Later that night, we went downtown to where the Melilla fair was just beginning. Although the actual carnival part of the fair was not open yet, there was a free show set up, so we went to check out the Argentinian concert/dance performance. We pulled up white plastic chairs near the back, behind the sound both where a curly-haired young woman in a white flowing sundress and white sandals stood on a chair with a video camera- I recognized her from the ferry. The show was so much fun- there were pulsing drums and upbeat Argentinian music that was hard not to tap your feet to. In parts, the Argentinian dance crew were traditional outfits and for the more contemporary, artistic numbers they were a bit more scantily clad :) I loved sitting there, surrounded by Spanish people, rocking to the smooth melodies and strong, clear voices that sang out into the crowd.
Like Paris, Melilla really comes alive at night. The next night, there was a fireworks show down by the water- EVERYONE was out, even little kids despite the fact that it was 10 PM. It was the closest I've ever been to a huge fireworks show. Some literally felt as if they were going to shoot down and shower me with neon rain-- luckily that didn't happen :) But some fireworks flew up and sparkled mid-air, then shot down into the sea below, snaking their way under the glimmering surface of the water. It was absolutely beautiful, and absolutely deafening at the same time!
But the best night of the fair came when we headed to the carnival, which goes for a week and often lasts all night. There were the most impressive lights set up like arches and intricately designed into unique patterns that stretched around the perimeter of the carnival. There were tons of rides, many of which were for little kids. There were food stands, little vendors, and carnival games boasting fluffy stuffed animals and cheesy prizes. But the best part of the fair wasn't the set-up or the lights, or even the rides: it was the people. In Spain, people actually dress up to go to the fair- including the little kids. Almost every little girl we saw under the age of about 8 was dressed in the most adorable bright little flamenco outfits with matching heeled shoes of the same color. Their shiny hair was slicked back into buns, and their faces were painted with makeup- it was kind-of odd, but also very precious. Even better, many little boys were also wearing traditional flamenco outfits- black pants and white little vests- it was soooo cute!! I loved watching the little kids go around and around on the rides, looking so dignified and proud in their fancy attire. Many of the adults also dressed up, and some moms wore matching dresses with their daughters. If people weren't wearing traditional flamenco outfits, they were at least semi-dressed up with heels or a nice shirt. I don't think I've ever enjoyed people watching as much as I did that night! It was so much fun to stroll around the fair and take it all in- just to be a part of the excitement and joy that permeated the air. We also had some delicious chocolate con churros- the perfect way to end the night. The next day, Tim and I would be leaving for Granada-- I didn't want to go! Sometimes I feel that a little piece of my heart is in that city, as cheesy as that may sound. But I love it there- it's truly an incredible place.
Monday, September 7, 2009
North Africa
August 25th
Today we took the ferry across the Mediterranean sea from Malaga, Spain to Melilla, North Africa. Melilla is a Spanish city (colony) that sits right next to Morocco on the coast of North Africa. Tim and I went to go visit our family friends, a couple who have lived in Melilla for many, many years. The ferry ride was very long (seven and a half hours to be exact!) I was able to sleep a little, but I couldn't do much else since I started getting seasick. The ferry was HUGE- there were lots of rooms with seating, as well as a cafeteria, an outside deck with a pool, and a bar with couches and chairs. We went over to the bar to watch Harry Potter in Spanish, but gave up after a group of Moroccan men talked their heads off so loudly in Arabic right in front of the TV that it was impossible to hear the movie. I did feel kind-of bad, though, because Tim and I had some ice cream in front of everyone, while half of the people on the boat were Muslim. Why does that even matter, you might wonder? Well, because a week before was the start of Ramadan (fasting during the daylight hours) for all Muslims. So eating in front of people who are fasting the entire day isn't exactly a nice thing to do. In my defense, I had completely forgotten it was Ramadan. But luckily, there were also Spanish people on the boat, many who were not Muslim and do not fast.
We arrived in Melilla around 8:30 PM, and were greeted by our friends, who live in a flat near downtown, and that night we had some delicious spaghetti that reminded me of home and my mom especially, who is a very good cook! The next day, we spent time exploring the city, and helped put a back on a couch- there was a lot of sanding, varnishing, sawing, and nailing involved. Although it was hard work, Tim and I welcomed the change of pace. After traveling around for two weeks, actually WORKING gave us some purpose and direction, which was definitely good for us. We had lunch at the house with the (grown) daughter and husband of our friends, who have the cutest little baby boy! He had just learned to walk, so he teetered around the living room, picking up random objects and smiling with the cutest little jack-o'lantern grin I have ever seen :) That evening we all went for a walk around the city... down to the beach, the marina, the plazas. It was around dusk, and was absolutely beautiful.
