I arrived in Copenhagen at 9AM on Wednesday exhausted from my crazy week in Poland, and also a bit sad to be leaving because I had had such an amazing experience, and I felt like there was so much more fun to be had with Gosia.
Prior to leaving Warsaw, I knew only that Emily was in Copenhagen for the day, and she was to leave on Thursday for a Scandanavian adventure, over which I was excited for her, but caused me stress for my own situation. I got in touch with our friend-from-the-Rome-hostel, Andrew, but he too was leaving for a weekend in Sweden, so it looked as if I would be on my own for the majority of my stay in Denmark.
After having a shower in a public bath (yay!) I headed up to Emily's campus to meet her for lunch. It was a nice time, cool school, cool people, etc. I then met up with Andrew for a bit, and when Em was done with classes, we walked along the Stroget (the largest pedestrian walkway in the world, and incidentally also the most commercial). Although Emily offered me her floor for the first night, I secured a hostel called "Sleep-in Green" near the center city, a vegetarian, eco-friendly place. I felt sure I would meet interesting people there.
Emily left for Sweden early the following day, so I showed up to the Sleep-in Green at around 7AM in the morning. I dropped off my stuff, had a yogurt, and took a morning walk up to the famous "Little Mermaid" statue in the spuradic Copenhagen rain. When I finally arrived, I found the crowd of tourists to be a much more impressive spectacle than the statue itself: a very small, naked half woman/half fish sitting on a tiny rock in the canal. Well worth the walk, I thought to myself.
By the time I returned to the hostel, it was lock-out time and I was rudly kicked out. I called Andrew from a nearby payphone, and we met up for the rest of the day, wandering down to Christania, a freetown outside of city center that was taken over about 30 years ago by squatters, and had fought hard to stay independent of the rest of Copenhagen. We walked into the town through alleys surrounded by beautiful, massive graffit-ied walls. Men stood in the middle of the street selling hash and weed, while gleeful tourists smoked huge blunts outside at the tables of nearby restuarants... truly a remarkable place. Plenty of music, weed, cheap drinks/food, free roaming dogs and friendly people. Apparently, all the money earned from the food establishments goes towards paying for the utilities of the communal residences, in which none of the inhabitants have to pay for rent. A socialist dreamworld, really.
The following day Andrew left for Sweden and I was officially on my own. I dodged out of the hostel early, avoiding an awkward Phillipino boy named Matthew slightly resembling Golum that I had met the night before. The day was good, I took a canal tour, went to the National Museum, ate some Danishes on the Stroget, and climbed another tower overlooking the old town.
That night, after some random intoductions, I tagged along to a night club with a group of four Italian boys from Torino named Gabriel, Roberto, and Faaabio, two girls from Indiana, Kate and Ana, and of course, Matt aka Golum the Phillipino boy. The night started off fun, but was highlighted with the romance that was inevitably struck between myself and the Italian Fabio. He insisted on paying for everything (every drink, every cover, every taxi), opened each and every door, refused to walk in front of me ever and asked me politely what I'd like to do before we moved anywhere. While normally I find this type of male mating behavior completely and totally obnoxious, this time, he had me entirely in a trance. For the few drunken hours I spent with Fabio, I was actively entertaining fantasies of marriage and Tuscan Villas and an Italian happily ever after. He didn't speak much English, but it wasn't much of a problem for me in the least. When he left for Helsinki at when we returned from the club, I wholeheartedly wanted to follow, but luckily stayed in Copenhagen dreaming about what could have been had I run off with my Italian lover. Le sigh. Some things just weren't meant to be I suppose.
The last day of my Copenhagen adventure was not nearly as exciting. Being half hung-over from the night before, the four of us remaining sat in a park for the day playing card games. We ate cheap falafel, napped and went to Christania for the evening.
I left Copenhagen the following day feeling more than ready to come to London. Although I loved almost everything about the city, traveling alone is just not quite as fulfilling.
Monday, July 16, 2007
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Lulu does Poland, part 3
The last day of Poland deserves this entire post... SO much craziness.
