my BRIGHT FUTURE THAT AWAITS!! THANKS, TEA MAN!
Day 3, April 2, 2010. The earplugs my uncle gave my mom, and that my mom gave to me, are UNBELIEVABLE. I owe my well-being to them. After breakfast (we got yummy Spanish Special-K with red berries) and directions from the hostel lady, we made our way to the Guell Park. I honestly had never heard of it before. But I'll tell you this: it is the BEST park in the world. And I don't have to see all the other parks in the world to know this. It reminded me of so many wonderful things: Candy Land,
domenica 18 aprile 2010
Opera
When I was no more than 4 years old I was sitting on the blue ridged couch in my grandparents' Japanese-inspired living room in Rockport, Massachusetts. O Mio Babbino Caro from Madame Butterfly was playing on the stereo. I have this memory of just sitting there and crying. And my mom asked me what was wrong and I didn't want to say it was because the song was so heart-wrenchingly beautiful. But it is. And this is why I love opera.
SO WHY CAN'T I WRITE MY PAPER ON IT.
In other news: my family was supposed to come visit me this week. Now, they can't. Because of that GODFORSAKEN volcano Eykjalkliuowlijfadsklmkgjhnlkuawejdszmk. Two nights ago I had a dream I was hugging them and I woke up with tears in my eyes. Just as long as they come at some point though it's ok. But now I do feel ready to go home.
SO WHY CAN'T I WRITE MY PAPER ON IT.
In other news: my family was supposed to come visit me this week. Now, they can't. Because of that GODFORSAKEN volcano Eykjalkliuowlijfadsklmkgjhnlkuawejdszmk. Two nights ago I had a dream I was hugging them and I woke up with tears in my eyes. Just as long as they come at some point though it's ok. But now I do feel ready to go home.
lunedì 22 marzo 2010
Giacca di Pelle
I bought a leather jacket.
At any other point in my life the idea of me wearing a leather jacket would make me (or anyone else who knows me) howl with laughter. But you better believe I ROCK this jacket. Is it wrong to love an inanimate object? I have never loved an article of clothing more. Not even my prom dress. The process of getting it was quite memorable. I had never really experienced the joy of Italian store owners until then. In il mercato di San Lorenzo, the main shopping area of Florence, there are leather stores and stands lining the streets in every direction. As many stores and stands devoted to leather products as Venice has devoted to masks. (I realize I never wrote about Carnevale...basically all the Smithies went to Venice the last Saturday of Carnevale and it was incredible, the city and the costumes and the 900,000 people. I'll never forget it). Camilla, Sophie and I ended up spending about 3 hours in the quest for the leather jacket. I am eternally grateful for their patience. The first store was without a doubt the most hilarious. For it is there that we met Lapo, the wildly attentive and cheery Italian man. He introduced himself and asked our names, complimenting each of us in some way immediately. I don't know WHAT he was trying to say about me--his English was not perfect, but he wanted to practice, as he told us--but it was something so nice he couldn't form a coherent sentence. It was just NONSTOP amusing comment after amusing comment from then on. I tried on three jackets, all of which he picked out without any indication from me. Every time I tried on a new one he took it upon himself to free my hair. Slightly awkward but it was more funny than creepy. I tried on this dark greenish one and he pretended to be speechless and said I needed to model it for his website and "we make lots of money." His worship-like behavior succeeded in brainwashing me and I'm glad Sophie and Camilla told him we were gonna keep looking. It was our first store, after all. Still I felt bad leaving good ol' Lapo, especially because he thought he had scared us away. He said, "Now I want you to tell me, honestly, since we probably don't see each other again. What I do, is it too much? Do I scare the people away? I try to make the ladies laugh so they feel comfortable but really, tell me, am I too much?" We assured him that this was most untrue. Don't you change, Lapo!
All the others were just not nearly as nice or...unique...as Lapo. They call out to you to get you to come in their stores and if you stop for a second they WILL get you to come in. Some of them were just too aggressive and unfriendly, like this one man who was trying to sell us his finest "bork" jacket. Bork, as in "pork", as in pig skin. But yeah no, how much is the pork chop with rosemary jacket sir? Do you also have veal jackets? Sirloin? Oh I could go all day with these hysterical jokes.
I had awkwardly tried on about 88 jackets until we came to a store whose owner was almost as animated as Lapo. He found me a jacket that I was finally excited about when I put it on. (Obviously he was too). So, I decided to buy it. I winced a little giving him my debit card...my bank account took a blow I could feel across the Atlantic but it was the best purchase of my life. Florence, leather capital of Italy, leather capital of the world. I had to do it! I wore it the next day and I felt extremely conspicuous but slowly, as the leather is stretching to fit my exact body shape as the man assured me it would after one week of use, I am getting used to myself in it. In fact, I love it.
At any other point in my life the idea of me wearing a leather jacket would make me (or anyone else who knows me) howl with laughter. But you better believe I ROCK this jacket. Is it wrong to love an inanimate object? I have never loved an article of clothing more. Not even my prom dress. The process of getting it was quite memorable. I had never really experienced the joy of Italian store owners until then. In il mercato di San Lorenzo, the main shopping area of Florence, there are leather stores and stands lining the streets in every direction. As many stores and stands devoted to leather products as Venice has devoted to masks. (I realize I never wrote about Carnevale...basically all the Smithies went to Venice the last Saturday of Carnevale and it was incredible, the city and the costumes and the 900,000 people. I'll never forget it). Camilla, Sophie and I ended up spending about 3 hours in the quest for the leather jacket. I am eternally grateful for their patience. The first store was without a doubt the most hilarious. For it is there that we met Lapo, the wildly attentive and cheery Italian man. He introduced himself and asked our names, complimenting each of us in some way immediately. I don't know WHAT he was trying to say about me--his English was not perfect, but he wanted to practice, as he told us--but it was something so nice he couldn't form a coherent sentence. It was just NONSTOP amusing comment after amusing comment from then on. I tried on three jackets, all of which he picked out without any indication from me. Every time I tried on a new one he took it upon himself to free my hair. Slightly awkward but it was more funny than creepy. I tried on this dark greenish one and he pretended to be speechless and said I needed to model it for his website and "we make lots of money." His worship-like behavior succeeded in brainwashing me and I'm glad Sophie and Camilla told him we were gonna keep looking. It was our first store, after all. Still I felt bad leaving good ol' Lapo, especially because he thought he had scared us away. He said, "Now I want you to tell me, honestly, since we probably don't see each other again. What I do, is it too much? Do I scare the people away? I try to make the ladies laugh so they feel comfortable but really, tell me, am I too much?" We assured him that this was most untrue. Don't you change, Lapo!
All the others were just not nearly as nice or...unique...as Lapo. They call out to you to get you to come in their stores and if you stop for a second they WILL get you to come in. Some of them were just too aggressive and unfriendly, like this one man who was trying to sell us his finest "bork" jacket. Bork, as in "pork", as in pig skin. But yeah no, how much is the pork chop with rosemary jacket sir? Do you also have veal jackets? Sirloin? Oh I could go all day with these hysterical jokes.
I had awkwardly tried on about 88 jackets until we came to a store whose owner was almost as animated as Lapo. He found me a jacket that I was finally excited about when I put it on. (Obviously he was too). So, I decided to buy it. I winced a little giving him my debit card...my bank account took a blow I could feel across the Atlantic but it was the best purchase of my life. Florence, leather capital of Italy, leather capital of the world. I had to do it! I wore it the next day and I felt extremely conspicuous but slowly, as the leather is stretching to fit my exact body shape as the man assured me it would after one week of use, I am getting used to myself in it. In fact, I love it.
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