Category: Spain

Okay, back at the blog! Please excuse the hiatus.

When I left off, we were just tucking in for our last night in Munich.

We’d had the best day ever in Tegernsee, but unfortunately, we were up pretty late because we didn’t time the busses and trains very well to get home.

Pair that with our 8:30am flight to San Sebastian, and it meant that we were capital-T Tired in the morning.

We basically zombied to the airport, where I bought a super dense pastry that seemed promising but was not all that tasty (way too sweet).

We did get some good mountain views on the flight.

San Sebastian doesn’t have a giant airport nearby, so we saved some cash by flying into Bilbao. Planning this part of the trip was stressful, because I really wanted to explore both Bilbao (on the west side of San Sebastian) and the French town of Biarritz (on the east side). In the end, though, it seemed more trouble than it was worth to split the time up, so we hopped straight from the airport to a San Sebastian transfer bus.

We met our Airbnb host, Lukas, at the train station and he walked us to our stay. He was trying to find an electrical engineering job (Sean bonded with him over this) after deciding to take a break from acting and modeling. (He had pretty crazy blue/ teal eyes! Definitely fit the bill, hahahaha…..)

The architecture in the area was very cool. Kind of French, kind of like Barcelona. Lots of stone and intricate carvings, and most of the buildings were about six stories high.

I think I talked about this already, but I really do think my days of flying super early (especially if I’m with Sean) are behind me. When I’m on my own, at least I can force myself into bed, but having Sean to chat with in the evenings (and as a safety man/ body guard so I don’t feel pressured to get home before dark) mean it’s way too easy to stay up later! I can also just suffer by myself and push through when I’m alone, whereas with a travel buddy, somehow I’m both way more guilty about my travel companion being tired and also somehow feel way more empowered to be tired and lazy myself… It’s not a great combo!

All this to say, once Lukas showed us our room, I went horizontal and didn’t resurface for about three hours. Sorry, Sean!

Once I was somewhat revived but still very tired), our first stop was food. San Sebastian is in Basque country, a wild little area on the border of France and Spain that has its own language, culture, and history. Somehow, the Basque language is a “language isolate,” meaning it has no linguistic cousins or ties to other languages. Very strange! How does that even happen? Everyone on this side of the border speaks Spanish and Basque, and presumably everyone on the French side speaks Basque and French.

One of the big food themes in Basque territory are pintxos (pronounced pinchos), little small plate snacks or appetizers. Our favorites (and the most common type) were just a healthy slice of bread with various toppings. Basically, you just walk up to the counter, point out the ones you want, and then eat at the counter or take your plates back to your seat. I quickly discovered that anything with soft cheese or grilled onions was usually going to be my favorite at any given spot.

After the pintxos pick-me-up, we explored the nearby cathedral and some nearby parks.

I always get excited when I see swans!

Once we were in the center of town, all the streets were lined with shops, and I anticipated some possible shopping excursions.

For now, though, more food! Empanadas!

We got the chocolate banana (yum!) and I think the other one was either ham and cheese or chicken curry. Can’t quite remember.

Next, we walked down to explore the beaches. Sean was super excited about being here because 1) he had some kind of pull toward Spain, and 2) he wanted to go surfing.

There were so many bodies in the water! Dozens and dozens of surfers catching pretty big waves! It looked super overwhelming and crowded, but obviously they were probably all pros. The whole beach area had a super content, relaxed, and joyful vibe. Sean was digging the feel of this city already.

There were lots of people (and unsupervised kids!) playing volleyball and lounging around (often topless). There were also several groups playing some kind of ping-pong type game, but just keeping the ball volleying between paddles without a net or anything. They’d even dive into the sand sometimes. We took notes and considered buying a set of paddles ourselves to try.

Somewhere in the last day or two, I must have sat on my sunglasses, so once we left the beach, we had to stop in a little shop to get me a replacement pair, and I got super distracted by all the trinkets.

I was also tempted by the Basque cheesecake, but we weren’t hungry yet!

And then, ever distractible as I am, I found a Flying Tiger (my old favorite store) and had to do a lap!

We wandered through some more parks and eventually ended up in old town. There were Basque flags hanging off the buildings, and there was a marching band playing somewhere nearby. There were also lots of high school or college-aged kids in some kind of uniform gathering, dancing, and partying near the band. We thought about investigating, but we assumed it was something like a high school graduation party, so we decided to stay out of it.

There were some more pretty churches and cathedrals nearby that we explored.

And by then, we were right in the heart of old town, at the intersection of three different highly-rated and recommended pintxos places.

These places were hopping, and there were obviously no tables available in any of them. We actually putzed around for quite a while trying to figure out what to do, wandering in and out of the restaurants and trying (and failing) to get the attention of one of the bartenders. But then we heard a big commotion outside, so we wandered out to find that big marching band headed our way from down the street.

The band led the way, and all of the crowd stayed back at the other end, bouncing in anticipation. Then, at some signal in the song, they all rushed forward, singing and dancing, with confused and happy tourists trickling in behind them. It was quite a show!

We finally managed to the get the attention of a bartender to order a cerveza, a sangria (yum!) and a few pintxos. Then we brought them outside to eat on the steps. Delicioso!

If you know me, you know I was seriously smashed after that one sangria, bahahaha.

We snuck our way into another of the crowded restaurants for a couple more pintxos. I was super intrigued by one that “appeared” to be some kind of custard, but I was worried about the name, “crema de foie.” I knew “foie” was very likely related to “foie gras,” aka, duck liver. But I took a chance!

And in fact, it was liver, bahahaha.

It wasn’t bad, but it was so stinking rich that we could only eat a few bites. This restaurant definitely had some more outlandish pintxos compared to the rest of the places we’d seen so far. (Lots of sea urchins!)

Once full and properly tipsy, we continued our journey around the old town area and ended up near the water.

To our surprise, there was a full-on concert going on just right on the street by the waterfront. At first, I couldn’t tell if it was live, but it was live, all right, and the scene was poppin’!

Sean went into the throng of the crowd first while I stayed up above to view the mesmerizing line dance everybody seemed to know.

The music was so interesting! It was clearly Basque/ local music, but it was a very strong Celtic lilt to it. It basically sounded like Celtic music, but a little heavier and with Basque or Spanish lyrics there everybody in the crowd knew but us.

I joined Sean right behind the mixer, and he snuck off to find us some libations.

When he returned to me, he said, “That was crazy. There are like a dozen fifteen-year old girls just trying to get people alcohol as fast as possible. This sangria was like two euros!”

I’ll never complain about cheap sangria!

I took a picture of this little crab symbol because it was on the little bandanas all of the uniformed kids were wearing. I figured that was our best bet at figuring out what the heck was going on here.

Sean was in heaven and just about ready to move to San Sebastian. “What is going on? Is this just like a normal Wednesday here?!”

Thanks to that genius photo, I was later able to research and find out that the celebration was for the port’s patron saint Carmen. We were there on the very last day of a week’s worth of parties, parades, dances, and fanfare. It took me a long time to find more details because so little was in English, but I finally found a full schedule of the previous week’s activities. The one I’m most sad to have missed was the “Giants and Big Heads,” parades where people dress as giants (using stilts) and “big heads,” where they literally just wear giant fake costume heads, hahaha. Sounds so fun! I was just glad we were able to catch some of the party. That concert was seriously so serendipitous!

We tried to join in on some of the easier dances and watched with big smiles on our faces when we couldn’t keep up. Sean was positively flabbergasted that all of these high schoolers knew so many of the moves. I guess there really isn’t an equivalent in the US! Maybe it’s like everybody doing “Soulja Boy” back in middle school, but with way more moves and to over a dozen different songs, hahaha.

Every few songs, a little dance troupe took the stage and performed what was so like Irish step dancing it was crazy. Sean and I just got more and more confused (and delighted) as the night went on.

We stayed and partied through another sangria and then finally decided we were ready for bed. We left the party in a daze and then made our way along the waterfront, admiring the super shallow waters and the rising tide as it slowly ate up some gorgeous sand art leftover from the day.

We found some street art that I couldn’t pass up. The artist was sitting and painting new tiles fresh in real-time (my favorite!), but Sean really needed to pee, so I was forced to make a quick decision! I spent the whole walk back to our Airbnb terrified that I had made the wrong decision, but when we got back and I opened it up, I was thrilled! I don’t think I could have really chosen wrong in the end. Just look at these gorgeous things!

In the morning, we meandered to one of the restaurants right on our street for breakfast. We were basically no-budget at this point (yeesh), so we splurged on fresh OJ, coffee, and toast. I got jamon, and Sean got avocado and lox. Yum!

