Scottish wisdom

Me: Well, I guess they have rednecks all over the world.

Robyn: Yep. But in Scotland, we don't call 'em "rednecks." We just call 'em "Scottish."

Technical difficulties

Hi all,

So, my posts are going to be a bit shorter and more sparse for a few days. My laptop charger died, so I'll be blogging from my phone for a bit.

Plan is to order a new charger after we book our next hostel and have it delivered there. If that doesn't work, then I'll just be extra careful to book hostels with computers from here on out.

In Nice!

Took the train to Nice today.
Got in around 4, dropped our stuff, and went for a walk along the beach.

Tomorrow, we're going to explore Nice some more, then Wednesday we're going to Monaco. As for Thursday, no plans of yet, though we might use it as a backup in case we need more time for Nice or Monaco.

St. Remy-de-Provence

Day trip numero uno from Avignon was to St. Remy-de-Provence, a sleepy little French town about 10 miles south of Avignon. It has the perfect mix of “things for tourists to do” and “being an actual town,” since all the main attractions in town are actually a 20 minute walk south of town. So, we got to see some cool sights, but didn’t have to walk through hordes of folks trying to sell us cheap stuff.

First, though, we had to get there. Despite only being 10 miles south of town, it’s about a 40 euro cab ride, so we nixed that pretty quick (at that price, we could almost get a guided tour of the city that would pick us up at our hotel). Instead, we found out a bus leaves Avignon for St. Remy every 2 hours, and only costs 3.50 euros. Much better. Only catch to this was that the bus station in Avignon is…less than clean. It’s funny, the people aren’t sketchy at all (plenty of grandmas, school kids, and commuters were on the bus), and the station isn’t in a sketchy part of town, but it’s…kinda awful. The ticket office reeked of urine, and the entrance was right off a big highway, so we were a little put off at first. But then again, it’s kind of hard to feel sketched out when you’re standing next to a 13-year-old boy headed home from school for lunch and a group of chattering teenage girls with bags of shopping.

Once we got there, we tried to head to the tourism office, but they were closed for lunch. Since we only had a few hours, we couldn’t wait for them to reopen, so we just headed straight for the main sights south of town.

First: the St. Paul Monastery and Sanitarium, where Van Gogh was kept for a year after he cut his ear off. He was here for only a year, but in that time, he painted almost 200 paintings, and about that many drawings. It was really cool seeing all this, especially since they would put prints of his paintings next to scenes he had painted. For example, next to the olive tree grove were two prints of paintings he had done of the grove. They also had the room where he slept, which was amazing, as you could look out his window and see the wheat fields he painted. They’ve since converted them to flower fields, but it’s still cool, especially since little bits of wheat still grow as weeds around the flowers.

Another cool thing is that the monastery still acts as a psychiatric hospital, and they specialize in art therapy to help patients recover. The gift shop (in addition to the typical Van Gogh-themed mouse pads, mugs, and calendars) sold the patients artwork, which was pretty amazing.

After that, we wandered the fields for a while, looking at the trees, flowers, and mountains, then headed further south to the ruins of the Roman city of Glanum. Glanum was a totally NOTHING roman town, which is part of its charm. When you go to Rome, you see grand basilicas, arenas, and monuments, but no ordinary buildings; the modern city was just built on top of those. At Glanum, though, you can just see what a blacksmith’s house was like, or how a Roman village’s roads were laid out. There was also a tour group of little schoolchildren, who were all dressed in togas and traditional Roman clothing. It was just ever so slightly adorable.

Afterwards, we started to head back, but took a wrong turn on the way, so we got kind of turned around. The map from the guidebook we had only had the main roads, so we couldn’t figure out where to go at first. In a city like Paris or Barcelona, this could be a bit of a problem, but St. Remy is about half the size of my neighborhood at home (i.e. really frickin’ tiny) so it took us all of five minutes to find the bus stop again. Once we found it, we killed time in a truly American way: snacks! Mint chocolate chip is apparently just as tasty on this side of the Atlantic, too.

