Meditative State

The last few weeks are upon me. My time in Seville is drawing to a close. Yet I am not disturbed by this fact, nor do I wish time would slow so I might have that much more time here. I have no regrets of how I spent my time here, and it has come to the point where I am ready to be home again.

I have today decided to begin meditating with some regularity. Chances are high that this goal, like so many work out regimens; early morning wake ups; healthy eating; and writing goals before it, will be lost to my procrastinating nature or in the hustle and bustle of daily life. Yet I have meditated today, only for a short while, and it has cleared my mind.

Before I closed my eyes at my first true attempt at meditation, I reread Max Ehrmann's Desiderata, an essay about how to proceed through life that I have always taken to heart. But there is one line, the final statement in the essay, that stayed with me when I had cleared my mind of all else: "Strive to be happy." Even while focusing on my heart beat and my breathing, those four words continued to scroll through my mind. "Strive to be happy." I wonder now what that actually means to me, and I am forced to question what I strive for, forced to question the things in my life that truly make me happy. I don't believe enough people practice this.

What does make me happy? The short answer is my friends, my family, travel, new experiences. But these are rather vague generalities, even in my own mind. Within these headings, I feel I could write for years and still not fully capture what these different things are that bring me joy. But if I were to write them, would they still be the precious ephemeral things that I hold in my mind? Would solidifying them, placing them into a corporeal state, such as it is, diminish them in any way? I do not know. I honestly am intimidated by the idea, so for now they will maintain their ethereal nature. For now, I will ponder my memories, reliving the past, examining my actions and those I have chosen to surround myself with. For I am happy in life, if lonely being parted from my chosen, and although I generally know why that is, for my own peace of mind I will explore my own reasons. It is not mentally healthy to go off assumptions, after all.

There is one question, apart from myself, that recurs often when I am in this philosophical state. Do people question and examine themselves? Furthermore, do they question what is beyond them? Do they strive for their own happiness or do they strive for what they are told will bring them happiness? For the most part, I don't think many do. In my own experience, before I began my own Socratic journey, I had not questioned my motives for actions, had not questioned my actions or behavior. In my own experience, the time I did not spend questioning myself and forcing myself to see who I truly was and what I truly wanted was an unhappy time. I allowed myself to be influenced by others to an unhealthy degree and suffered for it. This is my own experience. I do not know of the experiences of others in this regard, whether looking at themselves from a (attempted) objective perspective has brought them happiness or sadness. It would make for an interesting survey.

For now, I will continue these last few weeks, trying to make the most of my time. That may be difficult with the hefty assignments beginning to bear down on me, but I will try nonetheless. I do not want to look back on this journey and have the regret that I missed something. But also will I not regret returning home. I miss everyone more than they imagine.

Jolly Old England

This post is also a few weeks past the actual events, but you'll forgive me my tardiness.

Anyway, a few weeks ago I flew to London to visit my very good friend Chris. He's been my neighbor in my dorm for the past two years, and I'm on the ballroom team with him (he's the senior member). I was very excited, for I had never been to London, and hadn't seen Chris in a few months, so it was to be an excellent weekend (and it was!).

I flew through Barcelona to Gatwick airport and took the Gatwick Express train into Victoria Station, that famous central hub for England's train system. Saw some very cheap train tickets to Scotland that looked tempting. Chris came and found me in the station, and I began my adventure in London.

Though Chris didn't really know how to get back to his place from Victoria Station, we decided to meander a bit before heading back. We saw the theater where Wicked is currently playing in London (which a few of my friends saw the next night), but it was just interesting walking through the streets and having to look in the opposite direction for traffic. It was very confusing for me, and I nearly got whiplash a few times as I had to keep turning my head quickly in the other direction as I remembered that Great Britain drives on the wrong side of the road. I was starved, so Chris and I pulled up in this little Londoner pub. We started things off with a pint of London's Finest ale, and I chowed down on a cheeseburger (yes, yes, I know. But I needed mmmmeeeeaaaatttt). From there, Chris took me past some very big monuments...that I can't for the life of me remember. Think of famous buildings near Big Ben and I was there. Seriously, drawing a complete blank. Anyway, I do remember seeing the Parliament building and Big Ben. That was really cool. Chris took some pictures, but I'm pretty sure he didn't post them *ahem ahem*. We crossed the Thames by way of Victoria Bridge (?) and walked along the south bank. It's a very nice little area, home to many street performers. We passed most of these by, stopped for a few minutes to watch some impressive footballers, then made our way up to the National Theater building. That sucker is big, and very modern architecturally, but I wish I could have seen a show there. Chris thought to get some tickets, but unfortunately there weren't any available while I was there. Oh well. Just means I'll have to go back and do it again. Anyone interested in coming?

From there, we hopped a bus back to his neighborhood. He lives just off of Denmark Hill. We posted up in his room (he's got a quaint little single). We chilled in there for a bit, I checked my email and Facebook and whatnot, then we headed off to this pub called the Phoenix at Denmark Hill. I fell in love with this place. I wish we had pubs like that everywhere. Chris and I walked in and we started off with some English cider. Of course, it came in a pint, as nearly everything does in the country. Now, technically, cider is only 4% by volume alcohol. Chris and I think they lie, or that maybe they concoct it in such a way as to be much more potent than normal drinks. We were both feeling a bit heady after just the first pint, though I blame my very long day of traveling. Soon after, two of Chris' friends, Jesse and Alex, joined us at the pub. I had another two beers with them, and at that point, I was speaking in tongues. 3 drinks was apparently enough to push me deep into the tipsy zone that night, but in my defense, I'd eaten very little, slept very little the night before, and spent the day traveling. I ordered the boys and myself a thing of nachos, which in the Phoenix are unbelievable. Not sure they were worth 5 pounds, but they were definitely some of the best nachos I've ever had. Jesse and Alex got a real kick out of my very poor drunken attempts (though totally unconscious effort)to mimic their accents (Jesse is Australian and Alex is British...I came out sorta Irish). We quit the pub relatively early, leastways for me, but Alex, Jesse, and I were all feeling hungry again. Jesse in particular was craving McDonald's. Couldn't stop talking about it in fact. So off we went to MickeyD's...second time that day I had American food in a foreign country I'd never before visited. I sat down with my classic chicken nuggets and barbecue sauce and enjoyed them as only the tipsy can enjoy highly fried foods. Chris and I retired after that, for my friend had a dance competition to leave for very early the next morning in Leicester (pronounced Lester...silly English).

Chris and I woke abysmally early the next day, somewhere around 5 or so. Chris had to get up earlier than me so he could prepare himself. We grabbed the bus to some square near the University of London (Chris participates as part of the University of London Dance Team, though he attends King's College). There, I met the rest of the team, who all turned out to be very nice. We crammed ourselves into a very small van (it felt very small at least...a dozen ballroom people with suitcases and camera cases and whatnot fitting into a minibus doesn't work) and headed up to Leicester, about a 2 hour journey. I slept the whole way. We got to the Uni of Leicester, and disembarked. The ballroom wasn't particularly large, but the competition wasn't supposed to be too big either. However, this year, many of the schools with teams had decided to use the Leicester comp as a warm-up opportunity, and it was packed mighty tight. I managed to get in without having to pay or anything by claiming I was the team photographer (even though I was wearing my Carolina dance jacket). I did spend a large portion of the day photographing though. One of the guys on the team, Ed, had this absolutely gorgeous camera with several different lenses. It was an amateur photographer's wet dream. It was gorgeous! I think Ed realized how much I was fawning over his camera because he let me use it for just about every photographing opportunity. By the end of the day, my arms and back were killing me though. That thing was a hulk. But it was totally worth it. Thanks Ed!

