Vacation Part VI: Are We There Yet?

Oh, Amsterdam. It has a strange, two-sided reputation. Since coming home, I've been asked one of two questions about Amsterdam. Either: "What did you see?" Or: "Did you do drugs?" 

The answers are lots of things and no. 

But to the first question, there were lots of things that I kind of wish I hadn't seen. In wandering around the old center, we wandered into the red light district on accident. Oops. It was eleven in the morning however, and I would have thought that this part of town would be quiet, but no, it was lively and bustling. Well, sort of. We did see some ladies in the windows of sex shops, but they were bored and weatherworn in their unseasonable bikinis, jiggling dutifully behind the glass and checking facebook on their smartphones. 

Then we went to a church. We were still more or less in the red light district, and probably should have figured that it was not a normal church, but all the same I was not mentally prepared for what we found inside. It wasn't sex or debauchery, no, it was...

Modern Art.

Inside this beautiful old work of art, there were lots of little, new, not-so-beautiful works of... something? Okay, so I tend not to be a fan of modern art, in the abstract, deliberately obtuse and supposedly (though no one can say how) symbolic sense. I like my art simple: a painting of a tree with flowers. It's a tree with flowers, it represents springtime. End of story, now enjoy how the artist has used color and space and flowing lines to draw attention.

I dislike modern art because it makes me feel unsettled. I can't get over the "What is it supposed to be" phase and move on to the "what is the artist trying to express stage." Why is a pile of plastic sushi floating in a kiddy pool special? What effort did it take to create that? There is no context, and therefore no meaning beyond what I pull out of my own ass. It symbolizes the fragility of the oceans. Or the solitude of the artist. Or the hedonism of the modern age.

Anyway, there's my rant.

There was one other thing I wish I hadn't seen in Amsterdam, and that was the bill from the pub. Maybe I've been spoiled here in Lugo (yes, I have been) but about 60 euro after tip was absurd. Anywhere else and you'd think we were either alcoholics or fine wine connoisseurs. It was a nice pub, but not that nice.

But there were some things I was happy I saw, namely the botanical gardens. Cycads are awesome!

Also, gofres! (Spanish for waffle, but I like the spanish better) I had had a gofre craving since seeing them in the carts of street vendors in Barcelona, but for whatever reason, I didn't get around to it until Amsterdam, and while it was more expensive, it was also more appreciated as a nice pick-me-up from a cold day of walking.

Annie and Laura got melty chocolate puddingcakes

And so, after one more night in the hostel, we went to this place:

(it's the airport)

And caught our flight to Barcelona again, where we had a six hour layover for the flight to Santiago. Now, it just so happened that the receptionist at the hostel in Amsterdam happened to be from Sitges, that same little town we mistakenly ended up in while trying to get to the airport from Barcelona. We took that as a sign, and navigated RENFE (the amtrak of Spain) to kill an afternoon in Sitges. It's also kind of funny to note that Annie (who studied some Catalan in college) never really had the chance to use her Catalan in Barcelona, but she did in Amsterdam.

Photos of Sitges:

After that, we caught our flight, stayed in a hostel in Santiago, met a crazy lady (she was very nice and friendly though) on our way to the bus who showed us the "penis street" and tried to take us to the soup kitchen, which we declined then caught the bus and finally made it home. 

Dear lord, this has been a marathon of writing. Well, a 5k at least. Thanks for sticking with me.

Vacation Post Part V: Going Abroad

Barcelona was a nice way to ease myself out of Spain--English, ethnic diversity, fast food, things being more expensive... Hello Amsterdam!

The orange triangle is the tip of the airplane's wing

It was a little bit of a miracle that we caught the flight. Remember when I said the trains were confusing? And I talked to that french guy in Spanish? Well, they were still confusing when we left, and we ended up cruising along the Mediterranean coast for about 20 minutes before we could fix the problem. We hopped off at a little town called Sitges (pronounced sitches) and caught a fast taxi back to the airport. The countryside was beautiful, but we were much too stressed to enjoy it.

We said goodbye to Jenny and ran to our flight, making me wish that I had the discipline and appropriate attire to get a gym membership and actually go. We caught the flight, sweaty and relieved, then took another cab to the hostel.

I wish now I'd taken a photo of the hostel, because the stairs were impressively steep and probably difficult for all the stoned tourists to navigate. Actually, this hostel didn't smell like pot any more than the one in Barcelona did, and they had some pretty strict no-smoking zones. 

The next morning we caught a tram and went back to the train station where we had arrived from the airport the night before, because it had been so pretty at night and we wanted to see it in the daytime.

And this church

Look at the snow on the ground! The temperature hovered around 0 degrees (C) the whole time we were there, a big shock after Barcelona sunshine.