Once we got back, we pretty much just bummed around for the rest of the day, then grabbed dinner from the super market.

St. Remy photos are up!

Photos of St. Remy-de-Provence are up!

Set is here.

Avignon

Day 1 in Avignon was pretty straightforward: catch train, check in, grab food, sleep. Had a rather amusing moment where we pulled out cash to pay and the hotelier looked at us like we were nuts and said, “Non, monsier. You pay at checkout.” We thought this was sketchy as all hell (budget travellers always have to be on the lookout for places that try and squeeze extra fees onto checks), til we realized that’s how it works in the real world (i.e. the non-hostel part of the world). We ended up paying the next day, anyway, though. After that, we grabbed dinner at a creperie (and not the 30-euro-a-plate restaurant the front desk sent us to), which was plenty tasty. After that, Facebook, blogpost, and bed.

Day 2 was a planning day. Since we were spending 6 days in Provence, a general schedule was necessary, so we spent about an hour checking train schedules, calling tour companies (…okay, our hotelier did that for us), and asking the front desk about the bus schedule. After that, we got tickets sorted out (which actually took less time than the planning did, walks to and from the station included) and set off to actually see the city we were staying in.

First stop, something horribly, horribly touristy: the tourist train. Most European cities have them: a train on wheels that tourists are shoved into and then driven around the city in. Conductor in full-on engineer attire and decorative front car optional. We’d been snickering at them pretty much everywhere we went, but this train was only 7 euro, so we figured it would be a good way to get oriented to the city. While we weren’t wrong, it wasn’t a mind-boggling experience, either. The train went in front of the palace, up to and through the botanical gardens, down to the River, and past the bridge before coming back to its starting point. Not a waste of 7 euro, but we didn’t really see anything amazing or learn anything new aside from a general orientation.

Anyway, we headed up to the botanical gardens, where we got a great view of the city and saw a few rather adorable families of ducklings in the pond. We grabbed a snack and watched the ducks for a while, then headed down to the Rhone and up to the bridge.

I’d actually never heard of the Bridge of St. Benezet until Anna told me about it right before my trip, but it’s apparently pretty well known, thanks to a nursery rhyme I’d never heard. Basically, it’s a bridge that used to cross all the way over the Rhone, but over years, the current in the river kept knocking down arches, until the town stopped trying to maintain it. Now, just 3 of the original arches remain. Afterwards, we wandered a bit, then came back to the river to see it at night.

Day 3, we got an earlier start than usual (out the door around 10:30, I think) so we could go to the market, which is only open before 1pm. Was pretty cool to see, though we didn’t buy anything (wasn’t there as a sight for tourists, so we didn’t think they’d speak much English). Afterwards, we grabbed coffee and sammiches in Plaza Pie (pronounced pee-yay, though there was a ‘café 3.14’ to make fun of the double pronunciation).

Afterwards, we went to the papal palace. The story behind this is that in the 14^th century, Italy was undergoing a series of civil wars, which made the country a dangerous place to be for foreigners. So, when a French cardinal was named Pope, the king of France persuaded him to move the papacy to Avignon until things settled. The Italians, obviously, were outraged by this, but the papal seat stayed in Avignon until 1377.

The palace was enormous and obviously very grand, but it was hard to picture what it was like when the pope lived there. Avignon and Provencal cities in general have a bare-bones attitude towards preserving historic sites, in that they tend to only maintain the materials that are there, and nothing more. That’s fine, but it meant that the palace is BARE. Most of the frescoes were incredibly faded, there aren’t any tapestries or reproductions on the walls or ceiling, and there wasn’t any furniture. So, while it was cool and obviously amazing, we never really got a sense that it was a palace fit for the pope.

Oh, and Provencal tours are…amusingly literal and factual. They don’t really give you any juicy rumors or stories or tidbits, like most tourist sites; more just straight facts, like, “The ceiling is supported by 6 stone arches,” and “The hall has three windows, which you can see to the left.” I can see and count the arches and windows quite clearly, thank you. The tourist train had been the same way, telling us how long streets were or how tall buildings were, without really saying why they were important or interesting.