Again, going to bed we intended to wake up for the 630AM train to Krakow and then an early bus on to Aushwitz. So naturally, we made the 730AM train that wouldn't arrive in Krakow until 3PM, which turned into 4PM. After cramming on a small bus, we arrived at the site of the Nazi camp at around 6PM. Visiting the camp was... eerie and saddening and moving and also very very very wet.
We lingered until 730PM, just long enough to miss the last bus back to Krakow. A nice Polish driver on a coach bus parked nearby offered us shelter until his tour group returned... a group of genius American high school students on a tour of Eastern Europe. He told us stories of his mother, who had been put in the Nazi camp down the road from Aushwitz. So moving and so very very real. Apparently her task had been to separate the belongings of those going to the gas chambers... shoes in one pile, hair in another, etc... although her son couldn't be sure because she refused to speak about the experience until the day she passed away.
The American group returned, and I waved enthusiastically at them, hoping they might be slightly interested in taking to an American... I was wrong. "Listen girls," the leader said, "I would love to offer you a ride, but the policy of the group is really strict, sorry!" And off they drove, leaving Gosia and I in the pouring rain with a 9090990909 Kg back pack to hitchhike back to Krakow... a mode of travel I would never dream of doing in America, but something Gosia has become a seasoned pro at over the past 4 years.
Luckily, we found the road that leads back to Krakow and Gosia was able to flag down a truck driver and sweet talk him into bringing us to a town a little closer to our destination. I entertained the driver with my squirell conversation, and after a very awkward ride, we were left again in the pouring rain, this time at a gas station where eventually a kind man on his way to the airport gave us a lift. "Jestum Meewaa" I told the man, after which they both burst out laughing... apparently I told the man "you are nice girl!" Whoops... :)
One more short lift to the train station and we we arrived 14 minutes before our train, soaked to the bone and exhausted from running around and traveling all day. I got on the plane to Copenhagen, and although in the same hygenic state I had arrived in Poland 6 days earlier, I was so blown away by my experience. 4 years is a long, long time, but when all was said and done, it felt like 4 days. I can't wait to visit again!
Gosia sends her love to everyone in AP, and says she's sorry not to be able to visit this summer!
The End! phew....
Again, going to bed we intended to wake up for the 630AM train to Krakow and then an early bus on to Aushwitz. So naturally, we made the 730AM train that wouldn't arrive in Krakow until 3PM, which turned into 4PM. After cramming on a small bus, we arrived at the site of the Nazi camp at around 6PM. Visiting the camp was... eerie and saddening and moving and also very very very wet.
We lingered until 730PM, just long enough to miss the last bus back to Krakow. A nice Polish driver on a coach bus parked nearby offered us shelter until his tour group returned... a group of genius American high school students on a tour of Eastern Europe. He told us stories of his mother, who had been put in the Nazi camp down the road from Aushwitz. So moving and so very very real. Apparently her task had been to separate the belongings of those going to the gas chambers... shoes in one pile, hair in another, etc... although her son couldn't be sure because she refused to speak about the experience until the day she passed away.
The American group returned, and I waved enthusiastically at them, hoping they might be slightly interested in taking to an American... I was wrong. "Listen girls," the leader said, "I would love to offer you a ride, but the policy of the group is really strict, sorry!" And off they drove, leaving Gosia and I in the pouring rain with a 9090990909 Kg back pack to hitchhike back to Krakow... a mode of travel I would never dream of doing in America, but something Gosia has become a seasoned pro at over the past 4 years.
Luckily, we found the road that leads back to Krakow and Gosia was able to flag down a truck driver and sweet talk him into bringing us to a town a little closer to our destination. I entertained the driver with my squirell conversation, and after a very awkward ride, we were left again in the pouring rain, this time at a gas station where eventually a kind man on his way to the airport gave us a lift. "Jestum Meewaa" I told the man, after which they both burst out laughing... apparently I told the man "you are nice girl!" Whoops... :)
One more short lift to the train station and we we arrived 14 minutes before our train, soaked to the bone and exhausted from running around and traveling all day. I got on the plane to Copenhagen, and although in the same hygenic state I had arrived in Poland 6 days earlier, I was so blown away by my experience. 4 years is a long, long time, but when all was said and done, it felt like 4 days. I can't wait to visit again!
