I used to think that the only legitimate reason to get out of bed at 5:30 AM was to go fishing or hunting. Turns out I was only 2/3 right. Besides casting and killing, going to Spain warrants an early rising, too. It also warrants riding in a cab with a deranged driver, sitting through 15 hours of in-flight programming (long live Frasier reruns), and sitting for four hours in the Philadelphia airport. I would assume that Tom would add, Ņlistening to MattÕs lousy jokes,Ó to the list, but as all people who have had the good fortune to be held a captive audience to my wit and humor know, my jokes are hysterical! But thatÕs beside the point. The point is, at 10:00 AM on Sunday we finally arrived in Madrid, Spain Š 28 hours after we began.
When we last left our heroes, they had just arrived in Madrid with a combined total of six hours sleep between them. While this state of mind does not prove to be especially useful when trying to navigate the unmarked streets of a foreign city without a map, it does prove quite useful in finding said situation comical.
For example, someone in full use of their faculties does not usually feel compelled to laugh when they find themselves trapped for the third time on a dead end street in Granada; however, this is exactly the situation we found ourselves in Š with one twist. There were two other geniuses that had decided to follow us down this most recent set of turns on to smaller and smaller streets. Fortunately for Tom and me, I was driving and able to put my superior navigational skills to work. I was able to get us turned around and headed back up the ally in such a way that there remained just one car between us and freedom. This was the funny part. Imagine a tiny European car wedged sideways between the walls of a tiny European ally. Picture that car moving forward a few inches and banging its bumper into one of the walls and then going in reverse and doing the same thing to the fender. Repeat performanceÉabout 6 times. Now add about 4 hot European women to the car and an embarrassed looking male driver. You are now seeing the scene that lay before us. It was a riot.
Finally, after two hours of searching and having to force our way down one last narrow street filled with pedestrians, we ended up at our hostel. This would be the hostel where 6 hours later a lunatic who lived below would threaten to blow us all up and two people would decide to have sex in the bunk underneath me in the hostel room. It was quite the extravagant accommodations. However, before those six hours passed, Tom and I decided to head out on the town and try to find some authentic tapas. This mission turned out to be an enormous success Š too much so in fact. Let me explain.
In Granada they bring you a tapas for free every time you order your first round. Given the language barrier, we couldnÕt figure this out (until the next day when we asked at our hostel). So we would order two beers, get asked something we didnÕt quite understand, and then end up with two beers and a plate of food. The total bill for all this would be something ridiculously cheap Š like 3 Euros. It would have been nice to have all this information before we decided to order dinner. What did we get for dinner? Well, we were in Spain so of course we got tapas!
We ate all of our dinner tapas, drank our beers, and then headed to another bar. We order a round and get a free tapas. WeÕre full but we donÕt want to insult our hosts, so we eat the tapas, drink the beer, and then move on. We get to the next bar and order another round. Again we encounter disastrous success Š more tapas! By now weÕre really full but still to polite to not eat. Have we learned our lesson? Hahahaha Š thatÕs funny! Nope, we head to one more bar and order one last round of beers. Like clockwork, the tapas show up in front of us. We just couldnÕt pretend anymore. We told them we didnÕt want it and the look of pain in our bartenderÕs eyes reminded me of having to put a dear pet to sleep. With bowed head she took the plate and trudged back toward the kitchen. When she returned, all the cooks and other bartenders came out to look at the freaks that sent tapas back. It was all very disconcerting.
Day three of our journey marked our first full day in Spain. So what does one do on their frist full day in a foreign Country? Well, we spent most of it wandering the city of Granada looking at the local cathedral and eating tapas. This kind of strenuous schedule, however, is not one that should be embarked upon lightly. So to prepare ourselves, we started our day with some coffee at a local outdoor cafˇ near the Plaza Nueva.
ItÕs amazing how quickly we were able to adopt to the European culture that surrounded us. The proof of this statement lies in the fact that it took us about an hour to drink a cup of coffee and eat a piece of fruit. So well adapted in fact, that after this hour we did not simply rise and move on. No, no. That would have been an American thing to do. Instead, we started up a philosophical conversation that was to last for two hours. ŅHow,Ó you may wonder, Ņcould you go on for two hours?Ó Ahh, but you forget that we have seamlessly integrated ourselves into the European lifestyle. We performed this Herculean feat of conversation by flawlessly completing the transition from coffee to beer.
To celebrate our figuring out a solution to world peace and prosperity, we paid our bill and headed out to the Granada cathedral (speaking of world prosperity, we could begin by having everyone drink and eat in Granada Š the total cost of our bill was only about 7 Euros for the both of us). After wandering around aimlessly for awhile, we finally stumbled upon the cathedral. It was about as hard to spot as a rhinoceros in a kids petting zoo. Taking up an entire city block, it proved to be massive. It was my first ever cathedral experience and it was most impressive. Not nearly as impressive as I would find the El Catedral a couple days later in Sevilla, but impressive none the less. The best part was the crypt of Queen Isabel and King Ferdinand. They had both died before its completion in 1529, but their remains were moved there upon its completion and remain there to this day. It was amazing to see into their crypt where 4 very simple coffins lay on stone tables (a grandson and some other dude are buried with them). ItÕs kind of odd to think that inside those 500 year old coffins are the remains of two of EuropeÕs most powerful monarchs. Very cool indeed.
