La Sagrada Familia

September 13:

Woke up in time for free breakfast, then decided to check out La Sagrada Familia, Gaudi's piece de resistance. It. Is. Amazing. One of the architectural highlights of my entire trip. One of those places that you can't quite seem to capture the grandeur in photos (but I tried my best!) It's interesting because it's like Gaudi got bored with the style he was building part way through, and just switched tactics--the Nativity facade looks like the outside of the building is melting. Then you walk over to the Passion facade and are greeted by modernistic, Picasso-esque statues. It's very strange.
Nativity facade, possibly melting

Picasso would have sued for copyright infringement on this side of the church

The inside is incredible; he designed the columns to resemble a forest, and with the light from the beautiful stained glass windows streaming in, it's simply magical.
Some of the beautiful stained glass windows There's a prayer section in the middle of the church, but it's filled with tourists just taking photos (you have to sit to take pictures in that part, which coincidentally happens to be the best view of the ceiling).
Gaudi's impression of a forest

We sprung for the lift ticket and went up to the top of the Passion tower. Great views of Barcelona, although the skyline is remarkably unremarkable. At least I didn't walk into another gift shop (remember Vienna?).
View from the top of the church--or lack thereof!

Barcelona y Bueno

Alright. I know I'm seriously lagging in my blog posts! I have them all stored on my iPad, just can't find internet to post them all! There is not a Mcdonald's on every corner in Europe, contrary to my beliefs, so forgive the barrage of stories coming your way. There's some good ones though, I think, so it's worth the wait! ----------- September 12: Woke up running late again (obviously), and struggled to catch the 11 am train to Barcelona from Alicante. With Anselm's help, though, I race walked to the station and got there with 2 minutes to spare. Gotta hand it to him, he knows how to hustle! I also have a newfound respect for race walking, mall walkers, and any such related activities..

I got to my hostel late afternoon. Great location, on one of the richest streets in town. One block from Casa Batllo (a Gaudi creation). On my way in, guess who I run into? Mr. Zimbabwe himself--literally, in the elevator. Small world! (We met in Seville, in case you can't remember where he fits into my timeline). We reunited and went for dinner in a plaza nearby. It was very touristy and we couldn't decide on a place that looked remotely as good as the tapas we had in Seville, so we decided to sacrifice our menu for the perk of having a meal outdoors in a courtyard designed by Gaudi. As I was still recovering from the whirlwind that was Alicante, we didn't go out after, but had a leisurely stroll on La Rambla, the big pedestrian boulevard nearby.

That night, I had the craziest hostel experience to date. Turns out that in my 12 person dorm, it is me, one other guy, and 10 soccer hooligans from Italy who are in town for the big match vs. Inter Milan tomorrow. Well. They come back from wherever really late, making a ton of noise, turning lights on, slamming doors, etc, just being really disrespectful of the two of us who were already in bed. I tolerate it silently, but the guy in the bunk underneath me starts yelling at them. "Keep it down! Some of us are trying to sleep! Did you even pay to be in here? You don't have sheets on your bed!" Etc. Now clearly this is not the smartest thing to say to a drunk person, let alone ten of them. They go silent and for a moment and I think wow, maybe the scolding actually worked! Then I hear a stream of liquid being poured onto something near our bunk. THEY'RE PEEING ON HIS STUFF!

Oh my goodness. I lay there, rigidly frozen, PRAYING they at least got the stuff right and didn't do mine by mistake! Can you imagine that happening to you?! Ugh just the most ridiculous thing I've ever seen! He complained and I never saw them again, so I can only assume they were kicked out (and rightly so).

Great (albeit interesting) start to my time in Barcelona--I'm loving this city already--minus the soccer hooligans.

Alicante

When this is your campus, no wonder so many people choose to go to school here!
I arrived in Alicante right on schedule and my friend Anselm was waiting to pick me up at the station. I've known Anselm since we were little kids, and he's actually from Germany, but is on exhange to study medicine in Spain for the year, so my visit worked out well. We wound our way through the narrow streets to his apartment, which is in a bright turquoise building near the Mercado, or market. Great location!