Seeing as how I hadn't seen or been around ballroom since I'd left, going to that competition was like a fix for me. Despite the early hour I woke and the fact that I didn't have much to do all day, I had a fantastic time. I just soaked in the atmosphere, the music, the people, the costumes, the dancing. English dancers are quite different from their American counterparts. Rather, it would be more appropriate to say there are a lot of differences that just had me doing double takes all day long. Also, they had different terminology for the levels which threw me off for a bit. Also (haha lots of little differences indeed) they refer to the cha cha as simply the cha. First few times I heard that I figured someone was just throwing a random agreement sound into their sentences. I was very impressed by the way Chris danced. He improved obviously within the few weeks he'd been dancing with his temporary partner Alisa, who said she danced prechamp back in the States. She had the competitive spirit and the performing down, but there were some basics that even I realized she didn't have down pat. All in all, for only having 3 weeks to work together, Chris and Alisa did fairly well. Didn't make it to any finals (I don't think) in the regular competition, though they made it to cha cha finals in the Team Dance. Chris also completely dominated the salsa fun dance, he and a girl from another school named Chloe. I think that helped calm him down a bit, because he danced better afterward. He only competed in Latin, which was probably good for him since he spent much of the standard part of the competition napping in the dressing room. All-in-all, much of the team did very well, and I can't wait to get back to Carolina to dance again. We didn't end up getting back to London until very early, and Chris and I didn't actually end up going to bed until after 5 (we watched a great episode of The Office though).

Sunday started off very late. We both slept til 3 in the afternoon, and took our sweet time waking up and whatnot. We hopped the train back into the city and decided to do some more sight-seeing, while there was a little daylight still left. We checked out this really cool museum, I don't remember which one, but it had this Cold War exhibit. Chris and I were both very intrigued, and we spent the last half hour that the museum was open looking at propaganda, old scientific ideas, videos, a reproduction of Sputnik, fashion ideas (can you say closet Trekkies?), and loads of other stuff. It was really cool as I'd never really seen that side of the history of the Cold War. it was a nice immersive (yes, I know it's not a word...but I was immersed) experience. Walking through the rest of the museum (which opened right off the Underground which was neat) was also really interesting. There were dozens of sculptures of classic figures, originals I believe, but I'm not entirely sure. Seeing as how sculpture is one of my top three favorite forms of art (behind the written word and photography), it was very nice. Once we got kicked out of the museum, Chris decided to take me to Trafalgar Square (awesome!) and some other squares that I barely knew the names of when I was there, so please don't fault me for forgetting. In one of the areas, we listened to a pretty good opera singer belt out some show tunes (opera tunes, of course) but escaped before she asked us for money (we're poor college students, what do you want from us?). We also visited Chris' favorite tea shop and we picked up some hot chocolate. Chris found some good ideas for Christmas presents. After that, we headed back to Denmark Hill, stopping by the Phoenix for dinner. We ended up chilling there for three hours chatting, he sipping on a beer, myself on mulled wine (good stuff let me tell you). We had plans to check some other stuff out in the morning before I headed back for Sevilla, so we decided not to make it too late of a night. We went back to Chris' room, and he skyped C-money (that's Carissa, our team captain and Chris' girlfriend). I got to talk to her too, and we all chatted for about 2 hours. It was nice to see/talk to her again. We crashed relatively early that night.

Monday, my final day in London, was a rainy, dreary day, and we woke up at a reasonable hour for once. I packed quickly, we grabbed some breakfast at the Fox (the pub Chris frequents) and it turned out to be quite tasty. The bacon wasn't quite Spanish quality, but it was still pretty good, and the rest felt like a real breakfast (not the very old morning toast). So that pleased me. We decided not to head straight for the train station because I still had plenty of time left before I had to leave, so Chris decided to show me Buckingham Palace. There was supposed to be a Changing of the Guard that day, but due to the damnable wet weather, it was canceled. So Chris instead took me through Hyde Park and some other parks around that area (supposedly you can walk through every park in London without really leaving the park system...or pretty close to it, we didn't have time to try). After that, things got a little sticky, as we got kind of lost searching for a way to Victoria Station. So we ended up walking through the pouring rain (thank god for my wonderful coat...Thanks again Mom and Dad!) until we found a bus that took us over to Victoria. Once we got there, he saw me off and invited me to come back for his other dance competitions. Apparently had one this past weekend and I was sorely tempted to fly back to London for it. Anyway, I hopped back on the Gatwick Express back to the airport.

There were some issues after that. Serious plane issues. Won't go into much detail since I don't want to get worked up again, but in short, missed my flight, had to fly into Madrid later that day and then take the speed train from Madrid to Seville. Got int about 8 1/2 hours after I was supposed to. But at least there was a funny movie on the train that didn't make get home in a grump, so in the end, it all turned out okay.

Also, somewhere along the way, I don't remember exactly when, Chris got me a sausage roll. It's this thing called a pastie that's big in England. And it was delicious!

Barcelona Part Deux

Hey Everyone! I want to apologize for neglecting my story telling these past weeks. Life's been pretty hectic, and I haven't had the time really required to sit down and collect my thoughts about the trips I've had. Anyway, I'll try to do better now. Weekly things should start slowing down now, thankfully, and I have just about a month left in Spain, so now's the time for me to really experience things.

Anyway, a few weeks ago (I think it was 2?) I traveled to Barcelona again to visit with my friend Hunter, who is currently studying in Florence, Italy. This was actually the first trip to Barcelona I had planned, and it was Hunter's Fall Break (lucky bastard), so we were both pretty excited about it.

So I decided to try taking the train to Barca this trip, figuring it would be cheaper than a plane, seeing as how neglected to book a flight or my hostel until the week of. Oops! Also, I figured that a train, like the AVE high speed train that runs through Spain, wouldn't be as expensive/book as quickly as an airplane. I was wrong on both counts. So on a Friday afternoon, about an hour before my train was scheduled to depart, I waltzed into the Santa Justa train station without a care, believing that a cheap ticket would be easy to come by. I was sadly mistaken, as I discovered that the only seats left on my train were in the Club section (for those of you traveling along with me at home, this is the AVE's version of First Class). That ticket cost considerably more than I expected (much more than a late booked airline ticket)...but hey, I got to Barcelona when I said I would and spent the 6 hour ride in style. Thanks Mom and Dad! (Sorry! I swear I didn't know that it would be full...:( )

I arrived in Barcelona about 11 o'clock in the PM, and then had a little difficulty finding my hostel. It was supposedly near the Sagrada Familia Cathedral, but of course being in the Barcelona train station, I had no idea what direction that was. It didn't help that the directions the hostel had given to HostelWorld.com weren't particularly precise (in fact, they were downright wrong!) so I had to fudge my way through the Metro to the stop they mentioned. I got very lucky at that point and headed down the right street in the right direction, and found the hostel in 2 blocks. It was a nice enough place, though the staff at Check-in were slightly rude (Pardon me for not hearing correctly...I find that we Americans can be nearly as pompous as the French). I found my room without too much difficulty, found someone else on the bed I was assigned, so I just threw my stuff on the top bunk. I immediately turned right back around to go meet up with Hunter.

I had to jump back on the Metro, but fortunately I purchased a 10-trip ticket so I was pretty much set for the weekend. We met up, and he told me about some Boston U. kids he'd met who were planning on going to a Halloween Party, so we decided to hitch along with them. They were a very nice group, and we all headed to this bar called the Stock Market Bar..or maybe the Wall Street Bar? Regardless of the name, the idea of the bar was that, for the given hour, prices would rise with each purchase of whatever beverage and the market would crash at the end of every hour (of course, it never crashed for us). It was a cozy little place filled with a lot of costumed creepies (I mean a lot! There were a bunch of large men dressed in drag who were particularly sketchy). We chilled and danced at the bar for a few hours, but around 2 or 3 AM it cleared out, so we did too. We ended up walking around the neighborhood searching for another place to party at (can't waste any part of the night of Halloween after all) but without success. So we ended up chilling on the steps of some bank chatting til very late/early. When we finally got tired, we started our search for a Metro station, but that was also without success. We ended up walking for over an hour and we wound up at the Barcelona main train station...a very long walk. All in all, didn't get in until 6 AM, but had a fairly good time.

