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.

The mountains are calling...

...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!

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.

Conquering Iberia, Part 1

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...

(Click here to see the rest of my pictures from Lisbon!)

A Scottish Screamfest

For Semana Santa (15-22 April), I went with my roommate Leigh to visit Scotland. We stayed at her house just outside Glasgow and took a few day trips to other cities and spent some time in the Glasgow center.

While it wasn't like other tips I've taken (backpacking and sight-seeing like crazy), I had a really great time and got to see a lot. In fact, the trip really reminded me of vacations to visit my family in Chicago--we see some things, but we also spend time with friends and family and have nice dinners, see movies, etc. Eating local food is something I enjoy while traveling, but this trip took it to a new level. Leigh's mom made us all kinds of typical Scottish fare, and while we were out I tried haggis and it wasn't bad at all! I just can't think about what was in it.

In Spain, there's a huge rivalry between Madrid and Barcelona. In Scotland, a similar rivalry exists between Glasgow and Edinburgh. Leigh, of course, prefers Glasgow. As a tourist and outsider, I arrived with a clean slate and without any idea of what to expect from either city. So, my verdict: it's difficult to choose. Edinburgh was absolutely beautiful, with all the ancient architecture and the massive castle towering above the rest of the city. Glasgow was more comfortable, like a city you could live in. As a tourist, I preferred Edinburgh... but I wouldn't be upset if I found myself in Glasgow again, meeting friends for drinks or taking a walk down Buchanan street.

While in Scotland, we took a day trip to Loch Lomond where we found ourselves eating in a restaurant called The Kilted Skirlie. I ate steak pie, which is not what it sounds like, but rather some pieces of really delightful beef in a wine sauce with potatoes and veggies to enjoy. After a brief walk around the shores, we had some ice cream and eventually went back to Leigh's.

Our last day trip of the week was out to a town on the shore called Ayr. It was really warm and sunny that day, so we were able to kick off our shoes and take a short walk in the very cold water. While we were there, Leigh and I tried shouting to our friend Julie who was in Ireland at the time, but she said she didn't hear us. What a pity!

In the UK, chippies are a really popular thing. What's a chippy? "Chippy" is short for Chip Shop, or a place that sells fish and chips, among other fried heart attacks delights. Since I don't like fish, Leigh told me the best chippy meal in Scotland is a half pizza supper, or half a basic cheese pizza, fried, and accompanied with chips and an ice-cold Irn-Bru. Irn-Bru is a Scottish soft drink that, to me, tastes like liquid (American) Smarties. I don't like it, but for the sake of experience I had one with my lunch and it all worked out.

The rest of the story is best told in photos... click here to see all my Semana Santa pictures!

PS - The "Screamfest" in the title refers to the Scream movies... we watched all four while we were there. Hah!

Let me stand next to your Falla

I recently read a post on one guy's travel blog which brought up the notion of keeping some things to yourself while traveling. At one point in Costa Rica he and his travel crew saw a group of extremely rare birds, a sighting which he kept to himself: "I didn't tweet it, flick it, post it, stumble, or dig." He goes on to explain that he found it exhilarating to be selfish with his time, keeping the moment to himself rather than focusing on capturing the moment to share with others...which leads me to my point. I took quite a few pictures of my trip to Valencia this weekend, but I think more to show that I'd been there than anything else. Some of my favorite moments of the trip were preserved on someone's camera, just not mine. Plus, given the state of my camera, I'm not very encouraged to take pictures anyway.

This weekend I went to Valencia with a group of friends from my school to experience the cultural phenomenon known as Las Fallas. Las Fallas is a festival in which all the different barrios of Valencia (and beyond) spend months out of the year preparing their falla, usually a satire on a certain theme, with characters, animals, you name it, sometimes standing as tall as entire apartment buildings. During the festival, the city comes to life in an extremely boisterous  manner with fireworks exploding every thirty seconds or so, ranging from magnificent displays of color and light to small petardos flying from the hands of small children and, more frequently, old Valencianos. Each afternoon of the festival has a mascletà, in which dozens of fireworks are lit and the Plaza de Ayuntamiento shakes and explodes with celebration; each day ends and the nights begin with a fireworks display over the river, the most impressive of which being on the night of the 18th of March, or La Nit del Foc, which fortunately got to experience--definitely one of the best fireworks shows I've seen. After we fought through the crowds which gathered to watch the display, we spent some time walking around Valencia to see as many of the fallas as we could before calling it a night around 5am. What most surprised me was how we could walk around quite calmly all night with the other thousands of people that had come to town for the weekend and not feel like we were staying out until an absurd hour. Regrettably, on our cab ride back to the hostel, our taxi driver informed us that Friday was the party night because after the fallas burn on the 19th, the festival is over and everybody goes home.

Saturday we all met around noon to have breakfast (I love Spain) and to make our way back into the center to experience the Mascletà. Unfortunately, we didn't plan very well and arrived only with enough time to hear the explosions, but not to feel them. I am pretty bummed that we missed this, as every single person who offered Valencia advice told me that the Mascletà was an obligatory part of Las Fallas que no se puede perder. After the Mascletà madness was over, we continued our walk around town to see many more fallas and have a late lunch. We then began our walk back toward the hostel and came across one of the many parades, this time with fire and people dressed as demons! It was considerably shorter than the other parades, but still very impressive.

Saturday night, however, was the end of the festival, and a big festival can only come to a close with an even bigger ending. Las Fallas always ends with all the fallas being set on fire. Around 10pm, the fallas infantiles are burned and then later, any time from 12-4am, the full-size fallas are set ablaze. We stuck around the second prize winner to watch it burn, and wow was it worth it. This falla was as tall as the apartments that surrounded it, and the flames reached even higher. We didn't stand close for the actual burning, but once it had burnt down until only the interior support beams remained, we advanced to feel the heat and take some pictures. Our night continued to look for some remainder of a fiesta, but as the taxi driver correctly predicted, there really were none. The music in the streets ceased and all that remained were charred bits of falla scattered throughout the botellón-filled streets. We called it a night around 430am and went back to the hostel.

On Sunday, Ángel and I managed to get out of the hostel around noon to spend an hour or so lying on the beach, taking in the warmth and eventually sticking our feet in the chilly Mediterranean. But what followed the beach was incredible...paella valenciana! I will admit, I was a bit apprehensive about eating rabbit at first, but as long as I just didn't think about whether I was eating rabbit or chicken, I didn't mind and actually quite liked it. Our delicious lunch lasted a few hours and we eventually hit the road back to Madrid around 6pm, only hitting traffic just outside Valencia.

One big Spanish tradition down... up next, Semana Santa in Sevilla? San Fermín? La Tomatina? Vamos a ver...