Rome pics

Rome, at last

I am falling further and further behind. I don’t know why, but I have been putting off updating my blog to the extent that it has now been a month since I was in Rome and I still haven’t written about it. Well that is going to change, and hopefully I can catch up to present day soon. Without further ado…

ROME

Arriving late in the evening our first night, we check into our cute B&B (decently cheap by the way). Although it didn’t have the feel of a hostel that I always look forward to, it did have slamming breakfasts with glazed and cream filled croissants, toast, yogurt and juice and it was only 5 minutes from the Forum and the Coliseum.

Actually, let’s back up a little bit.

We touch down in Rome in “another on time flight” (read in an Irish accent, for Ryanair flyers, you know what I mean). We file out of the plane and, like the good little travelers we have started to become, try to locate an information desk to pick up a map. Easy, right?

Well, no, actually.

We follow the signs pointing towards informazione like lost sheep and find ourselves standing in front of a TV with a place to speak into. We hit call and are connected with a woman on the other end. We shout into the mic, the situation somewhat resembling a terrible drive thru experience, and request a map. Amidst the hubbub of the airport we cannot even make out a word of the woman’s instructions. We just nod and walk away. Welcome to Italy.

As we exit the terminal we are mobbed by taxi drivers. No thank you, we bought our bus ticket already, please back off and give us our room. Lost, an airport worker approaches us and offers us help. Mack snaps back that we don’t want his help if he is just trying to get us a taxi. I ask him where the busses are and he directs us. We get on the bus without any more excitement.

Comfortably seated, I start to settle into the bus, ready to depart. Then an Italian guy comes and sits right next to me. Note, the bus was nearly empty. But no, he forces me to place my bag at my feet, leaving me no room, and then proceeds to talk to his mom on the phone. For the entire bus ride. Using his hands. Why do the bus gods hate me so? I flashback to the time I rode the bus to Washington DC from Cornell for spring break of freshman year. This wasn’t nearly as bad as that ride when a Bobby Brown/Whitney Houston-like couple cracked up out of their minds sat a few seats away from me. I can still not block out the vomiting on the floor. Nor the scene they created when they broke up and Bobby Brown proceeded to hit on every girl that passed him, offering to fill every orifice he could find.

Anyways, we make it to Termini Stazione and, again, attempt to find informazione to obtain a map. This time they were just having fun with us. The signs led us in circles and in the end we gave up. We took the metro to our stop, got out, and luckily found the B&B without too much trouble.

Okay, so we head out from our room and immediately take advantage of our close proximity to some of the oldest things I have ever seen. Phrasing it that way kind of devalues the Roman ruins. Well, we walked past the Forum down the empty street towards the Coliseum. It is exactly what I was expecting, fulfilling all of my dreams sparked by my childhood viewing of The Gladiator, well, besides the actual gladiator fights and no Russell Crowe in sight.

Hungry and tired we head back to our place and stop at a restaurant for the greatest lasagna of the trip. At this point I have only been in Italy for maybe 4 hours and already could see myself living here. The euphoric feelings brought on by the Italian food wear off and I snap back to reality. I couldn’t even locate a map and I don’t speak the language. Besides the fact that I would die an early death from obesity brought on by the food, I remember that I could never afford to eat out every night and would therefore need an Italian mother if I were ever to actually eat like this on a regular basis. Plan shot, need rest.

The next day we head off to the smallest country in the world. Confronted by a line and men telling us we needed tickets (not sure we did), we exit the Holy See, but only after sending my sister a postcard from probably the only post office in the country. Sadly, I had no epiphanies or religious rebirths. Luckily, this meant I would still be eligible for birth right which Rebstar and I have to look forward to (I am not actually sure I qualify for birth right, but I am going to delude myself up until the point of fatal disappointment).

The rest of the day we spent wandering the Roman ruins we found scattered throughout the city. We saw the Palatino, the Coliseum, the Forum, Circus Maximus (well, the site that it was once located) and random ionic columns or statues we happened upon while walking. We got a pro tip from this guy we met in Nice, telling us a free tour left from the Spanish Steps in the evening. We confirmed this through research online. Well, after a trek up to the steps, we tried to find where this tour could possibly have been leaving from. If you haven’t been to the Spanish Steps, you try finding something in the evening. The area is comparable to Las Ramblas in Barcelona, but with twice as many people. The plaza (piazza?) was crowded beyond belief and we just got lost in the commotion. No free tour for us. Oh well.

We meandered back in the direction of our B&B, stopping by Fontana Trevi, the Pantheon, and random other sites on our way. Trevi definitely was everything I was hoping for (and more, like all the extra tourists). The fountain is impressive, to say the least. We made our wishes by throwing our coins with our right hand over our left shoulder (I think). We only saw the outside of the Pantheon and were disappointed to see it under construction, but as I have learned, everything is under construction. Always.