So, because we were tourists, we stopped at the tourist office and ended up buying tickets to the hop-on, hope-off canal tour boats, which turned out to be the best idea ever. Hop on a warm, cushioned boat with a pleasant British/Dutch voice telling you neat factoids about the things you're seeing, then hop off at an interesting museum or market or point of interest and hop on again once you get too cold.

View of canal boats from the canal boat. (ours was nicer)

Our first stop was the Anne Frank House, of which I did not take any photos. Maybe because my eyes were too teared up to see through the viewfinder, or maybe because photos were not allowed.

In all seriousness though, it was an interesting, worthwhile experience. In the states, WWII is mostly something long ago and far away, the thing of second semester world history class in high school. But in Europe (some places more than others), it's much more present and palpable. Time is on a different scale over here, and the cultural memory is longer. (Have I mentioned the flag of the republic that is flying from a house on the way to Fonsa?)

Anne Frank

After eating hotdogs from a cart, we got back on the boat, took more photos, and went to the Van Gogh museum, which had been relocated to the Hermitage museum while the real museum got renovated. Again, no photos allowed, but it would have detracted from the experience to have everyone going around snapping pics of all the works. I'm sure you can find pictures of all the paintings online anyway.

I was expecting Van Gogh's mental health to be a bigger part of the museum than it was, which now I think was actually very tactful and respectful toward the artist. The biography section didn't gloss over it, but it didn't draw particular attention to it either, instead focussing on the evolution of the artist and his art. 

The Hermitage was neat too. For about 300 years it was an almshouse for poor, elderly and homeless women, but is now a museum because the facilities weren't quite up to modern standards. Still, they were pretty good and the museum was designed to give you the warm fuzzies about how caring and kindly Dutch people are. (successful) 

Now a few more photos of the canals and canal houses, just to show how pretty and not-Spanish everything was.

The weird part of Amsterdam comes tomorrow, the part you don't see from your heated canal boat.

Vacation Part IV: General Impressions

Here are a few pictures of some of the other things we did in Barcelona.

Walked around the old part of town, the "Gothic Quarter," where there were a ton of shops and cafes and quaint narrow streets.

From left to right: Laura, Annie, Jenny

This square was absolutely full of pigeons and/or doves. We had several major discussions, and did not come to any conclusions as to whether pigeons and doves are a different species or sub-species of the same species, analogous to wiener dogs and chihuahuas. In Spanish, there is only one word for both, paloma. (Don't call them palomitas though, because that is popcorn.) We saw the lady in this picture catch one with her bear hands and trap it in a bowl covered with a cloth.

We also saw the old cathedral, which in any other city would have been one of the main attractions, but now it's overshadowed by Gaudí's posthumous work in progress. In front of the old cathedral there was a little square, all sunlit and bordered by cafes, with a bluesy banjo group (with a real piano, in the street!) playing to the crowd. If nothing else, Barcelona has some high quality buskers. So much so that they need licences, and we saw a violinist get told off by some cops because he was unlicensed. (saw him again a few minutes later on a different street.) Unfortunately, we sat and listened in the sun too long, and the cathedral closed just before we tried to get in.

At least we could take pictures outside though, and so could everyone else. At on point, an American girl came up to me and asked if I could take a picture of her and her boyfriend. I said sure, but it must have come out funny, because her next question was "Do you speak English?" Which I thought was strange and hilarious, and kind of flattering that someone would assume (even after hearing me talk) that I might be Spanish, or at least not American. So I said, "yeah, I do" but I wish now I'd had the presence of mind to say something like, "nope, I don't understand a single word, I'm sorry. Would you still like me to take that picture for you?"

Actually, I'm guilty of making this mistake myself. While getting from the airport to the city center, I had to catch a train, but the schedule was confusing (Three different lines, but no markings on the platforms???) so I asked a guy (in Spanish) if this train that was here now was headed for the city center. For an answer, I got a confused look and "inglés?" Turns out he was French. And that the train should go to the center. (it did)

On the theme of talking to strangers, I also met a cool dude who worked in a cafe by the port. (here's a picture of the port to break up the textwall)

It was just Laura and I, since Annie and Jenny had gone off to see a Barça game, and after poking around the stalls and boats and museum for a while, we stopped at a coffee shop. Or snack bar, whatever you want to call it. But the guy at the counter had a weird accent that I could not for the life of me place (or understand really), so when we paid the bill, I asked him, where he was from. Argentina, turns out. He told me about how he doesn't like Barcelona, and wants to go home and buy a motorcycle and ride through the Americas south to north like Che Guevara. Good luck, random cafe guy, good luck.

Then we met up with Annie and Jenny (Barcelona won) and rode on a cable car.

Cable car towers

And accidentally a parade.

Because it was Carnival.

