So... in the last episode of "Where was Charles", I was on a night train heading south out of Paris. I had spent so much time learning some French before the trip, I didn't want to leave France just yet, but suddenly, I didn't have a choice. Early in the morning, the train pulled into Irún, a Spanish town bordering France. The station wasn't exactly a glittering hub of modern transportation. It was small, run down, and the only major city it connected to was Madrid. Hmm, Madrid. The only city I planned on visiting in Spain was Barcelona, since I was flying out of there. And to be honest, I wasn't too interested in Spanish culture. Madrid... hmm... nah. I quickly hopped on a train that took me back to the French side of the border. A couple minutes later, the train screeched into the Hendaye station. I looked up at the electronic timetable and saw that I missed the train to Bordeaux, and there weren't trains running to any other major cities but Paris. Gosh darn it! I took the train back to Irún (luckily, they were frequent and quick). It looks like I have no choice but to go to Madrid after all. But as I was going to learn in the next few days... getting stuck in Spain was probably the best mistake I made on my trip. |
"FIGHT NIGHT"
Present day Iran.
The Spanish countryside.
It brought back memories of roadtripping across the
American Southwest.
When I arrived at the Madrid's Chamartin station,
this was my first
impression of the city. Umm... when's the next train out of here?
Madrid has the second largest metro system in Europe after London.
This surprised me considering how extensive Paris' was. Jeez, how
massive is London's underground then?
For some reason, there were no vacancies at the hostels recommended
by my guidebook. I considered just hanging out a bit and leaving on a
night train, but then thought I'd see if Alvaro, another friend I made at the
Killarney work camp, could help me out. I called him up (payphones in
Spain
steal your money by the way), and he said he'd be happy to have
me over for a
couple days. What can I say, having international friends is
totally awesome.
Spanish kids. Real Spanish kids. Not American ghetto wannabe thugs.
I'm sorry. It's just that in my town, when you hear a girl screaming
something in Spanish, get ready to dodge a punch. It was surprising to
hear Spanish spoken so beautifully by such European looking people.
This is more like it. Alvaro told me to meet him at the Atocha train station.
It sure looks nicer than the Chamartin one, there's a freakin' jungle in the
middle of it for God's sake.
This is the station that the trains attacked in the
M-11 terrorist bombings were coming in to, killing almost 200 passengers
on March 11, 2004. Alvaro told me that the city recovered quite quickly
after the attacks. Maybe Spain's long history of
Basque
Separatist terror
attacks prepared them to deal with it. Not like America, where we have no
coping skills, and politicians use any national tragedy to manipulate their
own political agendas.
Hello.
Jamón is a specialty cured ham served raw in thin
slices. Hopefully I'll try some before I leave.
The Bear and the
Strawberry Tree is the symbol of Madrid.
The geographical center of Spain. Right... Here.
This guy was one of my favorite street performers. He didn't do much.
But try holding that position for five minutes yourself without moving
an inch. It's harder than it looks.
That night, Alvaro gathered his friends for some eating, drinking, and
good times. It was such a different feeling than in Paris. So much more
relaxed and unpretentious. The tall guy, Lucas, worked in China for
some time, and we talked about Hangzhou and the beautiful West Lake;
small world. The guy in the middle, Emilio, spoke REALLY LOUD, but
was a really nice guy. Sometimes he'd say something while sitting next
to Alvaro, and Alvaro would cover his ear. It was funny. The girl on the
left is Aurora, Emilio's girlfriend. They were perfect for each together.
We walked around the city for quite a while looking for a place to eat.
One of their favorites was closed because the owner recently passed
away. People left their prayers on the entrance. The girl on the left
is Martina from Slovenia. She had a very American accent, like a
midwestern nasally drawl. We couldn't figure out why.
And that's Alvaro. We finally found some seating at an outdoor cafe.