Well, as we know, all good things come to an end. No, my trip wasn’t over. The fearsome twosome of Zach and Mack was splitting. Mack headed up to Bologna to meet up with another friend studying there, while I remained in Rome to stick it out for the rest of the trip alone.

The next day I made it into Saint Peter’s Basilica (sans ticket). I ended up not knowing how to get to the Sistine Chapel, but I did go up in the dome and the view of the city was amazing. It was well worth the hike up the narrow stairways with walls that made it impossible to stand up straight. I even met some women from Valencia and we spoke a little Spanish together, I was getting out of practice.

Well, I spent the rest of my days wandering the streets, filling up on gelato and studying for fluids (our professor set a prelim for the day we got back from break!). But after almost 20 days, 7 countries and over a dozen cities, I was exhausted and looking forward to returning to Santander. The trip was definitely eventful and I will always remember the Swedish man running up to me yelling, “He just punched a hooker.” Yes, staying in Europe over the break was definitely worth it. There will be other Christmases that I can spend with my family, but how many opportunities will I have to countdown the New Year at the Eiffel Tower or cross an international border on foot? Not many, not many.

French Riviera Photos

Euro Trip: Leg 4 - Nice, Eze, Monaco and Villefranche

On to Nice.

So if you read my previous post, I obviously was ready to get out of Paris (oddly enough) and make it to Nice. Yes, after suffering the cold, the French Riviera sounded like a nice change of scenery. Not to mention, Mack had mentioned to me that Johnny Depp lived near Nice. Who knows, maybe he still had some candy from doing Willy Wonka! One could only hope.

After trekking up a gigantic hill past countless presents dogs left behind for us to dodge (seriously Europe, get your act together, pick up after your dogs), we made it to our hostel. Right away we were pleasantly surprised. After such a disappointing hostel in Paris, anything would have been an improvement, but this was so much more. The meeting area was in an old cathedral with stained glass walls and vaulted ceilings. The rooms were great. The beds were like a dream. The bathrooms were large and clean. They served great food right in the hostel for cheap. One of the staff even offered us a cookie from the package he had just received from his mom! We were in utter disbelief.

Dropping off our bags, we headed back down to Nice where we explored the beach and the old town for a little bit. The beach wasn’t what I was expecting. For some reason, I think all beaches are white sand. This had a grey pebble and probably was not too comfortable to lie out on, but it was beautiful none the less. The old part of town was really cute. The architecture and the city as a whole definitely felt much more Mediterranean than French.

We ate in the hostel that night. The food was delicious and the people were great. We ended up playing Asshole with some other Americans, a guy from New Zealand, a Norwegian couple and maybe a few other nationalities mixed in. It was great mixing with so many cultures in such a relaxed environment.

The next day we headed off to Eze. Well, we attempted to head off to Eze. Our ignorance of the bus schedule made it so that we missed our bus by about 5 minutes and the next one was in over an hour. Opting not to wait, we skipped Eze and headed to Monaco, thinking we could hit up Eze on the way back. The ride was beautiful. It was right along the seaside up in the hills and afforded so many great views of the small towns dotting the coast line. On the trip, a fellow traveler and American, Ross, must have heard our own American accents and asked where we were from. We started chatting a little bit, exchanging small snippets of our own trips and eventually decided to see Monaco together. We went to the changing of the guards at the country’s palace. It was decidedly less impressive than the British version, but still interesting to see. Then we went down to the docks. I must admit, this was the major draw for me anyways. To see such opulent yachts docked was enough, but having the owners Ferrari parked outside was just too much. Ross and I drooled over these Italian pieces of art, admiring their engines and perfect styling. On our way out of Monaco we stopped by the casino, an inspiration for many Bond movies. We later heard from our Norwegian acquaintances that the inside was even more remarkable, with great works of art hanging everywhere and just supreme architecture.

While we dawdled by the casino, our bus to Eze made its way out of Monaco. We missed it by like 3 minutes this time! Well, we weren’t going to wait two hours, so we went back to Nice. Once back in Nice, I explored the old city and the Chateaux (I think it was called) which is this great hill overlooking the city, the beach and the port.

The next day we were determined to get to Eze. We made sure we made it to the bus station on time and were off to the small medieval city (well, town) situated on the top of a hill overlooking the sea. We lost ourselves in the narrow, winding stone streets and eventually made it to the top of the town. There was an exotic garden at the top. Apparently exotic means cactus in French. There were agave and prickly pear and aloe and so many other cacti surrounding us as we had amazing views of the surrounding shorelines.

Back in Nice we visited the modern art museum (which is always free by the way, along with apparently most of the museums in Nice) and retreated to the hostel to spend one last night relaxing.

