Having set out from Santiago in terrible pain (shoulders, feet, and knees) I was anxiously anticipating a bit of relaxation in Portugal. There was something about Portugal that really attracted me in that it almost seemed untouched by tourism. Of almost everyone I talked to about my trip as I seeked suggestions, I can't recall a single person who had been (or at least recommended) Portugal. I was excited to check it out.
PORTO
My first stop. Most famous for its production of Port wine, a sweeter wine (its red, but they make whites too) to be had after dinner. As I made my way to my hostel I was a bit tentative as downtown was not in sight. Sometimes you roll the dice with online hostel bookings. I pressed a doorbell on what appeared to be an apartment and was greeted by a friendly Portugese man who led me up to his hostel/home. Check in was in the kitchen, as was the common area. As I was checking in his wife was ooking dinner and his two children were doing there homework, all the while guests were enjoying themselves. I immediately liked this place for it's homey feel, not too mention it was extremely clean and affordable. The one drawback was the twenty minute walk to the city, but having knocked out five hours a day (on average) I figured I could handle it. I walked around that night to check out the sites but it proved rather tough as the sites were decentralized.
The next morning I awoke from an amazing nights sleep, which really wasn't hard to accomlish since I had a pillow AND a blanket and also only had 6 (instead of 32) people in my room. I headed back into town and crossed over the massive bridge that seperates the city to make my way to the wineries. After about an hour of searching for the right winery (it was saturday and many were closed) and stumbled upon Croft, which was both open and free. I was limited in time and had to take the Spanish tour (they offer them in german, french, english, and portugese too) and enjoyed one of their whites (an apertif) while I waited. The tour lasted about a half hour and I was actually able t understand a great deal of it, which gave me some confidence in my Spanish abilities. They took us al around the winery (not a vineyard) and explained the history, how it was made, and showed us all the barrels and even the reserves. The tour was capped off with a nice glass of their reserve port. Even though Im not a big fan of sweet wines, this was actually my first port/apertif experience and I must admit that I quite liked it. The tours themselves are great and a tremendous deal (I think the most expensive of the 17 is 3 euros) but just be careful not to drink too much in one sitting as I'd imagine you get quite sick.
I was a bit saddened to leave after only one day, but I had a flight in four days and two more cities to visit so I made my way down to Lisbon.
LISBON
I was also slightly nervous about my hostel in Lisbon because it had a 100% rating, which I figured was either a computer error or someone manipulating data. Although it wasn't 100%, it was damn close. Traveller's House was it's name and it was located in the center of the city and owned and operated by twenty-something travelers. I don't think there's any way they make a profit because for it's quality and location it's a steal. The ameneties were top notch and they provided food and drink for a low cost that was all on the honor system. That night they hosted a get together and provided traditional potugese fare: olives, ham, chorizo, bread, and of course, wine. I managed eat my fill and have three glasses of wine and it only cost me two euros. The atmosphere was very social and I ended up staying in the entire night chatting with other travellers. At first I felt like I should have gone out and seen the city to make the most of my time, but then I realized experiences like that are also part of the backpacking experience. A conglomeration of nationalities sharing stories and recommendations in good humor with people they've only met an hour ago is hard to come by and I cherished every second of it.
The next day, however, I decided to set out and see what needed to be seen. Lisbon is also decentralized, as well as massive so this proved rather tough. I made my way up the main pedestrain thoroughfare to the top of a hill. Here the view was absolutely spectacular but also defeating. It encaptured the entire city while proving to be a reminder that there was no way I was going to be able to see everythig that I wanted to see. I appreciated the city and would go back (if for no other reason than the hostel) but have to admit that I was a bit burnt out of big cities and was ready for something smaller. I caught a bus that afternoon to my next destination: Lagos.
Monday, November 5, 2007
Thursday, November 1, 2007
sorry
terribly sorry to anyone checking my blog, ive been terible as of recent. Though the internet has been a bit splotchy and my schedule has gotten a bit busier. I will have a new post up by monday and should be much more consistent as things are going to slow down a bit.
Sunday, October 21, 2007
Camino de Santiago
So apparently I´ve resurfaced from my blackout. I spent five days walking the Camino de Santiago, a pilgrimage to the Tomb of the Apostle St. James that lies in the Cathedral in Santiago de Compostela. The pilgrimage itself dates back to the 11th century and was immensly popular during the middle ages, so much so that later the Vatican decreed that those who walked the pigrimage would be absolved of their sins. I walked the last 116 km (about 70 miles) of the most known and popular route: the Camino Frances. The actual route starts in France and is 780 km and there are tons of people who do it, over 100,000 last year starting from France or anywhere in between. The suggested walking distance each day is anywhere from 20-25 km. My journey was much smaller and I´m sure much less painful than many of those I walked with, but I did a decent job of handicapping myself by overpacking (I had about 35 lbs of luggage on my back), walking far too long each day, and wearing a worn out pair of tennis shoes. Since this entry covers five days it may be a bit long but I will try to be concise, for those of you limited in time or interest skip to the bottom where I will have my highlights.
