Tuesday, January 11, 2011

How many ways...

... can I find to procrastinate?

Update blog with an entry that really serves no purpose.
Sporcle.
Meet up with my tandem partner for a few hours.
Watch movies in Spanish on cine-escape.com and peliculasok.com.
LA Times Crossword Puzzle.
Phineas y Ferb episodes.
Sporcle.
Read Huffington Post.
Check out everybody else's travel blog.
Sift through music collection.
Read through music blogs and online magazines. Thank you Paste for telling me the best of 2010.
Facebook.
Check email.
Sporcle.
Failblog.
Lesbians Who Look Like Justin Beiber.
Hipster Puppies.
LATFH.
weather.com? Really, I have better things to do with my time.
Like Sporcle.

Monday, January 10, 2011

Busy

Hay muchas cosas que tengo que hacer antes de escribir de mis vacaciones, pero quiero declarar que sí, estoy vivo y sano después de todo de lo que pasó. En las dos semanas siguientes tengo 3 examenes y una presentación (en castellano) sin mencionar una nueva pareja de tandem y las examenes finales que vienen después. Pues, debes echar un vistazo a mis fotos en Facebook. Saqué muchos, disfrútalos.

There are a lot of things I have to do before writing about my trip, but I want everyone to know that yes, I am alive and well after everything that has happened. In the next two weeks I have 3 tests and a presentation (in Spanish), not to mention a new tandem partner to meet and finals that are at the end of the month. So until then, check out all my photos on Facebook. I took a lot, so enjoy.

Wednesday, December 8, 2010

Sevilla Fotos

Mi cámara rompió en Tarifa, no sé por qué, solo paró de funcionar. Pero, aquí están algunas fotos de Hillary de Sevilla. Tenemos fotos de flamenco, la catedral y el alcázar.

My camera broke in Tarifa, I don't know why, just that it stopped working. But, here are some pictures of Hillary's that she took in Sevilla. Here are some pictures of flamenco, the cathedral, and the alcazar (fortress slash palace).





Morocco

Getting to Morocco wasn’t too hard, but it was definitely a round about way of going. I will sum up the transportation situation first.

Taxi to Santander Airport. Fly to Malaga Airport. Take a bus to Malaga city center. Walk to Malaga Bus Station. Take a bus to Algeciras. Take a bus to Tarifa. Walk to Tarifa Port. Take a ferry to Tangier (finally in Africa). Take a ferry back to Tarifa. Walk to Tarifa Bus “Station”. Take a bus to Seville (the second real stop of the trip). Take a bus to Malaga Airport. Fly back to Santander Airport. Take a bus to the city center. Take a bus to my apartment.

All in all, 7 busses, 1 taxi, 2 flights and a lot of walking. Not to mention a camel ride or a tour of the Moroccan coast by way of van.

Algeciras, Spain

As my guide book blatantly says, nobody comes to Algeciras for its beauty, it’s only a stopping point between Spain and Morocco. I couldn’t agree more. We got there late at night and left early in the morning, but that was enough. The only memorable part was when we first got to the hostel we were kind of bouncing on the beds like children, taking pictures when all of a sudden CRAAACK!!! Hillary broke the bed. In order to hide the evidence, we took the slats to Morocco.

Tangier, Morocco

We arrive in Africa after a short ferry ride from the very southern tip of Spain (Tarifa) to be greeted by our guide Rashid. Right away we are rushed off into a van past what seemed like a palace for every ruler of a Middle East country to see the Atlantic coast of Morocco. We pit stop for some pictures of the ocean and speed off to an area where camels are waiting. We are told that a short ride costs a euro. WORTH IT! We ride the camels as our guide and our driver shout “SMILE! RIDE THE CAMEL! CHRISTMAS CARD!” We then return to Tangier and get out of the van for a tour of the Medina, the old part of town with all the shops and restaurants, on foot and for lunch. At the restaurant a group of old guys are playing music on a guitar and drum in this place with great Moorish architecture. As we ate our cous cous, I thought to myself, yes, we are in Africa.

