Woke up, Ryan made amazing eggs, went to the bus station and finally got on our way to Barcelona.
Basically, as soon as we got off the bus (or ten minutes later) we became heroes, such that the local people plan on having a city-wide holiday in our honor. We saved a runaway baby! Or, the stroller was actually what ran away, or what slowly rolled down the side walk, as the mother of the sleeping child followed 30ish feet behind it, quite nonchalantly. But we stopped the cart and the mother thanked us, and we were off to find our hostel.
After settling in, we went to find somewhere to change our already dwindling funds and find a Spanish Chinese restaurant. It was quite delicious, and the only strange things were the lack of chopsticks, the addition of seaweed to wonton soup, and the huge eggroll we consumed (the pan fried noodles were just delicious). We ended the night in a hostel bar, trying, mostly in vain, to roll our own clove cigarettes, and overhearing and making snide remarks about the other costumers. Ryan tried his first shot of tequila and lime, and we both had our first some-sort-of-citrusy-drink-with-gin-which-has-the-name-of-some-guy*. The night ended with the finding of a large cat statue that we rode, and it was glorious.
* I took my shot waaaay better, and it was a Tom Collins lol.
The snow had different plans, however, forcing the bus to turn around in the middle of the night, and we had ended up in a midway city between Madrid and Barcelona: Zaragoza. After about 4 hours of screaming Spanish ladies and crying Russians and false promises of a bus getting out that day, the bus company finally agreed to refund us some of our money, leaving us in Zaragoza for the night until we could purchase tickets for the next day.
This would, of course, be one of the days we wouldn’t be able to figure out how to work Ryan’s international SIM card, so we had nowhere to go and no phone with which we could fix our current situation. We were stranded in a bus/train station that should have gotten us anywhere we needed to go. We eventually filched some free WiFi from the expensive hotel inside the train station, and booked a cheap hostel for the night. After failed directions from the hostel’s website, we eventually made up our own directions and bus route to where we thought the hostel was, with respect to a theoretically large church right across the river that was marked on the map, hoping that it could serve as some sort of visual aid in finding our way in this unknown and un-heard-of city. We eventually found our hostel, but no one was there to answer the buzzer. Forced to figure out how to use the SIM card, we eventually contacted the woman who owned it. She informed us she was having her siesta across town, and would be back to let us in an hour or so.
Relieved we hadn’t gotten scammed for what would total 25 euro, we went to search for somewhere to eat, that was not closed for the national naptime. On the way, we finally saw the “theoretically large church.” It was gigantean and beautifully crafted so that it glittered in the sun with its huge spires and intricate mosaic tiles and figures that sat atop its huge dome. It was breathtaking. It evoked such a feeling of majesty and age that would never be surpassed in young buildings of even the states of the northeast. After several touristy, backpacked pictures, we found a bar that had sandwiches, according to the outside window, but no menu, so that we had to make up our own meal and ask the woman running the place if she could make it. Satisfied by the huge sandwich, we walked back to our hostel and found a charming three room hostel and an even more charming woman, with a distinctive Spanish lisp, upon our return. She then gave us a map, and told us the sights we must see, showed us our breakfast in the fridge, and left us to nap.
Waking up felt like a new day, and Zaragoza was beautiful without the faint annoyance of the inconvenience of the morning and small pangs of tiredness and hunger. We visited the church, and I finally understood how easy, with something as magnificent and beautiful as this in a medieval city, it would be to believe in something greater and more God-ly than the inhabitants of this earth.
Saw some more ancient architecture, right next to more modern, actually artful graffiti, walked along the river, and then strolled around town into the night. Whilst walking, we saw a shop selling some creepy KKK looking robes, but they might have been a religious thing. Ended up getting a pizza to go, going back to the room to watch some Project Runway, and called it a night.
Full-sized robes in different colors. There were toys too, so the whole family can enjoy!