After dinner that night, Sean and I split up to wander on our own. Avignon is an incredibly safe city (there are very few foreign tourists around, so pickpockets and the like aren’t a problem), so it was cool to see what the city was like after dark. I wandered down to the river around sunset to grab some shots of the river, then pretty much just wandered the city trying to get lost. I ended up wandering through a residential area, which was fun, as I could hear French families finishing up dinner through open windows. There’s also apparently a lot of cats in these parts, all of whom are crazy skittish. I’d be twenty feet away, and they’d tear off down an alley.

That was our “last” day in Avignon, even though we stayed there for four more nights, as we did day trips every other day. I’ll post those as separate posts later.

Barcelona's done, Avignon photos are up

Read the title, yo!

Directions

Being mistaken for a local in a country where you don't even speak the language twice in one day is rather amusing.

As is giving people directions in a city you've only been in for 5 days.

Piece du l'Rennaisance

So apparently they have Renaissance fairs in France.

Was eating at a kebab shop, and a dude in full-on period medieval garb walk in and says, "Monsieur! Directions, s'il vous plait?" The kebab shop owner just kind of stared for a second, then said, "Uhh, oh, oui, monsieur," and helped him find where he was going.

I took the chance to look outside, and saw a guy dressed in a beggar costume and a woman in an aristocrat's gown.

It would appear the French are just as capable of geekery as Americans.

Souvenirs and mementos

I like souvenirs. Not the "I went to Madrid and all I got was this lousy t-shirt" souvenirs you see in shops, but things that are unique about a place. Much to my overfull suitcase's (and underfull wallet's) chagrin, I've been picking up stuff as I go.

So, my swag so far:

• Copper ginginha drinking cup from Lisbon
• Lapis lazuli prayer bracelet with the cross and scallop shell of St. James from Santiago
• Damascene carving of Toledo from Toledo
• Hyper-parabolic modernisme coffee mugs from Barcelona
• Watercolor of Avignon and the St. Benezet bridge from Avignon
• A wind-up music box that plays the Avignon nursery rhyme from Avignon
• Bottle from the Chateauneuf-du-Papes (the vineyards that served the French Popes) from Avignon
• Stalk of wheat from the wheat fields Van Gogh painted in St. Remy-de-Provence

Barcelona

The train ride from Madrid was largely uneventful and, thankfully, pretty short. The ride from Santiago to Madrid took almost seven hours, but to Barca, it was only about two.

Anyway, from the station, we grabbed a set of 4-day metro passes (which were incredibly expensive at about 25 euro apiece; I’d forgotten how expensive the metro system was. We got our money’s worth, though) and headed to the hostel. It was in a fantastic location (1 block from the Arc d’Triomf metro station, and a ten-minute walk from my old residencia), and the people running it were nice. Also did my laundry for 6 euro. Considering that’s about how much it costs to do it yourself, I was pretty happy with the deal!

After we checked in, we went to warm up for Sagrada Familia with some lesser-known Modernisme. The Arc d’Triomf was a block down the street, so we went there, grabbed some photos, and meandered into the Ciutadella, a big park in the heart of the city famous for two things. One, it was a former fort that the Castillians built to keep an eye on the rebellious Catalonians several centuries back. As soon as it was vacated, the Catalonians tore it down and built the park. Two, it has a fountain designed by Gaudi and one of his students in the middle of it. It’s also a phenomenal park in its own right.

After that, dinner, then bed.

Day 2, went back to the station to reserve our seats to Avignon, which was an experience. After two hours and four attendants who spoke about as much English as we did Spanish, we finally realized that we didn’t need to reserve seats, since we were taking local trains. After that, we did Sagrada Familia (which I’ve already posted about), then headed to La Rambla and slowly made our way down the water front. On the way, we stopped at La Boqueria (the big market here, where I grabbed some guava agua fresca) and shook our heads at a Catalonian bachelor party making its way across town. They were…thoroughly sloshed by the time we saw them, and had air horns, whistles, and megaphones to herald their arrival. Anyway, we wandered down the waterfront for a while, then headed back for dinner.