Gosia sends her love to everyone in AP, and says she's sorry not to be able to visit this summer!
The End! phew....
Lulu does Poland, part 2
The wedding reception stretched into the wee hours of the morning, with many of the guests lingering around the dance floor. At one point the best man scooped me up and swung me around, while I watch the drunken "beetle's blood" boy swing Gosia around like a rag doll.
After finally going to bed at 7AM, I awoke in the cozy Polish farm home place designated for those in the wedding and their company. I strolled down to the restuarant area for breakfast, in a amazingly mismatched outfit (Gosia had packed for me while I was at the museum) passing dozens of puppies, chickens, bunnies and horses on the way. We helped them to clean up, bring their presents to their flat, then the father of the bride took us speeding through Warsaw streets back to Gosia's flat where immediately passed out.
The next morning, we planned to take a 7AM train to Pulawy (pronounced Poo-ava), where Gosia grew up. So, naturally, we caught the 10AM train, running all the way there with my 70000 Kg backpack. After taking me to her new and beautiful home, stuffing me with fresh vegetables from her Grandparent's farm, she took me to the cutest village ever, where apparently the first King of Poland resided in what is now a huge pile of rocks. Passing bakeries, waffle shops and eateries, it seemed as if we ducked into every place, Gosia grabbing tons of Polish treats for me to try. After sitting by a church and chatting for what seemed like hours, we headed back to her parent's house, where I was able to practice the Polish Gosia had taught me on the train.
Then we headed over to her grandparent's house, the cutest little Polish village EVER. Her grandfather keeps bees that fly very freely around their yard, and her grandmother keeps a really intense vegetable garden. I entered their home, and her grandmother, without hesitation, put plates and plates of food and tea in front of me, instructing Gosia to translate commands to try this honey and that soup, and to tell her what the weather was like in New York. The fact that I did not speak Polish was irrelavant to her, as she spoke directly to me as if she expected a response. Cutest woman ever.
Gosia was such a good teacher that my ability to speak Polish is far expanded from simply "the squirell on the chair likes cheese". I am now able to hold a fairly basic Polish conversation about squirells and what they do and do not like to eat. I can also say yes, no, thank you, hello, and nice to meet you my name is marilu... however, these did not seem as impressive to Gosia's parents or grandparents as my squirell phrases.
Later that evening we sat over Gosia's shoebox full of memoirs from her year in America, looked through pictures and notebooks, etc. So many years have gone by, and we're both so much more grown up.
Watching Gosia speaking with her parents and friends was a bit like watching a fish in water. I kept thinking to myself how weird it was to hear her speaking this way, like she's had this secret life on the side of her english-speaking American year with us. It felt so weird, but also so beautiful.
(Side note, ignore the typos, I don't have time to go over this and I'm on a Danish keyboard... see----> æøåæøåæøåæøæåæø)
After finally going to bed at 7AM, I awoke in the cozy Polish farm home place designated for those in the wedding and their company. I strolled down to the restuarant area for breakfast, in a amazingly mismatched outfit (Gosia had packed for me while I was at the museum) passing dozens of puppies, chickens, bunnies and horses on the way. We helped them to clean up, bring their presents to their flat, then the father of the bride took us speeding through Warsaw streets back to Gosia's flat where immediately passed out.
The next morning, we planned to take a 7AM train to Pulawy (pronounced Poo-ava), where Gosia grew up. So, naturally, we caught the 10AM train, running all the way there with my 70000 Kg backpack. After taking me to her new and beautiful home, stuffing me with fresh vegetables from her Grandparent's farm, she took me to the cutest village ever, where apparently the first King of Poland resided in what is now a huge pile of rocks. Passing bakeries, waffle shops and eateries, it seemed as if we ducked into every place, Gosia grabbing tons of Polish treats for me to try. After sitting by a church and chatting for what seemed like hours, we headed back to her parent's house, where I was able to practice the Polish Gosia had taught me on the train.
