Not the best picture but I was in a hurry to get to my train at Union Station on the right. I always love looking up at the Sears Tower. As a kid it was the only way I could distinguish the Chicago skyline from the New York skyline and it still means Chicago to me.
1 year, 1 month, and 17 days have passed since I last posted. What a mess. Here's what has happened, what is happening, and what I hope will happen for the future of this blog and my life.
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I never really know how to write about my more intense travels because I often try to do and see so much that it's overwhelming to even think about writing it all out. For some reason Emma, Meg, and I let our strange obsession with ABBA run wild during the last puente and their songs sort of punctuated our entire journey. So, dear reader, I now invite you to open your preferred music library and find ABBA's Greatest Hits album, Gold (I know you have it), and allow your four favorite Swedes to accompany you on an Irish expedition.
Friday, Track 1: Dancing Queen
Our mornings (when we had a room to ourselves, at least) were often kicked off by that great piano slide at the beginning of this track. We began our trip with an early morning out of Madrid, landing in Dublin and finding our hostel around 1pm. The weather was a bit glum (surprise) but the skies eventually cleared up and after lunch and a stroll through Temple Bar, Meg and I set out to find the Guinness Storehouse.
In a word: great. After visiting this and the Heineken Experience in Amsterdam I feel that I am allowed to judge and compare and generally consider myself an expert on beer tourism. My only qualm with the Guinness Storehouse is that they let you do a tasting too soon. Sure, I really wanted to have a Guinness within moments of landing, but you just can't give me a taste of the black stuff on the second floor and then tell me the Gravity bar is on the seventh floor! I can't really say what was on the next few floors because we snapped pictures and rushed through them to get to the bar where they teach you how to pour the perfect pint of Guinness. I made Meg be the group's guinea pig and we poured our pints and got our certificates. I tried to make a clover on top of my beer but I was more concerned about pouring a delicious pint and drinking it to make any beautiful artwork.
That night, we had a few drinks around Temple Bar, ate some dinner, and had an early night so we could get up early and start heading across the country.
Saturday, Track 2: S.O.S.
An early morning and a big Irish breakfast took us to the Dublin bus station to head out to Galway, where we'd arranged to rent a car and begin our Irish road trip. Bad luck #1 - we arrived at 1pm and the rental office closed at noon. And doesn't open on Sundays. And we were planning to bring the car back Tuesday morning. Now what? Our extremely helpful staff at the Barnacles Hostel gave us a few suggestions as we modified our itinerary and then went for a walk around town. Lunch was at the apparently famous (but not too famous because their website is in Comic Sans) McDonagh's so we could re-work our plans on a full stomach. After deciding to stay in Galway a little longer we walked through the town, found an open-air market, and had a few pints. We went out to a few bars that night after our hallway was invaded by a neighboring stag party from Dublin that sang to us before they went out.
Sunday, Track 3: Money, Money, Money
Must be funny. At breakfast Sunday morning, Emma asked me, "do you have my money?" Well, no. Of course not. Why do you ask? All of her cash was gone. Bad luck #2. I had been in charge of the bote the night before (bote is a Spanish term used for when everyone puts in the same amount of money to pay for something like dinner or a night of drinks) but I still had our change and nothing more. Then we found out Meg's cash was gone too. Fortunately my stuff was untouched, but it was really unsettling. My inner detective says it was the guy in our room who nobody knew (you're lucky I didn't see your face, guy) because he took cash from bags that weren't very easily accessible in the back of the room, while my stuff was right by the door. Anyone just sticking their head in the door would take what they saw first... not go to the back of the room hoping to find something. And yes, I KNOW we should have been more careful with where we left our things. We've all stayed in hostels before. Consider it a momentary lapse of judgment.
As I said, our hostel staff were super helpful and when we told them about it they dedicated quite some time to our 'case' and gave us a private room for the next night. Once again, we changed our itinerary. Instead of trying to get to some well-known spots in the area, we found a cheap bus out to Clifden and walked along the beach after a quick stop at a playground, because we are adults. We cooked dinner at the hostel that night and then played a game of Clue with a girl from CA in the hostel lobby. I won by default because the other three guessed incorrectly, but then so did I! One extra card (stupid Mrs White) threw us all off.
Monday, Track 4: Super Trouper
We took hostel guy Danny's suggestion to visit the Aran Islands and stay at his pal Dave's hostel, the Kilronan. A choppy ferry ride on a cold, dark, windy day brought us to the pier on Inis Mór, the largest of the Aran Islands. As per the hostel's directions, yes, you really can see it as soon as you get off the boat! We walked over to the hostel and found that we had our cute little room with tiny beds all to ourselves. We had been told that on the Aran Islands it's very common to rent a bike and see the island that way, but when we arrived it was the coldest, windiest, rainiest day of the trip so far... so we opted for a van tour instead. It was the same price and our driver was so knowledgeable about the island that in the end I think it was way more worth it. Even on a nice day we wouldn't have heard so many fun facts on a bike! Our driver took us to the most famous spots on the island, including Dún Aonghasa, an ancient fort atop 100-meter cliffs and my favorite spot of the entire trip.
Our hike was exhausting given the wild weather on our way to the top, but it all paid off as the clouds cleared and we enjoyed some incredible views. At the base of the fortress there's a tiny cafe that made the most delicious beef & Guinness stew I've ever had.