DAY 1
I took the overnight bus to Santiago from Madrid, which was a terrible mistake. The amount of sleep I got could be counted in minutes and not hours. Nonetheless, my eyes were jostled open as our bus navigated the windy streets of Santiago. At first I could see nothing, then I clear my eyes and still was lacking in vision. The city was covered in a blanket of fog thick enough to enduce legarthy on even the most energetic, it was really quite amazing. After arriving I made my way into the city trying to figure out how the hell I was going to complete this journey. This was, by far, my most unplanned and (and therefore liberating) experience yet. There is a breadth of information about the camino in books, but I could find none in English and had to rely on the little tidbits I could find online. Through the next 6 hours I attained my credential (like a passport, you get stamps along the way), packed my things, and took another bus out to my starting point. I started my journey at 3:30 pm in Sarria, although I´d say it really started at 4 since I spent a half hour wandering around trying to find the trail. My first leg took me up a great hill and into the countryside. I attained my first stamp at an old Romanesque church in Barbadelo and met Edmon, a Filipino I ended up walking with for the rest of the day. Exisitng along the trail are Alberques, many of which will house you for a donation (a euro or two) but the one we made it to was full that night so we either had to hike back 1.5 km or ahead 9. It was late, we hiked back and stayed at a private hostel. It was only 8 euros and probably one of the best nights sleep I´ve had while in Europe, though it spoiled me for the rest of the trip. Distance covered today: 14 km.
Day 2
I awoke around 8, packed my things, broke my fast and headed out. I enjoyed meeting Edmon and other travelers that evening and sharing stories but wanted a little time to myself. The sun doesn´t rise until around 8:30 or 9 so the morning is really peaceful and I had some time to reflect (on what, I don´t know). After about an hour and a half (7.5 km) I ended up meeting back up with Edmon and another couple we met the previous night, Pedro and Carolina. We spent the rest of the day navigating trails, tending to foot wounds, hydrating, eating, and conversing. At one point we ended up being slowed by a farmer and his cows and bulls. He was walking them to a field and they took up the entire road, I didn´t mind. The fun part was that a bus was actually trying to pass and the farmer made no effort to move his herd to the side of the road, but the bus driver didn´t seem to mind either. The trails took us through many small villages with friendly locals, everyone you see is greeted and if you see a fellow traveler (and you will usually see many) the common phrase is `buen camino,` or good walk, trip, etc. We made it to our stopping point in Palas de Rei around 4pm at a public hostel. My feet were absolutely killing me, but I had to keep walking around the city to keep my muscles from cramping. I prepared for the next day, got some food, read a little, then off to bed around 9:30 pm. Total Distance: 34 km.
DAY 3
The general schedule of a person on the camino is to wake early and start let´s say before 9AM, walk until 1 or 2, then take rest for the night. This is allow for time to wash clothes and still have sun to dry them and it also keeps one from walking in the mid-day heat (which there actually was in October). Today I decided to start my adventure solo again, figuring I´d meet up with Edmon along the way. I was a bit slower due to lactic acid and stiffness in my shoulders, knees, quads, and feet. Edmon, however, was in a similar situationa and I actually ended up walking the entire day by myself which turned out quite nice. I made it to Arzua a little before 3 pm and followed the nightly ritual mentioned above. Edmon actually ended up staying at the same hostel and we spent a good amount of time talking with some Spaniards and Portugese men. The Spaniards had been in our hostel the night before and they made great alarm clocks, once one of them was up, everyone was up. Since the Alberque I stayed in a public, most varied in size in quality. Last night I slept in a room with 10 people and the unisex showers had no doors. This one at least had mens and womens bathrooms but I was sleeping in a room of 32. I also had no sleeping bag and for the past two night was not provided a blanket, so I had to put all of my layers on and huddle in the fetal position for warmth as the nights got pretty cold and there was very little installation. Total Distance: 27 km.
DAY 4
After talking with the Spaniards Edmon and I had set our mind on a goal: Monte de Gozo. From Arzua we were a little more than 40 km from Santiago and are choice was either the aforementioned, which was 5km from Santiago or O Pino, 20km from the city. We wanted to be in the city by noon on Friday for the Pilgrams mass and decided a nice easy 5km stroll would be our best bet, problem being we had to walk 36 km that day to attain it. I taped up my feet, covered my blisters, put on a new pair of socks and hobbled out in hopes of making it there. The journey was brutal, not only on my feet and legs, but also my stomach. We were determined and rpessed on frequently but found ourselves hungry for lunch but without a restaurant, cafe or bar in sight (which are very common along the way). It took us 7km to find our welcome reprieve but boy did we enjoy it. Afterwards we only had 5km to our destination, which were damn tough as they were all uphill and I was pretty sure my feet were going to fall off. Monte de Gozo means ´hill of joy´because its the first place where you can see the Cathedral spires in the city. Although the cathedral is somewhat hard to see, it was certainly joyous for me since I had accomplished my goal. They developed a huge complex there to house thousands of pilgrams on their final night before their descent and it was actually quite nice. On my way up I was passed by a group of 13 yr olds on a field trip and thought how cool it would be to get to do this as part of your formal schooling, WRONG, NOT COOL! Those little shits spent the night running around yelling and screaming while pilgrims were trying to sleep. The security guard wanted nothing to do with them so Teacher Dan came out and started to regulate. At first I asked nicely in spanish, an hour later I asked sternly in spanish, then I started to angry in English and they got the point pretty quick. I´ll continue this aside below as there is more that I want to say but it doesn´t involve the camino. Once the kids were quiet our building could sleep and it was nice since i actually had a blanket this time. Total Distance: 35 km.