Last day in Madrid. Breakfast of gelato. Some pretty pictures of the Palace and a magnificent church and a garden with a miniature hedge maze and funny pineapple fountains. Late lunch at an Indian restaurant with amazing nan. And back to the pub with our huge, ridiculous backpacks to watch the UF basketball game (they had it listed outside on a chalkboard, but they didn’t put it on, so we watched soccer). We took the metro to the bus station and boarded a midnight bus to Barcelona. On board, we saw a blanket of our first (European) snow, before we fell asleep, planning to wake up at 9 in the morning in Barcelona.
Woke up in the afternoon-not so much due to jet leg, as much as sheer tiredness from the little and mostly uncomfortable sleep we had in the past three days. After a walk to the tourist office to finally collect a map, we walked out into a plaza we had seen the night prior, but in all its un-rainly, daytime glory. Amongst the milling of tourists and locals, dancing and sometimes frightening and all together strange people laced in between crowds, asking for money, and putting on quite possibly the best show I’ve seen. [See the video.] A fat, dancing, glorious Spider-Man posed and initiated a waltz with Hello Kittie, who had been walking around with a Minnie Mouse and some other vaguely feminine character, all of whom all had something slightly off, but indefinable and possibly a bit creepy, with their home spun costumes. And there was a guy with a moose. And a man with a giant bubble wand. And several creepy puppets, who seemed to play instruments in their own right as their limbs were controlled by a man hiding in a backpack. A witch who gave tours also walked around, and often talked to three seemingly disembodied, mutilated heads on a table.
[Video to be uploaded later]
Once we had our fill of the bizarre, we hungered for something more filling and went to the famous (and surprisingly cheap) El museo de jamon, which had incredible chorizo. And then we walked to the Parque Retiro, where we saw an elephant (statue) performing the acrobatic stunt of balancing upon his trunk, a crystal palace, ducks that listened when you called, black swans, a little dog who tried to attack said swans multiple times and was chased off as the huge swan threatened to come onto to dry land and attack it in whichever swans attack in, a man in a car who spied on us (maybe) as Ryan asked for fire magic from a tree trinity, and a Spanish playground, which was a test of agility and ability, without the threat of sue-happy parents, so it was amazing, if slightly dangerous for small children. A lot of our Spanish adventures involve their strange play areas that are almost a work of art in their modernity and uniqueness, and this day saw the first.
Later that night, we decided to hit up one of the Irish pubs we had seen the night before, hoping for a pint of Guinness, while watching whatever futbol or rugby match happened to be on. But the Spaniards seem to have a different idea of the atmosphere an Irish pub should elicit. We were soon surrounded by cheap Irish car bombs and pints of whisky and coke, and the grinding bodies of people dancing to Lady Gaga, while pro-wrestling played soundless on the TV. We joined in (Ryan danced! AFTER asking me if I wanted to dance-haha, he could become a clubly person yet….), had some drinks, tried our first shots of infamous absinthe, and left to find a late night dinner, which was our first “true” kebab, in the form of a Turkish pizza, which was absolutely amazing. We accompanied our far-past-midnight snack with our first Spanish Fanta, which actually tastes like orange and is arguably the best drink in the world.
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Ryan and I both woke up to a wonderfully decent plane breakfast that was at least edible, if a bit confusing as to what it actually was. We landed around tenish in the morning, local time, and after navigating the largest labyrinth of raised walkways and several sets of up and down stairs (so that we ended up at pretty much the same exact level that we began our trek out of the plane on) we made it to the real airport, where we followed a huge mass of people to the passport check. Ryan, of course, had to use the bathroom (girl-bladder) before we waited in line. And so he had his first experience with European toilets and light switches. Our passports cleared and we made our way to baggage claim, but quickly got distracted on the way by these magical rooms. From outside these little huts/aquariums, you can watch all the sickening smoking Spaniards indulge in their vice behind glass as high powered filters removed the second hand smoke from the air. Pretty nifty. And we decided to smoke as the Spaniards smoke, creating both a detour from our luggage-retrieving and our first emersion in European culture. We then collected our bags, removed our shrink wrap, walked through customs, and out into Real Madrid (after a couple of transfers on the metro).