Highly recommended! That night we made some pizzas for dinner before having some pints in the tiny town where everybody knew everybody's name, just not ours. We were nearly proposed to by some gross old locals who sang to us to try to win us over, but it wasn't meant to be.
Tuesday, Track 5: Mamma Mia
At noon we were on a ferry back to to the mainland. At about 1:00 we were on a bus back to Galway center. At 2:30 we were on a bus to a very cold, rainy Dublin. Early the next morning, we were on a plane back to Madrid. Whew! Of course, I took way too many photos and I can only hope they convey the splendor of some of the things we saw. Click here to see them!
When I returned from my trip to Ireland last Wednesday, I was so tired that I was in bed by 8pm that night, and I missed a very important game for Real Madrid. They were playing Athletic Bilbao, and winning that game would clinch their spot at the top and earn them the La Liga title for this season. I just couldn't stay awake! So, Thursday morning I awoke to newspaper headlines and numerous tweets about Real Madrid's 3-0 victory and immediately felt sad that I'd missed yet another storming of the city streets by excited fans. Like in many sports-centric towns, this happens after every major victory. Since I was still in the states when Spain won the World Cup in 2010, I was very sad to have missed out on scenes like this one:
I'm told a similar scene happened last Wednesday night, though on a much smaller scale, and I missed it! Bummer! But all was not lost. Like the world cup, there are always two celebrations -- one always happens at the moment with a sudden eruption of euphoric fans pouring into the streets, and the other is usually the following day, once the team has returned home and the city can organize a proper celebration. What luck! So, Thursday afternoon I met up with a friend nearby and we made our way into Plaza de Cibeles to fight the crowds and hope to get a glimpse of our favorite blancos.
It was fun, but my goodness there were so many people. I don't think I'll do that again... until Spain wins the World Cup again in 2014.
I took over four hundred photos on this trip, so if you want to see them all, please click here. If not, I made a silly little scrapbook-y video in iPhoto for silly enjoyment. So, enjoy! [youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NqXAFyWJ5Wg]
Last week was one of my favorite weeks of the year: Semana Santa!! Meaning "holy week" in Spanish, this is always the week leading up to Easter in which those of us involved in schools get to take a nice 10-day vacation. Last year I went with Leigh to visit her family in Scotland and this year I returned to the UK to see London with mom and our friend Sharon.
Due to a general strike taking place on, wouldn't you know it, the day I was set to fly to London, I changed my ticket and got to London with two full days to spend on my own before they arrived. In this time I got to meet a friend of a friend and stay at her house in North London (thanks again, Michelle!!) and get acquainted with the city. Late Thursday night we were all reunited in the hotel and had to get a bit aggressive with the guy at the front desk until he gave us the room we booked. I don't know if I'll ever believe the phrase "fully booked" again...liar!!
Rather than attempt to write out every day of the trip (nine days for me), here's a quick run-down of the sights we saw/things we did:
London
Re: The "haunted pub crawl" - Sharon's London guide book had some daily itinerary suggestions and one of those was a haunted pub crawl, suggesting some pubs with a lot of history. On this crawl, we started on Fleet Street at the Punch Tavern which to me seemed to only be haunted by young bartenders with stupid tattoos and strange taste in music. We were so distracted by the blaring electronica-meets-trip-hop that we had to finish our drinks quickly so we could move on to the next stop, The Old Bell Tavern. This pub had a bit more of the cozy pub feel we'd enjoyed at The Blackfriar a few days prior, so imagine our non-surprise when we picked up an Old Bell menu and noticed it was exactly the same -- from starters to puddings -- as the Blackfriar. Turns out they're both owned by a chain called Nicholson's Pubs. This is in no way a hindrance, as we liked both pubs very much, from decor to staff and drinks. Clearly Nicholson's are doing something right. But alas, two stops do not a pub crawl make. On to the next--Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese. This was by far my favorite of all the bars we tried last week. Rebuilt in 1666 after London's Great Fire, this locale has been a pub since 1538, it boasts a long list of authors who were once regulars, among those Mark Twain and Charles Dickens (allegedly). We walked into a dark, wooden bar with no clear windows and only one door. The floor was dirty, the lights were set to a low orange-y glow, and the only sounds to be heard were the patrons' muffled conversations and the occasional burst of hearty laughter.
I loved it.
We ordered a round of drinks and I was hooked (the Cheshire Cheese is a Samuel Smith's pub). I finally got my hands on a pint of Sam Smith's Extra Stout, my favorite of the trip, tied with the Belhaven Black Scottish Stout I had at the Blackfriar, and the three of us thought about ordering some dinner there if we could find a table. The place was packed upstairs and we were unaware of the network of caves that sprawl through the basement, so when I saw what appeared to be an open table, I asked an old gentleman if he'd mind us sitting with him and he said it would be no problem. There we sat, the three of us sharing a delicious chunk of fried goat cheese, and our table mate, Stephen, telling us stories of his trip down the east coast of the US with some friends. He did not like Orlando at all. He gave us some suggestions of other Samuel Smith's bars to visit (The Princess Louise and the Cittie of Yorke, which we did eventually find) and even bought us a round of drinks. We later decided that he was a ghost and the rest of the bar patrons thought we were crazy talking to nobody to make our haunted bar crawl seem more legitimate.