DAY 5
There was little that was going to stop me from reaching the city. 5 km downhil pailed in comparison to what I had done on previous days and even though I was stiff and soar, my excitement took over and carried me through. Edmon and I completed the journey down with relative ease and stopped in the Pelegrino (pilgrims) office to get our compostela. The compostela is the certificate saying you completed the walk, although you only have to do a minimum of 100 km, getting at least two stamps each day along the way. When getting your compostela you can either mark religious on non-religious reasons. I embarked on this journey in hopes of gaining a little solitude. Some time away from tv, internet, cell phones, iPods, etc. I would find it hard to believe that someone could complete the camino without feeling somewhat spiritual about it, even for those like me who embark without religious intent. Nonetheless, I couldn´t in good conscience mark religious and was somehwat surprised by their reaction (I think I was the first, and perhaps the only, of the day). I was given a different certificate, my name was written in English instead of Latin, and definitely felt that I was looked at a bit differently. Oh well. We made our way to the cathedral around 11:30 in preparation for the mass. The mass, in Spanish, started at 12 and they actually began by reading the starting points and countries of origin of pilgrims who had finished on that day, it was pretty cool. I was ún pelegrino de Estados Unidos desde Sarria.´ Since the mass was in Spanish most of it was lost on me and it wasn´t as solemn as I had hoped since it was overrun by tourists (those who didn´t do the camino). However, they ended the service by swinging this immense incense burner across the archway over the congregation. I´ve been told it started because the smell of the pilgrims used to be so bad they used incense, but who knows, it was cool either way. Total Distance: 5 km.
HIGHLIGHTS
The most memorable events in my excursion was all my interactions. The list of nationalities is too long to mention but I think my favorite people to talk to were the Brazlians. Most who speak Portugese speak Spanish and since the languages are so close the often take a little more time and speak a little slower, which is more to my spanish level. Edmon was my Filipino travel partner. He had been studying philosphy and religion in Belgium for three years and was on his way back to the Phillipenes, probably to become a priest. It was great hearing about his customs and traditions and it was fun to share cultural stories. Pedro and Caralina were from Toledo and Pedro was a bullfighter, they both only spoke Spanish. Pedro had a very humble perspective but I could tell that he was good at his profession from the fact that he had been in it for 15 years and he fights annually in Madrid, the mecca for bullfighters. I talked a bit with him about Hemingway and was surprised he hadn´t read The Sun Also Rises.
My favorite moment was a morning when I was walking alone. Watching the fog lift and the sun paint the hillside made it almost look as if the earth was waking up, it was a perfect moment frozen in time and I will never forget it.
It´s interesting to hear the reasons why people do the camino. Some have lost a loved one, others are trying to figure out their lives, some do it for religion, and others just because it´s there. I´d say I landed in the later portion but already talked about the spirituality. There is also a grand commroderie amongst walkers. Not only is everyone a visitor away from their home, everyone is also a pilgrim. Everyone is so nice and so friendly and conversations are had even when people don´t speak the same language.
I am definitely putting this on my list of things to do, except next time I want to do the whole thing. Special thanks to Tony Kupersmith who actually did the whole thing awhile back and was a great help in planning my journey.
SPANISH KIDS
At first I felt a little bad about yelling at those kids. I was a guest in their country after all. Then I started to realize that we were all guests and that guilt went away. The situation is also unique in that the kids were actually operating within the techinal rules of the hostel. Quiet time was at 11pm and the height of their noise was around 10pm when i first asked them nicely to quiet down. The thing is, I wasn´t the first to ask. For those of you who read my description of the typical day, you know pilgrims turn in around nine or ten. Some of these people had walked 780 km and were trying to get a final nights rest before the service the next day. These kids come in, having walked probably about 50km with no packs and they are going to keep everyone up? I don´t think so. I was astonished most at the fact that their teachers were nowhere in sight, it turns out they were at the cafe having a beer or coffee. At this point was completely embarrased for the Spanish education system. All of the cultural experience was lost on these students who spent their time running around with their cell phones screaming instead of talking to pilgrims. They obviously knew nothing of the journey that the Camino entails and decided to make it more of a summer camp, and then their teachers weren´t even there to supervise them? Had I been their princepal heads would have rolled.
DAY 1
I took the overnight bus to Santiago from Madrid, which was a terrible mistake. The amount of sleep I got could be counted in minutes and not hours. Nonetheless, my eyes were jostled open as our bus navigated the windy streets of Santiago. At first I could see nothing, then I clear my eyes and still was lacking in vision. The city was covered in a blanket of fog thick enough to enduce legarthy on even the most energetic, it was really quite amazing. After arriving I made my way into the city trying to figure out how the hell I was going to complete this journey. This was, by far, my most unplanned and (and therefore liberating) experience yet. There is a breadth of information about the camino in books, but I could find none in English and had to rely on the little tidbits I could find online. Through the next 6 hours I attained my credential (like a passport, you get stamps along the way), packed my things, and took another bus out to my starting point. I started my journey at 3:30 pm in Sarria, although I´d say it really started at 4 since I spent a half hour wandering around trying to find the trail. My first leg took me up a great hill and into the countryside. I attained my first stamp at an old Romanesque church in Barbadelo and met Edmon, a Filipino I ended up walking with for the rest of the day. Exisitng along the trail are Alberques, many of which will house you for a donation (a euro or two) but the one we made it to was full that night so we either had to hike back 1.5 km or ahead 9. It was late, we hiked back and stayed at a private hostel. It was only 8 euros and probably one of the best nights sleep I´ve had while in Europe, though it spoiled me for the rest of the trip. Distance covered today: 14 km.