Then we headed over to her grandparent's house, the cutest little Polish village EVER. Her grandfather keeps bees that fly very freely around their yard, and her grandmother keeps a really intense vegetable garden. I entered their home, and her grandmother, without hesitation, put plates and plates of food and tea in front of me, instructing Gosia to translate commands to try this honey and that soup, and to tell her what the weather was like in New York. The fact that I did not speak Polish was irrelavant to her, as she spoke directly to me as if she expected a response. Cutest woman ever.
Gosia was such a good teacher that my ability to speak Polish is far expanded from simply "the squirell on the chair likes cheese". I am now able to hold a fairly basic Polish conversation about squirells and what they do and do not like to eat. I can also say yes, no, thank you, hello, and nice to meet you my name is marilu... however, these did not seem as impressive to Gosia's parents or grandparents as my squirell phrases.
Later that evening we sat over Gosia's shoebox full of memoirs from her year in America, looked through pictures and notebooks, etc. So many years have gone by, and we're both so much more grown up.
Watching Gosia speaking with her parents and friends was a bit like watching a fish in water. I kept thinking to myself how weird it was to hear her speaking this way, like she's had this secret life on the side of her english-speaking American year with us. It felt so weird, but also so beautiful.
(Side note, ignore the typos, I don't have time to go over this and I'm on a Danish keyboard... see----> æøåæøåæøåæøæåæø)
Lulu does Poland, first installment
So this is my first blog, and although the formal backpacking superstars portion of europe is over, I feel obligated to document my week of Polish insanity.
So after leaving Joe, Kris and Inbal at the Madrid airport, waiting around and sleeping awkwardly in uncomfortable airport chairs for hours and hours on end, I arrived in Warsaw at around 7PM. Walking to passport control, I felt excited to be embarking on what I thought I would be completely surrounded by a foriegn language and culture. Looking down at my feet, when I saw the words "Please don't step beyond this line" I knew I was wrong... almost everyone in Poland speaks English, too.
I grabbed my pack from the baggage belt and no sooner had I walked through the sliding glass doors of the arrival's gate, when I saw Gosia bouncing and barreling through the crowd to attach me with a hug. She grabbed my pack from me and began running towards the bus, me trailing behind Gosia with a 16Kg backpack, an activity that would occupy the rest of my Polish trip.
After at riding on at least 4 buses, Gosia and I arrived at her brother's flat, in which she had been squatting for weeks. Walking in the door, desheveled from not having showered in 48 hours, I found myself in the middle of a Polish flat party. Gosia fussed over me, introducing me to everyone in the room, and although I couldn't remember people's names and we all had mutual pronunciation problems, they were extra sweet to me.
After showering, Gosia plopped me down next to two of her good friends who were excited to practice their English with me. We had such pleasant conversations when Gosia poked me and said "look around"... everyone at the Polish party was starring at us quite awkwardly, and I was later informed by Gosia that it was because they found me "exotic"... Then the drinking started, and I was soon forgotten about long enough to slip out of the house with Gosia for a drive around Warsaw at night.... so beautiful!!
The next day was full of sleeping for me, while Gosia prepared for the wedding of a close friend. In her email, she told me she had to "witness" this wedding, so I assumed it would be a simple ceremony at a city building... however, it turned out that she simply forgot the correct translation of "maid of honor". After I realized this, I knew I was in for a crazy experience.
Not fully realizing what exactly was going to happen, the day of the wedding Gosia was so busy that she sent me off with a two of her friends, designating them as my babysitters, Tomok and Hung. They were super sweet and took me to a museum, on a walk of Warsaw and then finally, to the wedding; a traditional Catholic Polish wedding in a gorgeous Cathedral in Old Town Warsaw... it was breath taking, except for the fact that I couldn't understand anything that was going on, but I had Hung with me, and when she lacked the words to describe to me where we had to go and why, she just grabbed me by the hand and led me there.
The ceremony was beautiful, but I was relieved when it ended thinking "ok, now Im off the hook, I can just sit back, eat and watch Polish people party"... then at the reception, Hung grabbed my hand and led me to the spot two seats away from the bride and groom who I had never met before, but who turned out to be so very welcoming.