Paris
My advice for one day in Paris: don't do it, unless you've seen everything a billion times and you're just going there to be there. It feels like someone took my camera and went to Paris and gave it back to me. Yes, I've seen all of those things listed above, but I don't have any story to go with it. I wish I did. I guess this means I just have to go back to Paris! Life's hard.
How exactly does a trip to Scotland end up as a surprise? Pull up a seat, I'll tell you. What happens is one night you go out to a bar where you used to go all the time with your Scottish friend. You send said friend a text saying, "Guess where I am?" which later turns into a phone call, which the next morning turns into a flight booked for the following weekend. Oh, nostalgia. You never treat me right.
I found a relatively cheap fare for a flight to the UK with only a week's notice and jumped on the opportunity to go hang out with Leigh and the rest of my favorite Scots. When I went also happened to be Leigh's birthday weekend, so that justified my spontaneity a bit. I am nervous now...booking a last-minute flight was quite the rush and I fear that it may happen again...
When I arrived on Friday, we had a calm night, just sitting around and catching up until we were both too tired to talk... like fourteen year-old girls. After only a few hours with us, Leigh's sister was saying that all we do is giggle, and, well, it's true. We woke up to a big Scottish breakfast on Saturday and then wandered around Glasgow center a bit, did a little shopping, and had a drink at a bar near George Square. Leigh's mom made her delicious chili for dinner as we got ready to go out that night for the birthday party. We reserved a booth in a bar and basically took over an entire corner of the room dancing and talking all among ourselves. The best part of the night was when these two people came in trying to promote their Sambuca with Kanye West glasses and stick-on mustaches. I hate Sambuca and anything with anise, but I was happy to help myself to their swag and make myself look ridiculous for the rest of the night. Oh! I lied. The actual best part of the night was when we left the bar and found a Gregg's open at 1am and I ate the warmest, freshest sausage roll on Earth.
On Sunday, Leigh's mom drove us out to Tayport to meet up with her brother, who then took us to see St. Andrews and gave us a fun fact tour. We saw the beach where the opening scene from Chariots of Fire was filmed, the face of Patrick Hamilton on the façade of St. Salvator's, and played zombies coming out of some open tombs in the ruins of St. Andrews Cathedral. We eventually returned to Tayport to stop in some tiny village pubs: at the very tiny and very cute Cobbie's I tried a McEwan's Scottish ale (not bad) and later at Bell Rock Tavern I had a very delicious Belhaven St Andrews ale. We stopped by Leigh's uncle's house before we found our way back to Glasgow for the night, where Leigh and I treated ourselves to a deliciously greasy fried half pizza and curry chips. I love Scotland. But, all good things must come to an end... I came back to Madrid that Monday.
Click here to see all of my photos from this trip! (all of the really good photos were taken by Leigh's uncle, Al Connelly... I'm not that talented!)
My next journey won't be a surprise... I'm off to London to see my mom! Sure, we'll get some sightseeing in here and there but I'm mostly super excited to hang out with mom and our friend Sharon. Look for photos coming soon...
PS:
One more thing... Dad - next time I'm here, you'd better be coming with me!!
And two weeks before that, I saw Megafaun, one of my favorite bands from NC. I saw them a few times during Hopscotch 2010 and their music just makes me so nostalgic. I had a blast and talked North Carolina with my friend Laura and one of the guys from the group after the show.
And the week before that... I saw Future Islands! They were in a really cool venue called Boite Live and put on a fantastic show as usual. I bought a sweet t-shirt with the tour dates on the back... Madrid was #1.
In just over two weeks I'll be heading to London for my spring break and mom's gonna come too!! I can't wait!
Well, it's been almost a month since I came back to Madrid after being home for two great weeks at Christmas. Since my return, I've been lying pretty low, just going to work, spending time with my friends on the weekends, and of course trying to plan my next trip to wherever. In this downtime, I get to enjoy what Madrid has to offer! On Saturday, my friend Meg and I decided to take a day trip to a nearby town called Chinchón.
There isn't too much to see and do there, but it did have a cool circular Plaza Mayor. We stopped into the tourist information office and saw a funny bat-shaped flyer for a restaurant called the Mesón Quiñones that boasted free entry to some bat caves, with available desgustación de vinos (wine tasting). We'd expected to find pretty cheap lunch menus in this small pueblo, but restaurants were about on par with Madrid prices in the Plaza Mayor, so we opted for a cheap lunch just a bit outside the very center, grabbed an ice cream, and headed out in search of the bat caves.
A quick glance at a map of Chinchón showed that we weren't far from the restaurant claiming to have bat caves. We walked up a few hills and around a few corners to discover that not only does this restaurant actually have some caves under it, but it is also the only restaurant we saw in Chinchón above the Plaza Mayor, save for two oddly-decorated "Irish" bars. We weren't really sure how to go about finding the caves, so we just walked in, and sure enough just across from the bar there were some stairs down into poorly-lit, slightly creepy caves. There was a small group of people heading out as we came in who told us to stop by the bar to have some wine and a snack. Our 1€ wines came with a small pincho and we got to keep our little glasses!
The odd sixteen year-old waiter working behind the bar wanted to speak to us in English, making a lot of mistakes, but he told us to feel free to take a walk around and eventually was nice enough to take a picture of us in the caves (hence why the photo is so dark). Once we finished our wines, we went back out into the town to walk around for a bit longer before having a seat in the Plaza Mayor to watch the little kids go around on donkeys and in little carriages. All of this, of course, was accompanied by some cañas while the unseasonably warm January sun baked just above our heads.