Day 2
I awoke around 8, packed my things, broke my fast and headed out. I enjoyed meeting Edmon and other travelers that evening and sharing stories but wanted a little time to myself. The sun doesn´t rise until around 8:30 or 9 so the morning is really peaceful and I had some time to reflect (on what, I don´t know). After about an hour and a half (7.5 km) I ended up meeting back up with Edmon and another couple we met the previous night, Pedro and Carolina. We spent the rest of the day navigating trails, tending to foot wounds, hydrating, eating, and conversing. At one point we ended up being slowed by a farmer and his cows and bulls. He was walking them to a field and they took up the entire road, I didn´t mind. The fun part was that a bus was actually trying to pass and the farmer made no effort to move his herd to the side of the road, but the bus driver didn´t seem to mind either. The trails took us through many small villages with friendly locals, everyone you see is greeted and if you see a fellow traveler (and you will usually see many) the common phrase is `buen camino,` or good walk, trip, etc. We made it to our stopping point in Palas de Rei around 4pm at a public hostel. My feet were absolutely killing me, but I had to keep walking around the city to keep my muscles from cramping. I prepared for the next day, got some food, read a little, then off to bed around 9:30 pm. Total Distance: 34 km.
DAY 3
The general schedule of a person on the camino is to wake early and start let´s say before 9AM, walk until 1 or 2, then take rest for the night. This is allow for time to wash clothes and still have sun to dry them and it also keeps one from walking in the mid-day heat (which there actually was in October). Today I decided to start my adventure solo again, figuring I´d meet up with Edmon along the way. I was a bit slower due to lactic acid and stiffness in my shoulders, knees, quads, and feet. Edmon, however, was in a similar situationa and I actually ended up walking the entire day by myself which turned out quite nice. I made it to Arzua a little before 3 pm and followed the nightly ritual mentioned above. Edmon actually ended up staying at the same hostel and we spent a good amount of time talking with some Spaniards and Portugese men. The Spaniards had been in our hostel the night before and they made great alarm clocks, once one of them was up, everyone was up. Since the Alberque I stayed in a public, most varied in size in quality. Last night I slept in a room with 10 people and the unisex showers had no doors. This one at least had mens and womens bathrooms but I was sleeping in a room of 32. I also had no sleeping bag and for the past two night was not provided a blanket, so I had to put all of my layers on and huddle in the fetal position for warmth as the nights got pretty cold and there was very little installation. Total Distance: 27 km.
DAY 4
After talking with the Spaniards Edmon and I had set our mind on a goal: Monte de Gozo. From Arzua we were a little more than 40 km from Santiago and are choice was either the aforementioned, which was 5km from Santiago or O Pino, 20km from the city. We wanted to be in the city by noon on Friday for the Pilgrams mass and decided a nice easy 5km stroll would be our best bet, problem being we had to walk 36 km that day to attain it. I taped up my feet, covered my blisters, put on a new pair of socks and hobbled out in hopes of making it there. The journey was brutal, not only on my feet and legs, but also my stomach. We were determined and rpessed on frequently but found ourselves hungry for lunch but without a restaurant, cafe or bar in sight (which are very common along the way). It took us 7km to find our welcome reprieve but boy did we enjoy it. Afterwards we only had 5km to our destination, which were damn tough as they were all uphill and I was pretty sure my feet were going to fall off. Monte de Gozo means ´hill of joy´because its the first place where you can see the Cathedral spires in the city. Although the cathedral is somewhat hard to see, it was certainly joyous for me since I had accomplished my goal. They developed a huge complex there to house thousands of pilgrams on their final night before their descent and it was actually quite nice. On my way up I was passed by a group of 13 yr olds on a field trip and thought how cool it would be to get to do this as part of your formal schooling, WRONG, NOT COOL! Those little shits spent the night running around yelling and screaming while pilgrims were trying to sleep. The security guard wanted nothing to do with them so Teacher Dan came out and started to regulate. At first I asked nicely in spanish, an hour later I asked sternly in spanish, then I started to angry in English and they got the point pretty quick. I´ll continue this aside below as there is more that I want to say but it doesn´t involve the camino. Once the kids were quiet our building could sleep and it was nice since i actually had a blanket this time. Total Distance: 35 km.
DAY 5
There was little that was going to stop me from reaching the city. 5 km downhil pailed in comparison to what I had done on previous days and even though I was stiff and soar, my excitement took over and carried me through. Edmon and I completed the journey down with relative ease and stopped in the Pelegrino (pilgrims) office to get our compostela. The compostela is the certificate saying you completed the walk, although you only have to do a minimum of 100 km, getting at least two stamps each day along the way. When getting your compostela you can either mark religious on non-religious reasons. I embarked on this journey in hopes of gaining a little solitude. Some time away from tv, internet, cell phones, iPods, etc. I would find it hard to believe that someone could complete the camino without feeling somewhat spiritual about it, even for those like me who embark without religious intent. Nonetheless, I couldn´t in good conscience mark religious and was somehwat surprised by their reaction (I think I was the first, and perhaps the only, of the day). I was given a different certificate, my name was written in English instead of Latin, and definitely felt that I was looked at a bit differently. Oh well. We made our way to the cathedral around 11:30 in preparation for the mass. The mass, in Spanish, started at 12 and they actually began by reading the starting points and countries of origin of pilgrims who had finished on that day, it was pretty cool. I was ún pelegrino de Estados Unidos desde Sarria.´ Since the mass was in Spanish most of it was lost on me and it wasn´t as solemn as I had hoped since it was overrun by tourists (those who didn´t do the camino). However, they ended the service by swinging this immense incense burner across the archway over the congregation. I´ve been told it started because the smell of the pilgrims used to be so bad they used incense, but who knows, it was cool either way. Total Distance: 5 km.
