Things I like to do sometimes end up here as things I like to write about.
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.