After lunch we are hurried from store to store, where we are taught about traditional Moroccan rugs and spices. This is the point where Morocco unfortunately started to make me feel uncomfortable. I have been to other touristy places before, where people surround you, asking you to buy their goods, but I thought if I had been on a tour the stores we stopped at wouldn’t be quite like this. I was wrong. The carpet guy reminded me I was making a mistake when I didn’t buy a carpet (I showed not even the slightest interest in purchasing a carpet, yet the man went down from 80 euro to 50 to 30 without me even offering a price), I was offered hash, but most of all I was reminded I was among friends and if I didn’t like what they offered, I shouldn’t feel pressured. The spice store was better, and we learned about the uplifting effects of ginseng and I actually purchased a Moroccan spice mix for dummies.

We escaped the Medina and were brought back to the hotel. We asked our guide where we could get falafel, and he told us to just to go the new city center, not to return to the Medina. Okay. So we dropped off our stuff in the room and made our way toward the new city center, with our eyes peeled for falafel. Sadly, we didn’t locate any falafel, instead, we met this old man, and I made a mistake that would lead to an awkward encounter ultimately leading to a sour note in my memories of Morocco.

So as I said before, we met this guy while we were just wandering the streets. He said he was a cook from the hotel down the street and wanted to welcome us to Morocco (as a blond male, outside of the US/Canada and eastern/northern Europe, I essentially have an arrow with the word TOURIST directed toward my head). He said that he would show us the next street up because it had more places to eat and then he would be on his way. Seeming nice enough, I agreed that it couldn’t hurt for him to show us the next street up. He then said there was a market that we shouldn’t miss, and he could show us there and then he would head on his own way. Again, he seemed nice enough, he was old so obviously he couldn’t cause any physical harm, so I said okay, but was a little more hesitant. Once we got to this “market” (read: outdoor pet shop) he kept on leading us to different stands, telling us we could take pictures of the animals. Feeling pretty uncomfortable at this point, I told him we had to go, and he said he did too. Once out of the market area he asked for one euro from each of us because he had acted as a guide for us. I told him we didn’t ask him to be our guide and explained that we didn’t even have a euro (not a lie by the way, we weren’t carrying much money on us for clear reasons). Hillary offered him the change she had, probably around 70 cents or so and I only had 10 cents. Caitlyn and Reina walked off, pissed that he wasted their time and then asked for money. He looked at our change, took it, and insulted, threw it back at us. We just quickly walked away toward the crowded streets. I felt pretty horrible after that, not because I didn’t pay him, but because I allowed me and the girls to get into that kind of situation and because, being from the Midwest, was being too trusting of people. Besides about a half hour of time and some 80 cents lost, there was no actual harm done, which was a very cheap lesson. We all agreed that we would no longer talk to anyone on the street for longer than 30 seconds.

Following that encounter, we decided it was late enough to return to the hotel, and if we found falafel on the way back we could stop. We stopped at a convenience store for some cards and a guy told us that falafel isn’t Moroccan. Thanks Fodor’s guide for telling us that Arabia in Madrid had the best falafel north of Morocco. That should be a given, seeing as Moroccans don’t have falafel.

We returned to the Medina the next day in search of some souvenirs. Caitlyn bartered like a champ and the girls got their fill of fezzes and we boarded the ferry back to Spain.

Tarifa, Spain

After one of the choppiest ferry rides back to Spain across the Strait of Gibraltar, we disembarked and found our hostel and settled in. Now, we didn’t expect anything from Tarifa. It was just a stop in our way towards Seville, but I would have to say it was one of the most fortunate stops we have had.

Tarifa is this great port town with great a really nice beach and crazy wind making it a perfect wind and kite surfing site. Well, on our way to the bus station to check the schedule Caitlyn just happened to glance toward the beach and asked, “Can we go over there?” She was referring to the beach facing west where the sun happened to be setting. Eager not to miss the moment, we ran towards the beach for some pictures. We kicked off our shoes and ran towards the water where there were some rocks peeking out from the water. The whole scene was perfect, the sunset, the beach, the rocks.

After checking the schedule we headed toward this restaurant that my book recommended for falafel. As we were disappointed by the availability of falafel in Morocco, we were really looking forward to some good fried chickpea balls. We brought the falafel back to the hostel and had a feast, it was delicious.

Not really feeling like going out, we just bought a bottle of vodka and started playing cards in the hostel lounge, probably one of the best decisions we made. After some cards and an intense round of Uno, we heard an accordion and a guitar/ukulele coming from the kitchen. We went in and found a group of French and a German singing and jamming out. We offered some alcohol and sat down with them, singing along to Zombie and the Beatles. It was just a perfect night.