HIGHLIGHTS
The most memorable events in my excursion was all my interactions. The list of nationalities is too long to mention but I think my favorite people to talk to were the Brazlians. Most who speak Portugese speak Spanish and since the languages are so close the often take a little more time and speak a little slower, which is more to my spanish level. Edmon was my Filipino travel partner. He had been studying philosphy and religion in Belgium for three years and was on his way back to the Phillipenes, probably to become a priest. It was great hearing about his customs and traditions and it was fun to share cultural stories. Pedro and Caralina were from Toledo and Pedro was a bullfighter, they both only spoke Spanish. Pedro had a very humble perspective but I could tell that he was good at his profession from the fact that he had been in it for 15 years and he fights annually in Madrid, the mecca for bullfighters. I talked a bit with him about Hemingway and was surprised he hadn´t read The Sun Also Rises.
My favorite moment was a morning when I was walking alone. Watching the fog lift and the sun paint the hillside made it almost look as if the earth was waking up, it was a perfect moment frozen in time and I will never forget it.
It´s interesting to hear the reasons why people do the camino. Some have lost a loved one, others are trying to figure out their lives, some do it for religion, and others just because it´s there. I´d say I landed in the later portion but already talked about the spirituality. There is also a grand commroderie amongst walkers. Not only is everyone a visitor away from their home, everyone is also a pilgrim. Everyone is so nice and so friendly and conversations are had even when people don´t speak the same language.
I am definitely putting this on my list of things to do, except next time I want to do the whole thing. Special thanks to Tony Kupersmith who actually did the whole thing awhile back and was a great help in planning my journey.
SPANISH KIDS
At first I felt a little bad about yelling at those kids. I was a guest in their country after all. Then I started to realize that we were all guests and that guilt went away. The situation is also unique in that the kids were actually operating within the techinal rules of the hostel. Quiet time was at 11pm and the height of their noise was around 10pm when i first asked them nicely to quiet down. The thing is, I wasn´t the first to ask. For those of you who read my description of the typical day, you know pilgrims turn in around nine or ten. Some of these people had walked 780 km and were trying to get a final nights rest before the service the next day. These kids come in, having walked probably about 50km with no packs and they are going to keep everyone up? I don´t think so. I was astonished most at the fact that their teachers were nowhere in sight, it turns out they were at the cafe having a beer or coffee. At this point was completely embarrased for the Spanish education system. All of the cultural experience was lost on these students who spent their time running around with their cell phones screaming instead of talking to pilgrims. They obviously knew nothing of the journey that the Camino entails and decided to make it more of a summer camp, and then their teachers weren´t even there to supervise them? Had I been their princepal heads would have rolled.
Saturday, October 20, 2007
Hairlip Dan
In an effort to make myself as unattractive as possible I´ve decided to grow out my facial hair. For those of you that know me and know I only have to shave about once a week, you know that this is truly a daring feat. For those of you that don´t know me, know this: I don´t really have facial hair, stubble doesn´t exist, and what does grow is sparse and only present in the moustache/goatee area of my face. Better but, in the words of Dennis Miller from Joe Dirt `you mean you are so inbred with White Trash DNA that your facial hair actually grows in all white trashy like that?` Not his most poetic work but it gets the point across nicely.
The reasons for my doing so are threefold:
1) I get really lazy when it comes to shaving
2) Frugality - Shaving cream is expensive here and `travel size` doesn´t exist
3) Practicality - Shaving cream is bulky, takes up luggage space, and can´t make it through on a carry on
My previous record for days without shaving was somewhere around 12, leaving me looking slightly more masculine than your local 15 year old backwoods boy who is trying to impress his girlfriend/cousin. Right now I´say I´m somewhere around day 20, and although my manstache has grown in darker and thicker than previous there is one slight problem: very little hair grows below the bridge of my nose. I´m not sure if this is common among men and I just don´t have the fullness or if I am some kind of hairless freak, but I am left with what looks like a cleft between the two sides of my mustache: essentially a hairlip. It´s subtle but beautiful in it´s own oddity and I´ve decided to keep it, so from hear on own just assume that every interaction I talk about people are having to deal with covering up any reaction to my temporary oddity.
The reasons for my doing so are threefold:
1) I get really lazy when it comes to shaving
2) Frugality - Shaving cream is expensive here and `travel size` doesn´t exist
3) Practicality - Shaving cream is bulky, takes up luggage space, and can´t make it through on a carry on
My previous record for days without shaving was somewhere around 12, leaving me looking slightly more masculine than your local 15 year old backwoods boy who is trying to impress his girlfriend/cousin. Right now I´say I´m somewhere around day 20, and although my manstache has grown in darker and thicker than previous there is one slight problem: very little hair grows below the bridge of my nose. I´m not sure if this is common among men and I just don´t have the fullness or if I am some kind of hairless freak, but I am left with what looks like a cleft between the two sides of my mustache: essentially a hairlip. It´s subtle but beautiful in it´s own oddity and I´ve decided to keep it, so from hear on own just assume that every interaction I talk about people are having to deal with covering up any reaction to my temporary oddity.
Madrid
I arrived in Madrid on a Friday ready for an exciting weekend. That Friday was EL DIA DE ESPANA, somewhat similar to our independence day though I´m told it´s in honor of the military. I was supposed to meet a friend of a friend for a drink but those plans fell through at the last minute...oh well. The aforementioned actually serves as a pretty good example of one of the reoccuring themes of this trip: make due. It has been very seldom where what I have actually planned has come to fruition, nonetheless I have adjusted and it has worked out better than fine, just as it did in this case.