On the way, we walked through the Carrer de Ribes neighborhood (wanted to see if the Italian restaurant was open), and got to see the joyous sight of what happens when you give small children matches. While we were walking down the street, we realized, “Oh, that trees on fire.” Some kids had apparently wanted to see what happens when you held a lit match to the bark of a palm tree. They were initially highly amused by it, but when it worked its way up the tree, they got a little panicked when they realized they weren’t tall enough to put it out. It was honestly hysterical to watch all the adults scramble over to extinguish it (Though one guy started hitting it with a flip flop. I don’t know what he hoped to accomplish, but someone ran out with a 2 liter of water, which did the job).

The next day, we headed up to one of Gaudi’s other masterpieces, Parc Guell. After trying (and…somewhat succeeding) to get a photo with El Drac, we wandered around, meandered through Gaudi’s house (which, oddly enough, he didn’t design), saw the bench, and hike up a bit to get a good view of the city). On the way back down, we also got to see a rather amusing fruitbasket turnover, as all the Pakistani guys selling knick-knacks heard a police siren, wrapped all their wares in the sheets they were laid on, and VANISHED. They straight-up BOLTED out the front gate of the park in about a minute.

After that, we killed some time before dinner, then headed out for tapas. Unfortunately, a tapas place I remembered (the one I ate at my last night in Barca) was closed for the holiday (Spanish memorial day, basically), but a dim sum place nearby was open. So, we pigged out on Chinese food, then headed to Placa Espana to see the Magic fountain show.

Day four, we headed to the beach to grab a cable car up to Montjuic. The ride was expensive, but worth it for the views of the city we got. We hiked up to the peak, taking a few breaks for ice cream and coffee, then walked down the other side of the mountain, walking past the Olympic plaza, the Palau Nacional, and the Mies van der Rohe pavilion. That night, we just kinda chilled at the hostel while we ate dinner, then went downstairs to the TV room (which had a VERY nice screen) and watched the Spanish classic El Caballero Oscuro (i.e. Batman: The Dark Knight).

Sagrada Familia

So, in the race for “Chris’s favorite basilica,” Sagrada Familia and St. Peter’s have always been neck-and-neck. St. Peter’s interior and decorations pretty much blow any other church on earth out of the water (when your the headquarters of the Catholic Church for several hundred years, you tend to collect some swag), but I’ve always loved the exterior of Sagrada Familia so much more.

In a nutshell, Sagrada Familia has the typical cross-shaped layout of a basilica, with the Apse occupying the top section of the cross. The other three arms are tipped with three facades, representing three aspects of Christianity: the Nativity, the Passion, and the Glory (i.e. believers, faith, and the Holy Trinity). The Passion and Nativity Facades are mostly done, but the Glory Façade is just getting started. Currently, it just consists of the door pictured below, with the Lord’s Prayer in Catalan in the center, and the phrase “Give us this day our daily bread” in most of the world’s languages.

The Nativity Façade tells scenes fromthe story of Christ’s birth, including the actual Nativity, the flight of the Holy Family to Egypt, and Jesus teaching as a child in the temple. Modernisme (the architectural movement Gaudi was a member of) focuses a lot on nature, plants, and animals, and it really shows here. This façade is coated in little nubbly bits representing animals, fruit, and flowers surrounding the Biblical scenes. The main entrance through this façade is supported by pillars that end in two large turtles, whose long-lives represent the eternal nature of God’s power. Oh, and true to Barcelona’s orientation “La montans, y la mar” (the mountains and the sea), the turtles represent the city’s surroundings. The turtle on the sea-side of the entrance is a sea turtle, and the turtle on the mountain-side is a mountain tortoise. This imagery also extends to the exterior of the apse, which is covered in small animals “fleeing in awe of the Holy Spirit inside.”