The next day our flight was in the afternoon, so Mack and I split up for a few hours to see what intrigued us. I went to Villefranche, this small fishing village about 10 minutes outside of Nice. I just walked around and read on the beach while small sailboats and dingy bobbed in the water in front of this brightly colored coastline.

Nice was probably one of my favorite stops on the trip, which was entirely surprising. I think the fact that I didn’t have a list of required sites to visit in a short amount of time helped. Also, following Paris, I needed a place to relax and get over my cold (which I did!) to prepare for Rome. Also, they did our laundry for 5 euro! After a week and a half of the same few shirts and pants, access to laundry is like a godsend.

Well, this is the second to last leg of my Euro Trip, with only Rome remaining, but as I am just hours away from departing for my Spain and Italy trip, I must start packing and organizing! Oh, it feels good to finish exams and jet off to the south of Spain. I could definitely get used to this. One looming disappointment though, I may not be able to watch the Packers play in the Superbowl. Apparently Venice is not a popular destination to watch the game, who knew. I think I will find some way to survive though, perhaps drowning myself in pasta and gelato.

Paris Photos

Euro Trip: Leg 3 - Paris

So it has become apparent to me in the past few days that, if you want me to update my blog, just give me something that I really am supposed to be doing, take studying for my Fluid Mechanics final, for example, and I will do almost anything else to avoid it, including watching all three El Señor de los anillos (The Lord of the Rings), doing my laundry, keeping up with the world news (Egypt is a mess) or even writing entries for my blog.

A quick aside:

Usually, when character names are changed when a movie or book or whatever is translated into another language, I tend to get annoyed. This wasn’t completely the case for The Lord of the Rings. They cleverly changed Tree Beard to Barbol (I am assuming a combo of barba meaning beard and arbol meaning tree), but why on (Middle) earth change Baggins to Bolson? You cannot change the main characters name. That would be like changing Harry Potter to Harry Ceramista. You just don’t.

My account of my European trip continues with Paris. If I don’t update this quickly I am going to forget what even happened! Or at least everything will start to blend together, especially with more trips coming up!

Anyways.

Paris.

I would have to say, I was really looking forward to Paris. The Eiffel Tower, Arch du Triomphe, Louvre, Musee d’Orsay, Palace of Versailles, Champs Elysees, Notre Dame. The list goes on. So many monuments, so many impressive sites that I learned about in history classes, literature classes, through Disney movies. So many baguettes! I built Paris into this lofty, ideal city in my head. My great expectations might have had something to do with my disappointment with the city. This isn’t to say that I disliked Paris by any means, and to be fair, I intend to go back to see if it was just the circumstances that left me wanting more, but honestly, I was hoping for more.

Let’s get the bad out of the way first so we can end out on a good note?

The disappointment probably started with the hostel. It was dirty. The staff was not helpful. It was not set up to be conducive to meeting people. Probably my least favorite hostel. Even the kitchen was bad. A fridge, a microwave and a sink do not a kitchen make. Not to mention, when we got there, Mack had no bed in the room she was assigned to and on the last night of our stay they stormed into her room at 1:30 in the morning, yelling at her (apparently), telling her she was in the wrong room, that she had made a mistake that made everyone upset. From what I could tell, this was by no means her fault, yet they made her feel awful. Fair warning to everyone, although Jules Ferry Youth Hostel may be a cheap option, spend the extra money for a nicer place. Staying there could ruin your trip.

The next damper on our Paris trip: the weather. It was overcast, cloudy, or rainy every day in Paris. Also, after spending the winter in Spain where the temperature hovered around 50 degrees, the 30 degree weather felt COLD. Usually this isn’t too bad. Belgium and Switzerland were cold, but I liked my stays there. It was raining in Seville and Madrid, but I Seville was one of my favorite cities in Spain. But after a week of already travelling in hostels with crappy breakfasts, long train rides and always being on the go so you can fit in all the sites, your body is worn down. This chilly weather was apparently just too much for me. By the end of our stay in Paris, I was huddled under my blankets in the very cold hostel room, shivering, trying to sleep despite my coughing, my stuffy nose, and having the chills. Also, since the weather was so wet, that meant fog. Every day. Fog meant I never saw the top of the Eiffel Tower, and wasn’t motivated to even go up it because I knew the view would not be worth it.

Finally, the holidays in Paris made it worse. I know, I know. I was psyched to spend my New Years in Paris, and it was fine. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed my night popping champagne bottles while people around me lit fireworks and the Eiffel Tower shimmered. Yet, the holidays made things very inconvenient for us. Most of the monuments were closed on New Years and had shorter hours on New Year’s Eve, meaning we had to fit everything in on a tighter schedule than our already tight schedule. Also, we were not the only tourists who thought about spending their New Year’s in Paris. There were tourists everywhere. Now, I assume that, yes, this is Paris and yes, there are always tourists everywhere, but I don’t want to stand in line for 2 hours to go up into the Eiffel Tower, especially when the weather was like it was.