"You're the States girl? The American friend of Gosia?" The groom asked me. "You drink...." he said. "Yes, I drink," I said, taking a spit of my champange." "No, not a question... You Drink!" He responded, and the whole table laughed in my direction, and then poured me multiple shots of Vodka and an unidentified Polish liquor that one man kept insisting was "Beetle's blood, traditional Polish beetle's blood". For the rest of the evening, I felt like Ian's mother in My Big Fat Greek wedding... and then we danced, drank and ate tons of delicious food until 7AM the following day.
Stay tuned for the rest of the trip... :) (I miss you guys)
So after leaving Joe, Kris and Inbal at the Madrid airport, waiting around and sleeping awkwardly in uncomfortable airport chairs for hours and hours on end, I arrived in Warsaw at around 7PM. Walking to passport control, I felt excited to be embarking on what I thought I would be completely surrounded by a foriegn language and culture. Looking down at my feet, when I saw the words "Please don't step beyond this line" I knew I was wrong... almost everyone in Poland speaks English, too.
I grabbed my pack from the baggage belt and no sooner had I walked through the sliding glass doors of the arrival's gate, when I saw Gosia bouncing and barreling through the crowd to attach me with a hug. She grabbed my pack from me and began running towards the bus, me trailing behind Gosia with a 16Kg backpack, an activity that would occupy the rest of my Polish trip.
After at riding on at least 4 buses, Gosia and I arrived at her brother's flat, in which she had been squatting for weeks. Walking in the door, desheveled from not having showered in 48 hours, I found myself in the middle of a Polish flat party. Gosia fussed over me, introducing me to everyone in the room, and although I couldn't remember people's names and we all had mutual pronunciation problems, they were extra sweet to me.
After showering, Gosia plopped me down next to two of her good friends who were excited to practice their English with me. We had such pleasant conversations when Gosia poked me and said "look around"... everyone at the Polish party was starring at us quite awkwardly, and I was later informed by Gosia that it was because they found me "exotic"... Then the drinking started, and I was soon forgotten about long enough to slip out of the house with Gosia for a drive around Warsaw at night.... so beautiful!!
The next day was full of sleeping for me, while Gosia prepared for the wedding of a close friend. In her email, she told me she had to "witness" this wedding, so I assumed it would be a simple ceremony at a city building... however, it turned out that she simply forgot the correct translation of "maid of honor". After I realized this, I knew I was in for a crazy experience.
Not fully realizing what exactly was going to happen, the day of the wedding Gosia was so busy that she sent me off with a two of her friends, designating them as my babysitters, Tomok and Hung. They were super sweet and took me to a museum, on a walk of Warsaw and then finally, to the wedding; a traditional Catholic Polish wedding in a gorgeous Cathedral in Old Town Warsaw... it was breath taking, except for the fact that I couldn't understand anything that was going on, but I had Hung with me, and when she lacked the words to describe to me where we had to go and why, she just grabbed me by the hand and led me there.
The ceremony was beautiful, but I was relieved when it ended thinking "ok, now Im off the hook, I can just sit back, eat and watch Polish people party"... then at the reception, Hung grabbed my hand and led me to the spot two seats away from the bride and groom who I had never met before, but who turned out to be so very welcoming.
"You're the States girl? The American friend of Gosia?" The groom asked me. "You drink...." he said. "Yes, I drink," I said, taking a spit of my champange." "No, not a question... You Drink!" He responded, and the whole table laughed in my direction, and then poured me multiple shots of Vodka and an unidentified Polish liquor that one man kept insisting was "Beetle's blood, traditional Polish beetle's blood". For the rest of the evening, I felt like Ian's mother in My Big Fat Greek wedding... and then we danced, drank and ate tons of delicious food until 7AM the following day.
Stay tuned for the rest of the trip... :) (I miss you guys)
Tuesday, July 3, 2007
LAST QUOTES?!
A few to leave you with:
(no context, out of the blue) I love schizophrenic people!
