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.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
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!
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!
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
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.
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.
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