So despite the hostel, the weather, and the tourists, (and admittedly, the high costs) I enjoyed my stint in Paris. The first night we walked up Champs Elysees. I saw the Arch, the tower, Notre Dame, the Louvre, the obelisk, everything I was looking forward to. The next day we visited the Palace of Versailles. The Hall of Mirrors was finished (apparently it was being renovated for a while), and the gardens looked spectacular, despite it being winter (when I do go back to Paris, I want to revisit the gardens in better weather). I then made it back to inside the city to see the Louvre and the Musee d’Orsay.

I can hardly wrap my head around the fact that Paris has two of the most impressive collections of art in the world, and they are essentially across the street (and river) from each other. Of course, after seeing the Venus de Milo and the Mona Lisa (the crowd around this painting was more impressive that the small artwork itself) I was pretty much done with the Louvre. I was tired. I was hungry. I was lost. Yes, it took me 30 minutes to exit the Louvre. Talk about a labyrinth. I enjoyed the Orsay more. The collection of impressionism was pretty astounding. The Cezannes, Monets, Manets, Van Goghs. So many of my favorites gathered within one building.

The next day (New Years Day), as everything was closed, we headed to the Pere Lachaise cemetery (of Paris, Je T’aime fame). It was pretty relaxing, allowing me to contemplate a little among these beautiful mausoleums and tombstones. Not to mention we got to see the burial sites of Oscar Wilde and Chopin.

I tried going back to the Eiffel tower and the Arch, intending to go up one of them. But, as I said before, the crowds and the weather just made me appreciate the structures from the ground. Well, off to Nice.

Lyon Pics

Geneva Pics

Euro Trip: Leg 2 - Geneva and Lyon

So while I have my mind blown that “Don’t Turn Around” was not an Ace of Base original, I am starting to realize that I either have to update my blog, or forever forget what has happened in Switzerland, or at least in the painstaking detail that I customarily include in “I’m in Europe, Yo.” Right.

Anyways, first a life update. A lot has happened since my last post! At least, a lot that I find interesting.

1. First things first, the Packers made it into the Super Bowl, and I watched them do it! (Thanks Hill, Slingbox is awesome).

2. Hill and I booked our flights and everything to the south of Spain and the north of Italy. We fly to Malaga, go to Granada and the Sierra Nevada (yay for trineo ruso or apparently Russian bobsledding!), Cordoba and then fly from Sevilla to Venice and head to Bologna and Milan.

3. Caitlyn and I planned a surprise party for Hill’s 21^st. Sadly, as 21 isn’t as big of a deal here and it is now finals, we had a very relaxed get together with the Spanish kids from our class. (Don’t worry, we did shoot shots of vodka and coke into people’s mouths, or faces, from the water gun Hill was given as a gift.)

4. We have taken 3 of 4 finals. The last one is to be completed on Monday. Something to look forward to, right?

5. My flights for my family spring break were booked! The fam now needs not worry about getting to Berlin or home from Vienna, only about fitting two week’s worth of stuff into a backpack. I can do it, but my mom takes a full duffle on weekend trips and two suitcases on week long ones. Good luck to her.

So it continues.

Switzerland

Ryanair takes us from Barcelona to Geneva without a hitch. I have to confess, although many people complain, Ryanair is great, if you know what you are getting into. It is cheap. It is efficient. It is always on time. If you expect to get good service and great perks, look elsewhere, but Ryanair gets you from point A to point B just as well as any other airline (if not better than many) and does it so for a tenth of the price, just leave the large suitcase at home. It is easier to travel with just a backpack anyways.

So we touch down in Geneva on time, which is where our good fortune of the day ends. As described in an earlier post, the apartment I happened to choose was very reasonable for the quality, but came with a price. Not only was it a 35 euro cab ride, it was miles away from civilization. Had we rented a car, it would have been great. Yet, we were stuck walking on foot to both Prevessin, this cute little French town with a view of the alps, and Geneva (or at least the nearest Swiss town with a tram connection, Meyrin).

Geneva, for what it is worth, is probably not the best place for a student tourist. We had no money. We were essentially wearing all the clothes we had with us. It was cold. It was expensive. There wasn’t too much to see. But it was still pretty great. When we could see the Alps, it was pretty breathtaking. The cathedral had a beautiful view. The fountain, probably the main draw of the city, show over 400 feet in the air! The place was clean. There were cuckoo clocks and delicious chocolate shops (although my allegiance is to the Belgian chocolates as of now). It was exactly what I expected from Switzerland – an efficient and expensive city which seemed perfectly ordered and completely neutral.