December puente once again came around and for some reason I decided I wanted to go to a place where I could be cold again, like last year's Superpuente in Germany and Prague. So, this year my friend Emma and I hopped on a flight to Amsterdam for a long weekend of superfresh goodness.
Amsterdam, as you can see to the left, is surrounded by multiple canals, each one as beautiful if not moreso than the last. The buildings lining each canal are all different colors and designs and it was really difficult for us not to immediately take out our cameras at every corner to snap more photos of boats, bikes, and canals. The first day, we arrived in the early afternoon, dropped off our bags at our hostel, and got to enjoy two whole hours of sunlight before dark settled in around 4pm. Yikes! We spent the day getting acquainted with the city and noting things we'd like to come back and see during the daytime. It was very cold and windy, so we decided we wanted to stop in at a super tacky Christmas market for a glühwein. It was way more expensive (5 euros!!) and not nearly as tasty as the ones I had last year in the German Christmas markets, but Amsterdam isn't exactly known for it like Germany is. After warming up with our wine, we continued on our walk until we accidentally ended up in the Red Light District. That was quite a shock! We had definitely planned to walk through there at some point, but it can certainly be surprising when you aren't expecting to suddenly see scantily-clad ladies in a window right around the corner. I didn't dare trying to take a picture of any of the people in the windows, but as we approached one of the canals that runs through the neighborhood, we noticed some pretty swans a-swimming. I took this opportunity to take one of my favorite photos of the trip (see right).
After a brief stroll through the Red Light District, we found a tiny neighborhood-y bar called Cafe De Gaeper. We took two seats at the bar and ordered superfresh pints of Heineken. The bartender was delightful and like pretty much everyone we encountered in Holland, his English was impeccable. I suppose as a teacher this was really encouraging to see. We finished our drinks at De Gaeper and moved on to have bratwurst at a Christmas market and another drink at a bar closer to our hostel before going dashing through pouring rain to get back and sleep.
Day two began our tourist-y exploits. We fought through the crowds at our hostel's free breakfast before going to stand in a quick but very chilly line to get into the Anne Frank house. That was a really incredible experience. Having read the book I sort of knew what to expect, but it did not prepare me for how it would feel to see those dark, tiny rooms and climb those "leg-breaking" steep stairs. It was especially interesting to see the magazine clippings that Anne Frank posted to the walls of her bedroom to make it more "livable" inside. It's just so cool to experience the things you've read in books come to life. I took some notes in my little pocket notebook for things I wanted to read more about, along with this quote blown up onto one of the bedroom walls:
"I long to ride a bike, dance, whistle, feel young and know that I'm free." 24 December 1943 - Anne Frank (from her diary)
When we left the house we walked back down the canal to find for a place for lunch. A slight detour into a boot shop ended with me buying some rainboots, but the distraction was worth it as we came out of the store to see a small deli across the street with a newspaper clipping in the window with a picture of a very delicious-looking pastrami sandwich. We assumed the Dutch article only said good things about the deli, so we went in and observed the locals drinking small glasses of milk with their lunch. We copied them and ordered our sandwiches (mine, above, smoked bacon & brie) with a glass of freezing cold superfresh milk. I would definitely recommend 't Kuyltje for any trip to Amsterdam. Don't ask me how to pronounce that.
We went back to the hostel to shower and nap before heading back to De Gaeper for dinner because of the dishes we'd seen people eating the night before. Emma and I split a schnitzel plate and thai peanut chicken with some more superfresh Heinekens before strolling back through the Red Light District and returning to our hostel when we got too cold to be out.
On day three, Saturday, we decided to take a side trip to a town nearby called Utrecht, based on multiple suggestions. Utrecht is very small and looks very similar to Amsterdam - adorable buildings hanging over multiple canals - but I liked it just as much. We spent most of our time just walking up and down the streets because there really isn't much to do there, but we eventually stopped for lunch at a small cafe with a big fat cat sleeping on a chair outside. We again had sandwiches (a guy from Utrecht on our flight to Amsterdam told us that was "very Dutch") and after lunch we went to the cathedral to hear the local church choir sing a Christmas concert. I really loved that, but it was so cold in the cathedral that we couldn't stay the whole time. To warm up, we (naturally) went to a nearby cafe and had really delicious hot chocolate before catching our train back to Amsterdam and having a warm night in our hostel.
On Sunday, our last full day, we didn't have anything really planned (and we were running out of money) so we decided to devote the first part of our day to buying touristy things. I found a sticker for my notebook and then we stopped in a store called HEMA (click that link and let the page load--they have a really cool thing going on for Christmas right now) and I bought a tin of stroopwafels to bring to Chicago. You guys are gonna love them! We spent the rest of the morning walking along a massive shopping street in the center before we got hungry and decided to look for that deli again. Thus began a trek around town only to discover that it is closed on weekends. Instead we went to a tiny bar on the corner because we were just too cold and hungry to keep looking. We opened the door to an empty bar where one girl was working and playing Bon Iver from her ipod. Perfect! I had broccoli soup. Unfortunately, this was the coldest day yet and we couldn't stay out walking for very long, so we stopped in yet another cafe for coffee and the most delicious apple pie I think I've ever had. Wow.