I actually ended up meeting up with a couple of Aussies and an American that night and we drank and talked until the wee hours. Although I would have preferred some spanish, after several weeks of immersion I was ready for some reprieve. The Aussies were great, the American not so much. He wasn´t one of those obnoxious over the top americans who embarass our country, but I could point him out as a fraud. He failed what I like to call the Shitmus test (supposed to rhyme litmus test, clever huh?), as in he´s full of shit. The general trend among travelers is to share stories and experiences and, if at all possible, a few recommendations; however, he would always try to one up everyone with his stories so I put him to the test. We were talking about Octoberfest as he had been too and obviously had a much more amazing time than me, so I put it to him asking him what he thought of the german´s playing John Denver all the time. He got up to give me a high five saying `hell yeah, leaving on a jet plane right!?!` WRONG! Could you imagine Germans swilling lager, holding hands and singing leaving on a jet plane? Might as well grab a guitar and bust out a rendition of Kum-By-Yah (spelling anyone?) he song is THANK GOD IM A COUNTRY BOY and anyone who has set foot in a beer tent knows it because they cram it down your throat with all sorts of versions, including a techno remix. He had been beaten, and though I chose not to share with the rest of group, he knew. Sorry, I had to get that off my chest, I had falsity.
Madrid itself is kind of cool. I´d compare it to a Philly (sorry Matt) in that it´s historical and cultural but you don´t really ever need to visit it more than once. I checked out the museo de Prado , Spain´s most famous art museum with works from all the Spanish greats (de Gama, Velasquez, etc.), pretty nice though my eye for art is not what it should be. I also enjoyed the museo de jamon (literally the museum of ham) which is a local restaurant that serves up E 1.20 ham sandwhiches that I pretty much lived off of while I was there as it´s an expensive city. On Sunday I got to check out the ATP Masters event that came to Madrid. I was with my Aussie friend and we went early and got to see Federer playing a practice match with a popular spanish player whose name escapes me right now. That alone was worth the 6 euro, but we also got to see five more hours of competitive tennis with some mid-level names...not bad. That night I headed off to Santiago de Compostela.
TERRORISM
I doubt many of you heard about this as I had to check on BBC.com for the international scoop, but the previous Tuesday, el dia de Valencia, a car bomb went off in Bilbao. This was in response to the day even though it was nowhere near valencia, Basque seperatists were trying to assasinate a mayor but felled. Nonetheless Madrid was on high alert for Friday as it has been a common target. I didn´t mention this previous as the common targets are usually mass transport, though in all fairness Spain´s high alert really just means police gaurds at stations, it´s not quite like in America. Spain is one of the few unfortunate countries that continually suffers from international and national terrorism. As many of you rememeber a few years back Al Quieda hit madrid in a parking lot at the train station, and for several decades Basque seperatists (the northern region) have targeted Spanish authorities and public areas in hopes of gaining there independence. It´s quite sad really but it was unable to quell the spanish thirst for celebration and the weekend went off without a hitch.
I actually ended up meeting up with a couple of Aussies and an American that night and we drank and talked until the wee hours. Although I would have preferred some spanish, after several weeks of immersion I was ready for some reprieve. The Aussies were great, the American not so much. He wasn´t one of those obnoxious over the top americans who embarass our country, but I could point him out as a fraud. He failed what I like to call the Shitmus test (supposed to rhyme litmus test, clever huh?), as in he´s full of shit. The general trend among travelers is to share stories and experiences and, if at all possible, a few recommendations; however, he would always try to one up everyone with his stories so I put him to the test. We were talking about Octoberfest as he had been too and obviously had a much more amazing time than me, so I put it to him asking him what he thought of the german´s playing John Denver all the time. He got up to give me a high five saying `hell yeah, leaving on a jet plane right!?!` WRONG! Could you imagine Germans swilling lager, holding hands and singing leaving on a jet plane? Might as well grab a guitar and bust out a rendition of Kum-By-Yah (spelling anyone?) he song is THANK GOD IM A COUNTRY BOY and anyone who has set foot in a beer tent knows it because they cram it down your throat with all sorts of versions, including a techno remix. He had been beaten, and though I chose not to share with the rest of group, he knew. Sorry, I had to get that off my chest, I had falsity.
Madrid itself is kind of cool. I´d compare it to a Philly (sorry Matt) in that it´s historical and cultural but you don´t really ever need to visit it more than once. I checked out the museo de Prado , Spain´s most famous art museum with works from all the Spanish greats (de Gama, Velasquez, etc.), pretty nice though my eye for art is not what it should be. I also enjoyed the museo de jamon (literally the museum of ham) which is a local restaurant that serves up E 1.20 ham sandwhiches that I pretty much lived off of while I was there as it´s an expensive city. On Sunday I got to check out the ATP Masters event that came to Madrid. I was with my Aussie friend and we went early and got to see Federer playing a practice match with a popular spanish player whose name escapes me right now. That alone was worth the 6 euro, but we also got to see five more hours of competitive tennis with some mid-level names...not bad. That night I headed off to Santiago de Compostela.
TERRORISM
I doubt many of you heard about this as I had to check on BBC.com for the international scoop, but the previous Tuesday, el dia de Valencia, a car bomb went off in Bilbao. This was in response to the day even though it was nowhere near valencia, Basque seperatists were trying to assasinate a mayor but felled. Nonetheless Madrid was on high alert for Friday as it has been a common target. I didn´t mention this previous as the common targets are usually mass transport, though in all fairness Spain´s high alert really just means police gaurds at stations, it´s not quite like in America. Spain is one of the few unfortunate countries that continually suffers from international and national terrorism. As many of you rememeber a few years back Al Quieda hit madrid in a parking lot at the train station, and for several decades Basque seperatists (the northern region) have targeted Spanish authorities and public areas in hopes of gaining there independence. It´s quite sad really but it was unable to quell the spanish thirst for celebration and the weekend went off without a hitch.