Lyon, France

As we waited in the Geneva train station, Mack asked me, “So why are we going to Lyon?” At that point in the trip, I couldn’t remember. After all the places I had researched for this trip and for past and future trips, Lyon just did not stick out. From what I could remember at that point, it had no memorable monuments, no incredible geological formations.

“I think it was just on the way and I thought it would be nice to see another French town.” I ventured as an answer.

Yet, upon arrival, we both were quite pleased with our Lyonese excursion. Immediately, we felt like we were in France. I don’t know why exactly, but maybe it was the combination of the pastel colors of the sky, the obviously French architecture (which for some would be a dead giveaway), or the crepe stands lining the street, but we were both pretty taken with Lyon. We happened upon some pretty amazing Roman ruins quite unexpectedly. The main cathedral made my jaw drop upon entering, and it had a view to match. Even the walk along either river was refreshing but distinctly French.

That being said, I can’t really say we needed more than a day in Lyon. It was great, and we enjoyed our short stint in the city, but from what I could tell, we had exhausted most of the attractions.

But we did notice there were a lot of blind people around, which we found pretty peculiar. Turns out, upon further investigation, there is a blind community located in Lyon. Who knew?

I do regret one thing about Lyon though. My friend Liz knows a girl, Celia, from Lyon and put us in contact with each other. I had asked Celia if she could meet us and show us around, which she graciously agreed to do. Though, when we were in Switzerland, I let Mack use my cell phone and a minute of talking to her family at home spent all 10 euro I had put on it. I couldn’t contact Celia, and in the end we couldn’t set up a meeting. Oh well, next time.

Barcelona Pics

Euro Trip: Leg 1 - Andorra & Barcelona

So it begins.

Day 1.

Mack and I wake up early, eager to start our journey on a good foot, mainly meaning not missing our flight to Barcelona. After a few quick fact checks to plan our real goal of reaching Andorra and reading the Wikipedia entry for Andorra (population: 80.000, tourists a year: 10 million) we head to the airport, and without a hitch, we are off to Barcelona.

As I have found, Ryan Air is really pretty dependable if all you need is a flight, and it has continued to be great. We touch down in Barcelona on time and head to the info desk for Andorra bus information. We decipher the schedule, bum around the airport for awhile, and board our bus to Andorra, tiny country number one of the trip.

About three hours, a car crash (all I know is that we collided with a white car, I am not sure whose fault it actually was) and a beautiful ride through the Pyrenees later, we arrive in Andorra la Vella, capital city of Andorra.

My first impression of the city? Well, it was basically a large ski resort town, with a lot of shopping. And I mean A LOT of shopping. Reason? Well, Andorra is a tax haven, meaning it doesn’t have sales tax and has a very low income tax. Good thing too, because of my customs fiasco (I will explain later), I need to shop. Winter clothes will come in handy once we get to Switzerland, I suppose. I needed a new camera, too. Thank you Tarifa, your sandy beaches are like sirens, beautiful, tempting, and deadly, to cameras at least.

So we walk through the city to actually the neighboring city of Les Escalades, locate our hotel and drop off our stuff. After a stop at a small market, we eat dinner in our room and hit the town to explore! Well, if you can call walking around staring into all the closed shops exploring, then we explored. Really, Andorra? You are worse than Spain! You close shop at 8! Fine, we will meet again tomorrow, small country.

Day 2.

Mack and I set out from the room early to take advantage of our precious time in Andorra, only to find that stores are still closed! Come on! Really? You wait until 10 to open again? And some of the stores even take siesta? How does anything get done in this country?

Well, Mack and I explore the city a little more by walking down to the old part. Honestly, if you are looking for history, skip Andorra. It turned out to be great for cheap cameras and clothes (when the stores eventually opened), but the only old building was a church, and it wasn’t too spectacular.

As I just mentioned, I buy my camera and we catch a bus to Ordino, an even smaller city in Andorra, located further up in the mountains. Ordino afforded us some spectacular views of the mountains and was really quite quaint. But after exploring on foot and hiking up a path that essentially led us to nothing but some melting snow and mud, we decide that Andorra has shown us everything it has to offer. Mack and I walk to another city, La Massana, catch a bus to Andorra la Vella, and head to Barcelona.

Notable Achievements in Andorra:

1. We walked between two cities, verifying the viability of walking across the country.

2. I bought a camera so I can document everything that is to come.

Notable Failures in Andorra:

1. They did not stamp our passport.

2. We did not get to play in the snow. The capital is in the valley, where it rained, but did not snow.

We get into Barcelona after dark and have to navigate the metro. Good thing we kind of planned most of this out. We get on our metro train toward the hostel, walk through a very cultural (read: Indian, really? In Barcelona?) and a somewhat seedy neighborhood to get to Barcelona Mar. A stop at Dia and a pasta dinner later and we are out exploring Barcelona a little before we hit the sack. Travelling really takes it out of you.