Seeing the tomb of the woman responsible for sending Christopher Columbus to the Americas left us hungry and parched. So we set about wondering the city in search of dinner. Having received a very successful lesson the previous evening on how the tapas situation worked, we decided the best course of action was just to bar hop and eat the free tapas. Worked like a charm. We got to eat ham on a bagel, ham on a baguette, ham on toast, and ham with olives. Just add some green eggs and weÕd have been in Dr. SeussÕs Nirvana. It was as if we were going to ham bars that happened to serve beer. In fact, at one point we looked around and everyone we saw Š seriously, everyone Š was chowing on a ham sandwich and the bartender was screaming, ŅJamon! Mas Jamon!Ó (ŅHam! More ham!Ó) TomÕs only response, ŅDonÕt make eye contact. TheyÕll make you eat it.Ó
Our first full day ended in a small little bar near our hostel. God was merciful and we were able to convince the bartenders we really didnÕt want any more tapas. At first we were worried that we might have hurt their feelings, but when the cute bartender struck up a conversation with us, we knew we were all right. Despite the fact that she didnÕt speak much English and we didnÕt speak a lot of Spanish, we were able to have a somewhat interesting and funny conversation on politics. Like most Americans that are capable of comprehending logic above a fourth grade level, she was not a fan of George W. Bush.
I have just come to an executive decision on the contents of this journal. From time to time here on out, I may spend a paragraph discussing some element of Spanish society that I find intriguing. Consider it a cultural commercial break if you will. This paragraph is one such instance. Basically, I want to make note of the fashion weÕve seen so far. Now IÕm not gay so IÕm not an expert on hairstyles, clothing, and shoes; however, it was impossible not to note how dressed up everyone was. Okay, I admit it, I only noticed the women. Not only were the women dressed with impeccable class, but they were all very thin, elegant, and beautiful. Considering the large numbers of clothing stores that lined the streets, it was not hard to see why everyone was dressed so well. However, if you paid attention to our Tapas debacle a few days earlier, it is a mystery how they all stay so thin. It is truly a marvel Š and one that I am thankful for.
Alright, back to our story. This Tuesday started with us getting up at the crack of dawn (which happens to be about 8:00 this time of year in Spain) and heading to the Alhambra and to buy entrance tickets. The Alhambra is an enormous fortress and decadent palace that was built by the Moors during the 13th and 14th centuries. More on that in a bit. After getting our tickets we headed back into the city for Š you guessed it Š more food. We found this awesome little breakfast place. Guess what they served with their eggs? Ham! Fortunately for Spaniards and their visitors, their ham is awesome (referred to locally as Ņjamon serranoÓ Š cured ham).
We then took a quick nap and did some e-mailing at the hostel. It was then time to head back to the Alhambra. We spent about 3 or 4 hours roaming this ancient structure and all I can say is: Incredible! The palace was decorated with crazy arches, magnificent ceilings, and the most elaborate carvings on all the walls. Kind of like the 14th century version of wallpaper Š only much, much better. It was very cool to walk the same floors and look out over the city of Granada just as Moorish and Spanish royalty had done centuries earlier. It was also fascinating to visit the towers and protective walls where Moorish warriors once roamed and guarded the city from. Looking down from the highest tower it was very cool to imagine dumping hot caldrons on the unsuspecting armies below. If youÕre ever in Granada, this place is definitely worth getting up early, standing in line for a ticket, and spending 3 or 4 hours at.
After standing in the halls of kings, we spent some time back at the hostel talking politics with two other Americans, a Brit, and an Irish guy. ItÕs very interesting to hear the opinions of people from other countries about the state of the world. At this point on the trip, George W. is 0-3 with foreigners and I suspect his record isnÕt going to get much better.
It was now time to put our extensive research on tapas bars to good use. We picked our favorite and headed down. I wish I could remember the name of the place because IÕd love to recommend it to you. The tapas were awesome! After a couple hours of eating, drinking, and chatting there we decided to try and find a decent club for dancing. No luck. This was the last day of a Spanish holiday and everyone was apparently partied out Š well, that or it was the fact that it was a Tuesday night. No worries. Our stay in Granada was still a raging success.
Wednesday found us rising early and heading out of Granada for Sevilla. Now those of you out there that have had the ŅpleasureÓ of navigating with me may not find the following anecdote all that surprising; however, for the rest of you that know me and just assumed that I was perfect in every way, this story may come as a bit of a shock. You see, IÕm not perfect. I know, itÕs hard to believe but it is true. I, like Achilles before me, have a fatal flaw: Navigation. Magellan I ainÕt.
Tom, still living under the illusion of my perfection, decided heÕd drive and leave me in charge of the map. An hour and a half later we finally find our way out of Granada (a city smaller than Madison). In my defense, itÕs very difficult to find your way when thereÕs no road signs; however, given my past pentient for getting lost, itÕs probably reasonable to assume itÕs more my fault than the Spanish city planners.
Once we had finally handled the streets of Granada it was not long before we found ourselves having lunch at an outdoor cafˇ in Sevilla. It turns out that finding parking and lodging in Granada is a relatively simple matter. A big relief after our automotive adventures in Granada. After lunch, it was time to wander the streets of Sevilla. It turns out that the ability to get lost can actually be beneficial when you have no particular place to be. So that is what we did Š got ourselves lost on the narrow, winding streets of Sevilla. The ŅstreetsÓ were about seven feet wide and the ŅsidewalksÓ about a foot wide. All a long the way would be little outdoor cafes, little bars and restaurants, and tiny little shops. Every once in a while weÕd come around a corner and right in front of you would open up a really neat little plaza. People would be eating or drinking or just simply chatting away. It was fantastic.