Saturday, October 13, 2007
Alicante
My first thought when our bus pulled into the city was "I made a mistake, I should have lived here." My first sight was the beach, which spanned the city and was absolutely gorgeous. There was also a port with a multitude of sail boats and it helped that it was a maginificent day. This was my first trip without booking a hostel ahead of time so I was a bit tentative but also proud of my new nomadic tendency. Finding a hostel was no problem and after settling in I headed straight for the beach (a block away). I never would have thought I'd be spending time on the beach in mid-october so it was a welcome surprise. I decided to hold off on the picture taking until the next day as I was so exited to just ramble about the city.
That night I went out to two bars, el coscorron and coyote ugly. The first claims to be the oldest bar in the city. Dating back to 1936, it gets its name from the bump on your head you're likely to get from walkin in under the 4ft door. It's made even smaller by the fact that you have to step down immediately after, I swear it was meant for hobbits! Cool bar though. Although it sounds like a cop-out, my trip to Coyote Ugly afterwards actually was somewhat cultural. I'd never been to one before and although I'd imagine the ones in the states are a bit wilder, this still had value. The port in Alicante juts a few hundred meters out into the water and a string of restaurants and bars line it, Coyote Ugly is one of them. A midnight beer while gazing upon calm waters and beautiful boats isn't a bad way to spend a night.
I'd have to say the most memorable part of the evening happened during my trip to the port. There's only one way in and as I wandered along I was acosted by some very upfront prostitutes, shouting "you want sexy" and "sexy time." Fortunately I was able to contain my laughter until after I had passed them. On my way back I tried to be stealth and walk on the other side and literally had one of them chasing me down shouting various sexual propositions to me...no more port.
DAY 2
I awoke to the sound of rain...not good. After a quick breakfast and a walk through the rain I decided I was going to hike up to this castle that is situated 200 meters up on a hill along the water. It seems very out of place but is really quite a spectacle. I made it about a fourth of the way of when lightening split the sky, this was not the time to test fate. I headed back down, kicking myself for assuming the weather was going to be as good as the previous day. I filled sometime by planning future excursions, reading, and doing a bit of writing. In the afternoon the rain continued but the storm has subsided so I made my journey up to the castle. The scenes were spectacular (city, ocean, coast, etc.) but culturally, the castle wasn't much.
I started my evening with some more reading as the weather poured down. As I was heading back from the port to grab some dinner I noticed the rain had increased substantially (especially for someone who only had a poncho). The silver lining, however, is that I saw the most vivrent rainbow of my life stretching across the port. I snapped what was probably the most amazing picure I've ever taken and noticed an added bonus- the castle in the background actually had a second (though somewhat faded) rainbow coming out of the top.
That night I went out to a disco for "happy hour" which was from midnight until 2am, I felt embarrased leaving before it ended. In the end, I decided Alicante is nice for a weekend but I'm glad I didn't live there, it's a bit too small and the beach is too much of a distraction.
CAMINO
I'm starting my walk on the camino tomorrow so I'll be 'going dark'for about a week. Look for another update around next sunday.
That night I went out to two bars, el coscorron and coyote ugly. The first claims to be the oldest bar in the city. Dating back to 1936, it gets its name from the bump on your head you're likely to get from walkin in under the 4ft door. It's made even smaller by the fact that you have to step down immediately after, I swear it was meant for hobbits! Cool bar though. Although it sounds like a cop-out, my trip to Coyote Ugly afterwards actually was somewhat cultural. I'd never been to one before and although I'd imagine the ones in the states are a bit wilder, this still had value. The port in Alicante juts a few hundred meters out into the water and a string of restaurants and bars line it, Coyote Ugly is one of them. A midnight beer while gazing upon calm waters and beautiful boats isn't a bad way to spend a night.
I'd have to say the most memorable part of the evening happened during my trip to the port. There's only one way in and as I wandered along I was acosted by some very upfront prostitutes, shouting "you want sexy" and "sexy time." Fortunately I was able to contain my laughter until after I had passed them. On my way back I tried to be stealth and walk on the other side and literally had one of them chasing me down shouting various sexual propositions to me...no more port.
DAY 2
I awoke to the sound of rain...not good. After a quick breakfast and a walk through the rain I decided I was going to hike up to this castle that is situated 200 meters up on a hill along the water. It seems very out of place but is really quite a spectacle. I made it about a fourth of the way of when lightening split the sky, this was not the time to test fate. I headed back down, kicking myself for assuming the weather was going to be as good as the previous day. I filled sometime by planning future excursions, reading, and doing a bit of writing. In the afternoon the rain continued but the storm has subsided so I made my journey up to the castle. The scenes were spectacular (city, ocean, coast, etc.) but culturally, the castle wasn't much.
I started my evening with some more reading as the weather poured down. As I was heading back from the port to grab some dinner I noticed the rain had increased substantially (especially for someone who only had a poncho). The silver lining, however, is that I saw the most vivrent rainbow of my life stretching across the port. I snapped what was probably the most amazing picure I've ever taken and noticed an added bonus- the castle in the background actually had a second (though somewhat faded) rainbow coming out of the top.
That night I went out to a disco for "happy hour" which was from midnight until 2am, I felt embarrased leaving before it ended. In the end, I decided Alicante is nice for a weekend but I'm glad I didn't live there, it's a bit too small and the beach is too much of a distraction.