I felt kinda like I should be at the Kinetic Sculpture Race

Also a park with this monument/sculpture/fountain dedicated to Sant Jordi (saint george) the patron saint of Barcelona.

Overall I enjoyed Barcelona and did not get mugged or robbed at all. I can imagine that in the summer, the crowds are awful and that with more tourists, crime is more of a problem. It was nice being in a big city, but, like my Argentine friend, I wouldn't want to live there--too many tourists, too much city, generally overwhelming. 

It is a much more international kind of city than anywhere else I have been in Spain (though I've only really seen Galicia so far) and hearing English and being spoken to in English as the default medium of communication was jarring. I suppose it makes sense though, as English becomes more and more the lingua franca (literally, the french language, hahaha) of the world. The frenchman on the train did not ask me if I spoke French, but English, though he may have picked up on my accent or anglo-saxon heritage. 

Barcelona, I'll come back when I'm in my next life stage to see how your cathderal's coming. Or if I need to fly anywhere outside Spain.

Vacation Part III: Parks & Paella

Going back to the first day in Barcelona now. Because the line for the cathedral was super long, we ended up going to Park Güell instead. The park is another of Gaudí's famous works, and was much more impressive than I had expected. From the entrance, all you can really see is this neat stairway and the building with the columns above. 

It was pretty cool, don't get me wrong, but on a completely different scale from the Cathedral. 

This guy is neat too:

But once you climb the stairs (and get past all these guys)

Then you can really start to see the scope of the park. We spent practically the whole afternoon here, and definitely did not see it all. 

From the top of the columns-building you can see a lot of the city (the park is atop a hill, and getting there from the metro is a trek in and of itself) but there are better views to be had from other places. The blue tower marks the entrance to the park and is topped with Gaudí's trademark four-armed cross.

And a detail of the mosaics. I wonder if the pottery was painted and broken specifically for this project, or if the artists actually went out and found old pottery to use.

Once you get into the park a little, you start to see structures like this all over the place.

The vertical columns are all reminiscent of the different kinds of trees growing in the park. And like real trees, there were tons of birds living in them. Another fun fact: One of the season finales of America's Next Top Model (you know, the part of the show where they send the final five contestants off to some foreign country for some more "exotic" photo shoots and to up the drama/stress/reward the finalists) was shot here, under these arches, all lit up with lights and TV magic. I can only imagine what the Spaniards thought about these crazy, strangely-proportioned American girls flopping around looking moody in their park.

There were more buskers here as well, and some of them really added to the abandoned jungle ruins feel of the place.

Later we climbed to the top of the hill, where a little crowd had gathered to watch the sunset. Unfortunately it was cloudy, but the view was awesome anyway.

After a brief stop at the hostel, we set out in search of paella, but the place the girl at the reception desk suggested was full, so we went to a real fancy place instead, kind of by accident. I tried jamón ibérico for the first time, and it was nice. I'm no ham connoisseur, but I didn't think it was quite worth all the hype. But maybe I'll have to try it again elsewhere to compare. 

We tried again the next day for paella for lunch, and were successful!

Oh my goodness it was amazing, definitely worth the recommendation. Even between the four of us we couldn't finish the whole thing, though it wasn't for lack of trying. This was the first paella I've had in Spain, but really it was pretty similar to what I've had at home. I'd never eaten a crawdad before however, and it was more complicated and messy than I was expecting.

Vacation Part II: Sacred Family

What with all the excitement of actually making it to Barcelona, I kind of forgot why it was that I had time off to begin with: Carnival! 

I happened to see these two classy ladies shortly after meeting up with Annie, Laura and Annie's friend Jenny at the metro stop near the hostel. 


After dropping my stuff off in the hostel, we caught the metro to the Sagrada Familia, which was the main thing I was excited to see in Barcelona. Way back in my History of Spain class I did a little presentation on the Sagrada Familia, so it was super cool to see the thing first hand. 

The metro.

It was pretty cool, and felt an awful lot like teleportation. Hop down this tunnel and zip! three minutes later you're in a whole nother part of the city. There were also a whole lot of buskers, not only on the platforms, but in the trains themselves, which was kind of cool, and kind of obnoxious as well. Depending on how good they were I guess.

As soon as we got off the metro, bam. Cathedral.

Or cathedral in the making, I should say. The main nave and eight of the fifteen towers are finished, or mostly finished, but there's still a lot to do. I've heard different things on when it'll be finished, but somewhere between 25 and 80 years seems to be the consensus. So, I'll just have to come back every ten years or so just to see how it's going. 