After a couple of hours of a self-imposed state of being lost, we stumbled upon SevillaÕs main cathedral. Okay, Ņstumbled uponÓ isnÕt exactly right. More like, ŅcouldnÕt help but run into.Ó This cathedral is very simply named ŅEl Catedral.Ó You might think they could have come up with a better name than that but in all honesty, I donÕt believe so. The reason is because this really is ŅThe Cathedral.Ó ItÕs huge! At 120m long by 80m wide, itÕs one of the biggest churches in the world. The support columns reminded me of the giant cedar trees and Douglas firs IÕve seen in the Pacific Northwest Š only bigger. This place is so massive that itÕs hopeless for me to try and explain. YouÕll just have to make a trip and see it for yourself. While I really enjoyed climbing to the top tower and looking out over all Sevilla, the greatest thing inside is the supposed remains of Christopher Columbus. (I say supposed because apparently thereÕs a little controversy over the matter. Personally, IÕd like to believe they really are.) He is presented in a giant coffin being carried by four huge statues representing pallbearers. These statues stand about 15 feet high and dwarf everyone around them.
After coming out of the cathedral we spent more time wandering the streets. This time we had a purpose: finding me shoes. It might be quite shocking to you all, but my fashion wasnÕt quite up to par for the European scene. We figured that a cool pair of shoes would be the best way to spruce me up. Armed with the willingness to spend 20 Euros and a street lined with cool shops, we quickly accomplished our mission. The day was finished by a fantastic dinner of pizza and canaloni at a small restaurant devoid of Americans. We had to walk around for about an hour to discover the place but that just meant I got to show off my cool new shoes!
Unfortunately, our time in Sevilla was to come to an end on this day. We had plane tickets to Bilbao for later in the day. ItÕs too bad because I really like Sevilla. ItÕs windy, narrow downtown streets, old world charm, and beautiful weather make it a wonderful place to relax the day away.
Before leaving, however, we took a couple of hours and visited the Acazar. In many ways it was very similar to the extravagant Alhambra in Granada except not quite as big and not nearly as crowded. We pretty much had the run of the place and it was awesome! The palace itself was filled with artwork and architecture that had been created hundreds of years earlier. As with the Alhambra, the Alcazar was originally built by Moorish kings and later taken back by Spanish monarchs. There were two things I really loved about this place. One was a beautiful painting depicting a king receiving communion, and the other was the large gardens. The gardens were full of fruit trees (lemon, lime, pomegranate, and banana), pools, fountains, and a labyrinth. I also have a picture of Tom standing under these huge palm trees. I realize it doesnÕt take much to dwarf Tom, but these were seriously the tallest palm trees IÕve ever seen.
When we finally finished our wanderings through the ancient fortress, we grabbed a quick sandwich and coffee at a little cafˇ on our way to the airport. I would like to take just a second to say that the sandwiches (called bocadillas are served all over Spain and they are fantastic. Mostly theyÕre served with some type of pork (jamon serrano, lomo, or bacon) on a fresh baguette. We ate them in Granada, San Sebastian, Barcelona, and Madrid. We even grabbed one at a truck stop on our six-hour drive to Madrid later in the week. Despite the tastiness of all these sandwiches, far and away my favorite was from this little cafˇ in Sevilla. If youÕre ever in Sevilla, I highly encourage you to stop in and check it out. Unfortunately, I canÕt remember the name of the place.
Anyway, after finishing the greatest sandwich the world has ever known, we hopped a plane, flew to Bilbao, grabbed out rental car, and drove to San Sebastian. All in all a pretty uneventful six hours Š except for one thing: our rental car. Hopefully youÕll recall our problems with parking from earlier. I only mention this because when it comes to parking Š unlike other areas of life Š smaller is better. Our rental car was not small. Instead, our ŅfreeÓ upgrade took us from a nice compact Opel to a European minivan. It sucked! To top it all off, we had bought CDÕs in Sevilla and this piece of crap had a tape deck! Agh! What a pain.
At last we arrived in San Sebastian, battled the parking demons, took a bus to our Pension, and got settled. Do you know what the best cure for a long, annoying day of travel is? Beer and tapas. It turns out that San Sebastian is a great place for this. There are more bars here than anywhere I have ever been Š way more. And on the counters of every one of them are dozens of plates filled with the delectable small snack known as the tapa.
As we worked our way through the Parte Viaje neighborhood we were staying in, we came across two fellow travelers: Danny and Ashley. They were from New Zealand and turned out to be great bar hopping companions. They even convinced us to hit our first Discotecha of the trip. It was a crazy place right on the beach and didnÕt even open until 2:00 AM. One problem occurs when drinking with New Zealanders Š they can really drink. Later in the trip we would discover this problem also applies to Australians and Germans. So Tom and I gave up ŅearlyÓ (3:30 AM San Sebastian time) and headed back even though the place was still packed. The adventure for the day wasnÕt quite over though.
We got back to the Pension and I decided to make a quick call back home (where it was only 6:00 PM the day before). After completing my call Š about 4:30 AM local time Š I realized IÕd left my key in the room. The result, I wondered around the streets of San Sebastian and waited in front of the Pension until about 6:30 AM when someone finally left and I was able to sneak back in. Needless to say, getting to sleep at 6:30 AM is not real conducive to a productive next day. As it would turn out, this wasnÕt a big deal.
One of my favorite things about Spain is how old everything is. Whether itÕs having coffee at the base of an 800 year old fort in Granada, walking through a cathedrdal in Sevilla and seeing the remains of Christopher Columbus, or walking through streets in Barcelona that were originally laid down by the Romans in the 2nd century; you are constantly reminded of a sense of antiquity that does not exist anywhere in the United States. DonÕt get me wrong, I love American history and feel that we too have great stories to tell, but it just cannot compare historically to Spain. For example, IÕm writing this entry on October 19th from a bar near the Tibidabo. ItÕs a hill that looks out over the whole city of Barcelona, a city that was founded by the Carthaginians in 230 BC. It is truly awe inspiring to enter the halls of Moorish kings, tread in a cathedral built by King Ferdinand, and to walk the streets that Pablo Picasso once roamed. If you have never been there, someday you must make the journey.