When we ordered, I was trying to do so in Spanish, so I just walked up and started ordering, but the barista stopped me and said (in English), “HELLOO… HOW ARE YOU? THAT’S HOW WE START HERE. HELLOOO….”

Lol, okay! So apparently I was being rude! I made a mental note to at least say, “Hola” in the future…. Or to just make Sean order.

We savored our breakfast, but we didn’t have much time to waste. We had a surf lesson scheduled!

Unfortunately, we didn’t get a single photo of the whole experience. We didn’t want to leave any phones unattended on the beach, and it was a big hubbub of commotion the whole time.

We arrived at the surf school to find that our private lesson had been changed into a group lesson… Lol. At least that made it cheaper. There would be six of us with our teacher, Enico. We were given little shortsie wet suits, and I had to size down THREE TIMES until I was in a child large. Bahaha.

We then had to carry our boats about ten minutes (so far!) to the beach. We were with a Belgian mom and daughter, a German girl (who sounded like a kiwi), and a French girl.

We had a quick beach lesson, and then we hit the waves. I’m pretty sure mine was the only name Enico learned. “Elizabet!” he would call before beckoning me forward. Either my name was easy to remember, we were just vibing, or I was the worst one in the group.

Unfortunately, I was pretty overwhelmed from the get-go. I fell off my board in the wrong direction on my second try, so the board hit me in the back of the head and kept me under for a second. I was fine, obviously, but it definitely freaked me out!

I took long breaks after that, just hanging out in the water and waving everyone forward to cut me, waving off Enico’s frequent efforts at calling me to him. Wish that hadn’t have happened!

In the end, I only had four runs, but I got up to a knee on my third try and stood to my feet on my fourth. Definitely not as good as Hawaii, but I think it was pretty good given the circumstances! The surf was also much closer to the shore than it had been on our Hawaii lesson, so you didn’t have as long to ride the wave. Oh, well! This was much cheaper!

Sean fared better than me, catching several waves, and we were all exhausted when Enico called time. The German girl said she felt like she was now 99% salt water, which I felt was an accurate description.

After we returned our boards, Sean and I walked back to the beach for a little more swim time, but the water wasn’t nearly as warm without the wet suits!

We rinsed off at the surf school, and then we (somewhat impishly) sat at an outdoor table at a nearby restaurant.

Lunch was tasty, but it was also possibly the most beautiful meal I’d ever eaten!!!

We got a pesco sour (10/10), bao sandwiches (they were just okay), cheesey bread puffs (yummy), some kind of crazy sushi/poke/seafood dish with a creamy sauce poured over it (I was obsessed with this), and creme brulee (yummy).

After this (way too rich but totally worth it) lunch, we zombied back to our Airbnb for some real showers and a proper rest.

We didn’t resurface until 7:30, at which point we found some snacks.

We definitely over did-it. Way too much chocolate and sugar! The smoothie was yummy, though.

And then we made our way to one of the hills encasing the port, this one with a funicular (a like a mix between a train and an elevator) that led to a hilltop amusement park.

All of the rides were closed because we spent the good daylight hours in bed, but it still offered some pretty views!

Sean was bummed (okay, I was bummed, too) that we couldn’t go on the rides, because they actually looked super cute and fun. Especially the coaster and the little boat ride!

The park was at the very top of the hill, so we got a 360 degree view of the bay and the sunset.

There was some… Very interesting art around the park, haha.

We wandered the sleepy amusement park for a while before catching the very last ride back down the mountain. Pretty sure we did not have the energy to walk.

We meandered back towards our Airbnb and stopped for some pintxos and a cocktail on the way.

And that’s a wrap on Day Two of San Sebastian! One more to come!

Zaindu/ take care,

Lizzy-wa

Sevilla, Sevilla, Sevilla.

At least Sevilla didn’t lie to us in the beginning. When we stepped off the train in Cordoba at eight in the morning, there was a cool breeze and the day seemed promising. It wasn’t until after that nap that the scorching reality of the sun said hello.

Sevilla, on the other hand, was straight to the point. Honest. Cruel from the get-go. We entered the city around nine, moaning and gasping as we hopped off the air-conditioned bus and into the oven that is this place so many silly people call home.

I’m pretty sure the first thing we did was drop our things off at our Airbnb…. But for some reason… I just can’t seem to remember anything about our host or our stay…. It is literally all a blur………. Gahh…. Come to me, memories!

Oh! I remember! Wow, that was weird. Okay. Yes. We went straight to our Airbnb, and we celebrated at how close our stay was to the train station. Go us! Go planning!

Our host buzzed us in, and he began speaking rapid Spanish the second he opened the apartment door. Kristina was terrified. I was delighted! It was pretty easy to tell that he was just giving us a tour, showing us how to use the keys, giving us the WiFi and a map. I’m sure he said some stuff in between all that, but I figured I could fill in the blanks. Every time he turned his back, though, Kristina looked at me with raised, scrunched eyebrows and widened eyes. This delighted me even more! Bahahaha.

At one point, he asked a question that we could not answer, and Kristina finally told him what she’d been dying to all along. Well, technically I started it by saying, ‘Espanol…’ with a shake of my head, and Kristina added, ‘poquito.’ Our host laughed and repeated the question in English. ‘Where are you from?’ We told him Seattle, but he had no idea where this was. I think he may be the first person I’ve met abroad who hasn’t known this famous coffee capital!

Kristina was relieved that he now understood to speak in English, but he threw us a new one by switching right back into Spanish once we had established that Seattle did not exist on this man’s mental map of the world. Bahahaha. We walked around for a few more minutes and he gestured and blabbed, showing us the lights, the AC, and the bathroom. Gah. So great. I love pretending I know what people are saying, and I’m pretty sure he believed me!

Recalling the disaster that was The Great Cordoba Slumber, we made a huge effort to rest hardly at all so that we could attack the city before it reached You-Might-Die temperatures. It was already pretty stinkin’ hot, though, so we were fairly slow moving. We managed to see some pretty things and buy gigantic bottles of smoothies and some fresh fruit to cut through our thirst during our explorations.

Then we passed by this cute little coffee shop advertising iced caramel lattes, and I couldn’t not check it out! It was like a mini, hip Starbucks. The menu had basically all of Starbucks’s drinks, and everything was in English. It was all run by an adorable-yet-swarthy Spaniard, who gave me extra caramel without even having to ask. He also taught me a pretty cool coffee trick. You know those mini little French press things that I think you can make coffee or espresso in at home? He poured my milk into that, plunged the plunger thing about a dozen times, and voila! (sp? haha) Frothy milk! Pretty neat.

Shortly after this, we found an outdoor restaurant that sprayed mist onto its customers while they ate, which was kind of exactly what we needed at the moment. Kristina ordered a coffee, a tomato toast thing, and a ham and cheese croissant, and I ordered a plain croissant and my now-standard fresh-squeezed orange juice.

You see, we have this problem, Kristina and I. We think it will be a good idea to explore early, before the heat, but then we realize that we are hungry. And after we sit down in the air conditioning of a cafe or under the mist of an outdoor restaurant or in the shade of an awning, it becomes easier and easier to want to stay there forever. Thus, by the time we decide we had better get to some Actual Exploration, the heat is out. This has happened nearly every day since leaving the rain of Berlin. Meh.

We found a set of swings near our restaurant, and they were in the shade, and I love swings, so we swung a bit there, which was nice. We did manage to explore just the teensiest bit more…

But then Kristina gave in. Mrrrrr…. I wanted to give in, too. Believe me, I did. The heat was clawing at my body and throat like a million monsters trying to reach into my very soul. I have thought I’ve been hot before, but never before have I experienced the physical sensation of Real Heat. I was wearing a skirt and a lightweight long sleeve shirt, so my torso area was just generally sweaty, but my legs, the two largest exposed body parts of mine…. My poor legs. It felt as if a scaly, lizard-like demon hand that had spent its whole life in the fiery depths of a volcano was grabbing onto my calves and ankles. Wrapping its fingers around and around, pulling me down and telling me I would stay put and I would like it. I kid you not! I could actually feel physical hands!

Kristina felt the same physical sensation, though she put it a little more kid-friendly and less-creepy: ‘It feels like I’m just wearing a really warm snuggie, but I can’t take it off.’ Never before have I heard truer words, my fellow heat warrior. Never before.

The thing is, despite all this heat and general I-Want-To-Die-ness, I couldn’t help but feel horrible about our mostly-wasted day in Cordoba, and I really didn’t want the same to happen in Seville. We might tell ourselves that we were only retiring for a one or two hour nap during the worst of the heat, but we had a pattern, and that pattern involved stretching one-hour naps into six. Kristina set off for the apartment, and I lowered my head and walked straight into the sun.