-Lulu, Madrid
If I were a serial killer in spain, this would be a perfect place to dispose of bodies
-Joe, Gaudi park, Barcelona
Those kids are just ASKING to be kidnapped! GET IN MY SUITCASE
-Joe, train station
Joe, in hotel room, with blanket over legs: I feel like FDR right now
(no context, out of the blue) I love schizophrenic people!
-Lulu, Madrid
If I were a serial killer in spain, this would be a perfect place to dispose of bodies
-Joe, Gaudi park, Barcelona
Those kids are just ASKING to be kidnapped! GET IN MY SUITCASE
-Joe, train station
Joe, in hotel room, with blanket over legs: I feel like FDR right now
MAD HOSTEL!!!!
The name of this hostel in madrid was not kidding...this place is freekin madness. The common room is continuously echoing at a decibel level of approximately 110, part in parcel to the dozens of drunken california people and loud, loud pop music (though I did just rock out to dreamlover by mariah carey and ironic by alanis morrisette in quick succession...how I heart the 90s!) Basically, this place isn´t really the ideal living situation...with me waking up on the lower bunk of a bed this morning with approximately 8 inches of room between mine and the next bunk wondering HOW AM I GOING TO GET UP?!?!?! But you know what? Spain is freekin sweet, so I suppose it makes up for it.
We´re in madrid now, and have been since late last night. Before that was barcelona and LET ME TELL YOU I AM IN LOVE WITH THAT CITY. Gaudi´s house and the surrounding park high above the city was pretty much the most gorgeous thing I´ve ever seen, even if I did have to climb approximately 98723254203 stairs to get there. There are actually escalators in the middle of the street all the way up there, but our group is FAR too hardcore for that. I raced Lulu, her on the escalator and I on the stairs, and she only beat me by about a quarter of a second. If I go to the gym now, I could get on the stairmaster and completely kick its ass.
Barcelona is amazing for many reasons. The beach, at which we spent 2 out of our 4 days, was lovely (despite consisting of a little more dirt than sand) and the water clear and beautiful, as it has been throughout our experiences on the mediterranean. There are so many freekin vendors heckling you, the scarf lady´s voice bearing a striking similarity to the yowl of a dying cat, but our favorite was certainly the donut man. Running and dancing around the beach with a tray stacked high with an AMAZING PYRAMID OF DONUTS, he sang songs to us and we fell in love because he was soooo darling! I will also let you guess as to who out of our group went topless on the beach...although it may or may not be a trick question. It´s so natural here...I only wish it was so socially accepted in the US, and wouldn´t cause such a stir! I saw so many boobs on this trip, I will never be surprised by a wardrobe malfunction as long as I live.
Barcelona is also amazing because of las ramblas, a happening street full of vendors and street performers. I can´t even describe how elaborate their costumes were, although there was a hulk hogan esque character dressed up like disco fever, complete with disco ball and lighting. Pictures will certainly be posted on facebook. Musicians abound throughout the city as well, especially jazz which I have been enjoying quite a bit. One night in our barcelona hostel, I was actually able to jam with some jazz musicians from cincinatti and it was sweeet ass! The people in our hostel were so great, we met plenty of great friends and went out to some craaaazy clubs until very early hours with them. All in all, we´re officially facebook friends with a whole host of new people, so I consider the trip a success.
By far, our favorite part of barcelona was the food market off of las ramblas. Joe promised to blog about it because he was OBSESSED...but I´m not kidding you kids, above all, it was one of the most amazing things I´ve seen on this trip. SO many booths with the most fresh food you´ve ever seen...fresh fruit juices and every fruit, veggie, meat, egg, cheese, pepper, spice, delicious organic dish you could EVER WANT. The sheer color of the food was astounding, and coming from a colorblind person you know it must have been gorgeous. If only they had such places in the US, for I have certainly never seen anything like it.