So at this point youÕre probably wondering why I spent so many words discussing history. Well, it turns out that the 13th was not a particularly exciting day in Spain. The reason? Rain. They say that Eskimos have something like forty words for snow. From what we saw in our two days in San Sebastian, the Spaniards in the Basque region must have at least that many for rain. Drizzling rain. Rain showers. Pouring rain. Cold rain. Rain with wind. Lots of rain. Etc. Etc. This was a huge bummer for us because rumor has it that the best topless beaches in all of Spain are along the shores of San Sebastian. It turns out that when itÕs spitting down rain, the tops (along with sweaters, coats, and umbrellas) all stay on.
We started the day by waking up. Yep, I find thatÕs usually the best way to begin a day. So now weÕre awake, itÕs raining, and the topless beaches are empty. We decided to head for the local aquarium. What can I say about the aquariumÉthere were fishÉtheir were models of boatsÉand thatÕs about it. Actually, it was a lot cooler than I made it sound an I highly recommend it if youÕre ever in San Sebastian and the topless beaches are closed (and if youÕre curious, yes, I do plan to keep referring to the closed, topless beaches Š IÕm very bitter about it). After that, Tom went back to the Pension and I decided to hike to the top of Monte Urgull. ItÕs an old fort that was actually used by NapoleonÕs troops when they conquered the area. ItÕs not much of a fort but it does have a pretty cool statue of Christ and, on a nice day, would have offered up a spectacular view of San Sebastian and the surrounding hillsides; however, on this rainy, dreary day of closed topless beaches, the view was non-existent.
After finishing up on the mount, I headed back to our Pension for a quick siesta and then we were off to meet the Kiwis for some dinner. We did some considerable walking and the four of us ended up in the Centro area of town and I found myself eating a very tasty fillet of Anglerfish. Anglerfish is this really cool fish that lies on the bottom of the sea and ŅfishesÓ for other fish. WeÕre not 100% sure that itÕs not endangered. No matter, it was quite tasty. Then we worked our way from the Centro district all the way back to our Pension Š hitting a tapas bar or two on the way. The only really cool story from this is that at one point Tom and Ashley wondered off towards another bar and I decided to wait outside our current bar for Danny. Apparently this idea of waiting for a friend is quite foreign to native New Zealanders because he was shocked. From that point on I was considered a Ņmate.Ó A ŅmateÓ to a Kiwi is not at all like a ŅmateÓ to the Canadian goose. A mate to a Kiwi is simply a friend Š not, as it would be to the Canadian goose, someone to fly south with when the weather in Canada turns cold. The result of this new found friendship was an immediate invitation to come visit England (which is where these two particular Kiwis live at the moment).
Meanwhile, on the other side of town, my trusty and faithful sidekick Tom was setting up a breakfast date with the lovely Ashley. A date that she would so callously miss. That, however, is a story for tomorrow.
Like the day before, we woke up to more pouring rain and after Tom was dissed for his breakfast date with Ashley the New Zealander, we decided to give up on San Sebastian and head for Barcelona. However, there was one major issue left to resolve before we could head out.
You see, when you have to fit all of your clothes for a two-week trip into a single backpack, you end up with a weekÕs worth of clothes (actually less in my case). The problem we had encountered was at this point in the trip we had exhausted our supply of clean clothes. In other words, we stunk. So before we left we found a laundry mat and defunkified our clothes. Then it was off to the Bat Mobile (aka. piece of crap van) and a five-hour drive to Barcelona.
Interesting note if you ever have to make the drive from San Sebastian to Barcelona: make sure to bring plenty of cash. The drive cost us about 20 Euros ($24) in tolls. I think people in Illinois should take note and quit bitching about the 45 cents they pay every 1/2 an hour or so.
Upon our arrival in Barcelona we managed to find the coolest hostel ever. Perks included: free breakfast, free dinner with the purchase of a beer, cheap beer, free internet access, and a prime location right off of Calle de La Rambla (one of the busiest pedestrian streets in all of Spain). But the best part was the people. The hostel was full of travelers from all over the worlds. We me Australians, Germans, Brazilians, Mexicans, and Canadians during our stay. Everyone was super friendly and many had great stories in a later entry.
On this first night we met two travelers whose origins were from the enchanting, mythical, and exotic land of Canada. Okay, so maybe they werenÕt that exotic but I have no doubts that Tom appreciated the extra companions to give him a short reprieve from my overwhelming wit. It was great to have a couple of other people to enjoy a beer with Š especially people that were as fun and interesting as these two were.
My only complaint for the night: the crappy Irish Pub we decided to go and have a pint in. These Irish PubÕs were all over the place and it turned out they were a hug rip-off. Not that I should actually have to tell anyone this, but if youÕre ever in Spain, stay out of the Irish Pubs. Thus spoke Matt.
This was perhaps our busiest day in Spain,, so youÕre not going to get many of my patented wise cracks or brilliant insights on life. Instead, youÕll get a quick run down on what we did with a little commentary about the best parts.
We started with a quick walk down to the Columbus Monument and the waterfront before we turned around and headed north toward La Sagrada Familia. This is a unique experience because itÕs a chance to see a monumental cathedral under construction. The project was started over 100 years ago by the famed Spanish architect Antoni Gaudi. He died in 1926 and construction halted until 1950 and it has been going strong ever since. Estimates put its completion somewhere around 2055 Š another 50 years! ItÕs amazing and a must see in Barcelona.
From here we continued our walk northward to the Parc Guel Š another Gaudi masterpiece and probably my favorite sight in all of Spain. ItÕs an absolutely incredible park with spectacular views of Barcelona, quirky and strange structures scattered about, and people from all over the world mingling around on its terrace. We had to walk about 9 miles to see this park and I can say I would have walked twice that distance to see it. Do yourself a huge favor in life and go lounge around in this park.