Details about Seville will be up later.

Tuesday, December 7, 2010

Morocco Pictures





I am in the process of writing an entry for Morocco and Seville, but wanted to put up a few pictures in the meantime while I finish writing it.


Turkey Day Pictures




Thanksgiving Update (Finally, I know)

So, I should probably update you guys on Thanksgiving first, seeing as I promised an update on the following day and it is now more than a week later.

Well, much to my surprise, Thanksgiving was a raging success. No, we didn’t actually rage, but we had a turkey (a $50 turkey I might add). We had pie, we had bread rolls, corn, green beans, mashed potatoes, great stuffing, cranberry sauce. What more could we have asked for? Well internet wouldn’t hurt, and that was installed on Thanksgiving too! Which meant we got to slingbox the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade and some good ole American football (thank you Mr. and Mrs. Richard). The four Spanish students that are coming to Cornell (Alberto, Borja, Deivid and Raquel) all came to celebrate with us, and even helped with the cooking. I don’t think our celebration through gluttony scared them too much either.

This isn’t to say that Thanksgiving was easy. The power probably cut out on us seven times. We burnt the tops of the two pumpkin pies (which we strategically just peeled away) while trying to figure out how my oven worked. We (apparently) cooked the turkey upside down. We had to DEFEATHER the turkey. The turkey leaked turkey juice everywhere.

But, I repeat, it was a success through all these problems.

Monday, December 6, 2010

Lied about the update

Okay, the update will come after I get back from my trip to Morocco and Sevilla! The trip is going well so far, though!

Thursday, November 25, 2010

PreThanksgiving

I just got the turkey. It is about 6.2 kilo, or according to google's converter, 13.67 pounds. Most places say that you need 1.5 pounds per person, which leads me to at best 9 people eating all the turkey they want. We have 11 to 12 coming, and half of them are Spanish, so probably will not stuff their faces like the Americans will, so I think we are alright in that department. Oh, and last night we made pies 3 and 4. We have stuffing, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, rolls, green beans and corn on deck so this looks like it should be a successful Thanksgiving ala Spain, as long as the turkey turns out. Fingers crossed, I will update you on the outcome tomorrow.

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

Belgium continued

Day 3: Bruges > Brussels

After one of the better breakfasts that I had at a hostel we headed off to an art museum called Groeninge Museum. My super hipster Bruges map that I picked up described it as a museum of art “called ‘Flemish Primitives’, but actually they were imitated all over Europe. Why?” Although the description provided some answer along the lines of realistic techniques and surrealism, I got stuck on the “Why?” This art did not appeal to me in the least. Painting after painting of Jesus on the Cross or Mary weeping or some sinner repenting did not keep me interested in the least, not to mention the so called perfect proportions and realism showed hands the size of heads and feet distorted to awkward angles. Now I realize art is subjective, but really I just felt subjected to an hour of torture as I walked among these medieval examples of

the Bible ruling all. It probably goes without saying I spent the better half of our duration at the museum sitting in the lobby reading Harry Potter 2 in Spanish.

After what felt like an eternity, we left the museum and said farewell to Bruges as we hopped on the next train headed back to the capital. We explored a bit more of the city, made dinner in the hostel and then found a theater showing the Harry Potter 7 movie. We bought our tickets and went back to Grand Place, having a few hours to kill before the show started. We wandered the old streets, passed by more and more chocolate shops that made my mouth water and sought out Manneken Pis, the most famous statue in Belgium, comparable to their version of our Statue of Liberty. Now, what it lacked in size it made up for in spunk. It was this really tiny fountain of a little boy or cherub or whatever peeing into the water below. The boy was probably no more than a foot tall, while the entire piece couldn’t have been more than 8 feet tall. Impressive, right? Well there was a crowd around it standing taking pictures, so it must have some type of elusive draw.

Anyways, we headed back toward the theater, wanting to get good seats for the show. On our way we encountered what I could only describe as if Slope Day had a parade. A mass of drunk college students blasting club music passed down the streets riding in the backs of semis or following alongside them, all dressed up in their given outfits. People were peeing everywhere, no matter whether they were male or female. I guess it makes sense their most famous statue is of a boy peeing in public.