I had many thoughts during those three or four hours of solitude, and many of them involved phrases such as: Why me? Why am I so stupid? Why is it hot? What is this? What is life? What would happen if I just lay down here for a little while? Would I melt? I think I’m melting.

It was clear that the city was on siesta. The streets were slow and empty. Only a choice few bars and restaurants were still open, all of their lights off and their workers hiding behind counters or in the refrigerators in back.

I walked these empty streets and felt I was the last woman on earth who hadn’t already been incinerated by the sun’s heavy rays. My throat screamed at me like it would never be not thirsty again. I fed it water, but it wanted more. It protested my stupid decision to leave the rain of home.

And then…

And then I found a shopping mall.

A huge, air conditioned shopping mall.

*insert heavenly music and crashing cymbals*

It was really more of a gigantic, six-level department store of some sort, but they called it a mall, and there was even a grocery store in the basement, which was pretty darn weird. I also got an ice cream on the way in. I was pretty proud of myself.

As I walked through the gracious doors, I encountered the entire city of Seville. These people ain’t dumb!

I wandered slowly and lavishly, savoring every second of the cool and begging my body to return to its normal level of function. I even found my dreamy mint-colored printer that I spent last summer pining after! (They made these in the same office I worked in last summer, and the mint is too cute! I spent many working hours trying to plot how to get them to give me the one mint printer we had in the office which was on display, but no luck.)

Close to the printers, I found my final resting place.

I almost fell asleep in this hanging egg basket chair, not gonna lie. I think I will almost certainly invest in one in the future. I kept getting nervous when I saw employees because I didn’t want to get kicked out, but then a group of boys my age joined me on the outdoor couch sectional in front of me, so I figured if they could do it, I was in the clear!

But then they started talking, and I realized they were just Americans, too… Haha. Oh, well. None of us were ever bothered by workers.

I left shortly after them, once my body had stopped whining and yelling at me, and I took off to teach it another lesson.

It was bad.

…

It was so bad.

…

That hot lava monster had brought its friends this time, and they meant business. They dragged me back and melted my shoes to the concrete below so that I had to put in a conscious effort to lift each leg with every step. When trying to get to the water, I encountered this one long stretch where Old Town ended and New Town began. Thing is, these stupid newbies didn’t seem to have the sun in mind during their city planning.

Old Town is made up entirely of alleys and crooks full of shade and shadow. The squares are small, so it is easy to dart across or to skirt around the edges. But when I came to the end of this glorious city design, I was met with an endless, unforgiving, menacingly calm stretch of sunny sidewalk. No trees. No buildings. Just me and the sun.

I took a deep breath and speed-walked, picturing some action movie explosions happening behind me and a fire-breathing dragon ahead. I almost didn’t think I would make it.

But I did. Barely. I made it to the shade of a tiny city map on a post, where I was joined by five others waiting to cross the street. It would have been a pretty funny sight to see, if not so horribly sad and horrible.

I finally found a park:

And some pretty buildings:

And then I made it all the way to the river:

The end goal here was to make it to the monastery on the other bank. It was around five o’clock by this time, so it was as hot as it was ever going to get. All cool-down from here, right?

I wasn’t feelin’ it, yet, that’s for sure. I literally ran from shadow to shadow while I was in that monastery. It was really pretty, though, in its deserted state. I got a second wave of the apocalyptic feelings while I was in here.

And then the worst of it: getting from the monastery back to the other side of town. The most direct path took me along the riverbank for about ten minutes. With no cover.

You’re probably getting tired of me complaining about the heat, but I’m just trying to adequately convey how ridiculously and painfully and unbearably HOT it was. It felt like my feet were going to burn off! And my poor legs! The sun had no pity for me.

I was also starving, so when I finally made it back to civilization, I sat down in the first restaurant I found and ordered a salad and a fresh orange juice. I needed something that was the exact opposite of hot food.

There were three other customers in the bar, and I was the only one who wasn’t there just to drink the heat away. A Jackie Chan movie with Spanish voice-overs played on a small TV in the corner. I sat there for about an hour and chugged about a gallon of water, but I still had things to see, heat or no heat, so I set off once again.

I made it all the way to Sevilla’s round tower, but… Oh no! It closed about two minutes before I got there! Curse you, Heat, for trapping me in that restaurant! Curse you, Jackie Chan!

So no climbing for me. Luckily, there was another tower to be had…

Cathedral time! There were so many carriage horses surrounding the cathedral, and it made me so sad because they were obviously dying in the heat. They all just stood there with their heads down, hardly ever moving. It was like they had already died but had melted into place so they couldn’t fall over… :/ I really wanted to feed them some of the granita I was slurping on!

AND, to top it all off, both the tower and the main cathedral seemed to be closed. I couldn’t even find a door, in fact, and was forced to settle for the small chapel inside. As I walked in, I noticed the No-Scantily-Clothed-Humans sign like the one we had seen in Barcelona: a male stick figure in a tank top and short shorts and a female stick figure in a tank top and a short skirt, both with a big X over the top. Next to this was a conservative male stick figure and a female one with long sleeves and a skirt below her knees. Cue skirt-pulling. I didn’t get it all the way to my knees, but there wasn’t a scarf patrol at this church, so I figured that was good enough.

I sat down for a while and admired the architecture and the shade. When I was feeling close to being ready to leave, I reached across with my right hand to pull my left shoulder purse strap up, but I did this motion rather quickly and forgot I was holding an open bottle of Coke in that hand. Needless to say, that Coke went everywhere. I poured it ALL over my shoulder, on the side of my face, on my purse, on my hat, and all over the pew next to me. I was pretty shocked, especially at how the Coke seemed to be warmer than the air around us now. As the cola made its way down my arm and neck, I began hearing snickers from the rows behind me and decided to make my exit.

The liquid dried almost immediately after walking outside, and honestly, I was already so sticky from sweat that I quickly forgot about the incident entirely.

Plus, I found some art! Huzzah!

So pretty! The paintings were really small, but they were gorgeous oil painting originals, and the artist was selling them himself, which I love. As I picked mine out, he said, ‘Ah… and this…’ he then grabbed my shoulders and gently turned me around to look out of the archway we were standing under, ‘Is this!’

The painting I held in my hand was a miniaturized, nighttime version of the view in front of me. So cool! He said this was the best view of the tower in the whole city, and that’s why he did all of his work here. He was pretty cute, and he even made me stand under the archway so he could take a picture of me with the same framing as the painting.

I didn’t take a photograph of the painting I bought, but picture that without me in it, with a crescent moon hanging overhead.

And then it was time to finally meet back up with Kristina at Plaza de España!

This place was beyond gorgeous. I hung out for about twenty minutes before she made her way there, and I quickly and graciously joined the other plaza-goers by taking off my shoes and sitting with my feet in the fountain. It felt so good. My feet screamed at me at first, and I couldn’t tell if it was because the water was too cold or if my feet were just sore from being taken advantage of every day for the last week. I think it was the latter. They calmed down eventually and thanked me for the drink.

When Kristina joined, we spent quite a while walking around this massive square. The moat in front of the building even had boat rides, which was pretty hilarious considering it was only a ten minute walk from one side of the building to the other. Not much of a sightseeing boat ride.

The plaza was also lined with these beautiful ceramic benches, each displaying one of the founding moments of one of the major cities in Spain.

There was also a little group doing flamenco! Two or three guys played the music and sang, and these two positively fierce young ladies killed it with the moves. They were mesmerizing to watch. So passionate and into it. There was one dance that they did together, and one of the dancers was waving a bright red fan around with practiced swooping and slicing motions. The fan matched the giant flower in her hair, and I couldn’t take my eyes off of it. Then, boom! The other girl whips out her own fan, cream colored to match her scarf. Kristina and I both audibly gasped. They waved and swirled their fans in sync, twice as mesmerizing as before. Kristina kept shouting, ‘Olé!’ every once in a while, and people gave us funny looks but she just couldn’t help herself. Tehehe.

We did one last walk around the square…

And then dinner! We went to a pretty shmancy place, and people kept coming off the street to sing for us and ask for tips. One of my favorites was a man who sang ‘Don’t Worry About a Thing’ by Bob Marley. His voice was so pretty, but I had to pretend I wasn’t interested so I wouldn’t have to tip him… haha. Another favorite was this young vocals-and-guitar duo.

The guy singing had such a clear, beautiful voice! It was magical!