The next day, our only full day in Barcelona, started off blissfully late. We both slept until noon, then met up for some breakfast. Hunter had pizza, and I had...something, I can't remember. Our plans for the day would take us all over the city, so I was very glad I had purchased the 10-trip pass. We started off by checking out Montjuic, since that was quite close to us. We took the funicular (such a great word XD <-- turn your head to understand this) but weren't really lucky enough to take good pictures. Montjuic definitely isn't as high as Mount Tibidabao (also, great name!) but it definitely is elevated above the rest of the city. It's also where the Olympic Soccer Stadium in Barcelona is located. While up there, Hunter really wanted to check out the Joan Miro museum. He was this Catalan abstract artist...really really abstract. Granted, half the pieces looked similar and were titled "Woman with birds (and star(s)/moon/sun)" but still, you'd never guess in your wildest imagination that's what you were looking at. Hunter and I had played a game of trying to guess the title of each piece, and we came up with some pretty ridiculous ideas, all of which were wrong. I can't say I was a big fan of Miro's works, but they were certainly interesting. There was one piece in the museum that I was drawn to: Mercury Fountain. Now, not Mercury's Fountain, but Mercury Fountain. A fountain that used quicksilver instead of water. It was fascinating to watch the mercury bead up coming through the bends in the sculpture. I was riveted to the fountain for a solid 5 minutes before Hunter coughed suggestively. Despite its probable poison level, that would be really cool to have in your house.

We spent a fair amount of time in the museum, then decided to head further up the hill, coming to the Olympic Stadium. Hunter took some pictures, and we picked up some snacks (GUMMI BEARS!). From there, we took the metro back toward the waterfront, hopping off near the Monument to Cristobal Colon (Chris Columbus, everybody). We walked down to the really sweet-looking boardwalk. It was designed to look like the entire architecture was wavelike, very Gaudi-esque, I felt. It was really neat! There was also this great big shopping mall there that we ducked into. Hunter had checked it out the day before, and it was fun to stroll through. Picked up a cool tunic-like sweater for fairly cheap. We were essentially passing time before Rick Steves (the tour guide) told us to check out the Picasso museum, and it was a beautiful place to do it.

After the boardwalk, we started our way over to the Picasso museum. We got lost once or twice, were forced to resort to reading the map, but found it without too much mishap (don't even think about chortling at that pun...yes, I know you are now.) The Picasso Museum is located on this very small road, almost an alley, in this awesome building. We walked in it, and it felt like we were entering through the catacombs of a castle. I still need to find out why it was designed like that. Anyways, we got our entradas (tickets) and made our way into the museum.

One word: Genius. That's what Picasso was. Before he was 10 he was a better artist than anyone I've ever known. Looking at his early pieces was just ridiculous, that someone so young could have such talent. Hunter and I spent probably about 2 hours examining each room, reading every information plaque, gazing upon each painting. I found myself drawn more to his Blue Period (Epoca Azul) works than anything else, though he had some ceramics that were so colorful and varied that also caught my eye. Picasso did it all. He wasn't just a painter. He didn't simply dabble in other art forms, he mastered them as well. Ceramics, sculpture, some other form that refuses to come to mind. Any combination of four great artists would be hard-pressed to match the greatness created by the hands of Picasso (but I wasn't impressed or anything).

We got dinner at this Italian restaurant near the museum, and the food was actually quite tasty. Hunter, being the resident know-it-all concerning Italian cuisine, chose the wine that would fit our meal (it was a white, don't ask me specifics). It was quite tasty. I had gnocchi in pesto sauce (scrumptious!) and I can't remember what he had. We finished the meal with some tiramisu and cappuccino (for which I reaffirmed my distaste). We walked to the metro, and parted ways.

It was very nice to see my old friend from Cobb 3rd Floor, and I look forward to chilling with him again once we all return to Carolina.

No Place like Home, Back in Berlin

This weekend was my trip to Berlin, Deutschland, my home away from home, even after 10 years (Carolina is my home away from home away from home, even if I've lived there longer than I did in Berlin). Since it's been probably 7 or 8 years since I was last in Berlin, I was quite surprised by the differences in the city, but nevertheless, it is still beautiful in my mind. I was accompanied by Dino, Anne, and Sam, and they were wonderful company. Only bad thing about this trip is that the lens extension mechanism on my camera is jammed or something, and thus my camera was unusable, so I have no pictures from this trip. Thankfully, the girls took lots to cover for me.

Our voyage started very early Friday morning, with me waking at 4:45 am so I could chat with Hannah for a last few minutes before heading to the airport. Our flight was at 6:55 am, from Seville to Barcelona, and the four of us passed out fairly quickly once aboard. I only woke up just as we were landing, and didn't even have to use any of the battery on my iPod. We arrived in Barcelona a little after 8:00 am, but we had a few hours layover. Our flight from Barcelona to Berlin wasn't scheduled to depart until 11:45, so we plopped down in the terminal in front of our gate and I busted out some playing cards. Since there were 4 of us, we decided to get some Kemps going. Never played? It's a lot of fun. You need an equal number of players, and they split up into pairs. Then each pair come up with a special signal. This signal is used to signify that they have Kemps, which is 4 of a kind. When the partner sees the signal, they shout "Kemps!" to win the round. However, if the opposing pair(s) call Kemps before you, or think you have Kemps and call it before you have a chance, then you lose the round. Each player holds 4 cards in his or her hand, and game play revolves around picking up and discarding cards from a 4 card community, that is dealt and redealt whenever players stop swapping cards (I think those are all the rules...). Anyway, I was paired with Sam, and Dino was with Anne. The game probably ended up about even, maybe with a round or two more to Dino/Anne, but I never managed to figure out their signal, though Sam and I did beat them with a pensive beard rub signal. That amused me.

Once upon the plane to Berlin, I popped in my iPod and dozed to tunes for a bit, before deciding to help Dino and Anne with some crossword puzzles. We chatted and planned some parts of our weekend between puzzles, but before we knew it, we were landing at Berlin Schoenefeld Flughafen. I was ecstatic, and I could barely contain my excitement. My smile easily spread from ear to ear. We got off the plane and I was practically jumping for joy to be back in Berlin, reading all the signs in German (still my favorite language) and basically skipping along through the terminal. We had to take the S Bahn into the city, and we had some slight difficulty figuring out the automated ticket seller, but a friendly maintenance man pointed us in the right direction. Soon, we were on the S9 Bahn headed for Zoologischer Garten near the heart of the city.

The train ride took us about an hour or so (20 stops down the S9 line) and we hopped off at Zoologischer Garten. We figured out that to get to our destination, it was only 2 stops down on one of the U Bahns, so we decided we could hoof it. Couldn't be that hard right? But we were hungry, so outside the bahnhof (train station) we got some doener boxes. That's fries and slices of leg of lamb covered in a garlic sauce. We all enjoyed the food immensely. From there, we started off down past the Gedaechtnis Kirche (Memorial Church) in what I thought was the right direction. I was almost right, but we ended up walking down past the Hotel Palace and to Wittenberg Platz where there were a bunch of street vendors. We perused some of their wares, Anne bought an apple, and then we decided to bust out the map to see where we really were. We determined our present location, decided on a route, and headed off again, though in the end, I led us slightly astray (I can't navigate with Google directions in areas I kinda know, why would I be able to navigate using only a map in a city that I haven't visited in nearly half my lifetime?). We ended up close, standing on a street corner staring hard at the map, when against all odds, a north German woman stopped and asked if she could help. We asked how to get to Pariser Strasse (for that was where our hostel was) and she gave us precise directions. I was so shocked by someone being open and friendly on the streets of Berlin...certainly not what I remember. After that, we found our hostel with only one more misturn (though that was quickly righted) and we arrived at the Jetpack City Hostel. Checking in took less than 5 minutes and we had our key to the nicest hostel room I've visited thus far. The room was large, there for 4 beds, 2 big windows, a sink, a small armoire, and even an iPod stereo. The Jetpack City was also rated the #1 cleanest hostel in Germany and it was obvious, and a very nice hostel. Only thing I could think to criticize was their use of Mac computers in their common room (tsk tsk), but don't let anyone tell you I'm biased against Macs. They did the trick of checking email and Facebook though, so in the end, we had no problems.