Day 3.

On our way out of our room at the hostel we are shushed by our fellow roommates. Seriously? We didn’t talk, we didn’t turn on the lights, we just made the necessary rustling of belongings finding our clothes and such in the dark. If I remember correctly, you came in at like 2 am last night, turned on the lights and talked amongst people in your group while I tried to sleep through it. Don’t be rude, asshole.

Anyways, we walk down Las Ramblas to the pillar/column/statue commemorating Columbus. Here in Spain they love the guy. Seville, Madrid, Barcelona; this guy is everywhere. As an American, I am a fan of him too, and can’t complain. He has good reason to be popular, discovering a world that was already inhabited (but by savages!) and I wouldn’t be American if not for his ballsiness of risking sailing off the edge of the flat world!

After marveling at Mr. C, we headed to the dock to check out the sea. It was nice, but to be honest, the beach in Barcelona isn’t anything special. Santander actually has a nicer beach. And, theirs is fake! Yep! Fake. Along with the palm trees that they shipped in from Hawaii, the beach was made for the 1992 Olympics by bringing in sand from Egypt. They have to dredge more sand up to the beach each year because, being fake, it isn’t supposed to be there and the sea devours the sand. We learned this fun tidbit on our tour of the city, which is what we headed to next! (segway!)

The tour took us all through the Gothic part of the city. We saw the cathedral, old haunts of Picasso (apparently hookers didn’t like his first cubism paintings of them and chased him down the street, naked and very angry), the George Orwell Plaza (under video surveillance, Big Brother is watching) and other interesting sites throughout the barrio, including Space Invaders!

It being Christmas Eve we treated ourselves to some great Indian food and went to Midnight mass at the cathedral, but which I mean, we attempted to go to Midnight mass, were apparently late for the 10.00 mass and sat through about 40 minutes of Catalan before heading back to the hostel and wishing each other a Merry Christmas, Feliz Navidad, and Bon Nadal.

Day 4. Christmas.

Where better to spend your Christmas than the Sagrada Familia? Okay, yea, the Vatican is okay I guess, but still. We slept in, walked along this one street with a few Gaudi structures and made it to the defining monument of Barcelona, Gaudi’s opus magnum of modernist architecture. With spires shooting into the air like drip sand castles and ornate sculptures depicting scenes from the bible, this church is definitely impressive from the outside. But that wasn’t even the tip of the iceberg. The building on the inside was gorgeous, with columns that looked like trees springing up, creating a canopy above. And the stained glass was super colorful and bright, making the entire building flooded with red and green and blue and orange etc light. Finally, we went up to stand between the spires on the top of the building. The view of Barcelona was beautiful. You could see for miles (or perhaps kilometers) all around.

Hours later we headed off to Parc Guell. The day turned out to be pretty Gaudi exlcusive. Parc Guell is a park that was designed by Gaudi to be a planned residential community I am pretty sure, and it lost funding so it was left as is, with a few Guadi buildings surrounded by really interesting arches and paths that make you almost feel like you are in some type of bizarre ruins.

Hungry, we head back to the hostel before going to the Picasso Museum. Mack will probably tell you, this was the worst decision of our trip, at least for her. As I got my fill of sandwiches, Mack sat on the couch in the common room, calling friends and family from home, wishing them a Merry Christmas.

Well, apparently Christmas is not as sacred as we thought, because a man comes in while I am away and asks Mack to translate some Spanish written on a piece of paper for him. We are all accustomed to strange occurrences in hostels by now, so she kindly acquiesced, leading to her ultimate downfall. The man held the paper over her lap as she tried to translate a gibberish word and as he slyly pocketed the iPhone that she had right next to her. Come on! It’s Christmas!

Clearly shaken, Mack had a minor freak out, but we managed to overcome the crisis and decide our best option was to report the theft to the police.

Great! Trip to the police station on Christmas! What could top this? Okay, yes, still the Vatican. Probably most things in this case, actually. As we stand in line to report our tourist mistake, we listen to the sob stories of countless other tourists recounting how they lost their wallet, their backpack, their camera. I couldn’t help but laugh, thinking they needed an AAesque stand where everyone could go up to and announce their mistakes, “I am a tourist and I lost my iPhone.”

Needless to say, we missed the Picasso Museum, but we did have one thing to look forward to! Shu Jian invited Mack and me to dine with him and his family later that night. Good thing! We were getting tired of the same old same old pasta.

Dinner, as those of you who know Shu Jian could expect, was enchanting. His family was lovely, the restaurant he chose was nice, and who doesn’t need a little semblance of family on Christmas?

Day 5.