CAMINO
I'm starting my walk on the camino tomorrow so I'll be 'going dark'for about a week. Look for another update around next sunday.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
El Dia de Valenica
So I left Valencia on October 10th, but fortunately for me El Dia de Valencia was on October 9th. The day is a celebration that would equal a combination of our valentine´s day and 4th of july. It´s actually in honor of King Jaime´s expulsion of the Moors (or is it Moops?) from the city in the mid-thirteenth century. As the celebrations began hundreds of year ago, the use of fire was prohibited. In order to stick it to the man, bakers made pastries in the form of fireworks and those were based around. This eventually transformed into scarves that are wrapped in the form of rockets (think conical) and filled with sweets, the tradional gift on this day. I wish I could have partaken in this cultural treat, but as many of you know I gave up eating desserts for new years (and what many of you don´t know is that I also gave up eating scarves).
The night before ´the big day´ I was at my spanish-english conversations at a local bar and ended up meeting up with some locals and a few of their german friends. We made our way to the fireworks in the Rio (as desribed in an earlier entry) around 11:30 as they were to start around Midnight. I have to admit my bias that I had a feeling these were going to be the best fireworks I had ever seen...they didn´t disappoint. I was taken aback by a 45 minute show that literally made my teeth shake in my mouth. Adding to the effect was the booming echo that could be heard (and felt) reverberating through the city. I kid you not, someone who was both deaf and blind could have enjoyed this show. It took place in three acts, with the final act being the Grand Finale, which also had three parts. The first two were simulatenous burts of fire from both bottom and top, in white and orange colors that made it look as if it was raining fire on an erupting volcano. The last was a similar display in a variety of colors that almost induced an epileptic seizure. The show ended a little before one but my newly acquired mates and I were lacking in our search for the next thing to do. I had expected the Valencians to make this a raucous night but left around 2AM slightly disappointed.
I made my way downtown the next day for the parade and it was unlike´any I´d ever seen. The procession itself is not that long, but it stops frequently and acts are performed. Dances, fireworks (they love fire), and reinactments of Christians cahsing out the Moors all unfolded in front of my eyes. It was quite a site. That evening I made my way back to the Rio where I had seen them setting up a stage the day before. It was to the left side of one of the main fountains, placed in a pool that is equal to about the size of your standard swimming pool. All around the pool were tents setup for children to play, etc. Just before the event ended there was a procession. First came the nights, who looked very Christian and rode horses to the sound of trumpets. Next came a group a joksters that I would equate to Ken Kesey´s merry meddlers they held oversized plastic mallets and would prank people by tapping them on the head. I´m not sure of the significance of them, nor the following act, but it was incredible. Men wearing flame retardant suits started in one corner and were doing incredible things with fireworks. By incredible, I mean insanely stupid. All of them had lit fireworks in their hands and even though they had gloves and suits, no masks were worn. Some would push exploding carts and others would jump in and out of explosions. Then they proceded around the pool, fireworks in hand, and began to spray the crown with sparks. They had no boundaries or concern for safety as they would run directly at you, spraying the sparks on the ground. The crowd didn´t seem to mind and I didn´t either. I even noticed one guy who decided to use his firework as a fallacy. I´d chastise him, but there´s a distinct possibility that I would have done the same. What a way to leave Valencia huh?
The night before ´the big day´ I was at my spanish-english conversations at a local bar and ended up meeting up with some locals and a few of their german friends. We made our way to the fireworks in the Rio (as desribed in an earlier entry) around 11:30 as they were to start around Midnight. I have to admit my bias that I had a feeling these were going to be the best fireworks I had ever seen...they didn´t disappoint. I was taken aback by a 45 minute show that literally made my teeth shake in my mouth. Adding to the effect was the booming echo that could be heard (and felt) reverberating through the city. I kid you not, someone who was both deaf and blind could have enjoyed this show. It took place in three acts, with the final act being the Grand Finale, which also had three parts. The first two were simulatenous burts of fire from both bottom and top, in white and orange colors that made it look as if it was raining fire on an erupting volcano. The last was a similar display in a variety of colors that almost induced an epileptic seizure. The show ended a little before one but my newly acquired mates and I were lacking in our search for the next thing to do. I had expected the Valencians to make this a raucous night but left around 2AM slightly disappointed.
I made my way downtown the next day for the parade and it was unlike´any I´d ever seen. The procession itself is not that long, but it stops frequently and acts are performed. Dances, fireworks (they love fire), and reinactments of Christians cahsing out the Moors all unfolded in front of my eyes. It was quite a site. That evening I made my way back to the Rio where I had seen them setting up a stage the day before. It was to the left side of one of the main fountains, placed in a pool that is equal to about the size of your standard swimming pool. All around the pool were tents setup for children to play, etc. Just before the event ended there was a procession. First came the nights, who looked very Christian and rode horses to the sound of trumpets. Next came a group a joksters that I would equate to Ken Kesey´s merry meddlers they held oversized plastic mallets and would prank people by tapping them on the head. I´m not sure of the significance of them, nor the following act, but it was incredible. Men wearing flame retardant suits started in one corner and were doing incredible things with fireworks. By incredible, I mean insanely stupid. All of them had lit fireworks in their hands and even though they had gloves and suits, no masks were worn. Some would push exploding carts and others would jump in and out of explosions. Then they proceded around the pool, fireworks in hand, and began to spray the crown with sparks. They had no boundaries or concern for safety as they would run directly at you, spraying the sparks on the ground. The crowd didn´t seem to mind and I didn´t either. I even noticed one guy who decided to use his firework as a fallacy. I´d chastise him, but there´s a distinct possibility that I would have done the same. What a way to leave Valencia huh?
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