We decided to do some roaming after throwing all of our stuff down, and we embarked on a quick walking tour suggested by the noted travel guide Rick Steves. His guidebook for Berlin defined most of our trip, though I was able to throw in a few places of interest (okay, maybe just my old neighborhood). We started off at the Gedaechtnis Kirche, which the girls were all very impressed by. I enjoyed listening to the bells play. After that, we decided to follow Rick Steves' suggestion and head toward Stadtmitte ("City Center"). That took us on a fairly long walk, as merely reaching the Victory monument took us nearly 45 minutes. We took some fun pictures there though, and then headed down the very large boulevard running toward the Brandenburg Tor (Brandenburg Gate). That avenue was deceptively long, and we were all a little tired by the time we reached the Tor, but with it being lit by rainbow lights, we were all rejuvenated into taking a bunch more pictures. We headed down Unter Den Linden (Berlin's version of Champs S'Elysees in Paris) and meandered down to Friedrichsstrasse (Berlin's 5th Ave...more or less) and since it was a street I remembered and recognized, I made the executive decision to take us down that way. We were all very hungry at this point, so we started searching for a place for a real dinner, but we didn't actually find a real restaurant until after we passed Checkpoint Charlie (we passed Checkpoint Charlie something like 5 or 6 times on this trip). Just past the checkpoint was this an elegant Italian place called Sotto Sopra we ducked into. We got a booth by the window, the girls all ordered various glasses of wine and I finally had my first glass of Warsteiner (so good...new favorite beer, by far). Drinks were followed by Gnocchi marinara for myself, lasagna for Sam, tortellini for Anne, and tragliatelli for Dino. Everything was quite tasty, but the coup de grace for the meal was dessert. I started a fad when I ordered some hot Apfelstreudel mit vanille sauce (Apple streudel with warm vanilla sauce and whipped cream) that Anne and Dino both took bites of. When they discovered the absolute amazingness of my dessert, they had to order their own. Only Germans (or Italians living in Germany) can make that kind of Apfelstreudel. Yum! We headed back to the hostel after dinner via the U Bahn (U = untergrund = "underground"...the subway :P ). It was still fairly early, but seeing as how we'd all been up since 5 am and we'd had such a busy day, we were all quite content with calling it an early night.

Saturday started off early, though not nearly as early as Friday. Dino woke me at 8:30 am to give me enough time to shower before we headed out at 9. From our hostel, we got breakfast at a Kamps baeckerei (a bakery) we found Friday while lost and looking for the hostel. Dino and I introduced Anne and Sam to the wonders of German pastry making, and I sank my teeth into a few laugenbroetchen (imagine a pretzel but in the shape of a bun) and a plum jelly donut (didn't realize it was plum until after the first few bites...still, wasn't bad). The girls all got various sweet pastries and/or rolls, Dino added some coffee, and we were all ready for a day of sightseeing.

Our first stop, by my demand, was the KaDeWe (Kaufhaus Des Westens), about 10 or 15 minutes away from the hostel. I remembered (vaguely) how absurdly gigantic that place is (it's supposedly the largest shopping mall in all of Europe), but still, we all walked in with our jaws dropping. We spent a solid hour there, perusing the various floors (not so much me...I was happily occupied by the Toy/Electronics/Books floor). We all picked up some souvenirs, though Dino was disappointed in her search for TinTin apparel. Our second stop was the Gemaeldegalerie, an art gallery just outside of Stadtmitte. Our walk over was a beautiful one, walking along the edge of one of Berlin's many waelder (parks), enjoying a true sensation of autumn, playing in the leaves, and taking lots of pictures among the trees. Basically, we acted like a bunch of 5 year olds, and we had a grand time doing it. We actually managed to get to the gallery without too much trouble, only have to ask once for directions to one street from an elderly couple. Lucky us. Once we got there, we weren't looking for anything too in-depth, and we were fortunate that they had audioguides with a list of highlighted pieces to check out. They had a lot of Dutch painters, including a Rembrandt (these are all just on the highlighted pieces list) but of the 20 we looked at, they were all very impressive. I think my favorite was one of a very boyish Cupid, wings half in shadow, looking like he's just rolling off a bed. At his feet, strewn about the floor, are musical instruments and a written manuscript, a suit of armor, and one hooked leg still on the bed is pushing back...something (I have a magnet, but I can't remember). It all signified Love's triumph over Man's earthly creations. I think I just really liked the lighting, more than the message.

From the Gemaeldegalerie, we got some lunch before deciding to head to the Topography of Terror exhibit, somewhat in the same area. We found our way quite accidentally to the Sony Center, which is a small square surrounded by gigantic buildings with bigger TVs covered by a tent. We ate lunch at Alex, the cheapest place in the square. Three of us ate schnitzel, and Sam had Bratkartoffeln (scalloped potatoes with chicken). I also ordered a Flying Kangaroo, which was a very tasty cocktail, and left me feeling vaguely emmasculated. After lunch, nn the way to the ToT exhibit, we stopped by the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe (that's the actual name of the memorial, though it's generally called the Holocaust Memorial). The MTTMJOE is this square plot covered in large concrete blocks, all of varying heights, that Rick Steves informed us don't really represent anything concrete (haha get it?). This idea is to come up with their symbolism yourself. It was an interesting memorial, but difficult to take very seriously (I just wanted to climb up and start hopping along the tops of the blocks, and the Anne suggested it to be the perfect battleground for a game of lazertag...all seriousness had vanished by that point). However, the Topography of Terror sobered us up right quick. Situated in the ruined foundations of the SS headquarters, the exhibit contained many articles, letters, and explanations regarding the carrying out of the Holocaust and the many duties and atrocities committed by the Gestapo and the extrajudicial police forces willed into being by Hitler and his second-in-command, Heinrich Goering. The exhibit described how the SS seized control of the police forces of Nazi Germany; their methods of dealing with dissidents and prisoners, newly captured territories and countries; and many other frightening qualities of the Gestapo. We spent another hour or so there, absorbing the horrible history, reading letters and examining pictures, before moving on.

From there, we decided to go someplace a little more upbeat: Gendarmenmarkt, a pleasant little square, replete with modern/strange fountain, flanked by two very large churches. We spent a few minutes in the square, unsuccessfully attempting jumping pictures. Again, we made complete fools of ourselves, but we had a good time doing it. We even managed to snap one or two decent jumping pictures, out of 20. We couldn't find the chocolate store that Rick Steves suggested, so dejected, we decided to head back toward Checkpoint Charlie and the Museum of the Wall. However, we did come across the chocolate place almost immediately upon leaving the square. There is only one way to describe that place, at least for any serious chocolate lover: drooooooooollllllll. It was a chocoholic's paradise. They had chocolate sculptures of a bear, the Brandenburg Gate, the Reichstag (German Parliament Building), the Titanic, and the Gedaechtnis Kirche. All crafted of oh so tantalizing chocolate. My mouth waters just thinking about it. I picked up a little tin for *404 Recipient Not Found*, and the girls all picked up some things of their own. Dino shared a small piece of her chocolate with me, and it was absolutely exquisite.

After our unbelievably-tempting chocolate experience, we headed down to one of my favorite museums in Berlin: The Museum of the Wall at Checkpoint Charlie. This museum is dedicated to the events and years surrounding the Berlin Wall; that concrete, brick, barbed wire wall patrolled by guards and dogs for nearly 40 years. More than that, the museum is a memorial to those who defied the Powers and escaped over that wall, and to those who helped reunite broken families separated by the wire and guns. It contains original vehicles used to smuggle people over the border, hollow surfboards, cutout suitcases, and even an old large radioset used by a young woman to escape into the West. It is an impressive museum, we spent 2 hours walking around, and I highly recommend to anyone who visits Berlin. You truly have to experience it to understand it.

From Checkpoint Charlie, we headed back toward Stadtmitte to end our day in a up-and-coming neighborhood past AlexanderPlatz recommended by Rick Steves. We grabbed some wursts from a street vendor near the Berliner Dom for dinner, but were disappointed by the neighborhood when we got there. Pretty yes, but not someplace to really go after dark when you're hungry and tired. We were planning on going out, but after returning to the Jetpack with all of our purchases and after our very long day, none of us were too disappointed not going out.