At this point in the day IÕm absolutely in love with Barcelona and loathing the idea of walking another step. So Tom and I grabbed a metro ride back to our hostel and decided to grab a beer in the plaza right outside the hostelÕs front door. About two minutes after we sat down, two girls from the south of Germany, who we had seen earlier in our hostel, sat down at the table next to us. We invited them to join us and it was a great decision. There names were Anja and Corinna and they were a blast. They had just arrived in Barcelona and after a couple of beers they called it a night. YouÕll be hearing more about them over the next couple of days. After they were gone, we ended up meeting a guy named Zach. He was from Minneapolis, moving to London, and had been traveling for about two months around Europe. He was super cool and great to talk to. He also had one other strange feature.
Tome and I have these two friends, Andrew Tratz and Paul Dean, and if it were possible for these two guys to procreate, Zach would be the result. It was a really weird.
Anyway, a couple other quick notes about this Zach dude. He had just finished up a month in the east block countries Š Poland, Hungary, Czech Republic, etc Š and had amazing things to say about the people and the towns there. His review was so glowing in fact that IÕm now very jazzed to go visit these countries myself. Especially Poland where he said the prices were super cheap, the people all spoke English and loved Americans, and the cities had a ton of culture to offer. All of this would be confirmed a couple of nights later when I spoke to two German brothers that we would meet.
Lastly, a quick note about our hostel room. While it was cheap and the beds comfortable, it did have some downfalls. First, there were 20 beds in the room. This is not such a big deal until you add 20 people Š many of who have been drinking and a few that snore like chainsaws. Secondly, it stunk! It was awful. Remember when I mentioned elarier that we did laundry to purge our stench from our packed wardrobe? Now imagine 18 other guys who had not performed this simple cleansing task, some didnÕt shower, others that smoked in the room, and still others with a serious foot odor issue. If you mix all those scents together, you have the odor exuding from our hostel room.
Besides their incredible history, I have another favorite thing about the cities of Spain: their plazas. Every city we were in had these incredible plazas where people sit and drink wine, eat food, or just hang out. There are big plazas, little plazas, plazas with statues, plazas with entertainersÉplazas, plazas, plazas. It was awesome! What makes them so great? Well, theyÕre relaxing, pleasant, sophisticated; basically, theyÕre a breath of fresh air in an otherwise hectic and crazy world. Kind of like me only with chairs and drinks.
For all of you Matt McCormick fans out there this next sentence might come as a bit of a shock. Until October 18, 2004 I had never been in an art museum. Shocking, I know. But fortunately the situation would be remedied on this day as Tom and I journeyed to the Museu d'Art Contemporani de Barcelona and spent a few hours looking at what kind of inventions a strange and demented mind could produce.
Some of the art was just flat out bizarre with no meaning that I could decipher. Like the videos of a guy bouncing a ball or the painting that seriously looked like something a three year old would do. However, most of it was fantastic and very though provoking. Like the guy who used to put political messages on money and recycled coke bottles as a way to get around censorship. Their were dozens of abstract paintings that required a serious intellectual effort to try and decipher. DonÕt feel bad for Tom Š I was there to guide him through this part of the museum.
One of my favorites was a math proof for the speed of art. Sounds weird, right? Well, it was, but it was also one of the most striking exhibits, at least for me, in the whole museum. The final result looked like this:
f (a) = f ( l ) then
f ( l + F )
f ' (a) = ------------
F --> 0
Where a = Art, l = Life, and F = fiction
Verbalizing: as the fiction in a piece of art, art being about life, approaches zero you arrive at art. In other words, art is about the attempt to represent life through fictional means. The better the art, the more that fiction represents real life. Well, that was my interpretation anyway. Yours might be completely different.
After the art museum we hit up La Pedrera (also known as Casa Mila). This was originally an apartment building designed by Gaudi. It cost seven Euros and in all honesty, the inside wasnÕt worth that. It was cool to see how extravagant the place was but the real excitement was on the roof. Tom described it best when we first stepped out, ŅDude, this looks like an amusement park.Ó And so it did. ItÕs curving roof top and crazy, sculpted chimneys made the entry fee seem like a real bargain. As with just about everything else I saw in Barcelona, this place is a must see if you visit.
By this time the day was starting to wind down and we headed back towards the hostel. Just as we were about to pass another amazing looking Gaudi house, we heard our names shouted from a sidewalk bench. Needless to say, this is not something two Americans expect to happen as they roam the streets of a Spanish city. It turned out to be Anja and Corinna (aka, the German girls) just hanging out and resting their feet. So we all sat and chatted for a bit and then all four of us decided to grab some dinner together.
They were a blast to talk to and, while neither spoke English perfectly fluently, both of them spoke it fairly well. Corinna was actually at least as good in Spanish as English and she would often mix the two. It was neat to listen to. On top of that they were both pretty funny. It turned out that we all ended up picking some shady little cafˇ for dinner where it was seven Euros for two courses, dessert, and a glass of wine/beer. The ravioli I had tasted suspicially like the Chef Boy R Dee I used to eat as a kid and the dessert was a pre-packaged Nestle ice cream cup. Very authentic Mediterranean cuisine. The ice cream was actually a little soft and the girls wouldnÕt eat it for fear of salmonella poisoning. Silly Germans. DonÕt they know American food companies put in enough preservatives to make sure their food out lasts the pyramids?
After a couple more drinks, the Germans began to fade and decided to head to bed. And I was always under the impression that Germans were quality drinkers. Anyway, after they headed out Tom and I decided to hit up one more bar and discuss politics. It turns out that Tom is part communist, part fascist, part extreme capitalist, and a whole lot of anarchist. ItÕs a really weird mix and made it very difficult for him to understand the basic economic logic I was delivering. By the way, for those wondering, IÕm right, heÕs wrong.