For dinner, I got scallops with hummus because it was the cheapest thing on the menu, and it came served in a giant seashell. Kristina got an octopus and potato dish that she had heard was a traditional Spanish dish. Yikes! It wasn’t horrible, but the octopus was definitely too chewy for my liking. At one point, we were attacked by a HUMONGOUS grasshopper. This thing was as big as my hand! It hopped out of nowhere and landed near my feet on Kristina’s purse. We spent about five minutes squealing and squirming until our adorable waiter came out and shooed it off. Haha.

All in all, it was a nice day in Sevilla despite almost dying most of the time. I’m never traveling south in July again, I tell ya. Never ever.

That cold shower felt so good that night. Actually, when we were in Cordoba, our host had explained that if we wanted hot water in our shower, we would have to plug in the water heater. That evening, Kristina brought it up and said, ‘Yeah, when he said that, I was like, Why would we not want hot showers? …Eh. I get it.’ Hahahahaha.

Last night in Spain!

 

Venlig hilsen/ hasta luego,

Lizzy-wa

Sooo Cordoba was kind of a mess. When we left Madrid in the morning, we received a message from our Airbnb host saying, ‘8:30 is very early for checking in. And I will be at work then. I will be in the apartment from 12 to 1.’ Okay, then. All of our other hosts (before and after this one) allowed us to at least drop off our things in the morning. But if he had work, there’s nothing to be done about that. We locked our things up at the train station with plans to head back around noon, and then we set off for breakfast.

Okay. So breakfast was pretty stellar. We wandered for all of five minutes before coming to a rather unassuming outdoor cafe. The tables and chairs were made of red and white plastic. Nothing flashy. Nothing hip. But every table was full. Couples, old friends, families. The whole town seemed to be at this one tiny cafe.

We shrugged together. Can’t hurt to give it a try, right? We waited until a single man left his table, then sat down with his dirty dishes before anyone else could. We noticed almost every table had a plate of doughy, fried, plate-sized rings in the middle of all the coffee, and Kristina informed me these were churros. Nothing like any churros I had seen before! I’d only ever encountered the long, straight, star-shaped-cross-section-covered-in-cinnamon-sugar variety, and this looked nothing of the sort. A waitress grabbed the dirty dishes and asked for our orders. We replied by asking for menus.

“No,’ she said with a shake of her head and a small sigh. Uhhh… Okay. Luckily Kristina was there to save the day. ‘Dos churros?’ she said. ‘And café con leche?’ I added.

‘Chocolate? Dos chocolate?’ asked the waitress. We were confused, but then I realized it was probably just to dip the churros in. We agreed and the waitress left. not really sure how my ‘coffee with milk’ was mistaken for ‘chocolate,’ but we never did get our coffee. Oh, well. We probably wouldn’t have been able to finish it anyway!

A few minutes later, a waiter arrived with two of the thickest cups of chocolate (somewhere between hot chocolate made with pure cream and classic drinking chocolate) before placing a mountain-sized pile of churro in between us. Our eyes bugged out. Our stomachs complained. Our mouths watered.

It was sooooo gooooood. And I know I’ve said that about a lot of food and drink on this trip, but seriously. Go to Cordoba. Eat the churro. You will regret it for the rest of the day, but you will be happy for the rest of your life. I promise.

The dough was not sugar-coated or cinnamon-soaked. Just pure, greasy, deep-fried doughy rings. The churro and the chocolate were both too hot to consume right away. Fresh.

Needless to say, I burnt both my fingers and my lips.

Somewhere between the first and second ring on the pile of five, Kristina and I began discussing whether we would be able to actually finish this daunting pile of cholesterol. ‘Oh, we can do it,’ she said with determination. I wasn’t so sure.

Did I mention the chocolate was delicious, too? Because it was.

Every few bites, I reiterated my hesitation at attacking the rest of the pile. ‘We should have asked for only one,’ I said. We saw several other platefuls brought out to two-person tables, and none were quite so high as our own. Were we being hit on by the cooks? Had we been given the wrong plate?

It was honestly hard to complain. Long after we had reached complete satisfaction, we continued to eat. It was one of those timeless struggles. The stomach protests but the tastebuds win over the hand that feeds it.

I’m sad, though unsurprised, to say that we could not finish our churro. Kristina didn’t even finish her chocolate! We did manage to put down four out of the five rings, which in reality is probably enough food to have kept us going through the end of the week.

Then our waitress threw us another curve ball. When we asked for the check, she shook her head again and held up four fingers, saying, ‘quatro.’ I thought this meant that we needed to wait four minutes for her to bring us the check, which was a little odd but not entirely uncalled for, seeing as she was the only person waiting on about twenty-five churro-hungry customers. Kristina asked, ‘Quatro?’ to clarify, and the waitress again said, ‘quatro,’ before switching her fingers into a peace sign and pointing at us each in turn: ‘Dos, e dos.’ Then she showed four fingers again and retreated back to the dark depths of the churro factory.

I looked at Kristina, puzzled. ‘Was she saying that all of this was only four euros?’ That just can’t be.

And yet it was.

We really did feel like we were thieving as we lay a five euro note under the napkin dispenser and slowly rose from our plastic chairs. It just didn’t feel right. To pay so little for so much oil and so much happiness. It just…

I was speechless. We didn’t have any other options though, seeing as how we’d had about six different groups eyeing us in the last half hour in the hopes we would give up our feeble attempts at churro eating so they could really get down to business with our table. We sauntered/ crawled away, down the sidewalk, using each other as physical and mental support, in a sort of daze after the confusing and wonderful meal that had just transpired.

We spent the next hour or so lazily wandering grocery stores and pharmacies in the search for some blister repair perephernalia. The best location was this gigantic pharmacy, where young and old Spanish pharacists alike kept trying to help us with their limited English, continually bringing Kristina dry-foot repair and fungus ointments whenever she tried to explain the blisters on her feet. Bahahahaha. It was pretty entertaining.

And then we got lost. Cordoba was not built on the grid system. It was built more like a churro that has been attacked by small children for many minutes. Every interseciton seemed to have between five and seven streets leading away from it, all in diferent direcitons and bending after several meters. We ended up in downtown, which was pretty darn cute, but I wasn’t able to fully enjoy it seeing as how I was stressed about getting our things from the train station and getting to our apartment by one.

Still pretty cute, though.

Unfortunately, we ended up so lost that we were having a hard time getting un-lost, and one o’clock came and went before we had even found the train station. Plus, my phone was dead.

Cue the long and painful process of finding some shade in a park so Kristina could turn on her data, log into my Airbnb account, and try to re-coordinate with our host, who would not be back home until after three. Grrrr.

By this time, we are too hot and tired to return to downtown for more exploration. We are too hot and tired, in fact, to do much of anything. So, we lay belly-down under a tree, set an alarm, and passed out, sleeping off our churro-coma.

When we awoke and stepped out from under the shade, it became glaringly apparent that in the hour we’d been sleeping, the temperature had raised from Very-Hot to Oh-My-God-Do-Not-Go-Outside-You-Will-Regret-It-I-Promise. Unfortunately, we could not exactly stay hidden in our shady spot all day. We had keys to get. We began the slow and painfull walk to the train station before taking a lovely and air-conditioned bus ride to the apartment. On any normal day, I would have poo-pood the idea of bussing when the walk was just over twenty minutes, but, again, I just didn’t want to go like this.

We met our host on the walk from the bus stop to the apartment. ‘Are you Elizabeth?’ he asked. Who’s asking?! was my first reaction, as I had for some reason been expecting our host to be a small Spanish woman. Really not sure where I got that from. The person we were looking at was essentially the exact opposite. Large and unmistakably male, cigarette in hand and topless woman on his large black t-shirt, our host was anything but subtle. We walked to the apartment together as he babbled in a mix of English and Spanish and I pretended to understand what he was saying except when he asked direct questions.

The apartment was nice enough, if only marginably cooler than the great outdoors. There was another tenant, by the name of Joaquin, and I chatted with him while Kristina babied her blisters. He was actually pretty cool! He was in town for work as a musician, playing the tuba, and he was originally form some part of northern Spain. We talked about the weather, and he said, ‘Yes, yes. This is siesta time right now. Do not go outside. You will die.’ Again with the subtelty, though I certainly believed him.

This room had two small twin beds, which was nice because Kristina seemed to be taking advantage of not having me near her by throwing her limbs as far from her body as possible, likely in an attempt to expose a maximal amount of surface area to the warm air being circulated by our lazy fan. I lay in bed and blogged for a while, Kristina dozing away. Around 5:30 or 6, I noticed it was technically the end of siesta. However, I was certainly rather comfortable indoors, and Kristina hadn’t shown any signs of life in the past two hours, so I turned the fan a little closer to me and fell promptly asleep.

We woke up at nine.