The Passion Façade is, obviously, much more stark and somber, and features the other main aspect of Modernisme: geometry. The entire façade is harsh angles and odd curves, and gives everything a kind of shocked and inhuman feeling. The scenes here reflect the scenes of the Passion (you can see most of them HERE), and the shapes of characters and imagery are all meant to be simplistic and sad. My personal favorite part was the statue of the Ascension, which I forgot to snap a photo of. It’s a brass statue that weighs over 4 TONS, and is sitting on a stone slab waaaaaay up in the air. I also liked the magic square near the scene of Judas’ betrayal (where there are over 300 ways to combine the numbers and get 33, Jesus’ age at death), and the ripping of the sheet in the Temple, where you can see the light and colors of God shining through.

When I was there last, they were just finishing up the roof, and had maybe four stained glass windows in place. Now, the interior structure is mostly complete, and the decorations are nearly there too. But, now that Sagrada Familia’s interior is nearing completion, I have to say, it’s pulled ahead in a massive way. The church is absolutely STUNNING inside. I was blown away, and Sean’s reaction was, “It totally blew away my expectations, which were pretty high to begin with after hearing you talk about it.”

The columns are all made using a complex geometric formula that has them start as six-sided ones at the base, then slowly “grow” more and more sides as they reach the top. Once they reach the top, they split into more columns to simulate tree trunks supporting the ceiling, which is designed to look like the canopy of a forest. This is supposed to simultaneously create a sense of wonder at the scale of the church, while also making it feel enclosed, private, and personal (goals which, oddly enough, it achieves). When the sun sets, lights in the spaces between the “leaves” turn on, simulating seeing stars peeking through.

Light and color in the church are AMAZING as well. The altar and apse are surrounded by gold, stained glass, and windows, so it’s so full of color, you don’t really know how to process it all. The windows to the east (the Nativity façade) are blue and green, and the windows to the west (the Passion façade) are oranges and reds, so the sunrise simulates spring, water, and life, and the sunset simulates autumn.

The area behind the altar (where little chapels normally go) was also done differently. Rather than having chapels and shrines to various saints (which invariably get gated off to keep tourists out), it’s just a quiet place where people can go, sit, pray, and think (the original purpose of the chapels).

So yes, overall, Sagrada Familia is a very different church from most of the cathedrals and basilicas you’ll find in Europe. It might not have the gold and marble of St. Peter’s, but it more than makes up for that in character, creativity, and the thought that went into all the details. Even things that you wouldn’t think of (like the decorations around windows you can only see from the towers, the use of spring fruits on the Nativity towers and autumn fruits on the Passion towers) have a reason behind them.

All in all, it’s an absolutely fantastic church, and worth the visit to Barcelona all on its own. I see at least one more trip to Barca in my future, somewhere on the order of 2026-2028, when it’s supposed to be completed.

War of the French Artists

So apparently artists in Provence and Paris dislike each other. Walked past a woman selling some very nice, surprisingly cheap watercolors today and asked if they were originals or prints.

She got a little huffy and said, "Monsieur, these are ALL originals. We are NOT like those "artists" in Montmartre."

(Imagine it in a thick French accent to get the full effect)

Provence Schedule

So, schedule of Provence:

Yesterday (5/29): Train to Avignon

Today (5/30): Planned and booked tours, trains, and buses, went on a cheesy tour, saw the Bridge, walked along the river, got dinner

Tomorrow (5/31): More of Avignon; papal palace and wandering

Friday (6/1): Buses to and from St. Remy in Provence

Saturday (6/2): Taking a guided tour of Nimes, Uzes, and Pont du Gard all day

Sunday (6/3): Train to and from Arles 

Monday (6/4): Leaving Avignon for Nice/Monaco

Trip to Avignon

So, the trip to Avignon was…interesting.

Not bad interesting. Actually quite dull. But a little different.

Basically, there’s no direct line to Avignon from Barcelona. This is mostly due to the fact that Spanish rail lines use a different gauge (distance between rails) on their track than just about everybody else. So, anyone going into or out of Spain by rail has to change to a different line near the border. Most people going from Barcelona to Avignon change at either Montpellier (on the French side) or Figueres (on the Spanish side). These are the ‘official’ Eurail routes.