The day started with Tom and I meeting our new found German friends at about 10:00 for the free breakfast in the hostel. Tom decided it would be a good idea to ditch me for the day and meet them at 2:00 to tour the city with a local friend of theirs. I would choose a different path for my afternoon and one that would prove to be quite rewarding.
Before we parted ways in the afternoon, though, Tom and I headed out to explore a new part of the city. We decided to check out the Universidad de Barcelona Š a potential future place of education for us both. I can already here my brother, ŅWhat? Back to school again?Ó To that, dear Ben, I say, ŅHell yeah!Ó School in Barcelona would be way better than sitting behind a desk and working on a computer all day.
But I digress. The University was very cool and very different from American universities IÕve been in. It was a single, large building that housed 200-year-old paintings in its main hall, had a beautiful garden in its center atrium, and was filled with students chatting the courtyard and hallways. Yep, I would definitely love to go to school there. Now if I can just figure out what to study I can try avoiding the real world again.
After our trip through the great halls of academia, Tom and I stumbled upon a great place for lunch. Four-fifty Euros got us a great meal of chicken and ham served with peas in the pod and French fries. We then of course had to add our favorite beverages to the mix (wine for me, beer for Tom). A fabulous meal.
It was now time for Tom to met the lovely German girls and for me to try and scale the Tibidabo hill. The Barcelonans need to come to grips with the fact that this ŅhillÓ is actually a mountain. After about two hours of trying to climb it, I gave up and enjoyed the mountain in a much better way Š grabbing a Coca-Cola and a beer in a bar that overlooked the entire city. No question in my mind that it was the coolest bar IÕve ever been in. I simply sat at a railing in the bar, worked on my journal, and enjoyed the view. It was perhaps the single most ŅEuropeanÓ moment of my entire trip. It would have been easy to spend the whole afternoon there but I had a ddate with the second art museum of my life Š the Museo Picasso.
I got my aching feet down the mountain and on a metro headed to see the great works of the Spanish painter Pablo Picasso. I must say that I didnÕt enjoy it as much as the modern art museum of the day before, but it was still spectacular. I felt they had too many of his works from his childhood so I was a bit spent by the time I got to his real masterpieces. The first of these was ŅFirst Communion.Ó He painted it when he was just fifteen. I think my overall favorites were his works from his Blue Period, but I also thought his cubist art was incredible. Hard to believe isnÕt it Š a redneck from Wisconsin, who loves to hunt and fish, talking about his preference for PicassoÕs Blue Period over his Cubist phase. Yep, hard to believe but true. The Little Barbarian is definitely expanding his horizons. DonÕt worry, though, come late November this expanding mind will be dressed in blaze orange and sitting in a tree in south central Wisconsin.
It was now about 7:30 PM and I headed back towards the hostel to meet up wit the others. On the way, I made a quick pit stop to check out a small section of a 3rd century Roman wall that still remains in the heart of Barcelona.
Once I arrived back at the hostel, I grabbed beer and got the free dinner that came with it. Turns out that this gourmet meal was made up of rice, some chili flavored red sauce, and some mystery meat that seemed suspiciously similar to little cocktail wieners. I guess you get what you pay for. Not all was lost, however, because while eating this meal I got to meet three Australians and two more Germans. All of these guys were very interesting and fun. The two German dudes were brothers, Mike and Frank, that had traveled extensively in the past and, like the American I met earlier in the trip, insisted that my next trip should take me through Poland. One of the Australians, Benny, had taught himself French and was just coming back from a month traveling through France. Another Aussie, Alfie, was one month into a three month trip around the world (Asia, Europe, and then South America). It turns out that Aussies (like Kiwis) travel extensively. Needless to say, theyÕre a blast to hang out with.
Finally Tom and the German fraulines arrived. We rounded up everyone I had already met, a couple of Brazilians and a couple of Canadians (hey?), and the whole gaggle of us headed out for a night on the town. The night concluded with Tom, me, all four of the Germans, one of the Australians, and two Canadians sitting in a small dive bar having a glass of Absinthe. I thought it was pretty tasty but the 80% alcohol left a serious burning sensation as it traveled down your throat and into your stomach. Fortunately, or unfortunately depending on your point of view, this version of Absinthe didnÕt include wormwood. In other words, no one ended up blind or hallucinating.
All in all, this was one of the longest and most active days of my entire trip Š and it was one of the best.
An interesting fact about travelers: they are interesting, energetic, and almost always friendly. For example, the hostel we stayed at in both Granada and Barcelona were full of people traveling alone; yet, we almost never saw anyone sitting by themselves. If you saw someone sitting alone, youÕd sit down next to them, introduce yourself, and almost always here an interesting story or two. Consider one girl I talked to who said she had traveled to Egypt and as she stood in front of the pyramids Š the greatest man made structure in all of history Š she discovered that the batteries in her camera were dead. Fortunately for her, another traveler in the area had a spare set of batteries. Or consider the guy from Minnesota (the Paul Dean and Tratz love child) who told me about this great French couple that, at a stag3e in his journey when he was exhausted and homesick, took him into their home, gave him a comfy bed, and fed him a steak heÕd longed for for weeks. Traveling and travelers are great. If you donÕt have a passport, go get one, buy a plane ticket to another continent, and go experience the world.
Time for Matt to step off his soapbox and tell out about our last full day in Barcelona. To make up for the hecticness of the past day, Tom and I took it a bit easier on this day. We left the hostel about 11:00 and set out to find the traveling Salvador Dali exhibit that was in town. Tom insisted he knew where it was and we set out to find it. Quck question: is the definition of being lost not knowing where you are, or not being able to find where youÕre going? If itÕs the latter definition, Tom got us lost. If itÕs the former definition, Tom took us on a nice tour of a Barcelona neighborhood. No matter, thereÕs much worse things that one can do than wander the bustling streets of Barcelona.