Sunday began as early as Saturday, and we began the day by taking the U3 Bahn to Krumme Lanke, the station right in my old neighborhood. I still recognized the last few stops on the line, and when we exitted the station, I felt like I hadn't left. The imbiss (kiosk) in the station had changed, but other than that, from the corner, it all looked the same. I took the girls down to where my old house was, but I was disgusted to find two hideously monstrous buildings had been constructed in our backyard, and a real security gate had been installed in place of the wooden one Ryan could move even when he was 10. At least the house was still there, and I felt incredibly nostalgic looking at the front door from the road. Mom, you were right, Fischerhuettenstrasse hasn't change much for the better :( I then lead the way across the street into the Gruenewald, the huge park system covering the Western edge of the city, where I spent many hours riding my bike when I lived there. We walked through it for a little while, Anne took a picture of me by one of the curves I loved taking at full speed in a huddle like I was Lance Armstrong (I was 11 at the time, so sue me) and then we headed back toward the U bahn station. I would've liked to spend more time in the area, maybe make the 2 mile walk to my old school if I could remember the way, see how much everything had changed. In the end, we picked up some breakfast at a bakery on the corner, and took the U bahn back to Stadtmitte.

The hopes for Sunday were to visit the Museum insle (Museum Island), the TV tower and Alexanderplatz, and the Reichstag. We met most of the hopes. Along the way to Museuminsle, we came across a street bazaar. We wandered down it for a while, examining the different tables. We picked up some wursts to help us along the way. I bought a hat, Dino some TinTin posters, and I came very close to bartering for an old Pokemon Red game. I managed to resist the temptation, and thinking of it now, it would have been in German anyway, and that would have taken some of the mindless amusement out of it. I was quite content with the purchase of my hat, however. After leaving the bazaar, we walked along the river back toward Museum Island, where we visited the Pergamon Museum. We were supposed to also visit the Egyptian Museum, but it's under renovation until sometime next year, so that was a disappointment. The Pergamon was really cool though, despite an entire wing being closed down (again, due to renovations). They had a gigantic altar still mostly intact, the altar that contained the altar of Athena, the patron goddess of Pergamon. They also had the main market gate of the city of Mylita (I think...), a towering, highly decorated work that had been buried for a few hundred years. It was damaged slightly during World War II when the museum was hit by a bomb and the glass ceiling shattered, allowing for rainwater to seep in and wear away at the centuries-old stone. The museum also contained many other, though much smaller, pieces of Greek and Roman sculpture, and walking among the realistic statues while hearing of their stories was slightly eery.

From the Pergamon Museum, for lunch, we stopped at a doener kebab place, and we all got real doeners this time. I made a bit of a mess, as I somehow couldn't keep all of the toppings from spilling out the sides (I may be almost 21, but my eating habits haven't much improved since I was 7 1/2 :P ). After lunch, we decided to hit up the TV Tower and Alexanderplatz. Unfortunately, the girls were deterred from looking out over Berlin from the top floor by the 10 euro pricetag on the elevator ride. I was slightly disappointed, but I reasoned it away saying I'd done it before. I took them over to the Fountain of Neptune, which was filled with a gross brown sludge and wasn't operating, so that was also a little bit of a bust. From there, Sam really wanted to get her passport stamped at Checkpoint Charlie, so we hopped the U bahn over. Again, the girls were averted by the 2 euro sticker price on passport stamping (I wasn't averted since I wasn't interested in one to begin with). So we headed back toward Stadtmitte to go check out the Reichstag. Along the way, we found ourselves in a small skatepark, and I had some fun having pictures of me running up the quarterpipes and doing some sicknasty grabs (I always have fun doing that). We stopped at another bakery for a quick pick-me-up, then off to the Reichstag. We ended up taking a fairly roundabout route, so we came at it from the East and next to the river. I thought the spot was very pretty, so I plopped down for some pondering, and the girls followed suit. We spent about half an hour there, goofing off and taking pictures and chatting before our butts got cold from the concrete and we decided to finish our day.

When we reached the Reichstag, we found ourselves at the end of a very long and very slow-moving line. So, being the children we are, we started horsing around, taking very goofy pictures, and generally being a public nuisance. But we did take some very fun pictures. About 3/4s of the way up the stairs to the door, Dino and Anne started taking long exposure pictures, and Anne kept trying to draw the UNC NC symbol. She didn't have a whole lot of luck the first 25 times, so I asked for a shot, and got a pretty good one on my first try :P Anne did do a better one, but only after a few more attempts (Score 1 for Hap). Once inside the Reichstag, we found out the dome was closed off (3 guesses why, and the first 2 don't count), so we had to be content with the roof of the building. It was still quite pretty, and we had a pretty decent view out over the city, but honestly, we all would have preferred seeing it from the inside of the dome, so we left after only a few minutes.

We headed back to the hostel after that to plan the rest of our evening (which ended up being a very bad thing for me). Our plans included dinner and visiting Berlin's Erotik Museum. Dinner wasn't bad, though I found it slightly ironic that I travelled to Berlin to eat Pizza Hut (I miss American food :( ). After that, we headed to Beate Uhse, the name of the Erotik Museum. We spent a bit in the downstairs store, examining the different outfits and toys and accoutrement of the erotic, and Anne and Dino acted like 6 year olds. Their very immature humor, moreso than the fact that we were perusing sex toys and dildos and penis stimulators and all manner of things, made me feel extremely embarassed and out of sorts. We wanted to visit the museum itself, but it cost 14 euro, and so again, we decided against it. So we all went back downstairs to play in the store for a bit (they played, I followed meekly, feeling embarassed). We ended our night shortly after that, I talked to Hannah online for a bit, and turned in.

Our trip ended today (Monday, 27-Oct), but we didn't leave Berlin until the afternoon. So we woke up a little later than the rest of the weekend, took our time getting some breakfast at the same bakery we broke our fast at on Saturday, then due to the rain, we decided to head to the airport for a long day of layovers.

It was amazing to go back to Berlin, for it still sorta feels like home for me. The nostalgia, however, kind of counteracted the relief of homesickness I felt, and leaving made me my homesickness doubly so. But it was worth it, despite the changes to the city. It's still gorgeous. I spent my few spare moments wishing I could show Berlin to my friends, and I hope to someday.

A week with my Folks

Well, once again, I'm about two weeks behind on my blog. It's not surprising really, I'm two weeks behind on my postcards as well. And since this is a recurring thing, I guess you could say I'm right on time for writing about my week con mis padres. That means "with my parents" for all you non-Spanish speaking types. Just to quick sum it up, it was wonderful to see them. I was missing them terribly (no sarcasm intended, also no phony British accent intended on the word "terribly") and it was a definite highlight of my time here so far to have them visit. The fact that I didn't pay for a damn thing the whole week didn't hurt either.

Anyway, they arrived about noonish on Wednesday (this is two weeks ago now...they left last Wednesday). I was in class and had to hand in a paper (maybe it was an exam) so I couldn't skip out, unfortunately, to meet them at the airport. But right after class, I walked immediately to their hotel and right on up to their room. Room 739 at the far end of the hall, just to make it seem a little bit longer 'til I got to see them. Doesn't it always happen that way? Anyway, once Dad let me in, it was a few minutes of hugs and kisses and Mom admiring my beard and Dad admiring my beard and Mom making fun of my beard. Ya know, the usual with my family. Then my mom showed me they'd brought the new Christopher Paolini book Brisingr, the 3rd book in the Eragon set. To be honest, I don't think I really heard anything they said for a while after that. I immediately picked up, curled up next to Mom on their bed, and dove into the story. Mom and I laid there for a while reading our respective books while Dad play SudoKu (he didn't want to finish all the books so that he wouldn't have anything to read on the plane flight home). Then I'm pretty sure we all passed out for a few hours. They were tired from staying up for 24 hours, and I was just tired. Plus, you can't come to Spain and not indulge in a little siesta. That would just be downright criminal. After awaking, we decided to go get some dinner. I don't rightly remember where we went though.