Let me explain a little about Alicante. It's a university town, so there's a ton of students there. There's this little program called Erasmus, which is an exchange for European students, and Alicante happens to be a popular destination--there are over 1500 students from other countries here. With the weather and the beaches, it's no wonder. This weekend happened to be their frosh week--I picked a good time to come, eh?

Spaniards tend to live life on a late schedule, which takes some getting used to. Clubs and bars are open until 8 am (yes, you read that right)--in fact, some don't even OPEN until 3--so you go out all night, then come home when the sun rises and sleep til about 2 pm. You wake up, spend the rest of the day at the beach, cook dinner with friends at about 10 pm, and then repeat.

The first night, there was an Erasmus party on the beach, which was really fun; although trying to find your friends in a sea of 1500 foreign exchange students is not as easy as it sounds. Erasmus sounds really great--they take care of EVERYTHING for you on your exchange--where to stay, all your paperwork, language classes if you need them, anything you can think of. North America doesn't have the same resources available (that I know of, at least not when I was applying for my exchange), which is maybe why it's not as popular? Anyways. It's a great deal, and I can see why so many students choose to go on exchange in Europe. After we hung out on the beach for a bit, the party moved to one of the many Erasmus bars in the Barrio, which is the district with all the narrow streets and clubs. It's interesting going out in a smaller city like Alicante, because on the one hand, it still has that European feel with all the old buildings, but then you see the ambulances carting away freshmen that had one too many (or six) and you realize that you are indeed in a university town.

By 3 am, we were ready to dance, so we went to 5 Avenieda (5th Avenue)--they had free sangria and shots every hour on the hour, how could we say no?! We hit the dance floor and had an amazing time--the DJ was on fire with his selection! It's such a nice change from the generic house music that Toronto DJs seem to love...We made it home around 8 am, in time to sleep and do it all over again.

The next afternoon, Anselm and I went up to the castle that overlooks Alicante, which was really great.
Alicantean sunset from the top of the Castilla
We went at sunset, so there was amazing views, and you could see the sun and the moon at the same time! After that, we had some people over to his flat where we made salad and roast chicken, potluck style, and went out in the Barrio, where we ended up at the same club as the night before, but I wasn't complaining.
Me and Anselm sightseeing at the Castilla
Now. It needs to be said that I have not had this much fun going out in YEARS. Why, do you ask? Simple: Spaniards know how to Dance! I mean really dance, not this sleazy, drunken, grab a girl from behind business. I spent the night dancing my best salsa, merengue, and bachata moves with partners that could actually teach me a thing or two--it was great!

REAL Italian Bruschetta

The last night, we went over to Concy, Theresa, and Marie's flat where Concy made spaghetti carbonara and bruscetta for all 12 of us--Italian cooked by an Italian--delicious! We headed home around 12:30 which felt SO EARLY compared to the previous few nights, but it was just perfect.
L-R: Pierpaolo from Italy, Theresa from Germany, Me, Concy from Italy, Laurie-Ann from Paris, and Anselm
I had a great time in Alicante--it was great to kick back and relax into student life one more time, even if only for a few days. I wish I had investigated my exchange options to Spain in my undergrad days--I most certainly would be able to habla Espanol by now! I met some great people on exchange from Italy, France, and Austria, even though the language barrier was difficult to overcome (you just get really good at charades in Spain). Next stop, Barcelona!

Sun and the moon in the same photo--pretty neat!