We emerged from the Underground into a rainy Puerto del Sol, and walked around with our huge turtle-shell-esque backpacks, spending the better part of a half an hour sleepily looking for our Hostel. We eventually found it, and got caught for attempting to fit two people into a single room, which is an explicit no-no, according to the portly, not-so-polite receptionist, and had to pay 24 Euro in addition to what we already had for the room. Safe inside the room, we fell asleep to some Planet Earth and woke up several hours later, to find that the $20 converter Ryan’s parents had so kindly bought us, had shorted out, leaving us near computer-less, and as such internet-less.
We went out, braving the little drizzle that was still lazily falling in the near freezing weather. We passed a couple of Irish pubs, of which we made mental note to return to, and we found a marvelous indoor market, which had a multitude of foods and wine and ice cream and candies and beers, but which also had, most importantly, magic heaters that were so very warm- and dry-making. Our appetites awakened by the delicious looking fresh foods, we set out to search for our first foray into Spanish cuisine: tapas. Once found, they were deliciously unidentifiable, possibly consisting of some combination of raw tuna, tuna salad, cheese, egg of some kind toasted bread, various sauces, and ham. And then we tried what we decided is the Spanish version of a less-cheesy mozzarella stick. With a couple of beers, the total came to 6 Euros for the both of us, foretelling our tendency to eat cheaply and share meals on the rest of the trip. We then found a hookah bar, something we managed to research on the little battery my computer had left after 3 hours running the same planet earth menu while we dozed. It was typical hookah (with Ryan’s slight exception of not understanding the waiter), possibly more fruity than usual, that we accompanied with our new found ability to purchase alcohol through completely legal means. Twas fun, and whilst we smoked, we played several hands of cards, and then walked back to our hostel (what was supposed to be a 15 minute walk quickly turned into a 45 minute one, as we had not yet found a map*, and were getting around by finding random metro stations and trying to figure out where we should go based on where we ended up, but we did find a prettily lit up building, so It wasn’t a complete loss).
* (Ryan) We didn’t take the Metro because Rachel said she knew which way to go, and we could save money by walking. This was somewhat true, though we turned around several times, and were walking through the cold Spanish night, which was accompanied by the colder Spanish rain. The one that falls on the plains.
(Graffiti mocking us and our lack of a working European adapter)
Neither of us got much sleep, so the morning was pretty rough. Said goodbye to my Dad and the dogs, and then my Mom and I went to say goodbye to Papa Tony before meeting Rachel, her Mom, and her brother at El Mariachi’s for lunch, after which, we drove to MIA. We missed the terminal the first time and had to make an extra lap, but we eventually made it, and our Mommies kissed us goodbye while keeping their composure (and surprisingly didn’t insist on seeing us to the gate), though they probably cried like babies during the drive home. We super Seram-wrapped our giant hiking backpacks that we’d be lugging around for the next few months, and then checked them. Mine ended up weighing about 38 lbs, and Rachel’s was 33, though she had her laptop as a carry-on. While we waited for the plane, we had some Starbucks (possibly our last?) and some snacks we brought, and watched an episode and a half of Weeds.. Boarded the plane, read Sky Mall, and Rachel gave me some plane presents: my favorite strawberry candies, a toy racecar, mini-checkers, a small bag with magic tricks, a box of crayons with attached sharpener, and a Bible coloring book. It was awesome.
We colored-by-number the First Day, found our way through a maze to find the Garden of Eden, and colored an adorable little snake who had a thing for apples. Rachel got sleepy and took a nap, and I played some Pokemon Red. Landed for a pit stop in Philly, and then we were in for a long flight to Madrid. I watched ‘Whip It’ on the flight cuz I like Ellen Page cuz we're both PUNX, and Rachel napped again, sporadically waking up and interrupting my movie to impart some half-asleep gibberish, which left me highly amused.