We will come back here someday (perhaps open a hostel like our hostel owner in barcelona, Fefe. Yes, his name was Fefe and he was ridiculous, please inquire for furthur stories about this delightful character), and we will be happy. I will be home in 2 days...madrid has been lovely with nice rowboating in the park and exploring the city. Tomorrow we go to toledo, and then 3 out of the 4 will come home, with Lulu continuing on to other adventures. I´m sad but...also relieved. Traveling is exhausting, but I´m so glad to have had this trip and learned so much..seen so much. I need to see more...someday I will make it happen. Thanks all of you who have been reading...and I´ll see you when I´m home!
Lovelovelove
Kris
We´re in madrid now, and have been since late last night. Before that was barcelona and LET ME TELL YOU I AM IN LOVE WITH THAT CITY. Gaudi´s house and the surrounding park high above the city was pretty much the most gorgeous thing I´ve ever seen, even if I did have to climb approximately 98723254203 stairs to get there. There are actually escalators in the middle of the street all the way up there, but our group is FAR too hardcore for that. I raced Lulu, her on the escalator and I on the stairs, and she only beat me by about a quarter of a second. If I go to the gym now, I could get on the stairmaster and completely kick its ass.
Barcelona is amazing for many reasons. The beach, at which we spent 2 out of our 4 days, was lovely (despite consisting of a little more dirt than sand) and the water clear and beautiful, as it has been throughout our experiences on the mediterranean. There are so many freekin vendors heckling you, the scarf lady´s voice bearing a striking similarity to the yowl of a dying cat, but our favorite was certainly the donut man. Running and dancing around the beach with a tray stacked high with an AMAZING PYRAMID OF DONUTS, he sang songs to us and we fell in love because he was soooo darling! I will also let you guess as to who out of our group went topless on the beach...although it may or may not be a trick question. It´s so natural here...I only wish it was so socially accepted in the US, and wouldn´t cause such a stir! I saw so many boobs on this trip, I will never be surprised by a wardrobe malfunction as long as I live.
Barcelona is also amazing because of las ramblas, a happening street full of vendors and street performers. I can´t even describe how elaborate their costumes were, although there was a hulk hogan esque character dressed up like disco fever, complete with disco ball and lighting. Pictures will certainly be posted on facebook. Musicians abound throughout the city as well, especially jazz which I have been enjoying quite a bit. One night in our barcelona hostel, I was actually able to jam with some jazz musicians from cincinatti and it was sweeet ass! The people in our hostel were so great, we met plenty of great friends and went out to some craaaazy clubs until very early hours with them. All in all, we´re officially facebook friends with a whole host of new people, so I consider the trip a success.
By far, our favorite part of barcelona was the food market off of las ramblas. Joe promised to blog about it because he was OBSESSED...but I´m not kidding you kids, above all, it was one of the most amazing things I´ve seen on this trip. SO many booths with the most fresh food you´ve ever seen...fresh fruit juices and every fruit, veggie, meat, egg, cheese, pepper, spice, delicious organic dish you could EVER WANT. The sheer color of the food was astounding, and coming from a colorblind person you know it must have been gorgeous. If only they had such places in the US, for I have certainly never seen anything like it.
We will come back here someday (perhaps open a hostel like our hostel owner in barcelona, Fefe. Yes, his name was Fefe and he was ridiculous, please inquire for furthur stories about this delightful character), and we will be happy. I will be home in 2 days...madrid has been lovely with nice rowboating in the park and exploring the city. Tomorrow we go to toledo, and then 3 out of the 4 will come home, with Lulu continuing on to other adventures. I´m sad but...also relieved. Traveling is exhausting, but I´m so glad to have had this trip and learned so much..seen so much. I need to see more...someday I will make it happen. Thanks all of you who have been reading...and I´ll see you when I´m home!
Lovelovelove
Kris
Saturday, June 30, 2007
Barcelona is FIGHTING!
Well, I guess I'll write something, since Joe and Kris are still sleeping, I think, and I don't even know where Marilu is.
So yeah. We are in Barcelona. I love Barcelona. To pick up from where Kris left off:
When we finally got to the hostel at 7:30 pm instead of in the morning, we checked in and took quick showers before going to meet Dan and Karen (see previous post). This hostel is a little bizarre. It's actually just fine, except that the staff here is extremely disorganized. I don't think they really know what's going on and which beds are available in which room at any given time. The main guy who works here is very stand off-ish and doesn't seem to want anything to do with the hostel guests. I think he actually lives here or something. Maybe.