When we finished our coffee and pie we decided to go to the old Heineken brewery and do the "Heineken Experience" tour. It was really interesting and informative, and in keeping with the theme of the trip, the drinks were superfresh! We toured the museum and got to see the old brewery with all the copper-plated machinery, tried wort (odd), had a weird motion video ride thing, did a tasting session, played weird DJ games, sat in space-chairs, and eventually got to have our two included drinks at the Heineken world bar.
For our last night in Amsterdam, we had more bratwurst for dinner and found a bar called Hans en Greitje (Hansel and Gretel) and managed to sit by a group of Spanish people. Eventually one of them approached us to get our opinion on an argument they were having (whether or not the name Séfora would be pretty for a baby, to which we replied, you mean like Sephora the store?), and when one of them asked his friend to translate what we'd said, imagine his shock when we translated it for him. We ended up chatting with the group for the rest of the night before going back to the hostel to sleep before our flight the next morning.
I had a really good time in Holland and I would definitely love to visit again when it's warm and sunny. Until then, click here to see my cloudy, cold-weather Amsterdam photos.
...Christmas!!! Finally! It's Christmas time in Madrid and I could not be happier. Christmas is and has always been my favorite time of the year, because it really is The Most Wonderful Time of the Year. And this year, I am even more excited than I usually am, because this year I'm going home! Living away from my family in Chicago is something I've done since I was five years old, so for me, December comes, school lets out, and I go to Chicago for the holidays. It's normal, it's my tradition, and I love it. But last year, I didn't go home. Mom came to visit me, and we had a great time, but we both decided that it just wasn't the same... so away I go!
To begin the holiday season, at work we celebrate Día del Maestro, and in our school we celebrate in style. Our lunch began just after school ended last Monday and we all got to eat lots of delicious Spanish foods while we talked and discussed our patron saint of teachers. Like last year, we are again playing Amigo Invisible, or Secret Santa. In this lunch we drew names, and the game starts tomorrow! This is one of the things I will miss the most about this school. There's such a buen rollo there. We all get along and enjoy staying at school until five or six in the afternoon just to hang out and have a good time.
On Sunday, a few of my friends came to my house for an early Christmas party. We also played Secret Santa - my friend Emma got me a few key pieces that every good hostess should have: a cute tray, napkins, tea, and a cute cupcake-shaped sugar dish. Everybody brought something to eat (I made mulled wine and spinach cups), we exchanged gifts, and watched Christmas movies all night. I think being of the Friends generation, I always imagined this was what "growing up" would be like.
Now there are only fifteen days between me and heading home for Christmas. How am I handling the wait? Well, on Thursday I'll head to Amsterdam for a long weekend (thank you, Spanish holidays) and then I'll come back to a week of work, a weekend of shopping for presents, and a trip or two on the Navibus, I'm sure. To help you guys aguantar until Christmas, check out my video from last year's lights and fireworks:
[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wVzCliL1Pwk&w=560&h=315]
...and some photos from this year's Christmas decorations:
[slideshow]
Felices Fiestas!
A few weeks ago, my work friends eagerly asked me when Thanksgiving would fall this year, due largely in part to the success of last year's celebration. So once again, the fourth Thursday in November came, and we got together again to enjoy a large, delicious, all-American meal.
This year we held the dinner at my friend Lidia's house in Alcalá de Henares, a small town outside Madrid and just next door to the town where we all work. When the turkey was cooking away in the oven we took some time to enjoy a pre-dinner snack and drinks. Lidia is from a small pueblo outside Granada, and ever the granadina, she opened her fridge and offered us three different types of Cerveza Alhambra, to be opened with an Alhambra-marked bottle opener, and to be served in Mezquita glasses. María referred to this as "Lidiasgiving." Lucky for me, Alhambra is my favorite of the widely-available Spanish beers, second only to Moritz, a beer from Barcelona and only available in Catalán-influenced areas. Bummer.
Anyway. A few Alhambras and potato chips later, dinner was ready. Again, I was in charge of the kitchen, and for dinner we ended up with a 3kg (6.6lb) turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing, and vegetables for eight people. There were, of course, lots of leftovers. The turkey this year came out much better than last year, and I think it was because of the difference in size. The giant turkey last year was overwhelming and I overcooked it a bit...not so this year. Also, I managed to make gravy that wasn't a slimy mess! Hurrah!
My most impressive feat, however, was making a pumpkin pie. I went to Taste of America, an import shop in Madrid, and bought a pie tin, evaporated milk, and a can of packed pumpkin. Wednesday night, I very carefully followed the recipe and came out with this beauty:
Not bad for my first attempt! Everyone seemed to really like it. Unfortunately, even making my own pie couldn't convince me that pumpkin was worth eating, and I still hate it. Oh well. As we began dinner, my friend Mirella asked if I was going to say anything before we ate, so I raised my glass and proposed a toast. I told them, "even though I'm sad to be so far from home and away from family on Thanksgiving, estoy en casa y estoy con familia."
Puente - Spanish for "bridge," a puente is the word used to describe a regular weekend made longer by connecting it to a bank holiday on, for example, a Tuesday. In this case, my weekend was connected to Tuesday, the first of November, or All Saints Day, giving me and my friend Jessie four days to head up north and discover San Sebastián and Bilbao.