On Thursday, we had lunch en mi casa with my senora. She made some typical Spanish dish that I can't for the life of me remember the name of. I got to play translator for about an hour but all in all, I didn't do too bad a job, if I may say so myself. There were a few times where I had to do some ballpark translations, but seeing as how even I can't understand Marisol fully, I think that's acceptable (Don't worry Mom and Dad, you didn't miss any important information). She was also kind enough to reserve us some seats at Los Gallos, a place where we could watch some flamenco. I would have never been able to figure that over the phone. Anyway, after lunch, I spent the afternoon with my parents. I think we got lazy (leastways Mom and I) and we indulged in siesta reading again. For dinner, I decided to introduce my parents to 8pm Drinking in the Park Club. They classed it up with apples and crackers and various cheeses, while I brought my traditional Pringles Paprika. Once everyone got there, we all had a lovely time, and all my friends here liked my parents. I got a lot of "They're so cool"s after they left.

After Club, we nabbed a taxi (after standing outside the hotel for a solid 10 minutes) to Los Gallos and got there right in time to get our seats. We all ordered some sangria (it's no longer weird for me to drink with my parents, which is nice). As for the show, there were a bunch of different acts. Several women danced, and they were quite impressive dancers. Two male dancers also performed, and though one was straight crazy with how fast he could move his feet, I still felt the women were better. The guitarists were pretty awesome though. One guy was picking like a fiend, and I just could not understand how he could move his fingers that fast. It was ridiculous! The show went on for about 2 hours or so, maybe a little less, and when the three of us left the building, we all kind of silently agreed that, although very impressive, flamenco was not our favorite form of dance. I'm just content that I saw some so I could actually make that decision.

Friday was our sight-seeing day around Sevilla. We got a nice late start, had coffee and a pastry at the Starbucks on Avenida Constitucion (my parents' choice. Go figure, come to Spain for overpriced mediocre coffee). We started our tour at the Cathedral of Seville, where I tried to remember all the really cool information Nando told us when we went, but I could only recall bits and pieces. And I'm fairly sure some of those bits and pieces were fabricated. But that's just how it is, right? Mom and Dad took lots of pictures of the same things I took lots of pictures of. I got to retell them the story of the courtyard crocodile. Mom enjoyed that particularly, and after we climbed La Giralda (the tower of the cathedral that dominates the city's skyline). They were fairly impressed with the view, as any self-respecting tourist without vertigo would be. Next, I took them through the Parque Santa Maria and to Plaza Espana, which is, I believe, the largest plaza in the city. I mean, it's big, bigger than a football field big (okay, maybe not that big, I don't actually know the dimensions, but when you're standing in it, looking at the central fountain, you feel very tiny). We walked around there for nearly an hour, bought some souvenirs, took a lot of pictures, and then I felt exhausted. Playing tour guide is tiring work. I took them back to their hotel, came back to mi casa for a few hours, and then we all went to dinner. I do believe that night we decided to try Wok, which is this Chinese buffet place that's really good. We all agreed it was a good choice.

Our plans for Saturday entailed grabbing a train to Cordoba for the day. My friend Dino was going to join us, but when she and I were headed over to my parents' hotel, there was a huge storm kicking around Sevilla. Heavy winds and driving rains nearly knocked poor Dino off her feet and I definitely was getting pushed around by the buffeting winds. We decided to call that idea off, and so we all sat down to a continental breakfast in the hotel, with Dino joining us. We probably sat at breakfast, eating and drinking coffee and chatting, for a solid 2 - 2 1/2 hours. It was very relaxing, especially after the very early wake-up call on a Saturday. Dino went home, and Mom Dad and I spent the rest of the day inside safe from the rain, reading and watching Spanish television. Again, I can't remember where we went for dinner that night.

Sunday was supposed to be our second attempt at Cordoba, but this time the trip's demise was due to a mixture of more crappy weather (what the hell? 3! bad days in a row in Sevilla, when we didn't have rain for a solid month! Bad luck for my parents) and the fact that I forgot to set an alarm and got up too late to catch the train. So, with more rain, I spent yet another day in my parents' hotel room, reading and watching television. That is, until Mom and I got sick of watching Spanish TV, and I went and brought my computer over to their room and we watched the Bourne Trilogy for the rest of the afternoon. Just Mom, me, and Dad all curled up on their two pushed-together beds watching my computer screen for the better part of the day. Felt just like home. After the movies, we did a little shopping in Nervion, and they bought me this absolutely killer coat (THANKS!). That night we went to an American-style restaurant near my park called Foster's, American Restaurant since 1891 (or some date like that. I might be dyslexic with those numbers). We were all pleased to find it actually had American food. I got a cheeseburger, Dad got something else, and Mom got a steak. Food wasn't too bad, and I think we were all just a little relieved for some familiar cooking.

Monday was finally the day we got to Cordoba. My parents loved the city even more than I did. We took the early AVE train (that's the high-speed train that runs in Spain) and got there in about 40 minutes. Pretty impressive. I slept the whole way. Once we got to Cordoba, we discovered it was still drizzling, but we decided to walk to the city center anyway. However, finding the city center from the train station was the tricky part at first. We had a map, but upon leaving the station, we couldn't find an applicable street sign for the life of us. So we just walked down this big broad avenue with parks and swing sets and fountains and stuff in the middle until we came to one that looked like it might be on the map. It was, Avenida de la Gran Capitan or something similar. Well, we finally managed to find a street leading towards Centro, so we began to wander downhill. Walked through some nice little plazas, meandered through some alleyways and sideroads, ditched into a small silver store where Mom and Dad bought a Don Quixote, complete with lance, and I picked something up that go undisclosed (it's a surprise!) Anyway, like my previous trip, we checked out the Mezquita, and Mom and Dad were, maybe not equally impressed, but very much so by the mosque/cathedral. I took them on the same tour of the Mezquita that Nando took me, told them some of the same things (again, I forgot most of it) and they enjoyed it immensely. After that, we sat down to some lunch (Dad and I had some traditional tortilla de patata). We poked our head into some more touristy stores with postcards and stuff, I managed to pick up the shotglass from Cordoba that I had neglected the last time, and we made our way down to the old Roman bridge that crosses the Guadalquivir. Dad took some pictures with his supercamera, but we didn't stay long on account of me having had a massive allergic attack earlier that morning so I was feeling pretty wiped. We made our way back to the train station, hopped the 3 o'clock back to Sevilla, and were back by 4. My parents were kind and let me go back to mi casa and take a nap, enjoy the rest of siesta, but we hooked back up around 7 and went to dinner at this place called La Espumosa near my building. Classic Sevillan tapas bar, so of course, none of us understood anything on the menu (I don't frequent tapas bars okay? Not my fault). I ordered something I hoped was ham (hoped right), Mom ordered what ended up being a very mild fish that you couldn't even taste over the breading (she still refused to touch it) and Dad got gambas (shrimp). I enjoyed my little plate well enough, but we sat around and talked for a bit afterward. Since La Espumosa was right near my building, my parents dropped me off there and I went home.

Tuesday, our final full day together, was another schoolday for me. I had to go to class since I had a paper to hand in, so I was in class til 2, and then ran over to their hotel. I can't remember what we did the rest of the day actually...but we all spent it together like a loving family, making fun of each other like usual. We went back to Wok that night for dinner. We were going to go to this ham place my senora recommended but there weren't any seats left, plus Mom was feeling homesick for some familiar food, so Wok we went. After dinner, I escorted them back to their hotel, they gave me some parting gifts (the hotel complimentary stuff mostly, plus some books), and we said our "See you in Decembers".

They left very early Wednesday morning, and all my friends and I were sad to see them ago.

Thanks for coming Mom and Dad. I had a great time, and I miss you. See you in December!

Rainy Days in the Beach Town of Lagos

Disclaimer: Another post advocating the delinquincy of minors and with many alcoholic references. Be advised, not for children or anyone who might yell at me.

Okay, so I realize this post is about a week delayed. I have a tendency for laziness and procrastination. So consider this happening before the "Happy MarcLarance Barcelona" post and then everything will be in order.

So 2 weeks ago now I went with a bunch of friends to the Portuguese beach town of Lagos. Located on the Atlantic in southern Portugal, Lagos is a small cobble-stone street town with a lot of open-air cafes, frequent postcard stands, and its fair share of bars and discotecas. The beach is a beautiful one, small in size but gorgeous, surrounding by cliffs and blossoming with towering rock formations that one could dive from if the tides were in (they were one day...no, I didn't jump).