Tasty Tapas

Sept 8: I woke up in some serious pain this morning, so I staggered down the street to McDonald's (seriously where else do people eat after going out? It's the only logical choice) to rehash the night with some friends from the night before. I met up with Mr. Zimbabwe (I really wanted to call him Cady (Lindsay Lohan's character in Mean Girls, who also grew up in Africa) but I don't think he would find it as funny as I did so I refrained) in the afternoon, and we wandered over to Plaza De Espana and the cathedral (the biggest Gothic Cathedral in the world), although it was so hot we weren't too enthusiastic about anything. The Plaza was really beautiful--it reminded me a lot of the palace in Vienna, except red. One thing I will never get sick of is all the palm trees. Canada, get with the program! You have everything else, heat included. Rule No. 76: No excuses! Play like a champion! I also made my way over to the train station to book my trip to Alicante for the next day.

One problem (among many) with a Eurail pass: - You need reservations for a lot of the trains, which requires you to plan further ahead than you'd maybe like. - Reservations cost extra (on top of the 393 Euros I paid for the pass) - You can't book them online, as there's no aggregated system for the different rail lines Eurail is valid for. Result: Spanglish disaster.

Anyone who says the French are snobbiest when it comes to people not speaking their language have clearly never been to Spain. Coincidentally, I never realized how little Spanish I knew until I arrived. The problem is that unlike every other country I've been to so far, Spanish people don't speak English, and refuse to make things easy for you. There is no slow, simple sentences reserved for foreigners. If you don't speak like they do, tough luck. Now try to imagine explaining the parameters of the Eurail pass you'd like to buy, and that was my afternoon. I start with the customary "Ola! Como estas?" So far so good. I smile apologetically and continue with "No habla Espanol." The ticket cashier stares at me and replies, straight-faced, "No habla Ingles." Okay then. This should be fun. I wanted to book a train to Alicante, which required a change at a certain station. I feel like a senior citizen when I'm booking these tickets, because I'll hear the entire sentence, yet comprehend every seventh word, so it's like putting madlibs together: Train ____ _____ _____ ______ Alicante _____ _____ ____ __ ________ change _____ _____ _____ No ____ _____ _____ Reserva.

Okay. Let me get this straight. You can book me a train to Alicante, but I have to change and you can't reserve me a seat? Good to see my Eurail pass is just teeming with value--I've already spent at least 50 Euros on reservations, on top of the 393 I already paid for the pass. So ridiculous.

That evening, Zimbabwe and I decide to meet up and try some local tapas--our hostel was doing a tapas tour, but after our experience with Raphael we decided we'd try to find better value for our money elsewhere. We settled on a little place called La Mata, which was empty but looked nice inside, and boy am I glad we did.

Easily the best meal I've had my entire trip--I'm so mad I didn't bring my camera with me! For anyone who doesn't know (hopefully none of you), tapas is like little plates of food in really interesting combinations of flavours, designed for sharing. It's really cheap, and really good. It's like building your own tasting menu (which normally costs a fortune).We tried: - Chicken tulips - Mussel tempura - Salmon tartare - Iberian pork shoulder with orange chocolate sauce - Grilled prawns with taboulet (couscous) - Grilled fois gras medallion with caramel sauce - Gin and tonic sorbet - Spanish wine Guess how much that all cost us? A whopping 35 euros. Each of those plates was so expertly put together that it would have easily cost 30 PER PLATE at home in a city like Toronto. The flavor profiles were just incredible. I was so impressed. If that's what the food is like in Spain, I'm never leaving.

After that, I headed back to the hostel to pack because my train left at 7:15 the next morning. Not that my attempt at an early night mattered one bit, as I was staying in a room with 6 other French girls who had no respect for the other six people who were also there. (It seems logical that if the lights are off and it's after midnight, you try to be quiet when entering your room. Mais NON!--lights were flicked on, drunken shouting ensued, as if the rest of us weren't even there. Mind-boggling. I wanted to throw a bottle at their head but I didn't. No pending assault charges, unless the cops can read my mind.) It's been a good time in Seville, but I can't wait to see what Alicante is like!