Stop #1 was San Sebastián, or in the local language, Donostia. This small beach town was super charming and full of history. When we climbed to the top of Monte Urgull, between the Bahía de La Concha and playa Zurriola (closest to our hostel) we got to visit a small exhibition within a giant statue dedicated to el Sagrado Corazón de Jesús full of history about País Vasco and Donostia.
Our hostel experience here was...odd. We arrived to find the owners of the hostel (a married couple) welcoming us with mini croissants and a chocolate bar, and the guy, Jaime, dressed in a stage turban, winter coat, sweatpants, black socks, and white jelly shoes. He referred to himself as the Sultan of Karpukala (apparently he'd recently been in some sort of play or something) and eventually posed for a photo in the middle of the tiny room with us. The "hostel" was nothing more than a room in the couple's house where they'd installed three-story bunkbeds. We chose this place because it was the cheapest hostel with availability, and though it was really strange, we were lucky to be sharing the room with a group of really nice people who made the stay that much better.
While in Donostia, we basically walked all over the entire town, stopping only for the occasional coffee or ice cream. We took a lot of photos on Monte Urgull and in the old town on our first day out, but unfortunately it was really overcast until our tourism day came to an end. On our last day in Donostia it was warm and sunny, so we just sat on some giant wavebreaker rocks in Zurriola, soaking up the sun before we had to catch a bus to our next stop.
Bilbao (Bilbo) is probably most well known for the Guggenheim museum. One of the travel books I read said that one could refer to history in Bilbao as BG and AG - Before & After Guggenheim. Apparently the construction of the museum really changed everything there, transforming it from an industrial district to a modern and diverse riverside city.
On our last morning in Bilbao, we took the funicular de Artxanda and got to see some incredible views of the city, the river, and the surrounding landscape. The old town in Bilbao was cute, and the Guggenheim was impressive, but this was my favorite part of the trip. Seeing a city in a valley surrounded by cloud-covered mountains reminded me so much of Boone. Of course, in Boone they don't speak Euskera... I only learned hello and goodbye (kaixo/agur) and thank you (eskerrik). Even though the signs were all in Euskera, they were also in Castellano, and everyone in Donostia and Bilbo speaks Castellano as well, so I didn't have any trouble getting around... just didn't get to learn any cool new words or phrases. Bummer.
In writing about Euskadi (Basque Country), pintxos must be mentioned. Pintxos are similar to tapas in that they are a small delicious snack to accompany your drinks, but pintxos differ from tapas in that they include a pincho - Spanish for spike - that is usually a toothpick holding the toppings together on a slice of bread, while tapas could be almost anything. You could look at it this way: pintxos can always be considered tapas, but tapas can't always be pintxos. Squares and rectangles.
We ate lots and lots of pintxos at every possible opportunity. I'll let the pictures do the talking:
Delicious!
Click here to see the rest of my photos from a weekend in the Basque Country.
...and I must go. City life is great, but sometimes I miss the beautiful mountain air I enjoyed while living in Boone, NC. On Saturday, my friend Jessie and I took a quick bus ride north of Madrid to a town called Manzanares El Real. While there is a castle there, we instead chose to take a short walk down the road and hike through part of La Pedriza, a mountainous collection of giant stones that make a very steep hike with really beautiful views.
You might not be able to tell unless you know what you're looking for, but those familiar with Madrid's landscape will be able to see the Cuatro Torres on the horizon. (Those not familiar with Madrid's landscape may notice two goats in the shadow of a nearby boulder.) Even though Manzanares El Real is only about 35km (~21mi) from the city, it felt like we'd traveled much further away. This was the first real hike I'd done since I was at ASU, so even two days later my legs are a little sore. I guess I'll just have to get back in hiking shape while the weather is still nice!
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Days like this renew my love for la capital. Though I live within the confines of the city-shaping M30 motorway, I can easily take a Saturday and find myself having a picnic on top of a mountain after less than an hour of travel. Menos mal that I'm not much of a beach person.
Well, here I am once again! I've been back in Madrid for nearly two weeks and have done nothing but look for a place to live and rediscover all of the things that I love about this place. After about a week of searching, I found a new piso near my bus station, cutting about twenty minutes out of my previously hour-long commute. Toma!
Here's what my room looks like. It's pretty small, but I have a big comfy bed and an actual closet with a door with a bit of storage space above it, and it doesn't really feel that small until I lie down and look at how small the ceiling actually is. The rest of the apartment is very cozy, and I don't mean cozy in real estate agent terms, but rather that I find it very comfortable. The living room has a giant window across the entire exterior wall, so the afternoons are very warm and sunny. The couches are soft and comfy, and the TV has more than five watchable channels. I've been able to watch Will & Grace a few times so far. No complaints from me. I have an oven this year, too! I haven't yet attempted using it, mostly because I am generally afraid of ovens and this one uses gas so I have to light it by hand which scares me even more. But anyway, my roommates are really nice, too. I'm living with a Spanish girl and a Colombian girl who have both mentioned they'd like to aprovechar living with an American and practice a bit of English. I know that my Spanish suffered by not using it all summer, so hopefully these two will get me back to, if not better than where I was in June.
My favorite roommate, however, is only two years old:
My roommate adopted this cat, seen above napping in my lap, two years ago when she was just a baby. She'd been injured in some way that caused damage to one of her eyes, so a veterinarian had to remove the eye to prevent further injury or infection. Now she is just like any other cat I've seen, and very playful! Plus, her name is Mira... Spanish for "look." How's that for a sense of humor? It's been very comforting having a pet in the house. She's really friendly and likes to follow everybody around. Today she jumped on my bed and snoozed while I read through some papers I received at school today.