I came on the afternoon bus from Sevilla with my friends Ryan and Mary Rosser and we arrived in Lagos around 10 or 10:30. Mary Rosser was staying in a different hostel from us, and she had been in Lagos this weekend before so she went on her way immediately after picking up her bag. Ryan and I felt pretty stupid as we had completely forgotten to get an address or directions to our hostel, called the Monkey House, but we were fortunate in that the other 30 Americans on our bus studying in a different program in Sevilla all were staying there as well. What's more, one of the girls in the program is a very good friend of my friend and boss Kelsey! Talk about a small world. Anyway, we chatted with the other group while following them to the hostel. Though they did have written directions, we still had to stop and ask for help a few times, and were finally led there by a kind Australian man who was headed in that direction. After that first time, though, I didn't really need much help around town. It's fairly small, and we were pretty much in the center. The Monkey House, being my first hostel experience (and definitely not in Amsterdam like that gorey movie from a few years back), was very nice. The receptionist was a cute girl from Germany (or thereabouts, her accident was a little difficult to pin down and I never asked) and the hostel itself was fairly nice. Felt like one of those hole-in-the-wall places you're so glad you try that one time and keep going back. Walking up a curving staircase to the second floor and the rooms, I shared mine with Ryan, my friend Rahmin, and two Australian girls. I ended up sleeping in the bottom bunk we came to call The Cave, since regardless of the time of day or lighting situation in the room, almost zero light actually made it to the back corner where I slept. Ryan and I threw our stuff down and decided to go look for the other large group of our friends who had left for Portugal early that morning.

We walked down the street and actually ran into them within 5 minutes. Most of them were returning from dinner or somesuch so they ran back to their hostels (some were with us in the Monkey House, some were in the Lagos Youth Hostel, and some were in the Rising Cock Hostel...do most hostels have fun names?). I convinced Ryan that we should start drinking now while it was still Happy Hour at the bar we were standing in front of called The Jam, where a nice guy named Jim from San Diego gave us some fliers and chatted for a bit. The Jam would become our place for the rest of the weekend. So we go in and order some LI Ice Teas (they were 3,50 Euro a pint!) We went through those fairly quickly as the other members of the group slowly trickled into the bar. Drinking went steadily for another hour or so and JoAnne somehow convinced me to try this shot called The Sucker.

The Sucker: a shot of Sambuca. Light the top of the shot, then slowly lower a glass over it, catching the fumes, until the fire goes out. Remove the glass and cover so as to not allow any vapors to escape. Use a straw to sip the shot, then use the straw to inhale the fumes. Requires 2 people (1 drinker, 1 bartender).

After that, you can imagine I was pretty hyped. We all had a few more drinks before heading out to Joe's Garage, where about 5 or 6 of us danced for about 3 solid hours. There were only 6 of us because everyone else had quit due to sheer exhaustion from their early wake up and a day at the beach. I returned to the Monkey House happily drunk with my friends Sarah Underwood (there are 2 Sarahs on the trip) and Kerry. I would have enjoyed promptly falling asleep, but the Australian girl sleeping in the bunk above me had gotten sick drunk and was moaning and whining pathetically for much of the night, so I had to endure that for about 30 minutes before I managed to sneak away into oblivion (and away from the edge of the bed in case she vomited, which she did but in the bathroom).

I woke up absurdly early the next morning, at least for me, around 8 am and couldn't fall back asleep. I was delighted to discover I did not feel at all hungover, merely groggy from lack of sleep and a long night. I tried to go back to sleep for about an hour unsuccessfully but finally got up and went down to breakfast with Rahmin. He had gotten up before dawn and gone down to the beach to watch the sun rise. After a pleasant (if not particularly filling) breakfast of toast and 1 hardboiled egg, Rahmin and I decided to hit up the beach. It was slightly chilly that morning, and the beach was cool. A storm was coming in so it was hard to convince ourselves to actually get in the water. In the end though, the water felt warmer than the sand or air, and after two or three successful runs in, I managed to convince Rahmin to dive in as well. We only stayed on the beach for an hour or so before heading back, since no one was joining us. We putzed around in the hostel for a bit after that, grabbing showers and changing, waiting for Ryan to get up, etc. Ryan and some of the girls from our group staying in the Monkey House decided to head down to the beach with our recommendation, but Rahmin and I were hungry so we decided to grab burgers at this place called Cafe Odeon (I ended up eating there 3 times in 2 days). The burger wasn't bad but the fries were excellent. After that, Rahmin and I did a little exploring around town, I picked up some souvenirs and a pair of flip-flops (thongs as they are called by some Australians we met the next day). The sun came out, so we decided to head back to the beach with some of our group. I was the only one who really went swimming at all, diving back in as soon as I stripped off my shirt. Dino did join me at one point, but everyone else was chicken (though they did jump off the 45' rock and I didn't...) There were a bunch of funny/interesting pictures taken, and a large portion of the group scaled the rock that jutted out into the water in order to take the plunge. I had more fun clammering up and down the route practicing my climbing techniques, and I didn't jump (are you crazy?! 45' is really high!) We all headed back in once it started raining, and returned to the Monkey House. Now all of us were hungry, and most of us wanted dinner. I was again tempted by Cafe Odeon, some others went to a Thai place they later recommended highly.

That night was another evening of drunken revelry, though it began raining as we were heading out, which added a bit of a dampener, though most of us ignored it easily. Another night begun at The Jam, where by this point I had become quite friendly with both bartenders, Sugar and Jamie, and even had a shot poured for me by the owner (it tasted kinda like cookies). I started off not feeling particularly keen on going out, but after Sugar enticed me to another Sucker I was ready to go. We spent around 2 solid hours at the Jam, drinking, listening to music, chatting, and taking pictures, then a good group of us headed for Joe's Garage again. We danced for a while again, and then I walked a few girls home through the rain. I wasn't quite ready to call it a night, so I grabbed one last beer at The Jam, went back to Joe's and dragged everyone back to The Jam to end the night. The bar closed, but we didn't leave quite yet. Jamie kept playing great songs, so everyone just kept dancing. After about 5 or 6 songs, I finally overcame the urge to keep dancing and we all left, with a last farewell to Sugar and Jamie.

Our last day in Lagos was a bust, with flashflooding and a constant downpour. However, those of us in the Monkey House spent the day chatting with some Australians and watching movies, generally staying out of the rain. We visited Odeon one last time during a lull in the storm for lunch, and then I went to the diner (a real American-style diner) next to our hostel for dinner. Got a large plate of pasta that I housed in less than 10 minutes, followed by a plate of garlic bread and a piece of caramel cake. I called it an early night since I had to be up at 5:45 for my 6:30 bus back to Spain.

Lagos only reinforced my desire to spend part of my life by the sea, and I hope that I'll be able to go back once before I leave Spain. Go back and visit the guys at The Jam one last time. I do so love the beach.

Happy MarcLarance Barcelona

Okay, so that's supposed to be a clever pun off that new movie Vicky Christina Barcelona, if you didn't get it. Anyway, as I write this, I sit at my terminal in the Barcelona airport waiting for my plane...which takes off in 6 1/2 hours. I felt it was easiest to spend the few hours I would sleep curled up on a terminal bench or something and then I could just get on the plane, pass out to Sevilla, and pass out again once I got home. If it doesn't work out that way, c'est la vie. This weekend was worth a little discomfort that I can afford on a Monday (seriously though, let the rest of the evening work out fine and dandy...)

This weekend was quite excellent, probably one of my favorites so far. I reached Barcelona via a Vueling plane early Friday afternoon, so I was able to meet up with my good friend Marc Larance without any trouble. Marc is studying in Montpelier, France, so meeting up in Barcelona was the easiest place for both of us. He traveled with two program mates, Becca and Kaitlin. They are very nice people, and I do believe I've met Becca before through Big Ben Pruitt and Ted Morgan. Good ol' days in 3rd Floor Cobb. Anyway, that is our group for a fun-filled adventure in an exotic city where no one really speaks the language. Remember, Barcelona is in Catalunya, which, according to some graffiti we took a picture of, is not Spain. Thus, they speak Catalan and not Castellian (though most speak Castillian and a fair amount of English...took some of the challenge out of it, if you ask me).