Mack and I split up for the first time, to do our own things. I make the hike up Montjuic to see the castle and the Olympic buildings while Mack goes to see the history museum. After spending three weeks together, you can tell how perfect this is. I see buildings to wonder at, Mack sees historical ruins.

Again, the views from Montjuic were fantastic. I have found throughout my travels that I am a sucker for views. I have no qualms in paying 10 Euros to go up your church spire if you promise I will be able to see the entire city from the best vantage point around.

So I walked around the castle and the Olympic area for a few hours until Mack and I met up to go to the Picasso Museum. We walk all the way to the Picasso Museum and find out that IT IS CLOSED! Christmas break is a really great time to travel, except everything closes! Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, New Year’s Eve, New Year’s Day, how many days off do you need! I understand that I have off, but that is exactly why you need to be open! I can’t come any other time.

Oh well, we went to the beach and walked along the coast a bit instead. We stopped by to watch some surfers take on the winter waves, too.

Eventually we head back to the hostel and eat dinner. This was our last night in Barcelona, and as I have said in earlier posts, Mack and I were looking to go out. It is here I will refer you to the quick stories about the trip I posted first.

Day 6.

Wow, two countries down and we are already on our way to Switzerland? What? I am going to miss your sunny and 55 degree weather Barcelona.

Notable Achievements in Barcelona

1. We took in Gaudi for Christmas.

2. Enjoyed some delicious Indian food.

3. Went out with a fun group of people from all over the world, and got to hear about a guy slapping a hooker.

Notable Failures in Barcelona

1. Lost an iPhone. Goodbye easy access to the internet, hello inside of Barcelona police station.

2. Missed an opportunity to see Picasso’s earlier works.

3. Showed up 40 minutes late to dinner with Shu Jian. SORRY!

Some quick stories

So, as I watch Inglourious Basterds, or rather, Bastardos Sin Gloria or Bastardos Malditos, I figure I can also start writing about my trip. I think though, before detailing everywhere I went, like I usually do in a boring manner, I thought I could take my first blog entry about the trip to explain a few of the more exciting stories that happened throughout the trip. So, without further ado.

Barcelona – He Punched a Hooker

Our last night in Barcelona, Mack and I were yearning to go out. After all, in Barcelona, there is always a party, regardless of the day of the week. We had dinner at a table in the hostel were a group from WISCONSIN!!!! was sitting. After bonding over our home state, they invited us to come out with them, they were just going out to dinner and would come back to get ready and meet up with us. Sounds great! See you in a bit.

After they left I went to siesta. Let’s be honest, it was a nap. After dinner at 9pm it is no longer a siesta. It is a nap. Well, as I napped Mack bonded with some Moroccans. They invited Mack (and consequentially me too) to go out with them. Well, I guess since they are here, why wait for the fellow Wisconsinites? We can make some cultural connections. They go to get ready.

I come out to the common room of the hostel and sit down with a guy from Utah, a Brazilian, a Swede, and some Chinese girls studying in Sweden. Luckily, English is always the go to language. We chatted and hung out for a while. The guys were getting ready to go out and said I should come along. First of all, I love that pregaming is international. And, yes, of course I want to go out with you guys.

Well, that was easy, we now had 3 options of exploring Barcelona.

One thing leads to another and Mack got pregnant.

That was a lie.

So I tell Mack we were invited to go out with this group. Mack says let’s wait for the other group. We end up with 3(?) guys from Morocco, 2 girls from Madrid, the Swede (already drunk), the Brazilian (even drunker), and the guy from Utah. And we are off.

To where? Who knows where we are going? Nobody. Great.

Luckily, in big cities like Barcelona, there is always somebody trying to lure you to their bar with the promise of free entrance or a free shot or a free drink etc. A guy tells us we can go to some club, Pandamonium? Sweaty Dancy Club? Who knows. We decline, and head to an Irish pub. Fun fact, apparently Spain doesn’t understand what Irish pub means. Is it in English? Okay, awesome put it up. Ah well, at least that meant they were playing American football, the Packers no less, and serving Coronas? Okay, sure. A Corona in an Irish pub watching American football in Barcelona it is. Shots of tequila? Even better. (Don’t worry mom, I was responsible, only one beer and one shot for me.)

Okay, well we are done here, where too? Oh wait, first, let us take several pictures. Good. Okay, I think the pub staff is sufficiently annoyed with us. Pay and leave. Good. Let’s go. Oh wait, where is the guy from Utah? He knew where we were heading. Whatever.

On our way to the next place we run into… the guy from Utah! Everyone celebrates in the street. Nearby bars hear us, think we are drunker and rowdier than we are. They deny us. Good thing this chap offering us free shots to come to his bar doesn’t care, okay, everybody calm down.