Normally I'm not a fan of those 'PICTURE OF ME WITH THE FAMOUS THING, OMG' kind of photos, but here's a picture of me with the famous thing. Hopefully it'll give you a little better idea of the scale of the thing in question. Keep in mind it's not done though. The Jesus tower (the final and tallest tower) is supposed to be about twice as high as the apostle towers, which you can see in the first photo. Once finished, there will be one tower for each of the 12 apostles, plus one each for Jesus, Mary and Joseph.

We actually didn't go in this day because the line was like this:

Stretching into the distance, you can see neither the beginning nor the end of this line

But we came back the next day early in the morning to beat the crowds and here are some of the things we saw.

The Crucifixion Façade, which faces west, opposite the Nativity Façade, which faces east and is the one you can see from the metro stop. It was also the only one that Gaudi oversaw the completion of, before he died. (he refused to wear glasses, and this may have been why he was hit by that bus.) The Crucifixion Façade is based on some of his original sketches, and follows them pretty accurately. The difference in styles between the two façades is really striking, with the nativity being very ornate and richly decorated with plants and animals, and the crucifixion stark and geometric.

The view of the nave from the crucifixion entrance. It is huge and light, unlike other Spanish churches that I have been in. There is stained glass everywhere. On a kind of funny note, there is a replica of part of the columns near the highway on my way to Fonsa, of the knobbly bit where the column branches apart. I had no clue what it was and thought it was a heart with valves coming out.

Below you can see one of the columns lit up through stained glass. Behind the railings is where the choir sits, with space for one thousand singers.

The ceiling. Notice how some of the columns are red. These are the ones closest to the altar and represent the blood of Christ.

The altar.

The doors to what will some day be the main entrance (not finished yet)

And lastly a view of the church from Parc Guell, another of Gaudi's works, which we did visit the first day, but I will talk about later.

When it does get finished, it will have been worth the wait.

Vacation Part I: Well, F***

It usually takes me a while to realize that the things I plan on doing are actually going to happen, and this vacation was no different. Annie and Laura and I had been planning our trip to Barcelona/Amsterdam for more than a month but it wasn't until a few days before leaving that I realized I was actually going to get out of Lugo for a few days.

Last Monday (the 4th) I was chilling with my roommie Jonathan, discussing our plans for the week. He mentioned that there was going to be another student strike on Thursday, so I suggested that we walk around the wall or something, but then I realized that nope, I would actually be on my way to the land of futbal and sunshine and famous people pooping in nativity scenes. (it's a thing, and I should have mentioned it in the holiday post)

Thursday morning had me worried however, as the snow level dropped to 800 meters and the teachers caravanned up the mountain through this:

Between the snow and the strike, we had two students out of about 80, who showed up around noon, took a chemistry test and left.

We made it home safe though, and I packed my bag, met Annie and Laura at the bus station and caught the bus for Santiago de Compostela airport. 

This is where the post title will start to make sense. While checking in at the Ryanair (our airline company) desk I realized that I had made a terrible, stupid mistake. Instead of buying a 8:00pm flight, I had bought a 8:00am flight, for the same day. which had left some 10 hours previously. Well, damn. After wasting a good deal of time harassing the ladies at the Ryanair desk (why can you not buy a ticket at the desk for a flight that has seats available, I ask you? I have money,  you have a thing I want, let me give you the money in exchange for the thing I want. that is why money exists) 

I ended up bussing into Santiago, renting a room in a hostel and setting out to find a locutorio. A locutorio is basically an internet cafe, though many of the ones I've seen also sell everything you'd find at a gas station plus paperbacks and stationary supplies but minus gas.

I did find one after some searching, but it was closing for the evening just as I arrived. Shucks. Fortunately, I had Annie's smart phone, so I went to a bar with wifi and bought a ticket from Vueling (another airline) for the next morning.

Both Vueling and Ryanair do this sneaky thing where you have to "check in" online after you purchase your ticket so that you can verify that yes, you have actually bought the thing they just charged you for. You also need to need to have your boarding pass printed out ahead of time, or they'll charge you to print it out at the desk. So in the hopes that I could use the printer at the hostel I booked a ticket, enjoyed a clara de limon (beer + fanta) and watched part of a telenovela (soap opera. Also, how is this my life that I'm drinking fantabeer and watching terrible television with alcoholics in a Galician bar?) and waited for my confirmation email so I could "check in" online for my flight.

The email did come eventually, at about 3:00pm two days later. By which time I was already in Barcelona, having bought a ticket at the Vueling desk in the airport. So, one ticket for the price of three. Super. I've since gone online and read some of the reviews of both Vueling and Ryanair and I am not the only one to have had these kinds of problems. Which could have been avoided if I'd paid more attention and actually thought things through the first time around.

So all in all a fairly stressful start, but I've come to realize recently that stressed is my default mental state, so nothing new there really, just varying degrees of stress.

Stay posted for part II, featuring this place:

(it's Barcelona)