Not so with Sean and I. When we went to the train station in Barcelona, we realized two things. 1) Eurail’s official routes are not at all comprehensive and 2) People in Barcelona reaaaallly don’t like speaking English. We talked with 4 different train officials, two of whom knew a bit of English, but didn’t speak it to us, one of whom actually spoke to us in English, and one who didn’t speak English, but was a master of Spanglish. 

Anyway, long story short, after about 2 hours at the train station, we figured out what we were doing.

Interestingly enough, though, the officials had pointed us to an unofficial route. Instead of one of the other two towns, this route took us through Cerbere, France. We were happy, ‘cause it took only local train routes, which meant that we didn’t have to pay a reservation fee (which eurailers have to do when riding long distance or high speed trains).

The wait at the station the day of was fun. We got there plenty early, and were drinking coffee in the waiting area when an Asian woman runs up to us, drops two suitcases and a backpack, asks us to watch it, then scurries off with two other bags.

Enter Ellen, another of those characters you only meet once in a long while.

Ellen came back a few minutes later, and we realized the two other bags were (occupied) cat carriers. She plopped down, thanked us, and struck up a conversation. Turns out, she had just finished a year-long stint at Google, and was moving back to France. She was…vague, at best, with what she did. She did tell us that, before her initial move to France, she worked on “UI design in Silicon Valley for 1

When we got to Cerbere, though, it was a ghost town. Our train was there, but there were maybe a dozen people at the train station, of which maybe a half-dozen were actually on our train. The rest were ticket salespeople, janitors, and border agents (Who were a little befuddled by my passport. The border agent in Lisbon was running low on ink, so the visa stamp is kinda faint. The poor agent here looked at my passport which seemed to say I magically materialized on a train in his country. He was fine when I pointed the stamp out to him, though).

Anyway, aside from that, the trip was fairly vanilla. I read a book on Provence, Sean read a book on his iPad, and we arrived. Got a nice view of the countryside, too, but it was mostly on or near the border, not before. The Spanish like to build their trains a bit below ground level, so aside from a bit of Figeueres, we didn’t see much. Once we got to Portbou, though, it was gorgeous. We drove through a few marshes, across a river, and spent a hefty amount of time on the coast, which was nice.

Anyway, we arrived in one piece, got checked in, and got dinner. Check another country off my list!

Food in Barcelona

‘Twas good to be back in Barca; I was ready for some good Catalonian food.

Anyway, the first night, we took the hosteliers advice and went to Hugo, a Chilean restaurant that specialized (oddly enough) in Catalonian specialties. I got pork sausage and white beans, and Sean got the sirloin. Spanish food continued its streak of being tasty, but heavily underseasoned. I had to reapply salt 3 times before I could taste any of it. Was quite tasty after that =) Dessert was Crèma Catalonia, a (very large) crème brulee.

Day two, we grabbed some Durum kebab (basically a gyro wrap) between the train station (where we split a muffin) and Sagrada Familia. Quite tasty, but not up to my high durum standards.

For dinner we decided to satisfy some bad vitamin deficiencies. Spanish and Portuguese food are kinda chintzy with the vegetables (you pretty much get a large hunk of protein and some form of potatoes), so Sean and I went to Vegetalia, a vegetarian café in the old city I found last time I was in Barcelona. We split an order of hummus (om nom nom), and I got the mushroom, asparagus, and quinoa risotto, with a brownie for dessert.

Day 3, we went for Italian pretty much around the corner from my old residence in the Carrer de Ribes neighborhood. I got tortellini carbonara, which was tasty, and we apparently impressed the waiter, as we both got a free glass of cava. Dinner that night was a bit different. We tried to find a tapas place that I remembered, but it was closed (Sundays in Spain; plan meals around them!), so we ended up at a place called Mosquito, which specialized in “tapas exoticas.” What does that mean? Dim sum! We got some fried duck, grilled beef, and 3 kinds of dumplings, as well as two red bean paste dumplings for dessert. I also got a schooling from one of the waitresses for ordering my aperitif AFTER my meal (I thought it was a digestif! I’m sorry!). She mimed how it ‘opens up the stomach’ by miming the alien exploding out of her chest.