Whoops!

Nothing to be done about that. I shuffled to the kitchen for some water, and Joaquin met me there with an amused, ‘Good morning.’

‘Yeah, yeah, I know, I know,’ I said sheepishly. ‘It’s just too hot!’ We chatted a bit about good places to eat, but our final suggestion came from our host, who told us there was a little restaurant around the corner with the word Vihno in its name. Can’t go wrong there, as far as I’m concerned.

We sat down as the sun sank below the horizon. The menu was completely in Spanish, and though everything sounded good, we kind of wanted to make sure what we were eating. The adorable waitor said he didn’t know much English, but then a couple minutes later, an actual Englishman sat down and said he was going to help us translate the menu.

He was so cute! Reminded me of an older English writer who lives in the countryside and travels for weeks at a time for inspiration. Kristina asked if he came here often, and he responded, ‘Well, I was here this morning. And I was here yesterday afternoon. And the evening before….’ Hahaha. The place must be good, then. Like the cafe in the morning, this place was nothing flashy, but every plastic table was surrounded by full chairs. Women fanned themselves and men drank many drinks. The Englishman went through nearly every item on the menu, giving suggestions along the way. We thanked him, and he said, ‘It was my pleasure,’ before returning to his own table. Why are people so cute sometimes?

I ordered the house salad, feeling a strong need for some veggies in my life after a day of dough and chocolate, and Kristina ordered some sort of scrambled egg dish.

They were both so good! My salad had walnuts, spinach, tomato, Greek yogurt, and probably many other things I can’t recall at the moment. Kristina’s eggs were made of mostly green beans, which is strange, but she said it was positively delicious. We also downed four glass-bottled Cokes throughout dinner, craving the cool bubbles and hoping they would offer some relief from the still-hundred-degree night. Just as we were leaving, smiles on our face and sweat puddles on our chairs (gross but true), Kristina knocked over a glass that shattered on the concrete.

Dang. We tried picking it up, but the adorable waitor rushed over and did one of those hand signs that umpires do when someone is safe, saying, ‘No.’ Hand motion. ‘No.’ He pointed to his broom and dustbin, letting us know he would take care of it. Actually the sweetest. I just wanted to take him home and put him in my pocket.

Sleep that night was hot but heavy. It’s pretty easy to sleep through the night when your body knows that waking will only cause discomfort.

We awoke in a hazy state of slumber, gathered our things, and made our way to the train station yet again. To Seville…

 

Venlig hilsen/ hasta luego,

Lizzy-wa

We arrived mid-evening in Madrid, so we really didn’t plan on doing much aside from grabbing dinner and some shut-eye. On our way to the Airbnb, and several other times throughout our stay here, we saw these hilarious buildings under construction:

If you look closely, you’ll see that the facade of the building is no facade at all, but a canvas covering that looks nearly identical to the original underneath! So clever! Wouldn’t want to burden those Spaniards with the unsightliness of tarps and scaffolds. Tehehe.

Our apartment was in quite a hoppin’ area, with several extremely busy outdoor restaurants right outside our door. Our host, Rodrigo, met us and led us through a rather sketchy alleyway, complete with an abandoned mattress, but when we entered the apartment, we were pleasantly surprised! The space was small but cozy and newly-renovated. Rodrigo was quite the entertainer, running around and joking with us, bringing us to the balcony in our room to give us directions to all the best sights in Madrid. He also wrote up a list of his favorite food-and-drink spots, noting exactly what to order and how much it would cost, too! At the very beginning of the conversation, he started with, ‘Okay. So the rules of the house: there are no rules!’ Bahaha. He also called himself ‘the superhost’ at one point. So humble. So humble.

Somewhere in the middle of all of this, an adorable little blonde boy with giant glasses, probably seven or eight years old, came running into the room to offer us a bottle of water. Rodrigo introduced him as his son, Pablo, and I honestly just wanted to pick him up and squeeze him! He was so cute! I think he had downs syndrome, and he just had the sweetest little face, and he kept trying to babble to us in Spanish. Every time Rodrigo told him that we didn’t speak Spanish, he would pause for a second before resuming his one-sided conversation. Never have I wished to know Spanish more! I wish I could have known what he was saying, because he sounded so excited about it!

He kept running back and forth between our room and his room, showing us his video games and trying to beckon us to follow him so he could show us the Minecraft game he was playing. We interjected his ramblings with, ‘Ooooh!’, ‘Wooow!’, and ‘Oh, no! Really?’ I can’t handle how cute he was. Actually so cute.

After our intros and a bit of a rest, we set off for dinner. The dinner isn’t pictured, but we had spaghetti bolognese, and it was yuuuumm-y. The wine wasn’t bad, either. (:

And then! Eep! Eep! Eep! We went dancing!

I really, really, really wanted to try salsa or bachata while in Spain, but we hadn’t had the energy in Barcelona, and when we tried looking in Madrid, it seemed that all the dances started so late! I’m talking like one in the morning! To START the dancing! Hard to believe, but we did not exactly have the energy for that. Luckily, Sunday is a big swing dancing night in a lot of cities, so we managed to find an open venue a fifteen minute walk from our apartment.

So glad we went! I was nervous at first, but when I finally decided to get up from our little table on the sidelines, someone asked for a dance the second my feet touched the dance floor. ‘Bolero?’ he asked. And he was great! He was probably one of the best dancers in the whole room. And he was Spanish, of course. I swoon.

I danced a bunch, with a lot of great people. It wasn’t a huge crowd, but it was just perfect for what we needed. I danced with a tall Irish guy at one point, and I guess he decided that we should be best friends just because we both spoke English. He asked if my friend danced, and I said, ‘Oh, yeah, she dances! You just have to ask her!’ He promptly made eye contact and beckoned her over like they were old friends. So cute.

His name was Tom? John? And he kept chatting with us the rest of the night. He said we needed to come dancing more for the rest of the week because he was trying to prepare for some sort of lindy exchange or festival, but we told him we’d only be there for one more day. He was bummed, so he asked us to join him and some of his friends for drinks after dancing. We thought about it, but…. meh. Bed seemed nicer.

Walking back to the apartment around midnight was a pretty crazy experience. Turns out Madridian like the night. Can’t blame them with the heat. The night air was the perfect temperature for walking and eating. The squares and restaurants were busier now than they had been around dinner time, bustling with friends and families snacking and drinking (but mostly drinking). We couldn’t get over how hopping the place was! And so late! When Rodrigo had checked us in and pushed the ‘no rules’ thing, he had said, ‘You come in at five? No problem.’ And I guess he wasn’t joking, because that’s probably a pretty normal thing to do in Madrid! That’s when the dancing ends! That’s when the heat subsides! So strange.

Kristina and I weren’t about that night life, as one in the morning seemed plenty late to us. We showered lots and tucked in for the night.

We had a late start the next day, sleeping in until eleven or so! Woohoo! Go sleep! When we began our search for some food around 12:30, though, it turned out most things hadn’t opened yet! The first restaurant we tried said their kitchen didn’t open until one! But…. it’s lunch time! we thought. I guess that’s just what happens when the whole city stays up so late – they sleep in, too.

We did manage to find some fuel, but Kristina was wildly disappointed in her salad. My paella was good, luckily. (:

The rest of the day was mostly spent wandering through plazas, around castles, and through royal gardens.

In the garden, we hung out a bit by a fountain, where a man with seemingly all of his personal belongings spread around him sat peacefully reading the paper with his legs calf-deep in the murky green water. He seemed pretty content with the state of things.

Then some more pretty buildings…

There was also this strange bear-and-tree figurine we kept finding in souvenir shops. We couldn’t figure out what it was, but turns out it’s just this random statue in the middle of one of the main squares? Not really sure haha. That’s supposed to be a strawberry tree, but I’m pretty certain strawberries do not, in fact, grow on trees.

And then, city park time! What! What!

This one was so big, it had a man-made lake smack in the middle of it! With row-boats for rent! We hopped on that train real quick.

Kristina said she wanted to row first, but we got in the boat and uh… didn’t really manage to move much farther than that. Hahaha. She started getting pretty freaked out because other boats were loading up around us, so she made me take the oars. Man. I was really looking forward to relaxing, but she desperately wanted me to be the Prince Eric to her Ariel. We paddled around the lake, singing Kiss the Girl. Was pretty romantic, not gonna lie.

Eventually, I gave Kristina a quick rowing lesson and gave her the reins again. And she did great!

I only took over at the very end, when we had to pull back into the dock and park again. I’m quite the boat-maneuverer when I’m not trying to drown my cousins in knee-high rapids. But that’s another story.