Our first afternoon was filled with walking and some interesting sights. We went to the Cathedral in Barcelona, which was pretty but not astonishing, though I really do enjoy the Spanish habit of placing patios in the middle of everything...there were even some mohawked geese just playing around in the decorative fountain. From there, we walked around a bit, stumbling onto one of the many large avenues of Barcelona (said "avinguda" in Catalan), where a large glass of sangria was 11,75 Euro...despite being on vacation, we're still poor college students and didn't stop. We ditched into some alleyways and in one, walked through what we believed to be a police roundup. There were two serious vans and a patrol car, several uniformed officers with floppy hats (Marc really wants one for his military hat collection), and they were asking for identification from a group of men sitting on some stairs. We hustled through that part and headed back to the more civilized portion of town. On the way, we came across an open-air concert by some choral group that were using definitely old-school tunes with what I think were Christian lyrics...it was sung in English but I couldn't hear particularly well, though they were fun to listen to for a few minutes. I definitely heard them use Jail House Rock as a tune though. From there, we found a restaurant for some much needed nourishment, where I ordered some chicken and french fries and vegetables. We also ordered a vino rosado (which Marc described as rose, rosee...between white and red, you understand) which was quite tasty. We almost ordered a second bottle in fact. We all enjoyed our dinners and from there made the trek back to our hostel, the Sant Jordi Sants hostel. We were planning on going out, but Marc and the girls had been up since around 5 that morning and I wasn't feeling particularly energetic, so we played some Go Fish across our bunkbeds, talked for a bit, listened to some tunes, and called it an early night.

We woke up the next day around 9:30 I guess (I wanted to sleep more, but they made me get up and get breakfast). We paid our 2 Euro for breakfast materials and Marc and I went to town on our Poor Man's Grilled Cheese -- cheese placed upon toast immediately after being pulled out of the toaster (the toast, not the cheese) and then butter the top of the top slice of the sandwich. Very simple, very tasty. I think we both had 2 or 3, plus some cereal and a few glasses of juice. From breakfast, we decided to explore Barcelona some more, though my Sevillan accent didn't help us much through the day, though I didn't feel like as much of a tourist as the rest. Let's see, we visited some Gaudi monuments, including his old apartment building that looks like a choppy surf frozen in stone, with railing of wrought-iron seaweed. Really neat, and my guidebook said there wasn't a single straight wall in the entire building (are walls and ceilings considered walls in this instance?). Checked out some other building that has some really cool spires and a neat facade, picked up some postcards and decided to continue onto the Sagrada Familia. For those of you unfamiliar with this work, it is (or will be) the main cathedral of Barcelona. It is Gaudi's greatest architectural work and it is only about 50% completed today (started about 200 years ago mind you). Like his apartment building, much of the design is taken from nature, landscapes and animals (and bee's honeycombs...he liked those particularly). The cathedral has 3 main facades: The Nativity, the (insert one I can't remember), and the Passion (though only the Nativity facade is completed as of today). In contrast to his natural designs for the rest of the architecture, his depiction of the Passion is angular and hard in nature, nearly sinister (guidebook's word, though I could understand once I looked upon it myself). The interior was mostly filled with construction materials but the parts we could see were rounded and smooth and all headed upwards toward Heaven, and the Nativity facade is beautiful and natural and elegantly sculpted. Angels overlooked the joyful birth of the Christ child, and the Three Wise Kings brought their gifts, and the shepards looked on in awe. It was absolutely beautiful.

From the Sagrada Familia, Kaitlin really wanted to visit Park Guell, a park filled even more Gaudi designs. I remember it from when my family went to Barcelona a couple of years ago, though we couldn't spend a lot of time there this time because some of us had to return to the hostel by a certain time in order to register for classes for the Spring semester (gotta love having enough hours to register with the seniors (: ). We explored a little through the gardens, watched some street performers and listened to the abundant musicians positioned along various paths. What's more, the excellent view of the city from the terraces was gorgeous, and we took some good pictures. Unfortunately, we couldn't stay long, and we entered the Barcelona metro system to head back to the hostel. I will be honest and say the metro system in Barcelona is a helluva lot better than my few times in the NYC metro system. It's cleaner, more modern, and easy to navigate, even if you can't speak Spanish (all the signs and ticket machines had English portions). I got back in time to register, and we stayed in the hostel for dinner, making ourselves some spaghetti with tomato sauce and garlic bread. We accidentally fell into gender roles, with Becca and Kaitlin making dinner while Marc and I went out and bought some more bread and some beer...no one realized it until after dinner had started. After dinner, Marc, Becca, and I utilized our tickets to a Barcelona/Athletico Madrid futbol match. That's right. Barcelona vs. Madrid (though not Real Madrid, like I had initially thought). Anyway, the match was insane! Within the first 6 minutes, Barcelona went up 3-0 with one great goal, a PK, and another off a quick free kick. Madrid never stood a chance. More goals kept coming (including one from Madrid that was pretty spectacular in its own right) and the night ended 6-1 with Barcelona as the happy victors. It was quite the match to experience, and the highlights were too much fun to watch the next day. After the game, the three of us returned to the hostel to fetch Kaitlin. we were all feeling sleepy again, but we were determined to go out, so on the advice of the hostel receptionist we checked out this place called La Fira where they supposedly had 2 Euro shots. They were, in fact, 4 Euros each, and beers were 5. We all took a shot, and then finished up our drinking for the night with a Heineken. If we were too cheap to drink 11 Euro sangria, why would we spend 30 or 40 Euros on drinks in a bar? Still in La Fira, we brought our drinks to the dance floor for an hour and a half or so, the four of us forming our circle and getting thoroughly confused by the constantly changing music (think you have musical ADD? the DJ didn't let a single song end, and would suddenly change into songs with wildly differing beats). However, there was a fair amount of merengue beats played, so I danced with Becca and Kaitlin and showed off enough to force Marc to show some of his own moves. Reminded me greatly of the dance scene in My Blue Heaven (never seen it? Shame. Wait til I get back to Carolina and we'll rectify that most egregious mistake). We called it a night around 3.

We got up around 10:30 today in order not to miss breakfast, which we got down to the kitchen with about 10 minutes left before they ostensibly denied us their foodstuffs. We didn't really get our acts together until around 1, when we jumped back on the Metro and headed toward the outskirts of Barcelona in order to ascend the "mountain" and visit the cathedral and the comm tower and get an even better view of the city from above. We took a funicular (def: an old-school train that is designed to ascend/descend steep inclines...yes, those are the exact words in the OED). Cost us 2 Euros to take it up, and we decided to save a euro and walk down ourselves. On the summit lies a fairly recently-constructed cathedral, very modernisme (as they say in Catalan), with brightly-colored mosaics and pay-to-ride elevators to reach the basilica (I always thought the Catholic Church had muchisimo dinero?). However, on the interior walls, panels depicting the Passion surrounded the entire church about 10 feet above the ground. I took pictures of most of the panels. After taking some great landscape pictures of Barcelona set against the Mediterranean as well as the Spanish countryside, we headed down into the small carnival that shares the peak with the church...none of us really approved of the contrasting dynamic of modern religion and "ancient" carnival rides. Marc and Kaitlin rode the Ferris wheel for a little while as Becca and I contentedly chomped on some Doritos Tex-Mex (Trademark). We grabbed lunch after that on a cafe on the summit (I had a frankfurter and a plate of fries with a Coke). From there, we decided to descend on foot, which we were told was a 7km hike. Due to a few fortunate shortcuts and a generally rapid pace (we were going downhill thank god) we made it down in less than an hour, and with much less than 7km worth of walking. We went back to the hostel from there, messing around for a few hours, before eating another Italian dinner cooked by the lovely ladies (fusili with garlic bread tonight). Afterward, I packed up my stuff, checked out, and headed for the airport. Just my luck, I miss the last train for the airport by less than 2 minutes (grrrr) so I had to take a cab for 24 Euros to get there (exactly the outcome I didn't want). And now I sit in the airport awaiting my flight in a few hours.

May tomorrow bring me more rest than today.

(This post written on a long night but I didn't have any problems getting home and I was able to get a few hours of real sleep in my own bed. Small miracles eh?)