Well, of course we don’t turn down the free shots. I sit down with the Madrid girls and Mack. The others go play spin the bottle with a group of Asians and French? Okay, as most people in CCC can tell you, that game just gets weird. Come on, we are old enough that bottles are not needed. The Brazilian comes over and starts running his hands through one of the Spanish girl’s hair while the Swede kind of just wanders about, looking depressed. Hmm.

Everybody done with their drinks? Good, let’s move on. Good idea, Swede, you take the drunk Brazilian home. He doesn’t look good and is stumbling. Cheers, see you tomorrow. Let’s meet up for breakfast.

Halfway to the club, the Spanish girls and I head back. I’d rather not go to a club, smell like smoke and sweat? No thanks, these clothes have to last me at least two more weeks. My body odor will do enough to make me unapproachable. Adios, hasta mañana.

The Spanish girls make our way back to the hostel. We pass a woman on the street, she looks upset, and also slutty. Something is obviously going on. Whatever, not our business. Upon making it back to Las Ramblas, we see the Swede and the Brazilian. What? We left you guys like half an hour ago. You should be back by now. The Swede sees us and runs up saying, “A hooker stole his wallet. I told him to go back and said the hooker probably stole it. We went back and then I slapped the hooker.”

Wait. Hold on. What? You slapped a hooker?

He dashes across the street, the Brazilian following him. We see the hooker we had just passed and the boys run up to her. Cops follow. Okay, not our place. Let’s just stay and watch, maybe we can find out what really happened. Oh, okay, they are getting taken to the cop station? Let’s just go back to the hostel and wait.

Never mind, it is 2am, I am not waiting anymore, I am going to sleep. I can wait until tomorrow.

I wake up, clean up and go to breakfast. The Madrid girls and I try to guess what really happened. We finally see the Swede. He confirms, someone indeed slapped or punched or kicked the hooker who they think stole the wallet. Well then, adios, off to Switzerland.

Geneva, Switzerland – Boarder Hopping

Mack asks, “So how are we getting to the hotel in Geneva?” Well, it is only a few kilometers from the airport, like less than three miles, I am sure we can catch some form of public transportation or a cheap cab ride there. Mack hesitantly agrees, that we should be fine.

We arrive in at the airport in Geneva. We go to the information desk for France. Our hotel is actually just across the border. She says, a bus runs kind of close to our town, but we would still have to walk. It’s better to just take a cab, it is night anyways. Fine, one cheap cab should be fine, we think.

Thirty five euros later, we disagree. We could have walked a few miles in the dark. Okay, let’s just drop off our stuff and walk to a restaurant, I am starving. Wait, you said the next town is a 15 minute walk away. Okay that is manageable. Oh? Everything closed half an hour ago? But it is only 7:30. Well, let’s just test it out.

No dice. She did not lie, everything is closed, we are wandering around in god knows where middle of nowhere France with no food. It is the middle of winter, it is night, I am cold. Let us just eat a big breakfast tomorrow.

Good, at least the stores open at a decent time. Breakfast was great. Okay, so now how do we get to Geneva? Okay, the lady at the desk says, we have to walk to the next town in Switzerland and catch a tram from there. Maybe a 20 minute walk.

Well, maybe a 20 minute walk when you know where you are going and it isn’t snowing. Well, at least it is beautiful. Do you think they will stamp our passports when we cross the border?

We get to Geneva. Where the hell was that border? Come on! I want a stamp from Switzerland. I walk across international borders and nobody even notices.

Paris – And he just stared at me

Being New Years Eve, we deemed it a good night to go out and enjoy some bubbly by the Eiffel Tower with the rest of the Parisians. A Brazilian notices us while getting to leave the hostel and says, “I want to go.”

“I am sorry? What?”

“I want to go. I am alone and want to go.”

“Umm, I don’t understand, do you speak another language.”

“Yes, Spanish.”

“Vale, que quieres?”

“I want to go out with you guys. I am alone and want to go to the Eiffel Tower but have nobody to go with.”

Oh, okay. Sounds good. Let me just put on a few more layers. I was freezing earlier today.

Mack lent me some long underwear, thank god. I go to my room to put it on. As I am taking off my pants to put on the underwear, another Brazilian comes in. Whatever, it is his room, too. Anyways, there is nothing to see.

He walks up to me, is about 5 feet way from me, and just watches me put on my long underwear, my pants and then belt up. Weird. Really strange. I leave, eager to go out, but more eager to avoid something like that again.

We wind up spending our night hanging out with more Brazilians. Luckily, none were as creepy as the other guy. One more thing, there are no formal fireworks at the Eiffel Tower. It just lights up at midnight. We didn’t even have a countdown. Oh well, still fun. And I got to pop open my first bottle of champagne while in Paris in front of the Eiffel Tower. Not too shabby.