Speaking of school... today was my first day back on the job. My schedule was among all of said papers, and it turns out I will have Mondays off this year. I'll also be working exclusively with second grade, therefore I'll be working with the same students and teachers as last year! It seems a bit strange that they won't have Jennifer and me changing each month like before, but I suppose I can't complain. I really enjoy working with these kids and I'll be spending a lot less time trying to figure out which students need that extra push to understand English, which I think will help me in the end. Even though I've only spent one day back, I'm already kind of sad to think that this is the last year!
While it was nice to see my students again, it was especially nice to see the other teachers. I got to be pretty good friends with a few of them so it was exciting to catch up and hear about everybody's holidays. If first days are any sign of things to come, this should be a fun year.
Another Hopscotch has come and gone. Like last year, I had a lot of fun, saw a lot of bands--about twenty, if I'm remembering correctly--and spent a lot of money on delicious downtown food & drink. Unlike last year, I was unfamiliar with about 95% of the bands playing this year. I love live music under pretty much every circumstance, but it's a different experience when you can sing along to songs you know. I can't choose the first or second Hopscotch as my favorite, so I guess I'll just have to look forward to the third. Thanks, Hopscotch and Raleigh, for throwing another great summer send-off party!
You've taken 362 days to regain strength and increase stamina. You remember the quickest path from Tir na nÓg to Berkeley Cafe. You have this paper, a phone app, a pocket schedule, too many Google links and a dozen friends tugging you in different directions. There's a wristband on your arm, and your work colleagues don't understand why. It's Hopscotch weekend: Don't conserve energy. Expend it. Rest will come sooner than you'd like.
- Greg Lowenhagen, Hopscotch founder and director
Last year, the inaugural Hopscotch Music Festival was sort of like a going-away party. It was this great huge event all across downtown Raleigh that happened to fall during my last weekend in town before I took off for a year in Spain. This year, I'll have two weeks to bask in post-festival bliss, and I have no doubts that Hopscotch will wow and exhaust me just as much as it did a year ago. It all starts tonight!
My time in Spain has come to an end... for now. It had it's highs and lows for sure. I made lots of wonderful friends, traveled all over Spain and to five other countries(Germany, Czech Republic, England, Scotland, and Portugal), and had one of the most interesting months possible.
Uclés was... stressful, fun, annoying, hilarious, irritating, eye-opening, confusing, and one of the best experiences of my life. I spent, more or less, 24 hours a day with the same 20 or so people for an entire month. We all met under really strange circumstances: being thrown into an English teaching summer camp in a tiny town in the middle of nowhere, Spain, with nothing in it but a bar, a small convenience store, and a pharmacy. Fridays would come and we'd let loose at the "discoteca" in town--the attic of someone's house that had a minibar and a CD player in it. We lived in a centuries-old monastery that creaked at night and is said to be haunted, naturally. We ate oversalted camp food for a month and often hoarded fresh fruit in classrooms. My "office" was a desk in the corner of the staff room, and later a dark video room. As often as I felt stressed out or fed up with my day or the people or really anything, now that it's over I don't remember all of that as much as I remember how much fun it really was.
Uclés was an odd experience. It was only a month, but it was very difficult to say goodbye to everybody on Friday afternoon. I met some really wonderful people that unfortunately raised the difficult question, "will I ever see you again?"
Now I'm home. Today is my birthday. I'm so jet-lagged that I woke up at 5am feeling completely rested. I have a bed that's twice as big as I am, cats running around my room, and vanilla yogurt and ginger ale waiting for me downstairs. It's good to be home. Madrid, no te echaré de menos en Septiembre...
Remember my quaint, semi-frightening cave bedroom? Well, the first fortnight of camp ended and we all had to move into a room on the top floor of the monastery. Now I feel like a camper.
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I am currently dealing with a slight sunburn on my back and shoulders after a poolside weekend, but the Colombian quarter of my heritage is already creating a magnificent tan out of it. Optimism!
Today was the first day of the second round of camp. Even though I know what I'm doing this time, I can't help but count down the days to going home (twelve, by the way). Fortunately we have a really nice group that will (maybe) keep me grounded until then.
Okay, I admit it, I've been a bad blogger. But that's not entirely true!! In fact, while I've been neglecting my personal blog, I've been writing a professional blog. I'm spending the month of July in Uclés, Spain, working with a summer camp called Forenex. I'd originally applied to this program to work as an English teacher, but on the application I saw that the company was looking for someone to blog about the Forenex experience, so I spoke up about it in the interview and they chose me to come here and be the blogger. I've been blogging non-stop for the last week and a half, so I haven't had a lot of ganas to blog here too. However, I can't disappoint my adoring fans. Here are a few pictures of this really beautiful monastery that I'm currently calling home:
Click here for more Uclés pictures!
I will try to get into the pueblo for some more pictures and update you guys on that soon, too. Here's a preview: there is one shop called "Tienda" and one bar where the same old men hang out every night and not a whole lot else.
Sometime in March or April, I mentioned to my friend Bruno, from App, that he should visit Spain. A few messages back and forth decided it--he was coming. In mid-May, I had a visitor! The first weekend he was here, Bruno and I enjoyed a true Madrileño weekend and experienced the fiestas of San Isidro. We spent the weekend walking around Madrid and getting a tan while the locals dressed in their best chulapo outfits to honor their patron saint.