The next day, we tried to go to my favorite restaurant in Barca (Café de l’Academia), but it was closed for Spain’s equivalent of Memorial Day. ‘Twas quite sad, but couldn’t be helped (closed on the weekend, so it’s not like we could have gone any other time while we were there). So, instead, we went to Tapas Lonje, around the corner, where we split some prawns stewed with mushrooms, skewered chicken, jamon croquettes, and grilled sausage. The prawns were my personal favorite there.

Dinner that night was simple. I was a bit tired of eating out, so, while Sean ran to a Donor Kebab place, I just got some bread, meat, and cheese at the convenience store and made a sammich. Quick, simple, and cheap.

Our last meal in Barcelona was…amusing. I’ve sworn off American chains while I’m over here, as has Sean, as this photo of him chowing down on a Big Macadillo proves. I can’t judge really, though. I ran to a pastry shop across the station and got the largest chocolate filled pastry I’ve ever seen. Seriously. I’ve seen baguettes smaller than this! ‘Twas quite tasty, though!

And now, on to Provence!

Things overheard in hostels

So, one of the benefits of travelling is that you meet some absolutely fascinating characters. Some are wacky, some are witty, some are just clueless. Whatever the reason behind their interestingness, they say some interesting things.

Click through to see them. Some are definitely R-rated, so if you're easily offended, look away!

(Note: Some of these are just amusing quotes from out and about that I had to share. Most are from my hostelmates, though.)

New friends in Barcelona

In Barcelona, we met a few characters. Unfortunately, I didn’t think to grab any photos, but they’re colorful enough without them.

First and foremost, the Australians Ryan and Ren. These guys were covered from head to toe in tattoos, and showed up on their first day wearing nothing but swim trunks and flip flops. Ren was a butcher and Ryan worked for a contracting company as a tile-layer (I think; never asked him, but heard this second-hand from another of our roommates). Nice guys, but were a little…crass. You’ll see why in another post I’m working on called “Things overheard in hostels.”

Next, Lizzie and her little sister (I felt too awkward to ask her name again after the third time of me not remembering). Two girls from Pennsylvania, both of whom were at University of Pittsburgh. Lizzie just finished a degree in nursing and is about to start her job search, and Lizzie is on her last year of her primary education degree. They were funny. Right around the time Sean and I thought, “Hey, they’re getting along pretty well for sisters travelling together,” one of them lost her toothpaste, and the other just adamantly refused to let her borrow any.

Lastly, Chasen from USC, who is between his bachelors and masters in architecture. He introduced himself as “Chasen. It’s like Jason, except you’re running after somebody.” That, and the fact that he apparently bought a pound of spiced French sausage in Nice is about all I know about him. Well, that, and the fact that he can apparently make an awesome sammich.

Toledo

Toledo

Our last day in Castile (the autonomous region of Spain where Madrid is) was spent in Toledo, a small town just South of Madrid. Everyone always talks about how gorgeous it is, so we figured we’d give it a try.

Getting there was pretty easy; we got to the train station 2 hours before we wanted to leave, grabbed a 20 euro round-trip ticket, and sat around drinking coffee til the train left. It was only a half-hour trip, but Sean and I both took cat naps for some reason.

Once we got there, it was about a quarter-mile walk to the city, which was fine and totally doable. The quarter mile walk into the city center, on the other hand, not so much. Toledo’s built on a hill, and the Moors and early Spaniards weren’t fans of escalators apparently, as it was a bit of a climb. Nothing bad, but it was a HOT day, so we were puffing a bit by the time we got to the top.