Anyways, we passed through the crowds toward the theater. After standing in line for a bit, the usher came out of the theater, removed the velvet rope and basically allowed everyone to run for the doors in mass madness. People bolted toward the door, eager to get a good seat. Feeling a little too mature to follow the mass of people, we casually entered the theater and sat down in what was probably the nicest movie theater I had ever been in. The walls had frescoes of safari scenes and there was a giant gold sun at the front. The seats were super comfortable and didn’t flip up if you left. It’s the little things that count.

Well, the movie was great and left us with questions mounting, but we had more of the city to see. After stopping back at the hostel we searched for some bars. Now, I like maps and guides as much as the next guy, but it comes to the point that if you don’t look up from these things, you are going to miss the entire city, and this is what I felt our friend Alex was going to do. For the entire trip he had the map from the guidebook in hand, telling us where to see, where to eat etc. At that point, Josh and I were a little fed up with Alex. We tried to tell him that even if it wasn’t in the book it would be okay, and even told him that he had to pick a bar to visit without the aid of the map. Sadly, after a few minutes of walking he went back to the map (I think he thought we didn’t notice) to select a bar. We hopped among some bars and finished our night with some of the best fries I have had in a while. They were probably average or just a bit above, but I haven’t had many fries since being in Spain, and the sauce was killer. It was this spicy mustardy mayonaissey sauce that went great with the fries. I want to find out what that was so I can make it back in the states, because it was just so good.


Day 4: Brussels (What? A day without travelling?!!?)

We took advantage of our only full day in Brussels right off the bat by seeking out some waffles for breakfast. We had noticed that around Manneken Piss was waffle Mecca, so we went back to the peeing statue and found a great hole in the wall walk up place. It wasn’t nearly as good as the first waffle I had in Bruges, but it was still great.

Content with an actually filling breakfast we made our way toward

the Cantillon Brewery/Museum, famous for its Gueuze beer. The tour was interesting and we got two samples at the end of the tour. To be honest, as involved a process as making Gueuze beer seemed to be, I really wasn’t a fan of the beer. It was very sour, almost like a beer with lemon juice added. My palate probably isn’t developed enough to appreciate the flavor, but I probably won’t order that type of beer any time soon (although it beat Keystone by a mile).

On our way back from the brewery we stopped by this falafel place aptly named Mr. Falafel. If you visit Brussels anytime soon, I would for sure recommend this place. For only 3.50 euro you get a pita with 4 pieces of falafel. This sounds like a terrible deal, I know, but then you see the open bar with all the fixing you could want for your falafel pita. Dozens of toppings, sauces, and vegetables are just waiting to fill that toasted pita of yours.

Not knowing what to do, we wandered some more, seeing one of the cathedrals, the Palace of Justice, the Royal Park and the Congress Column, and this plaza near the Musical Instruments Museum that had a great view of the city.

We got back to the hostel after stopping at a Chinese Supermarket for dinner fixings, and I was happily surprised to see the Wisconsin – Michigan football game on all the TVs. I watched the game, feeling a little bit like I was home, while the other guys prepared dinner (I helped out between plays of course). We ate our chow mien (it could have been better), watched a bit of Iron Man, and headed out again to take advantage of our last night in Brussels. We only went to two or three bars including this bar called Kafka that had quotes from his books in German scrawled across the wall, got our last thing of fries and returned home early.


Day 5: Brussels > Charleroi > Santander

Tired and not having any real plans for the day, we slept in until we needed to check out. We split up in the morning, Alex headed for another art museum (no more medieval portraits for me!) while Josh and I wandered more of the city (you picking up a theme here?). We stopped back at the waffle place for one last Belgian waffle and then headed toward a fl

ea market in the direction of the train station where we had to catch the bus back to Charleroi. This flea market was everything that Rastro wasn’t, it was disorganized, unregulated, and just a collection of other people’s junk (which could become someone else’s treasure?). I tried to find some decent sweaters or flannel without any luck (apparently only women wear sweaters and only giants wear flannel), while Josh tried to find some leather jackets (in an attempt to become more badass, perhaps?). Cold and disheartened from our flea market failure we headed back to the train station to catch the bus to the airport, but not before happening upon another market. This market was great. It had a ton of fresh fruit and all the vendors were shouting to get your attention. It felt alive in comparison to the really subdued Ithaca Farmers’ Market. Either way, I finally found flannel that I liked, and it only cost 5 euro! Score? I think so. I bought my flannel and returned home with flannel and Belgian chocolates in hand.