Neither of us had finished packing, and I hadn’t even started. We mozyed on over to Rachel’s to pick up a few things, and then drove around to our different banks, depositing checks, withdrawing cash, and comparing the complimentary coffee. We allowed ourselves to have a nice farewell treat of Panda Bowls and Sno-Balls. I got back to the house around 6, and finally started laying out things to take, had a last dinner with my parents, and finished packing around 11 under the watchful eyes of my parents and the guiding wisdom of Rick Steves’ packing list. Rachel, Julian, Christina, and Tam came over and we had a nice little going away party, culminating in a group hug and some “Where Do You Go to My Lovely?” to make it an official goodbye. We watched some LOST, and called it a night.
** Sorry about any pronoun-based confusion, but we're jointly writing these entries and the author often changes at random intervals, so deal with it**
For those of you who didn’t know, Rachel and I decided this past November to take a semester off from school, and go on a trip to Europe. For funzies. And we decided to ship off in the coming spring. Truly, we had this huge romanticized notion of how this trip would work: we had planned on disembarking on a cargo ship from Port Everglades in late January or early February, staying in Europe for like four months and traveling to absolutely ever country that slightly struck our fancy, hitchhiking and riding our new (or lovingly used) European motorcycles through incredibly picturesque landscapes, heading from the southwest to as far east as we could go without difficult visa-situations and then going up north to return to the east, and hopping back on the next ship heading somewhere across the Atlantic and eventually ending up back in the States, via Costa Rica or Cuba, if we could talk our way into (and out of) the country. The actual trip hasn’t actually turned out like that, but it’s in no way worse… though a motorcycle would be pretty sweet. Soooo, this was the picture we painted for our parents of what we had decided to do with our spring semester instead of continuing our studies right away. We broke the news to our folks Thanksgiving weekend, hoping for the best. Rachel’s were pretty accepting, whereas mine went from disbelief to ardent disagreement (mostly about the timing). But eventually, we (semi)-convinced them that the timing would work out and that spring was the best option (partially because there would be less tourists, partially because it was better for some people we knew who said they could host or hire us while abroad, and partially because it had seemed that it would be easier to take the classes in summer at this time in our college career, rather than later when our courses would not be available in the summer, and we would need to be thinking of internships and jobs and such. Also, we were really excited to go and didn’t really want to wait.)
Waiting until the last minute, as finals week of fall semester drew to a close, we decided we were really going to go, cancelled our dorm contracts for the spring, and dropped all the classes we had registered for. As we began planning, we quickly realized that a lot of our plans were simply impossible to bring to realization. So, we opted for two months at home working, bought plane tickets (leaving for Madrid on March 4th and leaving from Dublin June 10th) instead of working through the difficult cargo ship idea, which was far more expensive than it seemed it should be, decided (at Ryan’s request) to stick to mostly Western European countries (deciding to still follow the east-north-west pattern of early more idealized plans: beginning in Spain, traveling through Southern France to Switzerland and Northern Italy, making our way north through Austria to Munich and a bit east to Prague, back west to Denmark, the Netherlands-of course-and Belgium, mozying back through France to visit Paris and cross the Channel to the UK to work in London and then to Ireland to visit the ghosts of ancient castles and find faeries whilst on horseback) and waiting to buy motorcycles for our return. But the general plan for our European journey, once we got there, remained the same: we found some work through a couple organizations: WWOOF (Willing Workers on Organic Farms) and WorkAway (both of these organizations provide a place for hosts to contact volunteers who will work on their farm, at their bed and breakfast, or at their forestry school, etc., in exchange for room and board and amazing food) and relied on some of Rachel’s European Yale contacts for some paying work. We had also hoped to do some couchsurfing, though nobody seems to want to host people who have yet to try it before, but it’s still a possibility.
So, that’s where we are. We had meant to start writing and posting this blog as soon as we left, but faulty internet connections and breathtaking sights were set against us. As it stands, we are posting our first entry the 10th of April (we’ve been in Europe for over a month now) at an internet point in Perugia, Italy (we’ve already traveled through Spain, the South of France and parts of northwest and central Italy). Bon voyage!
(Visual representation of how awesome our trip is)