We finished off our park excursion with some delicious pizza, chicken wings, and smoothies. Yum! And then we wandered a bit in the twilight.

I found another possible location to say the I-do’s:

It was so dreamy and magical, this Crystal Palace. It was like a giant version of the little glass gazebo that Liesel and Ralph ran around in in The Sound of Music, singing “Sixteen Going on Seventeen.” Again, so romantic! I would have made Kristina be my Ralph, seeing as I had been her Eric just hours before, but the Crystal Palace was closed for the night. Boo.

We joked about going dancing, but that just wasn’t happening. We had to leave the apartment at five the next morning, so we would have had to go straight to the train station from the party! Haha. No thanks.

We left in the morning in near-blackness, the streets deserted but for a select few post-dancing-wanderers and some trusty street cleaners.

Madrid was pretty nice, and we loved the night life. Only downside was that it was a bit too hot for our tastes this time of year. Little did we know, we were in for much worse in the days ahead. Stay tuned.

 

Venlig hilsen/ hasta luego,

Lizzy-wa

After the lovely missed-train fiasco in Barcelona, the arrival in Zaragoza was a bit tense. Kristina and I were both pooped, and I hadn’t known it at the time, but Kristina had apparently accumulated quite the collection of blisters in Barcelona. The walk to the apartment was bright and slow-going, but we made it there easy enough.

Luckily, our hosts were positively adorable,and adorable people generally put me in a good mood. They were an older husband and wife, and they both did the double-cheek-kiss thing, which I love. The last time somebody tried to do that with me was in Dublin, and it was with a gorgeous Italian boy. I hadn’t realized what he was trying to get from me, though, as I had just met him, so I swooped in for a way-too-awkward hug and left him extremely confused. Not this time, though! I knew what was going on.

Our little room was cute and had a nice little balcony. We plopped down for a whie, but Kristina wasn’t sure she coud make it out for dinner. It was this time that she decided to show me her blistered feet, and MAN, were they a sight to never want to see again! Bahahaha. Sorry, Kristina. Seriously, though! She had like a dozen little bubbles on each foot! I’ve never seen anything like it!

She talked of popping them (no, please no!), and I talked of casually finding dinner and never discussing the matter again. After some contemplation, we asked our host for suggestions on close dinner, and he said there was a restaurant right on the corner. Well, that walk can’t be all that bad then, I reasoned. I managed to get Kristina to put on shoes and walk to the top of the stairs before she gave up and turned around. ‘I don’t know what I’m gonna do about food, but I just feel like this is more important,’ she said defeatedly.

….More important than food??

….Spanish food??

….In Spain??

….Why don’t you just rip my heart out of my chest while you’re at it, Kristina?

Bahaha. Sorry for the drama. But those were my actual-real-live feelings tbh. I was so hungry. And as quick as I am to get a bite to eat in the fanciest, quietest, or busiest of restaurants by myself, at home or abroad, I kind of wasn’t planning on needing to for a while, and I wasn’t in the right mindset.

She went back to ‘take care of the blisters,’ –yuck–, but I didn’t feel like going it alone, so I indulged myself in a quick nap-slash-pouting session.

When she got back from the shower, she said she still wasn’t feeling it, so I all but stormed out and down to the little restaurant, frustrated but too starving to do anything about it.

And low and behold! This restaurant was super cute. I had my book. The menu looked good and the prices were cheap. And the waitress was adorable. She talked me through almost the entire menu before I ordered some sort of special seafood salad, which at the time sounded like an interesting, authentic Spanish dish, but it turned out to be poke with rice. (A raw fish dish – Japanese, maybe?) Hahaha. It was delicious, though, so no complaints.

I also noticed that there was a chalkboard advertising sangria for six euros and fifty cents for a pitcher, which is CHEAP. I ordered some, and the adorable waitress explained there were two flavors. I asked which was her favorite, and she said, ‘I say the red one, and this is because this is my recipe.’ Well, can’t say no to that!

‘Just a glass, though, yes? Because this one,’ she pointed to the chalkboard, ‘is a very large?’

Hm…. I assumed the glass would be at least a couple euros. And I had really been wanting to try a pitcher at some point. But, she was right. I would likely die if I tried to down one of those on my own.

‘Uhm… Just a minute. I think my friend might be coming, so I will let you know what size in a little bit.’

‘Oh! You have a friend! Okay, I will be back.’ Honestly, she acted a little too surprised/ excited that I had friends. Bahaha.

I quickly messaged Kristina. ‘They have cheap food here! And really cheap sangria! I want to order us a pitcher! It’s literally like thirty steps from the apartment, and you can take the elevator down!!!’

It worked. (:

Kristina got a deee-licious egg, potato, and chorizo sausage scramble. The sausage was soooo good! And the sangria was wonnnderful. I actually managed to drink almost half of it! At one point, I remember telling Kristina that things were moving, and I believe that was after my first glass. Bahahaha. No regrets. So delicious. We really wanted to try the other flavor, but again, I just didn’t think it would be the best way to leave this world.

At the end of our meal, we asked Adorable Waitress for suggestions on things to do for our one-day-but-really-more-like-a-half-day stay in Zaragoza, and she went back to one of her co-workers so that they could make a giant list for us! Including directions for transit! Literally the cutest!

In the morning, we had breakfast with our hosts. The wife, Maria, made two different kinds of muffins (so good!) plus fresh orange juice (my fave!) She didn’t speak much English, so her husband had to keep translating for both of us. It was pretty adorable. They showed us pictures of their grandkids (two of the boys had actually been over for dinner the night before, but we hadn’t met them), and talked about their kids. They told us about their own travels back in the day, but they said they were too old and tired to do much traveling now, so they travel by hosting people from around the world! Have I mentioned how positively adorable they were?

At one point, Kristina asked about all the trophies lining the kitchen. Apparently, the husband is quite the chess player! Maria kept shaking her head and smiling while rolling her eyes., as if saying, ‘Don’t encourage him.’ The cutest.

We thanked our hosts for breakfast and set out for the day. We were going to see a castle and then try to make our way downtown to see some squares and cathedrals if time permitted.

The castle was g-o-r-g-e-o-u-s. Kristina and I have both decided we will likely get married here, so start saving up for plane tickets if you plan on attending either of our weddings!

Kristina was really digging the archaeological museum side of the castle (ha! get it?), but I was content to just wander the small halls and admire the courtyard.

Her blisters were still doing a number on her feet, so I eventually bid her ado and made my way downtown while she stayed to admire some more castle-bits.

The walk was mostly through this park along the water.

Very pretty. But no match for the big square and cathedral themselves!

I love giant cathedrals. I think they are positivey jaw-dropping and awe-making and just everything you can want in a beautiful historical building. Some of them took hundreds of years to build, and I wouldn’t be surprised if this was one of them! So huge, with multiple rooms and wings and turns and ah. So great. Unfortunately, pictures were not allowed inside the cathedral, but that was pretty, too!

I was sad to see my time dwindling, so I tried fast-wandering a bit (which, unfortunately, is never quite the same as normal-paced wandering) and ran into the tourist streets. Lots of shops, cafes, and people. And ruins!

Not sure what these ruins were from, but the square was called Piazza de Roma, or something of the sort, so maybe the Romans had something to do with this little bit of Spain? I hadn’t known they made it over that far. Will have to fact check later.

Meeting up with Kristina was a bit of a fiasco again because it turned out that the busses back to the castle were kind of non existent, but we managed eventually and had left plenty of time this go around to make sure we didn’t miss another train. We said goodbye to our hosts, took the trek again, grabbed some food to go, and enjoyed the loveeeely views on the train to Madrid.

One of the prettiest train rides I’ve ever been on! We zoomed through giant cliff faces of red rock, like driving through a canyon. We went through tunnels. We flew over barren nothingness. We passed by towns. And every once in a while, we would come across an ancient cathedral or castle or tower that just made me want to stop the train to pop out for a quick second! I was never fast enough with my camera to record these pretty sights, but it was well worth the slow train.

To Madrid!

 

Venlig hilsen/ hasta luego,

Lizzy-wa

So Barcelona was basically great from the get-go. Even the flight over was great. Kristina and I had paid for window seats in front of each other, but we barely made it to the airport in time – literally ran through the gate as they made a last-call announcement, so by the time we got on the plane, there were people in the middle and aisle seats on both of our rows. Howeverrr, we boarded from the back, and row 30 was empty, so we just sat down! Since this was the third time I snagged a seat in an empty row 30, I’m thinking the budget airlines must leave row 30 empty for some reason, but since I always board so late, I get to sneak in! And the view was beautiful! I think it was the Pyrenees mountains. Sooo pretty.