It took a lot of exciting maneuvering and strategy to steal
the
table
from another group. We had delicious mini-pizzas, and I washed it
down with
summer wine,
a refreshing mix of red wine and soda.
A firedancer entertaining the crowd. That night, walking around the city at
1... 2... 3AM, the streets were still crowded with
people and life. And not
just young and trendy people going
to clubs,
but everybody, even older
couples, enjoying their life, filling the street cafes and restaurants. And the
weather was so mild and calm, I almost forgot I was outside. In that one
night, I went from feeling "...eh..." about Spain, to "WOW" about Spain.
Breakfast, bread with fried tomato sauce Alvaro made himself.
So simple, but so delicious.
Road rage, Spanish style.
There's something neat about this statue. Can you figure it out?
"No photo". Sorry, man blocking photons with hand,
already done.
Royal Palace of Madrid, this was once the residence for Spanish Royalty,
but the present king, Juan Carlos, lives in a smaller one outside the city.
This palace is still used for important functions once in a while.
The Royal Armory
All of this armor belonged to Carlos V, Holy Roman Emperor and
King of Spain during first half of the 16th century. Under his reign,
Spain toppled the Aztec and Incan empires.
Wow, if this is intimidating for you, imagine being an Indian from the Americas
back in the 16th century. I can see why they thought Conquistadors were gods.
Really... Really big guns.
We continued on into the palace to explore the
extravagance and gaudiness of royalty.
The throne room.
I saw more chandeliers that morning than I had ever
seen in my entire life.
Ca-ca-can yo-yo-you pa-pa-pass th-th-the sa-sa-salt ple-ple-please.
"Hey dude, what's up?"
Reminds me of something from Harry Potter. "
Fluxweed, Horn of bicorn,
Knotgrass, Lacewing flies, Leeches and Skin of Boomslang... Please."
Not exactly Pfizer.
Jamón tostados for lunch. This restaurant was strange. It felt being
inside someone's apartment, and all the furniture and dishes were
from IKEA. That's the great thing about hanging out with someone
who knows the city. I would've never found this place on my own.
Damn Chinese people, can't escape them. There's no denying they're
hard working people though. They filled the streets at night selling
souvenirs and beer they stored underneath sewer grates.
Fun
el baño
A relaxing way to spend an autumn afternoon.
Minnie Mouse selling balloon swords to kids in a park... Only one
more event to complete this battle themed day.
Las Ventas... the Yankee Stadium of bullfighting. I never expected I'd
have a chance to see a bullfight, but I really lucked out. Not only are
they only held once a week, this was the last event of the season.
My mom asked me before I left to buy her a magnet from all the
places I visited... of course I didn't, but it was nagging me that I
was being such a horrible
son though, so I her got one here.
Alvaro helped me buy tickets the night before online. It was quite
hectic when I got there, fighting my way through the crowd to find
out where to pick up my ticket. I couldn't find a ticket window and
had to ask around to figure out where it was ("ask", I don't speak
Spanish, so it was more like show my confirmation code and grunt).
One guy pointed me to the next gate, nothing there, so I asked the
guy at the next gate. He points me back in the opposite direction.
I kept on searching for some invisible Harry Potter gate, when I finally
noticed a small automatic ticket machine against the wall. Who knew
a modern day convenience would become so inconvenient? By the
way, €10 for 24th row seats in the sun. I can't complain one bit.
A modern day colosseum. The electric atmosphere was
incredible. I was sitting
next to some old men who seemed to know their
bullfighting well. They watched
intensely... cheering, jeering, and yelling insults at the matador's
every
mistake.
I didn't understand why at first; it was all entertainment to me. But by about the
third match-up, I started recognizing the things the matador did that made the
crowd react, and soon enough, I was cheering and and booing along with them.
Warning, next few pictures not PETA friendly.