It was worth the wandering effort when we finally arrived at the exhibit. If DaliÕs paintings at all describe the way he perceived the world, then he was one weird dude. Weird but brilliant. His paintings donÕt inspire the kind of reflection that was found in the modern art we saw nor do they have the kind of classical beauty of PicassoÕs art or the works that I would see at the Prado in Madrid. Yet they are visually stunning and they definitely do challenge the mind to try and grasp exactly what it is seeing. Be it the melting landscapes, the demented sexual imagery, the bizarre forms of humans and animals, or the haunting religious sculptures; Dali definitely challenges your perceptions. IÕm pretty sure he was in to some heavy drugs.
After exercising our minds at the Dali showing, we required sustenance. Again, we scored huge on lunch. This time we found a little out of the way cafˇ filled with only locals. For seven Euros we got an excellent two-course meal that included dessert. On top of that, they also gave us an entire bottle of wine. The whole meal was delicious and, in my opinion, probably worth twice what we paid for it.
At this point we had planned on visiting Montjuic. This is the area in Barcelona where most of the Olympic games were held in 1992 and supposed to be beautiful. Unfortunately, Tom put me in charge of the subway map and my Magellan on crack directional ability ended us up in the wrong place. No worries. We made the best of the situation by finding a small park and taking a nap on a couple of the park benches. It was about 75 degrees and slightly breezy. In other words, a great day for a nap in a park in Barcelona. Upon awakening we caught a metro back to La Rambla in time to meet Anja and Corinna before they had to head back to Germany. The four of us went to grab this pastry and chocolate syrup delight known as churros. Unfortunately, the place we ended up at served crappy chorro. The pastry was stale and the chocolate tasted like it had been cut with water. It was, as Corinna would say, ŅQue Malo.Ó To make matters worse, after we left this horrid place, we were taunted by at least a half-dozen other churros shops in the area. Once again, ŅQue Malo.Ó We walked them back to the plaza outside our hostel, had one last beer with them, grabbed their bags, and walked them down to the metro. After they were gone, Tom, who was especially sad to see them leave, turned to me and said, ŅQue Malo.Ó However, I prefer to see it as us having made two new friends from southern Germany and itÕs just one more place IÕll have to go visit some day. ŅQue Beuno,Ó in my opinion.
To drown his sorrows, Tom insisted on a hard night out. So
we went back to the hostel and met up with the Aussie guys weÕd been hanging
out with. We also managed to pick up another Canadian guy and an American
thatÕs currently living in Ireland. We then headed out to one of our favorite
bars in Barcelona - La Oveja
Negra (the Black Sheep) Š and drank a pretty fair amount of sangria. This place
had the best sangria I tasted in all of Spain. In the process of consuming this
wonderful treat, we met another Canadian and an Austrian. I was really tempted
to ask the Austrian girl, in my horrible Austrian accent, if she was a big fan
of ŅAÕnold.Ó However, for the sake of international relations, I refrained.
Besides, she was very busy trying to hit on the Canadian girl and I felt it was
my ethical duty to not interfere.
At the
very end of the night, Tom and I ended up having one last beer at another bar
with a native Spaniard. Tom said he was a great guy but I can neither confirm
nor deny this claim since the two of them spoke only Spanish the whole time. No
matter. It was a fun night and a great ending to our stay in Barcelona.
One thing I want to say
about Spain is this: It is beautiful! The country from Barcelona to Madrid has
mountains, vineyards, plains, and hills that remind me of the Dakota badlands.
The southwestern part of the country, near Granada and Sevilla, is lined with
thousands of acres of olive trees and rugged mountains. The northwest Basque
country is filled with beautiful beaches, coastlines, and forested mountains
that are very reminiscent of the US Appalachians. All in all, it is a beautiful
and rugged land.
That beign said, I was still
not very excited for our six hour drive from Barcelona to Madrid on this
Thursday morning. We got up about 9:00 and headed out in the crap mobile van.
When we finally arrived in Madrid, we decided to ditch the tank we were driving
at the airport and take the metro everywhere. WeÕd had enough of trying to park
in Spanish cities. All went right according to plan until we took our first
step on to the streets of Madrid.
One thing they donÕt teach
you back on the farms of Wisconsin is how to prevent a professional, foreign
pick pocketer from performing their trade. The result: Matt got his wallet and
passport lifted from a zipped pants pocket. Yep, thatÕs right Š IÕm a day and a
half from flying home and IÕm without any money, any credit cards, and any form
of identification (including my passport). At this point, IÕm having visions of
spending the next twenty years begging for change on the streets of Madrid
because I donÕt have any ID to get me home.
Fortunately, with the
Sherlock Holmes type of ability for investigation, my old roommate and good
friend Kris Dressler was able to track down the numbers for my credit and bank
cards. Armed with this info I was able to cancel my cards and confirm that no
damages had been done (although the thief did try to run my credit card through
a cash machine).
Once my credit cards were
cancelled all that remained was to get a passport. Not much I could do about
that at 10:30 pm so I just hit the rack Š depressed, hating Madrid, and worried
IÕd never make it home again. All of these issues would be remedied on the next
day.
This was to be our last
full day in Spain and for me, spending it in Madrid did not seem like a great
idea. Especially at 8:00 in the morning when I got up, showered, put on my best
set of dirty clothes, and headed down to the American Embassy Š without any
form of identification.
After being ushered through
an extreme amount of security (including an armed tank in front of the
building), I began what I thought would be a long and painful process of
proving that I was an American citizen that needed to get home on the following
day. As luck would have it, all of the worrying was needless. You see, it turns
out that the US government has entered the digital age and they keep a record
of all passports (including photos) given out in the last few years. This means
my handsome mug was on file with the embassy and within about two hours I was
on my way out the door with a new passport.