Our flight was super stinking early, but that meant we got to Barcelona at 8:20, which meant we had the entire day to explore. Our Airbnb host let us drop off our things early, and he was so sweet and helpful. He even told us he would do our laundry for us. Hahaha. Kristina was worried about him handling our undies butttt whatcha gonna do?

We had passed a cute-looking tapas (small plates) restaurant/ café on our way to the apartment from the bus, so we went back there for lunch. However, we forgot it was still nine in the morning, so it was actually still breakfast time. We got some little sandwiches, and Kristina got an Americano and I got a fresh orange juice. Guys. I have been actually obsessed with fresh orange juice. I think I’ve had a dozen on this trip, and I’ve had at least one a day since we got to Spain. They are just everywhere, and they are so cheap compared to what I would pay at a Jamba Juice or something. I can’t say no! It’s so fresh! It’s like I’m actually just eating a liquefied orange. Gaahhh. If you like orange juice but have never had it fresh-squeezed, you’re doing life wrong.

And then we wandered! There were a lot of shady residential streets with tall apartments lining either side of a narrow, cobblestoned alleyway, and we zigged and zagged our way through. Kristina stopped to get a pollo (chicken) empanada at this little shop at one point, and it was soooo good. I didn’t try a bite until it was almost gone, and then it was too late to go back! But it was one of the juiciest, most flavorful foods I have ever tasted. I am still craving it now because we never managed to find the store again! That’s what happens sometimes when you wander aimlessly. Kind of like how my dad makes jambalaya – he never used a recipe, so sometimes it turns out perfect: spicy, sweet, meaty, juicy; but other times it ends up… meh. And he can never make it exactly the same way twice! I’ve joked that I will start video taping him or writing down exactly what he puts in it while cooking, just in case it turns out to be a perfect batch. Maybe I should start leaving breadcrumbs while wandering, too.

Wandering has its perks, though, like stellar empanada finds and surprise stumbles upon large attractions. I imagine it would have been difficult to miss, even if we’d tried, but we stumbled straight onto the main avenue of Barcelona. The street had a one-lane road for cars on either side of the street, and in the middle was a wide, sunny, bustling pedestrian throughway.

My first stop was for some mango gelato, but then I found this other fruit flavor I had never heard of. I can’t remember the name of it now, but it was very long and started with an ‘m,’ and it had the same sweet, refreshing qualities of mango that I was looking for. Hit the spot!

This street was so fun to wander down, and it seemed to go on and on forever. What was funny was that the shopping stalls were set up in sections: first were souvenir stands, then plants/ seeds and flowers, then art, and lastly, a bunch of those people who dress up and paint themselves and pretend to be statues. So strange! My favorite area was the plants because they had a lot of quirky little things like tiny mugs with cacti growing out of them. I had to stop myself from buying seven.

After this, we continued our wanderings through the city, making our way to the water.

We sat on a little dock for a while to give our feat a rest, and we saw two jellyfish! It was crazy! I dont’t think I’ve ever seen a jellyfish out and about in the wild. The first one was pretty big, and the second was just a baby. Didn’t get a picture, though.

It was pretty sad because there was a lot of trash around us in the water. I think the tide was bringing everything to us, because the water farther out seemed cleaner. There was just so much paper and plastic floating around. I definitely understand how sea animals can confuse plastic for jellyfish and end up eating it; I kept searching for more jellyfish and mistaking plastic bags or wrappers for them. :/

After a good long sit (and the beginnings of a sunburn), we walked along the water until we found the cutest market! There were so many things! I found some adorable hand-made jewelry that was mixed metal and crochet, but I couldn’t decide on just one, so we said we’d come back another day. Then Kristina bought the cutest little purse, kind of like my mini purse-wallet that I use, but slightly bigger and with three zipper pockets instead of two. The biggest one is just perfect for fitting a passport, so she’s been using that as a perfect little travel purse! She also found these adorable flowy shorts:

Spoiler: she ended up wearing them basically every day for the next week, so you’ll see them in many pictures from now on, I’m sure.

The day was really heating up by this point, so we bought a cup of fruit and found some shade near the market to hang out for a bit. We were pretty close to a walking street along the water, and the sides of the path were lined with African men selling anything from sunglasses to bags, shoes, and FC jerseys. I’ve seen groups of guys like this in almost every major city, but what I’ve never whitnessed was the hilarious scene which happened next.

Apparently, these guys weren’t allowed to be selling their stuff here, for whatever reason. A police car came around the corner, and every one of the men grabbed some ropes I hadn’t before notice at the corners of the tarps all their merchandise lay on. They picked up the ropes, and the tarps collapsed in on themselves like rucksacks, which they then threw over their shoulders so they could make a quick escape from the cops.

The police car rolled slowly through the streets as the men dispursed, then turned out of sight.

HOWEVER. Before the car had even rounded the corner, the men came back and began laying out their things again! To no one’s surprise, the police car quickly turned around and drove back to the street, dispursing the men yet again.

This serioulsy happened about a dozen times in the half hour we were sitting there. It was so strange to watch. You would think the salesmen would at least wait a couple minutes to ensure the police were a safe distance away, but I suppose a couple minutes off the streets means a couple dollars of lost business! So strange. So strange.

We then wandered to the cutest little cafe, where Kristina got this gigantic pizza/ flatbread thing for only four euros, and I got a delicious ham and cheese croissant. The drinks around us looked so good, though, that once we fiinished eating, I ordered a coffee and another fresh orange juice. No regrets.

Wow. My head looks strangely large in that photo. Haha.

Next, we bought some art! We found a small art shop with gorgeous originals and prints. However, the originals were a bit out of our price range, and the prints were very high-quality, so we both got a bunch. Hahaha. Oops.

Then, to Barcelona’s mini duomo! So pretty! Unfortunately, we were too-scantily-clad to be allowed access to the cathedral (shoulders and knees must be covered), so we had to view the beauty from the outside alone. There were a bunch of little Spanish women outside the entrance wrapping scarves around girls and women also in shorts or tank tops, and I thought they were just doing this out of the kindness of their hearts and out of respect for the church. But no! We went up and spread our arms to be wrapped up, and the woman said, ‘Five euro.’

Uhhh… Haha. Cute little Spanish lady with a profitable business model. Oh, well. We decided we would come back the next day with our own scarves, instead.

Shortly after this, my phone died, and I didn’t have a charger. I’m pretty sure we just wandered around a bit more, with plans to see a flemenco show later in the evening. When we made our way back to the flemenco restaurant around 7:45pm,  though, we had to pass by the duomo again. And low and behold! A band was all set up and ready to play right on the church’s front steps. We were cutting it close for the flemenco show, but Kristina insisted we stay and at least here one song. So glad we did!

The second the band started playing, about a hundred elderly Spanish men and women popped up out of nowhere and began some sort of hand-holding circle dance to the music! Not a flash mob, or anything. It was some sort of organized dance that must happen all the time. But it was so cute! More and more people kept running under hands to drop their bags in the center of the circle before joining in the ring to finish out the song. I was actually dying. I could not handle it. The music. The dancing. The adorable old peole. It was too much!

Kristina kept trying to get me to join, but I was too nervous, especially because everybody dancing clearly knew the dance already, and also because all the dancers were about forty years my senior.

We sat on the steps with the band, watching the dancing and occasionally sneaking over to the antiques market on the other side of the square, and I kept trying to get up the courage to join. The funniest part was that among all the giant circles of old people, there was one tiny circle made up of three young men. Their style was a bit different, but you could tell it was the same dance. They moved at about double speed, and they jumped around a lot more and kicked their feet much higher. They were also completely focused. It was so entertaining!

We tried going up to them between songs to ask what the dance was all about, and to find out if we could join. However, none of them spoke English, and they seemed pretty freaked out by us. Hahaha. At least we tried.

By this point, we had been watching for almost an hour, and I was REALLY REALLY wanting to dance. I just couldn’t muster the courage! We went and sat near a smaller circle that had a couple of younger people in it, hoping that would help my motivation. Then! A new girl joined the group! A tourist! And she did not know the dance in the slightest! She held hands with the other young woman in the circle (the one I was using for my inspiration), and the Spanish girl tried leading her along.

This was it. This was my moment. If this girl could join without knowing the steps, I certainly could, as I had been studying the dancers’ feet and movements for the past hour! The song ended, and it seemed the whole thing was over!

NOOOOO. I had missed my chance! Oh, woe is me! Why had I been so nervous?!?!?! It was all my fault!!!

But… wait! They were doing an encore!

The young Spanish lady tried beckoning over the blonde tourist girl, but she said no. The Spanish lady insisted, ‘It’s just a little one! A short one!’