Monday came, and Bruno visited Barcelona while I worked that week. But then, that Thursday, we hopped on a plane to Lisbon for the weekend. I had been wanting to visit Lisbon for a while, so it only made sense for me to go when my Brazilian friend was coming to visit so I could make him talk to everyone for me. I gathered some last-minute advice from people who knew about Portugal and we were off. I was absolutely astounded by Lisbon! It was more beautiful than I imagined (though it probably helped that I didn't know anything about it) and the food was delightful. We spent our first evening walking around and seeing a few things here and there, and I ate feijoada for dinner, however I have to say I prefer the Brazilian style! Oops. Thursday night we went back to the hostel at a decent hour and got some sleep before starting our first big sightseeing day. Also, our hostel was fantastic and I would highly recommend it!
The next day we got up early and saw practically everything. Our first mission was to climb the hill up to Castelo São Jorge which sits high above the city. We spent a few hours there in the morning, climbing towers and warding off enemies, before coming back down to the city to visit Belém. I'd only seen the miniature Torre de Belém in Torrejón's Parque Europa, but the real thing isn't that much bigger! We spent a few hours lazing in the sun in Belém before stopping to fulfill one of our advised itinerary items: Pastéis de Belém.
These little custard tarts were so good. They gave them to us just as they were being made, along with packets of cinnamon and sugar to make them even more delightful. After eating these on a park bench, Bruno and I checked out the Mosteiro dos Jerónimos (a big beautiful monastery) where I left my soul. In Portuguese, the word for alm is alma, which is soul in Spanish. So, naturally, when I saw a box marked "almas" I decided to leave something behind. We then took a tram back into Lisbon proper and sat around to rest for a little while before walking around town, finding an acampada protest similar to the ones that are still going on in Madrid, and having dinner in the Bairro Alto at a Brazilian cafe... another excellent choice. After dinner, we went to hear fado, a type of Portuguese music that was traditionally known to be sung by sailors reflecting on their feelings of loss or life at sea, though now it just refers to a specific pattern of the song. We asked the staff at our hostel if they knew of a good place to hear fado that was not in Bairro Alto (thanks for that tip, Dee!) and they gave us the names of three places that were all in the Alfama neighborhood, so we decided to head that way after dinner and see what we'd find. We saw a few completely packed bars with people having dinner and being serenaded, but we'd just eaten so we wouldn't really be able to take up a table in any of those places.
A few turns through the winding, narrow passages of Alfama took us around for nearly an hour until we found one of the streets noted on our pink post-it of a travel guide. We began to head up the hill in search of some fado bar when suddenly we heard it a man's voice singing out over two guitars' accompaniment. We turned around, and there it was! The exact name and address they'd given us. We opened the door and someone inside gave us the last two seats in the extremely dark house and promptly brought us two very cheap and very delicious glasses of red wine while the man sang and the crowd sat mesmerized. After a few tunes, the lights came up and after about five minutes, a man announced the name of the next singer, and a woman at our table stood up and began to sing. Nobody in the bar spoke during the performances, everyone just sat and watched. Some closed their eyes, others sang along. I recorded.
[soundcloud url="http://api.soundcloud.com/tracks/16517245"] (João Carlos, host of the evening, sings. A woman at our table sings along)
I wish I were more capable of describing our fado evening. Every time someone finished, someone new would jump up and impress me even more. I've never heard anything like this music before, and even though I got some good recordings through the night, all I wanted to do for days after the show was go back and hear it again. Bruno and I only left because it was past two in the morning and we'd been out since 9am that day.
On Saturday we went to Rio de Janeiro and San Francisco. We took a ferry across the river to Almada, where we then took a bus to the top of the hill to visit Cristo Rei and see the 25 de Abril bridge overlook. We went into the church at the bottom of Cristo Rei, but didn't take the elevator to the top because it seemed kind of pointless. Aside from looking up at the blinding sun to check out Cristo Rei, there wasn't much else to do up there except admire the view, so that's what we did for 30 minutes or so. I couldn't get past the fact that the bridge looked exactly like San Francisco (though I've never been there), so my good friend Wikipedia told me that it was actually constructed by the same company that did the Bay Bridge.
The rest of the day was very laid-back since we'd already seen most of the city, and we decided to just walk around to see if there was anything we hadn't yet discovered. We had lunch in Alfama again and got to see the ancient neighborhood in the sunlight. After a little afternoon break in the hostel, we went out to Bairro Alto in search of Lisbon's best caipirinha. We thought we couldn't find it, even though three different people gave us the name of this place and told us it was very near, so we almost gave up and just went into any bar to have one... but of course, there it was. Just as we'd found the fado place almost by accident, we looked over and found the bar we were looking for just as we'd decided to give up. And yeah, the caipirinhas were really, really good. We wandered a bit more around Bairro Alto before we headed back toward our hostel for a late-night kebab (it was the only thing open at 11pm!) and some delightful cans of Fanta Maracujá (passionfruit!) for our last meal in Lisbon. The next morning we sadly boarded a plane very early after a cab ride that felt like we were in The Fast & the Furious: Lisbon. Bruno did some day trips during the week and I worked, and then we set off to Andalucía...