Melilla is a unique city.The population is very diverse, even though it's pretty small place. It's also a place of striking contrast: About half of the population is Muslim (Morroccan), while the rest of the population is mostly Spanish. There are Jewish and a Hindu neighborhoods, and a large group of Catholics. It's amazing to me that, for the most part, Melilla is a peaceful place. If you go out for a walk, you will see many Muslim women with their bodies and heads covered, Moroccan men with their dark skin and glinting brown eyes, Spanish women who wear tight jeans, sandals, and colorful tank tops, as well as Spanish men with light features wearing t-shirts. It is so fascinating! I loved seeing Spanish and Muslim women stand next to each other in line, living their normal, but so very different lives side by side. Young and old, conservative and liberal, deeply religious and agnostic. The contrast between the women in particular struck me with such intensity- I'm not exactly sure why. Maybe it's because I empathize greatly with all women, since (of course) I am one as well.
Muslim women fast just as their husbands and older children do, but instead of fasting for a month during Ramadan, those between puberty and menopause must make up for the fasts they miss during their time of menstruation. so they must fast for even more time than the men. Also, most Muslim women spend the whole day in the kitchen during Ramadan, preparing food for their children during the day, and for the rest of their families for the night- usually a huge feast. This year, Ramadan is in August, a horrible time to be stuck in the kitchen and fasting, since you cannot even drink water when you fast. A Muslim woman must submit to her husband; her life is very different than the Spanish woman who might live next door.
The Spanish woman in Melilla wears what she pleases. Although many older Spanish women dress rather conservatively, many younger generations wear jeans or shorts, and tank tops during the summer when it's hot. They do not fast, and aren't subject to the many rules and patriarchal customs of Muslim women. It must be hard for Muslim young women to see their Spanish friends from school grow up alongside them with much more freedom. I know that Muslim women want to adhere to their religious beliefs, but that doesn't mean it would be easy. I guess I just can't imagine what it must be like to grow up as a Muslim young woman... to have to cover up my body and sacrifice so much of the freedom that I take for granted daily.
August 26th
We went into Morocco the next morning, and decided to fast to better understand what it is like to participate in Ramadan. It was hot and sticky, but I wore long pants and covered my shoulders out of respect (and also not to get stared at). We first headed up to the hills across the border to see some monkeys that a man keeps in a yard, where visitors can watch them jump on top of their cars and crawl around. When we got there, the place was barren. Apparently, many African immigrants trying to get into Melilla illegally eat the wild monkeys in the hills while they are hiding out and waiting to cross the border. We didn't know if this is what happened, but it wouldn't be surprising. We stopped at a brand new store called Marjane, which is basically a Moroccan Walmart with everything you can imagine- it was pretty cool! It is the first one of its kind in the city of Nador. Next, we drove to a small town to visit one of their friends at his house. There was a little family-run store next to the house, where a little girl stood barefoot outside in a fancy ballgown laced with dirt, staring at us as we went inside to greet their friends. The women of the house were covered, but they were so warm to us. We sat in their living room, bordered with intricately embroidered couches and pillows and tiled walls.
After a little while, we headed to the beach. It was almost completely empty, since people do not go swimming during Ramadan because the water will get into their pores. The shopping area nearby looked like a ghost town, even though it was supposedly a new, touristy area of the city. The ocean was like bath water, and was clean and clear. We sat next to the ocean, and Tim and I made a sand castle and threw a frisbee around. I would through it into the water and he would try to dive while it was in mid-air and catch it (it sounds cooler than it actually was, though!) In a couple hours, we piled into the car once more and drove through the countryside to the "souk", or outdoor market in Nador. Everywhere, people were selling things: fried bread, little bracelets and keychains, spices, fruit, pirated DVDs... parts of it were like a huge flea market, with endless rooms and stalls chock-full of STUFF. We went down into the food market, where stalls of spices and dried fruit, meat, fish and vegetables stand pressed up against each other in the dark shadows of the humid halls with only a tiny pathway to walk. We got some dried figs and dates, as well as some green olives for when we would break the fast later that day. In the heat, it was hard to walk very fast with little to know energy. Everyone looked lethargic, hungry, and slightly grumpy. We trudged along through the market, constantly being stopped by little kids who smelled of urine begging for money, as well as old men with squinty eyes and furrowed brows, holding out their shaking hands in hope of some spare change. Although I had been there once before, it broke my heart. The suffering there is not simply found in the crisis of economic hardship and poverty... it's there in people's eyes, in the empty stomachs and hidden, long dark hair. It's found in the pleading voices and dirty toes of little children who follow you like stray dogs in the street.