THRUST! During the two hour event, there were six bull fights. It's more of a
ritual or ceremony than a fight really. I can't imagine a matador lasting more
than a minute against a full strength bull. To begin each round, a mounted
lancer first weakened the bull with a spear to the back. The crowd often booed
here, especially when the bull gushed a lot of blood from the wound. So it's
okay to cheat, but not cheat too bad.
This was the fun part, the bull would chase the matador
around, and he'd thrust two daggers into the back while
dodging at the same time. I never figured out
why the
crowd sometimes booed and sometimes cheered here.
He did this three times. Six daggers total.
An elegant dance of man and beast.
As if all the wounds weren't enough of a disadvantage to the bull,
there were always back-up matadors on standby
in case
the main
one got in a sticky situation.
The matador's duty is to appear graceful confident over the bull
during the ceremony. The final death blow is dealt by a sword
to the back of the neck. A skilled matador would deliver it in
one
swift attack. Some of them missed bad, and the sword fell out...
the crowd really showed their disapproval
then.
Ugh... the worst
was
when the bull just wouldn't die because the sword strike
wasn't
fatal. It would stagger around for a few minutes until
the matador finally stuck a dagger through the top of the head.
That was nasty!
Cue the Spanish trumpets... time for the next match up!
Brutal. I love it!
Hello again.
I'm so happy I stayed in Madrid.
Potato chips sold by weight... after all this time, I still couldn't
figure
out the metric system. I just wanted a handful. Who knew 100
grams
would fill up a whole bag? 100
grams didn't seem like much
when
I
was ordering cheese.
People out and about late at night. I love it.
"ALALALALALHAMBRA"
Baguette for breakfast. Not nearly as good as in France. Not even close.
Since I didn't anticipate being in Spain, I asked Alvaro's advice as to
where I should go next. He recommended I visit Granada and see the
Alhambra. I had no idea what the Alhambra was, but who am I to argue
with a Spaniard as to what's worth seeing in Spain? He made a call to
check for tickets... no luck. I told him I'd figure it out when I get there.
Alvaro wished
me luck, and the next morning, I was on my way...
But
not before accidentally ringing the doorbell at six in the morning thinking
it was the light switch. Oops, sorry Alvaro.
Some more Spanish countryside. It still looks like New Mexico to me.
They don't use the terms 1st and 2nd class in the Spanish rail system.
I'm Turista class. I take offense.
Who's idea was it to make school girl uniforms so kinky?
Road construction was going on everywhere in Spain. It was ugly.
Try squeezing your big American SUV through that.
Maybe if you guys weren't always on break, the work would get done.
Granada is a small city, so it doesn't take long to get from place to place...
that is... if you know the way. The hostel I booked was in the Albayzín,
a maze of narrow winding streets in the medieval Moorish neighborhood.
After the initial excitement about my
new surroundings, wandering around
with a heavy bag sticking to my back with sweat started
sucking... then
I finally spotted relief overhead.
The view from the hostel's rooftop patio.
The fortress on the top of the hill is the Alhambra. It doesn't look like much from here,
but for hundreds of years, it was the palace of the Moorish Sultans. The Moors were
Muslims who occupied the Spain since the 8th century. La Alhambra was their
last
European stronghold before Christian Spaniards finally forced them out in 1492.
I'll have the suicide platter please.
I had to finally try the "Magnum" for myself.
How could I resist? I mean, look at her.
That's progress right there.
I guess if you're gonna buy a classical guitar, Spain
is the place to do it.
A street near the hostel.
That's Carl from California. He'd been backpacking Europe for a while
too, and our paths crossed here. He heard about an area of the city
with block after block of graffiti art, we went on a journey to find it.
Carl was funny... strapped for cash from his travels, he was living
on
a milk diet.
Damn hoodlums terrorizing neighborhoods with their... their... art.
A guitar maker
Poor pigeons. All they want is a place to sit down.
The hostel offered a satisfying paella dinner for a paltry
€3.50... sangria included. Fabulous!