Well, that was enough convincing for me. Before the blonde girl could change her mind, I threw my purse to Kristina and hopped up to grab the hand of the Spanish girl.

I was so. Happy.

The Spanish girl kept pulling my hand this way and that to try and give me directions, and she stared intently at my feet the whole time, but all in all, I think I did pretty good! And it was so much fun! Eep! I should have joined earlier!

At the very last second, Kristina popped underneat my arm to throw her stuff in and try joining, but the song ended almost immediately after. Hahaha. We suck.

But yes. It was amazing. And wonderul. And oh-so-happy-making. (:

It was definitely a great way to end a great first day in Barcelona. We popped into a cafe for some late-night dinner, as most things were closed up by this time. We got sandwiches, and I had one of the best coffee drinks I have ever tasted: espresso, chocolate, and condensed milk. Yummmm!!

Day two started off less-than-strong! Kristina woke up at a reasonable hour because her jetlag was still making her wake up pretty early. My exhaustion, however, was doing just the opposite. Every time she nudged me and told me the time, I would grunt, ‘mhmm,’ and then promptly fall back asleep. By the time we left the apartment, it was after noon. First, we headed to our favorite cafe for another round of breakfast and fresh orange juice. We were going to start exploring from there, but… I was tired again. And she felt the tiredness coming on, too. What’s dangerous about our little cafe is that it was so close to our apartment that it was hard to not pop back in. And besides, a one hour nap wouldn’t hurt anything, right?

While this is probably true, we didn’t exactly test it out, seeing as I did’t wake up again until four-ish. Oops, again.

We planned to see all the bits of the city we had missed on Day One, and we were going to start by meeting with Kristina’s friend Prescott. We quickly arranged a meeting place so we would be forced to leave the apartment, and then we set off. The meeting place was this adorable park:

We never did find Prescott, though. Hm. Not sure what happened there. We were pretty bummed, but we couldn’t waste the day anymore than we already had! We headed south to the Olympic park, leftovers from when Barcelona hosted the Olympics in 1992.

On our way there, we passed a fire station. Funny – firefighters are called bombers in Spain. A little counterproductive, if you ask me. As we passed the station, we peaked in through a wire fence and saw about fifteen Spanish firemen playing basketball.

About half of them had their shirts off.

I may have drooled a bit.

Honest to goodness, I was about to take my phone out to take a picture to send to my mom, but one of them noticed us and waved, beaming smile on his face.

We’d been caught!

I waved back quite stupidly before running away and pulling Kristina with me. Gah. I really wanted that picture, too. Tehehe.

The Olympic park took us by surprise when we found it because it was situated on a massive hill. We had to take four or five escalators to get to the top, but the view was gorgeous!

We wandered for an hour or two, checking out the soccer stadium, a botanical garden, and some more great views of the city!

We got lost a bit, but eventually we found our way back to the water to get me my crochet necklace.

We asked if the jewelry was hand-made, just to make sure, and the saleswoman said, ‘Yes, my grandma make all of them.’ Now this was quite surprising because the saleswoman was at least in her fifties, but sitting behind her and to her right was a woman in her nineties, crocheting away! It must be granny! So cute!

I was extremely happy with my purchase at that point, and Kristina was pretty happy with her developing Spanish skills. She was so nervous at first, and on Day One in Barcelona, she kept going up to waitors/ salespeople/ information desk workers, and the first thing she would say was, ‘Do you speak English?’ I told her not to do this, and she said, ‘Well, how else am I supposed to know?’

I explained my philosophy while travelling in non-English-dominated countries: if you can get through the interaction without bringing up English, don’t do it. It can seem difficult or scary, but nine times out of ten, the whole conversation can consist of hello, yes, no, thank you, good-bye! Ordering food can be done by pointing. Paying can be done with a card or with enough cash that it will definitely be enough, even if you can’t understand the numbers they rattle off to you at lightning speed. It might be silly, but I always feel bad when I make somebody switch to English. I feel like people are always stooping down to my level, and if I force them to do so, I will never be making the effort to reach up to them.

When I go to a new country, the phrases I like to know are: yes, no, please, thank you, hello, goodbye, and whatever you would say to someone if you accidentally bumped into them at the grocery store (sorry/ excuse me). I’ve found that with these safely tucked under my belt, I can go entire days without ever speaking to someone in English, and it is positively liberating. It makes me feel like I belong. Like I’m a real Dane, or a real Italian, or a real Portugese girl, even if only in my mind! I feel like I’m tricking everyone into believing I live here and I understand what’s going on around me. (Both total lies. Tehe.)

Kristina was pretty unsure of this, and she continued asking for English for a while, but every time she did, I’d say, ‘Kristina! You could have done that in Spanish!’ And she’d think about it for a second before say, ‘Yeah… I guess I could have.’

I think the first time she really tried out her Spanish was at that waterfront market. She began listening to the Spanish around her and being reminded of words and phrases she had forgotten she’d known. ‘OH!’ she’d say. ‘When you want to ask how much something is, you say, cuanto!’ She remembered little things her mom says to her around the house. (Her mom’s Chilean! A native Spanish speaker!) She tried more and more Spanish, and it seemed to make her giddy, almost. I could see the same excited light in her eyes that I feel in myself when I successfully order a pastry in French. About every five seconds walking through that market, she would look at something and say, ‘Oooh! Bonita!’ and then fall into a fit of smiles and giggles. She’s so cute! She couldn’t stop talking about how much she was loving it and how she was already thinking about coming back to Barcelona. Travel bug: bite achieved.

To finish off the night, we finally made it to the flemenco show we had missed before. Three courses plus wine for me and sangria for Kristina. The fish was delicious, and the show was great! We were a little confused, because the flyers had depicted a young, fiesty-looking dancer, but when the music started, a woman in her sixties popped up to take the stage. She was definitely rocking it, though. The band behind her was made up of an older man on guitar who was positively in love with the music, a younger man on one of those box-drum things that you sit on (can’t remember what they’re called), and an older gentleman who sang with a loud, soulfull vibrato. Overall experience 10/10, and my Catalan creme dessert wasn’t half-bad, either!

On Day Three, our train left late afternoon, so we had plenty of time to do some more exploring. First was some bagel breakfast:

Excuse my face. I was sleepy.

And then we found this famous building, though I’m not sure exactly what it is used for. It seemed like housing? A hotel, maybe?

Some more exploring…

It actually rained our last day here, at least in the morning. It was pretty funny to see the locals, as it was clear that rain is an oddity. Everytime the thunder cracked and it began to drizzle, everyone on the street pretty much sprinted to the nearest restaurant or sunken doorway. The drizzle would pick up into a true downpour for about five minutes, and then the rain would vanish as quickly as it had come. This happened probably half a dozen times as we made our way through the city.

And then, the big one: the Sagrada Familia:

It was gorgeous! So huge! A massive cathedral with so much going on! Such a unique architectural style!

The only thing was…. tickets were sold out. For the entire day.

…. ):

So that was kind of sad… Apparently we should have booked tickets ahead of time online, but we didn’t know and we hadn’t done the proper research. ‘That’s okay!’ Kristina said. ‘We’ll just have to come back!’ Always the optimist. Haha.

My mood was brightened exponentially by the street art we found. I may have accidentally purchased three paintings before talking myself out of buying a fourth. I just love originals! Especially when I get to buy them directly from the artist! And they were so cheap! My bedroom wall is gonna look so hip. And my next apartment? Just you wait.

We wandered a bit more and saw some more castles…

And then we found the most beautiful fountain in yet another gorgeous city park:

Seriously, though! I have nothing against the Trevi Fountain, but why have I never heard of this one?! It was sooooo beautiful! I couldn’t handle it! The water! The green! The massive sculpture of it all! Gahhhhh. I can’t.

And then, the Arc de Triomphe! (sp? haha)

So. Everything was dandy. We still had over an hour to get our stuff from the apartment and get to the train station for our ride to Zaragoza. What could possibly go wrong?

Turns out we were farther from the apartment than I thought.

Much farther.

I’ll save you the gory details, but there was essentially a lot of fast walking, a lot of sweating, a smattering of bickering and whining from both parties, and in the end, we missed our train by about two minutes because we couldn’t find the platform in time.

Our original tickets cost about fifteen dollars, but they were nonrefundable and nontransferrable, so we had to buy new ones for about sixty bucks.

Yeah. I was not a happy camper.

But I got over it eventually, and our train ended up being super nice and over twice as fast as a cheap bus ticket would have been, so…. *shrug*.

To be continued in Zaragoza…

 

Venlig hilsen/ hasta luego,

Lizzy-wa