As we headed back to the car to return to Melilla, I felt the pain of my own stomach grumbling and complaining. I wiped the sweat off of my forehead, and closed my eyes in attempt to dispel some of the dizziness that fitfully held my thoughts in a jumbled, clouded state. My throat was dry from lack of water, and my eyes burned in the dry sun. I hated wearing long pants and a long shirt in the heat- it was ridiculous! But at the same time, I was in no place to complain. I felt a deeper understanding for Moroccan women, as well as a deeper sense of gratitude for my own life circumstances. The word freedom is so ambiguous- what does it even mean to be free? In the US, we get to say what we want, have barbecues in our backyard, and shoot off fireworks in celebration. But the celebration of freedom is found in other, simpler ways too: in the feeling of bare legs and shoulders stretched out under the sun at the beach, in the healthy, "organic" food we can eat everyday, in women's rights and soapy, warm bathtubs prepared for little kids and nursing homes for the elderly. In air-conditioned shopping malls, street cleaners, regular trips to the dentist and after school activities. We often equate freedom with fairness, with our "rights". But our freedoms are more than that-- they are tremendous gifts some people would give anything for. Coming across the border, the patrol man looked at Tim's passport and mine, then handed them back and said, jokingly: "America, taking over the world!" I forced a laugh, but a part of me cringed at those words... I don't want to just be a taker, but also a giver.
Today we took the ferry across the Mediterranean sea from Malaga, Spain to Melilla, North Africa. Melilla is a Spanish city (colony) that sits right next to Morocco on the coast of North Africa. Tim and I went to go visit our family friends, a couple who have lived in Melilla for many, many years. The ferry ride was very long (seven and a half hours to be exact!) I was able to sleep a little, but I couldn't do much else since I started getting seasick. The ferry was HUGE- there were lots of rooms with seating, as well as a cafeteria, an outside deck with a pool, and a bar with couches and chairs. We went over to the bar to watch Harry Potter in Spanish, but gave up after a group of Moroccan men talked their heads off so loudly in Arabic right in front of the TV that it was impossible to hear the movie. I did feel kind-of bad, though, because Tim and I had some ice cream in front of everyone, while half of the people on the boat were Muslim. Why does that even matter, you might wonder? Well, because a week before was the start of Ramadan (fasting during the daylight hours) for all Muslims. So eating in front of people who are fasting the entire day isn't exactly a nice thing to do. In my defense, I had completely forgotten it was Ramadan. But luckily, there were also Spanish people on the boat, many who were not Muslim and do not fast.
We arrived in Melilla around 8:30 PM, and were greeted by our friends, who live in a flat near downtown, and that night we had some delicious spaghetti that reminded me of home and my mom especially, who is a very good cook! The next day, we spent time exploring the city, and helped put a back on a couch- there was a lot of sanding, varnishing, sawing, and nailing involved. Although it was hard work, Tim and I welcomed the change of pace. After traveling around for two weeks, actually WORKING gave us some purpose and direction, which was definitely good for us. We had lunch at the house with the (grown) daughter and husband of our friends, who have the cutest little baby boy! He had just learned to walk, so he teetered around the living room, picking up random objects and smiling with the cutest little jack-o'lantern grin I have ever seen :) That evening we all went for a walk around the city... down to the beach, the marina, the plazas. It was around dusk, and was absolutely beautiful.
Melilla is a unique city.The population is very diverse, even though it's pretty small place. It's also a place of striking contrast: About half of the population is Muslim (Morroccan), while the rest of the population is mostly Spanish. There are Jewish and a Hindu neighborhoods, and a large group of Catholics. It's amazing to me that, for the most part, Melilla is a peaceful place. If you go out for a walk, you will see many Muslim women with their bodies and heads covered, Moroccan men with their dark skin and glinting brown eyes, Spanish women who wear tight jeans, sandals, and colorful tank tops, as well as Spanish men with light features wearing t-shirts. It is so fascinating! I loved seeing Spanish and Muslim women stand next to each other in line, living their normal, but so very different lives side by side. Young and old, conservative and liberal, deeply religious and agnostic. The contrast between the women in particular struck me with such intensity- I'm not exactly sure why. Maybe it's because I empathize greatly with all women, since (of course) I am one as well.
Muslim women fast just as their husbands and older children do, but instead of fasting for a month during Ramadan, those between puberty and menopause must make up for the fasts they miss during their time of menstruation. so they must fast for even more time than the men. Also, most Muslim women spend the whole day in the kitchen during Ramadan, preparing food for their children during the day, and for the rest of their families for the night- usually a huge feast. This year, Ramadan is in August, a horrible time to be stuck in the kitchen and fasting, since you cannot even drink water when you fast. A Muslim woman must submit to her husband; her life is very different than the Spanish woman who might live next door.
The Spanish woman in Melilla wears what she pleases. Although many older Spanish women dress rather conservatively, many younger generations wear jeans or shorts, and tank tops during the summer when it's hot. They do not fast, and aren't subject to the many rules and patriarchal customs of Muslim women. It must be hard for Muslim young women to see their Spanish friends from school grow up alongside them with much more freedom. I know that Muslim women want to adhere to their religious beliefs, but that doesn't mean it would be easy. I guess I just can't imagine what it must be like to grow up as a Muslim young woman... to have to cover up my body and sacrifice so much of the freedom that I take for granted daily.