The Alhambra lit up at night. That evening, a group of us from the hostel went out
looking for flamenco dancing. I thought it would be cheap... even free, like a
street
performance. Instead, a ticket to watch a show was a ridiculous €20. Hell no.
It's a
shame though. The women
flinging around their skirts while stomping out a rhythm
on stage looked really entertaining.
Juliana, Natalie, Reed. American, Canadian, Canadian.
Hooray for free internet. It was nice to hang out with Americans
for a change. We can talk about things like football and Myspace.
La Alhambra... it's fun to say. Here's why Alvaro was hoping to get me
tickets ahead of time. Unlike most other tourist sites, only a set number of
visitors are allowed in the Alhambra each day. Most are pre-booked, and
the remaining 2,000 tickets are first come, first serve. That might seem like
a lot, but for an attraction this popular, 2,000 is nothing. So the folks from
the hostel and I planned the night before to meet up early in the morning.
How early? 7AM. Okay... 7AM doesn't seem very early now that I'm back
to work. But when you're backpacking and out late at night, and you
don't
really have to be anywhere, waking up at 6:30 to visit some hill
seems
ridiculous. Especially when the gates don't even open until 8:30. Anyway,
we all gathered in black of predawn hours and took a short bus ride to the
Alhambra. When we arrived, there were already well over 1,000 people
standing in a line that snaked back and forth in front of the entrance.
Crazy... it felt like we were camping for concert tickets or a Playstation 3.
We passed the time by playing a game where we named music bands.
Over two hours later, we finally made it to the front of the queue...
it better be worth it.
Folks from last night. The guy on the left is Dan from Australia.
Guess his age.
awww... how sweet... GET UP!!!
Inside the Alhambra, we feasted our eyes on sumptuous gardens and
breathtaking scenery.
Looks like somebody woke up on the wrong side of the cat bed.
The tower stands watch over the city.
Neglect and
vandalism over the centuries left some areas in ruins.
Granada
Looking fashionable with our audio tour guides. As we explored the park, a
woman's voice told a colorful narration of the area's history. To enhance the
mood, mystical music and sounds of
everyday life played in the background.
Sorry, but even with the best imagination, you can't turn a pile of rocks into
a bustling street market.
Small details intrigue me.
After spending an hour looking at rotting bricks, we finally entered the
Nasrid Palace. The plain exterior of the Alhambra could not prepare us
for what we were about to witness.
This is a detail of the exquisite
filigree carvings that covered the walls... all the walls. Insane.
The element of water is used throughout the palace
to create serenity and harmony.
Oh my Allah... photography can't do this place justice.
Since figurative imagery is prohibited in Islam, beautiful
Arabic calligraphy adorn the walls.
The Court of Lions. When I entered and saw the fountain, it sparked a memory in me,
like I'd seen this place before in a dream.
Quite different from the frescos that decorate cathedrals, but stunning nonetheless.
More gardens, not Moorish gardens. When the Spanish took over, they
added areas that suited to their European tastes. Fortunately, they didn't
destroy everything else in the process. By the way, it was here that a guy
named Christopher Columbus asked King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella
to fund a little voyage he had in mind.
They don't have fish in China?
What the
hell
is
so captivating?
"They just look like fish to me"
A totally out of place Catholic church.
A flower blooming in the exquisite gardens.
A hand rail that had a stream of water flowing down
the middle. Pretty nifty.
While Juliana, Dan, and I went on a quest to find food, we ran into
another guest from the hostel.
I had mint lemonade with him the
night before. They put mint in freakin' everything here.
That plate of food was FREE. WHAT???
In southern regions of Spain,
beers are typically served with appetizers called tapas. Usually they're
small plates of stuff like olives or fried seafood, but this bar we went
to practically served whole meals. After three beers and three plates
of
tapas for only €4.50, I was thoroughly satisfied.
Cheers to Spain and free food. Go to a trendy "tapas bar" in America
and you'll have to pay for trendy little appetizers at trendy high prices.