I'm really glad I went down to Seville, because I'm going to get a taste of three very different Spanish cities. Seville is typical Andalucia; Alicante is a coastal university town, and Barcelona is Barcelona.

So today, I get to Ciudad Real, the city I have to change trains in, and check at the information desk. Through my Spanglish I discover the clerk in Seville did not book me a reservation all the way through, but only to Ciudad Real. Real helpful, buddy. Good thing I checked, or I would've been ticketless on this train--the last thing I need is to be forcibly removed and dumped in a city in the middle of nowhere. Crisis avoided, though, and am on my way to Alicante.

Pub Crawls and Spanglish

Monument to Christopher Columbus Sept 7: get up, take advantage of the free breakfast, head to walking tour organized by the hostel at 11:15. Tour takes about 3 hours; we are dying of heat by the end of it--Seville is HOT if you didn't know. The thermometer read 43 degrees--at 9 am. Tour was interesting, learned a lot of history of the town, but our guide kept telling us how hungover he was and looking at his notes, so he only got 5 Euros from me at the end. Was about 3:30 by the time we got back, so I just walked around town for a bit by the hostel.

Now, in Spain, for a Canadian like me, ordering food is a process; it's a bit like putting a blindfold on and pointing at the menu, since I have no idea what anything means. Every meal is a surprise! Good thing I'm into this whole food adventure, otherwise I could be in for quite a shock (I hear they eat sheep's brains here, no joke--note to self: I should probably learn what that is in Spanish). I tend to just point at whatever I want to have, since I don't know the sentences required for simple tasks like ordering food or buying train tickets. Anyway, I am on the hunt for salad at all times after being deprived of vegetables for two months in Asia, so I stop at a cafe on my way back from the tour. Just my luck, Spain is not big on salad. But they do have Pinchos. Whatever that is. I take a gamble and order one. They sound like a baguette sandwich from what I can decipher. I'm ravenous at this point--I can't wait to tuck into a hearty lunch. It arrives, and it turns out a Pincho is a SLICE of baguette toast with cheese and one lonely anchovy. That's it. (And no salad in sight). I guess that's why it was only 2 euros on the menu...

I took advantage of the meal at the hostel, which was a plate of Mexican food and sangria for 4 euros--not bad! Our hostel was running a pub crawl for 10 Euros and you got four shots included. It sounded like a good deal and lots of people were going, so I decided to do it. Besides, I hadn't been on a pub crawl yet so I thought it would be a good way to meet people. I was right; I met some Australians, a couple of German girls, a Seattle native living in Prague, and a big group from Belgium. Seattle and I decided to teach everyone how to play flip cup, and so began our pub crawl evening. How can you not play flip cup in Spain? You start by singing Ole, Ole Ole Ole for goodness' sake!

The guy leading the pub crawl is the tour guide from this morning...Raphael--and get this--he's a sculptor. I'm not making this up. He put his best Spanish moves on me but I wasn't buying it. ("I'm an artist...maybe I'll show you my work sometime.." I saw Vicky Cristina Barcelona, Raphael. I know exactly what you're up to.)

We headed out at about 11:30 and the crawl was average at best. The first place we went to was empty except for our group; the second place had litre mojitos for 5 Euros, so we ordered, but they took about half an hour to make them and they were the grossest thing I've ever tasted. As a bartender I was offended someone would serve that! (He didn't even muddle the mint leaves...in a MOJITO!) At the next bar I realized, to my dismay, they hadn't given me the proper change at the last place, so to add insult to injury, not only did I have a litre of sugar water, but it cost me about 40 Euros. Not good. The last place we went to, we were told, was a dance club. We get there, and it's a reggae club. People are smoking everywhere inside, and it's just generally sketchy. We decide to peace and walk home. I met an Australian who grew up in Zimbabwe and was full of great stories, so at least the night ended on a good note--until I looked at the clock and realized it was 6:30 am. We literally saw people opening their cafes for breakfast on our way back to the hostel.

Me at the Plaza de Espana