A few quick comments about my
experience inside the embassy. It turns out that IÕm not the only sucker that
gets ripped off in Madrid. It also happens to people from Rockport, IL. ThatÕs
right, I met some fellow Midwesterners that, while looking at a map with two of
their friends, had their bag stolen right out from underneath them. They also
told me of a woman they met from Denmark that had the entire contents of her
purse emptied on the Metro.
Then there was the American
girl from Colorado that was super angry about not getting her absentee ballot.
Some printer in Colorado ŅforgotÓ to print 13,000 of the 60,000 absentee ballots
they were supposed to send out. This poor girl had spent the better part of a
week trying to get a replacement ballot and was having no luck. Needless to
say, she was not a happy girl.
After getting my identity
back, I met up with Tom in front of the Embassy and we headed out to find a
place to spend the night. Fortunately, the hostal we had stayed in the night
before was able to set us up with another hostal way away from the touristy
regions. WeÕll get back to that area later.
Once we were settled in, we
decided to part ways for a while. My number one thing to see in Madrid was the
Museo Prado. This magnificent museum is full of thousands of paintings dating
back to the 13th century. It also had a number of sculptures that
dated all the way back to Roman occupation of the Iberian Peninsula around the
2nd and 3rd centuries. There were lots of paintings by
Goya, Valazquez, El Greco, and dozens of other artists from all over Europe. It
houses the largest collection of medieval art in the world. There were hundreds
of portraits of royal families and hundreds of deeply religious works. There
were also such famous paintings as GoyaÕs La Maja Vestida (The Clothed Maja)
and La Maja Desnuda (The Nude Maja). These are two identical paintings of the
same woman with one exception: in one she is clothed and in the other she is
not. There was also GoyaÕs Dos de Mayo and Tres de Mayo that documented
MadridÕs fall to Napoleon. Then there is there was the famous Las Meninas by
Velazquez (this, by the way, was an incredible painting). One of my favorite
artists was Francisco de Zurbaran. His paintings were so accurately painted
that many of them almost looked like photographs. All in all, this museum was
an amazing experience. I just wish I would have had more than 3 hours to roam
around inside it.
Alas, I had to leave the
Prado to head over to the largest park in Madrid to meet Tom. While I had been
enjoying the culture and beauty of one of EuropeÕs greatest museums, Tom had
been running around trying to get us tickets to the Magnetic Fields concert
that was to take place that night. It turns out that he makes quite the good
messenger boy because he showed up with two tickets. However, before heading
out to see this incredible band, we decided that it was necessary to give the
Madrid bar scene a quick try.
This was a most excellent
idea! It turns out that Madrid offers even a better deal than Granada. We went
to four different bars around our hostal and all of them charged one Euro for a
beer or a glass of wine, and the deal gets even sweeter. You see, for every
drink you got (and remember, these were only a Euro apiece), they gave you a
free tapas! ThatÕs right, a free tapas with every beer. For a grand total of
about 5 Euros each, Tom and I not only got some great beverages, we received a
good meal to boot.
Then it was time to head to
the concert Š and it was a great show. The opening act, whose name I canÕt
remember, was fantastic. It would also appear that they were very funny between
songs given the amount of laughter coming from everyone else; however, Tom and
I were quite able to keep up with the guys Spanish. Oh yeah, and the funny guy
was dressed in a skirt, high heels, and was wearing make-up. Apparently Capital
Hill in Seattle doesnÕt have a monopoly on weirdness.
After they were done, the
Magnetic Fields came on. This band was awesome! It was a girl playing the piano
and singing, a guy playing mandolin and singing, a guy playing the Cello, and
then one other guy that switched between an acoustic guitar and a banjo. The
male lead singer sounded like the guy from Crash Test Dummies and the girl
sounded just like Caitlan from the Kissers (and if youÕve never seen the
Kissers, youÕre missing out). It was a fantastic show.
Considering the fact that we
had about 14 hours of flying to do on the following day, Tom and I decided to
call it a night after the show. Well, thatÕs not quite true. We first stopped
for a schwarma. MmmmmmmÉschwarma. ItÕs this incredible Middle Eastern sandwich
of chicken or lamb wrapped with lettuce, cucumber sauce, and onions in a piece
of pita bread. It was soooooo good.
HmmmÉso how do I describe
this last day? LetÕs do the short version: we got up, bought a couple
souvenirs, jumped on a metro, flew for eight hours from Madrid to Philadelphia,
sat in Philadelphia for two hours, and then flew for six hours to Seattle.
Sounds like a blast doesnÕt it?
So I figured this journal
entry would be a great chance to summarize our trip. One word: Faitosaf. What?
YouÕve never heard of the word Ņfaitosaf.Ó What are you ignorant? Were you born
in Texas? Okay, IÕll stop before I start raging about politics. Basically
faitosaf is a word that I made up (hey, if Shakespeare is allowed to make up
words, I figure I am too). ItÕs an acronym for: Fabulous, Awesome, Incredible,
Outstanding, Super, Amazing, and Fantastic.
Where else can you spend one
day walking around in a 13th century fortress, the next wondering on
a topless beach (even though the weather was too crappy for there to be any
toplessness going on), another day looking at 500 year old paintings, see
Christopher ColumbusÕs tomb, meet people from four different continents, see
thousands of windmills, and spend 3 hours sitting in an outdoor cafˇ discussing
philosophy. All the while enjoying incredible beer and wine and amazing food.
I know IÕve already made this
case about 3 or 4 times in this journal, but IÕm going to make the plea one
more time: go out and travel! See the world and the people in it. Besides being
a blast, itÕs an eye opening and exciting adventure. In a word: Faitosaf!