Anyway, we met up with Dan and Karen and went out to eat dinner on La Rambla, which is one of the main avenues in Barcelona. There are tons of those people who do random weird outdoor acts on the street in La Rambla, similar to the pantomime statues in other cities but weirder and more creative. So, while eating some food, seated in the outdoor section of a restaurant (which we later found out costs more than sitting inside) we saw a clown that kept doing silly things to those passing by (ex. he would throw confetti at a couple walking ahead of him and sing here comes the bride). Unfortunately for the clown, he ended up picking the wrong man to incorporate into his act. Some old man with a crutch got really really offended when the clown went up to him (I don't even know what he did to him because I was sitting with my back to him, but maybe the others can fill you in later.) The old man started cursing the clown out ("Hijo de puta! Hijo de puta! Perro!") and threatening to call the police. The clow managed to flee, and then the man started cursing out those dining out there for laughing. The waiters and a couple of other men tried to get him to leave. He started screaming at the waiters and threatening one of the men with his crutch. The other man then took the crutch away from him, I suppose for his own safety. But the man just kept screaming at everyone for a really really long time. It was quite bizarre. After that we went out to a bar with Karen and Dan. And then we went back to the hostel.
The next day we went to the beach and it was wonderful. At night we went out with our hostel, which organizes night outings. We went to what was supposedly the best club in Barcelona. I had a good time dancing. I don't think everyone enjoyed that club very much. There was some weird act with these women who may have been men in drag dancing and this one woman singing over the music phrases like "are you ready" and "free your mind." It was kind of obnoxious, or at least I found it to be so. Then they dropped confetti from the ceiling. Then we all lost each other. Then we all found each other. Then we took cabs back to the hostel.
XO
Is
So yeah. We are in Barcelona. I love Barcelona. To pick up from where Kris left off:
When we finally got to the hostel at 7:30 pm instead of in the morning, we checked in and took quick showers before going to meet Dan and Karen (see previous post). This hostel is a little bizarre. It's actually just fine, except that the staff here is extremely disorganized. I don't think they really know what's going on and which beds are available in which room at any given time. The main guy who works here is very stand off-ish and doesn't seem to want anything to do with the hostel guests. I think he actually lives here or something. Maybe.
Anyway, we met up with Dan and Karen and went out to eat dinner on La Rambla, which is one of the main avenues in Barcelona. There are tons of those people who do random weird outdoor acts on the street in La Rambla, similar to the pantomime statues in other cities but weirder and more creative. So, while eating some food, seated in the outdoor section of a restaurant (which we later found out costs more than sitting inside) we saw a clown that kept doing silly things to those passing by (ex. he would throw confetti at a couple walking ahead of him and sing here comes the bride). Unfortunately for the clown, he ended up picking the wrong man to incorporate into his act. Some old man with a crutch got really really offended when the clown went up to him (I don't even know what he did to him because I was sitting with my back to him, but maybe the others can fill you in later.) The old man started cursing the clown out ("Hijo de puta! Hijo de puta! Perro!") and threatening to call the police. The clow managed to flee, and then the man started cursing out those dining out there for laughing. The waiters and a couple of other men tried to get him to leave. He started screaming at the waiters and threatening one of the men with his crutch. The other man then took the crutch away from him, I suppose for his own safety. But the man just kept screaming at everyone for a really really long time. It was quite bizarre. After that we went out to a bar with Karen and Dan. And then we went back to the hostel.
The next day we went to the beach and it was wonderful. At night we went out with our hostel, which organizes night outings. We went to what was supposedly the best club in Barcelona. I had a good time dancing. I don't think everyone enjoyed that club very much. There was some weird act with these women who may have been men in drag dancing and this one woman singing over the music phrases like "are you ready" and "free your mind." It was kind of obnoxious, or at least I found it to be so. Then they dropped confetti from the ceiling. Then we all lost each other. Then we all found each other. Then we took cabs back to the hostel.
XO
Is
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