Listening to ABBA in Ireland

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!

It's beginning to look a lot like...

...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!

Basque-ing

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.