Dan was 29 by the way. Surprising.
The street markets of the Albayzín exploded with the sights, sounds, and smells
of North Africa. I can totally see why Alvaro directed me here now. It was a nice
change from the rest of Europe I'd experienced. The little groove that ran down
the middle of the roads amused me.
Back at in the hostel lounge chillin' and writing some words in my
journal. This hostel was really chill and relaxed. I helped myself
to free tea, free internet, then took a nap on the couch.
You use it, you wash it, one of the principles of hostel life. Wow...
thinking
back to just last year when Id never stayed at a hostel
before... I can't believe all I was missing.
The military defends America with guns. Travelers learn to defend
America with diplomacy.
Mary Poppins is cheap and available.
sm:)e
Kids returning home from school.
The vibrant colors of the street market.
Tea drinking is an art in Granada. Numerous Moroccan tea houses line
the streets, and shops sell all sorts of fancy teas. I really wanted to
bring some home, but figured going through customs with a bag of
dried leaves isn't a good idea.
The wonderful little tapas bar we visited earlier.
A selection of hookahs.
*cue epic music* In a game without mercy... two pawns... stand tall
against the army of darkness... to protect their king.
That night, I boarded a train to my last destination in Spain, Barcelona.
The plan... 3 days relaxing on warm Mediterranean beaches. I figured
it would be my last chance to see the sun before London. I marked
in the last travel day on my eurail pass. Finished. Goodbye trains.
"FINAL FANTASY"
That's David from New Zealand, one of the victims of my masterful
chess skills (usually I suck and karate chop the board in frustration,
but I think traveling has made me smarter). He took the train with
me
from Granada to Barcelona... except he's a lawyer
and could
afford
a couchette. Damn him.
After navigating the metro and finding his hostel, we
parted ways. I was staying elsewhere.
My hostel. It was okay. The steadily falling rain was a bummer.
The dorms were more like treehouses. It's almost like I had my own
Japanese apartment. The privacy was nice, but it wasn't conducive
to meeting other guests.
Shake it.
La Seu is one of Barcelona's most famous structures,
so naturally, it was being repaired during my stay.
Many statues in Barcelona commemorate its seafaring heritage.
It's all about the details.
Barcelona features some of the world's most original and creative
architecture mainly because of one guy, Antoni Gaudí. The city
is
full of work he created in the late 19th early 20th century in
the
Art Nouveau, Catalan Modernisme style. He distinguished himself
by
creating outrageous organic forms inspired by nature.
This isn't by Gaudí, but it's another example of
Modernisme architecture.
Who knew a lamp can be so fantastical?
This is what happens when a four year old gets a hold of the blueprints.
By late afternoon, my stomach was cursing at me. I found a buffet
for €8...
every tempting, but I needed to
budget my few remaining
euro. Instead, I paid €4 and filled a carryout container to the
brim...
food spilling all over the place. Just trying to get my money's worth.
La Rambla is the famous one kilometer long pedestrian walkway full
of street performers, artists, and souvenir vendors. Also home to
several
Burger Kings.
Nuria, my friend from Poggio Catino, is from Barcelona. I figured
she'd be busy with school though, so I didn't call her up.
OKAY!
Che Guevara back from the dead.
I was thirsty, so I stopped at a stand to buy a soda.
The guy told me €2... What??? No way. The man at
the very next stand, overhears our conversation and
offers the same one for €1. GREAT SUCCESS!
This street performer's antics kept the crowd on the
edge of their seat.
The absolute lamest street performance act ever.
At the end of La Rambla is the Columbus monument. This is where he landed
after returning from the New World.
(insert racist comment here)
So much for getting a tan. The afternoon was cool, breezy, cloudy, and damp from the
morning rain... and that was the nice weather!
Oh no! It's about to topple over!
This guy's making the most of the weather.
Clouds
Demonstrations on M-11. Not very exciting, mostly old people.