On the way, though, we took a little time to admire the countryside and mountains surrounding Toledo. Toledo sits across a gorgeous river  from a series of either tall, craggy hills, or short mountains (however you want to view them), and the bridges across the river are pretty enough in their own right.

Anyway, first stop was the Alcazar, a castle that had been used as a military based by everyone from the Moors several centuries ago, to the Republicans fighting the fascists in the 20^th century. Today, it’s a military museum explaining the history of the Spanish army. I wasn’t as interested as I thought I would be (Swords, guns, and cannons: yay! History of the army uniform: not so much). Sean loved it, though, so I let him finish and I did what I do best: get lost.

I LOVE wandering around old cities and seeing what I find, so I did that here. Toledo reminded me a lot of the ciutat vella in Barcelona. Lots of narrow, windy roads which are just as likely to end in a dead end as in a bright, open plaza. The city also had the genius idea of hanging sheets over the narrower roads, meaning it's really easy to duck out of the sun if you're so inclined. Anyway, I wandered for a while, then went to the Church of the Jesuits, for the sole reason that it had a set of towers I could climb to get a view of the city. Not the best panoramic view I’ve seen, but still pretty.

After that, I met up with Sean again, and we wandered to the Synagogue of St. Mary the White, which was having an art show centered around the theme of strengthening bonds between Judaism and Christianity.

We went shopping for souvenirs after that. Toledo is famous for two things: swords and damascene (steel which is engraved with gold or silver, then baked so it turns a shiny black). Sean and I both considered getting swords, then we backed down for two different reasons. Sean because he realized it would forever brand him as a geek. Me because I realized I probably wouldn’t find a genuine piece of Spanish cutlery after the third shop selling Lord of the Rings replicas. I did, however, find a really nice piece of damascene that shows the city of Toledo from across the river.

After that, we stopped at a café where all the desserts were made by nuns. The café wasn’t staffed by them, however, unless habits have been replaced by nose piercings and iPhones with pink cases. We then wandered the city for a bit more, then headed back to the train station, stopping to take a few more photos along the way.

Madrid

Little behind on everything, sorry!

So, Madrid. Sean and I tried to look as untouristy as possible while we were there, since we weren’t sure if the Spanish Occupy protests had quite cleared up. So, I left the camera and camera bag (or, as Katie called it, my man purse) at home so I’d have less to keep track of. As it turns out, we didn’t need to worry; didn’t see a single protestor the whole time we were there. Not a problem, though. I already have photos of everything in Madrid from a few years back. Apologies if the post is a bit picture-free, though.

Anyway, the train from Santiago to Madrid is sloooooooow, so we didn’t get in to Madrid until 9, then didn’t get to the hostel until almost 10. We were very thankful that the sun doesn’t set in Spain until around 10, since it made it much easier to find where we were going. Anyway, we got in, got some dinner, and crashed.

Day 2 marked the day I officially turned old (my 22^nd birthday), and to celebrate Sean and I went to the Prado, Madrid’s massive fine arts gallery (wrote a bit about that earlier) and Retiro Park, which makes Central Park in New York look like a putting green. It’s MASSIVE, and has at least two ponds, which make it a fantastic place to just wander. Anyway, after that we went for a spin around Plaza Mayor, went to dinner, came back to the hostel, met Namisha, and went to bed.

The next day was a bit more abstract, as we went to the Reina Sofia, Madrid’s modern and contemporary art museum (also discussed earlier). Also went to the Royal Palace and saw how the Spanish 1% lived (quite lavishly, if you’re wondering). It was also really cool to see the royal armory, though Sean and I couldn’t figure out how some of those early firearms worked. When a gun’s barrel is as long as you are tall, and as big around as your upper arm, how do you fire it without breaking your shoulder? The Royal Pharmacy was fun to snicker at. They reeeaaallly didn’t understand medicine well back then. One of the medicine jars was just marked “good coffee.” Anyway, that was the night we did tapas at San Miguel, after which we came back and chatted with our fellow hostellers before heading to bed at 2am.

Our last day before Barcelona was a day trip to Toledo, which is its own post (which will actually include pictures!)