What ever happened to Ken? He dumped Barbie
for an anime girlfriend.
A dramatically lit building.
That night, I signed up for a tapas / flamenco / pub crawl activity offered
by the hostel. For €15, I was expecting something more satisfying. That
is a really lame serving of beer.
Energy saving elegance.
The flamenco performance was the highlight of my stay in Barcelona.
The guitar playing was absolutely mesmerizing.
The guy sitting in the middle sang with an incredibly passionate and agony
filled voice. I didn't understand what he was saying, but there's no doubt
it was about a lost love.
I totally expected the girl to dance, fling her skirt
around, and stomp out a rhythm. But all she did was stand there and clap
her hands tentatively and off beat. Instead, the man danced. I quickly
got over the disappointment of not seeing the girl dance once he started
creating magic with his feet. It was simply astounding. Unfortunately, it all
ended way too soon. The show was supposed to last one hour, but they
all left the stage after only performing for half that time. We all sat there
hoping it was an intermission, but then the tour guy told us it was over.
Olé!
Finally we went to an Irish pub. Having had my fill of Irish pubs in
Ireland, this was lame. I left after my free drink...
...and had real food.
Me being contained.
Me being overwhelmed.
Old folks playing something like bocce ball on the street.
Hard hats, earmuffs, 3D goggles, gloves, boots, nerds,
bungee jumpers, and mousetraps allowed. But no humans.
And the rain came down.
That's Aiden, we were hanging out the night before during the flamenco
tour thing. Alright... friends from home... tell me he is not a clone of
Brian Agrawal.
Wow... that automatic parallel parking feature is amazing!
Me being statue.
We visited Park Güell, another Antoni Gaudí creation.
The whole place was absolutely surreal, like a level
out of a Final Fantasy game.
I'm interested in seeing how fingerless man is going to pick that up.
Something like that is just asking to be climbed.
Totally Final Fantasy.
Barcelona fades into the Mediterranean sea in the distance. A dense layer of smog
hovers over the city.
Penis
Oh my goodness, look how skinny I'd become!
Gaudí used colorful mosaic designs in many of his projects. It made me want to
create some when I got home. Of course I haven't yet, I'm lazy.
Cold and soaked to the bone. Yet, instead of being rational and taking the metro
back to the hostel, we walked an hour in the pouring rain.
The hostel looked more fun and friendly than it really was.
The world's most famous construction project. This is
Gaudí's unfinished masterpiece,
La Sagrada Família.
He began the project in the late 1800's and it won't be
completed until 2026, 100 years after his death!
Once completed, the basilica will have 18 towers, and surpass
the
Ulm Münster as the tallest church in the world.
Ridiculous.
To me, the building almost looks alive. The attention
to detail is sublime.
Casa Milà... again... Gaudí.
"Hey dude, what's up"
YAY!
Why Charles? Why? Because after a whole day without a proper meal,
a culinary adventure was the last thing on my mind, and mounds of
satisfying artery clogging meat was.
La Rambla. I was looking forward to enjoying a night of free street performances.
Fuckin' rain ruined everything.
Wow... I remember when Dunkin Donuts was just a local chain
serving the New England area. They've come a long way.
This looks like a random picture, but it's a reminder to myself of
the internet room in the hostel... and the damn German kids who
stayed online for hours with no consideration for the other people
in the room waiting to use a computer. I should've kicked them...
...out... I should've kicked them out.
The morning I was leaving Barcelona, the rains finally surrendered to
beautiful Mediterranean skies. Thank you irony.
Barcelona's Arc de Triomf, different.
Delicious.
That morning I boarded a bus to Girona, where the airport serving
Ryanair is located. An hour on the road is a small price to pay
for
a ¢1 flight.
Goodbye Catalonia. Goodbye Spain. Goodbye continental Europe.
Eleven countries down, one to go.
Backpacker Rule #25: Go to Spain (even if you think you don't want to)