August 26th
We went into Morocco the next morning, and decided to fast to better understand what it is like to participate in Ramadan. It was hot and sticky, but I wore long pants and covered my shoulders out of respect (and also not to get stared at). We first headed up to the hills across the border to see some monkeys that a man keeps in a yard, where visitors can watch them jump on top of their cars and crawl around. When we got there, the place was barren. Apparently, many African immigrants trying to get into Melilla illegally eat the wild monkeys in the hills while they are hiding out and waiting to cross the border. We didn't know if this is what happened, but it wouldn't be surprising. We stopped at a brand new store called Marjane, which is basically a Moroccan Walmart with everything you can imagine- it was pretty cool! It is the first one of its kind in the city of Nador. Next, we drove to a small town to visit one of their friends at his house. There was a little family-run store next to the house, where a little girl stood barefoot outside in a fancy ballgown laced with dirt, staring at us as we went inside to greet their friends. The women of the house were covered, but they were so warm to us. We sat in their living room, bordered with intricately embroidered couches and pillows and tiled walls.
After a little while, we headed to the beach. It was almost completely empty, since people do not go swimming during Ramadan because the water will get into their pores. The shopping area nearby looked like a ghost town, even though it was supposedly a new, touristy area of the city. The ocean was like bath water, and was clean and clear. We sat next to the ocean, and Tim and I made a sand castle and threw a frisbee around. I would through it into the water and he would try to dive while it was in mid-air and catch it (it sounds cooler than it actually was, though!) In a couple hours, we piled into the car once more and drove through the countryside to the "souk", or outdoor market in Nador. Everywhere, people were selling things: fried bread, little bracelets and keychains, spices, fruit, pirated DVDs... parts of it were like a huge flea market, with endless rooms and stalls chock-full of STUFF. We went down into the food market, where stalls of spices and dried fruit, meat, fish and vegetables stand pressed up against each other in the dark shadows of the humid halls with only a tiny pathway to walk. We got some dried figs and dates, as well as some green olives for when we would break the fast later that day. In the heat, it was hard to walk very fast with little to know energy. Everyone looked lethargic, hungry, and slightly grumpy. We trudged along through the market, constantly being stopped by little kids who smelled of urine begging for money, as well as old men with squinty eyes and furrowed brows, holding out their shaking hands in hope of some spare change. Although I had been there once before, it broke my heart. The suffering there is not simply found in the crisis of economic hardship and poverty... it's there in people's eyes, in the empty stomachs and hidden, long dark hair. It's found in the pleading voices and dirty toes of little children who follow you like stray dogs in the street.
As we headed back to the car to return to Melilla, I felt the pain of my own stomach grumbling and complaining. I wiped the sweat off of my forehead, and closed my eyes in attempt to dispel some of the dizziness that fitfully held my thoughts in a jumbled, clouded state. My throat was dry from lack of water, and my eyes burned in the dry sun. I hated wearing long pants and a long shirt in the heat- it was ridiculous! But at the same time, I was in no place to complain. I felt a deeper understanding for Moroccan women, as well as a deeper sense of gratitude for my own life circumstances. The word freedom is so ambiguous- what does it even mean to be free? In the US, we get to say what we want, have barbecues in our backyard, and shoot off fireworks in celebration. But the celebration of freedom is found in other, simpler ways too: in the feeling of bare legs and shoulders stretched out under the sun at the beach, in the healthy, "organic" food we can eat everyday, in women's rights and soapy, warm bathtubs prepared for little kids and nursing homes for the elderly. In air-conditioned shopping malls, street cleaners, regular trips to the dentist and after school activities. We often equate freedom with fairness, with our "rights". But our freedoms are more than that-- they are tremendous gifts some people would give anything for. Coming across the border, the patrol man looked at Tim's passport and mine, then handed them back and said, jokingly: "America, taking over the world!" I forced a laugh, but a part of me cringed at those words... I don't want to just be a taker, but also a giver.
Friday, September 4, 2009
The REAL Madrid
August 23rd
I absolutely loved Madrid. Today we stayed in the coolest hostel in a really nice part of downtown that was very close to a metro stop. We downtown around 10 PM for dinner at this delicious vegetarian falafel pita place, then checked out the Plaza Mayor. The plaza was filled with cafes and street performers. One of the performers was a man with a table over him and his head sticking out, with two fake heads sticking out on either side. His face was painted like a clown, and it was really creepy in the dim light! As I was walking by, he hissed at me!! It kinda creeped me out! There was also a couple performing a flamenco dance, which was so fun to see. We set out to look for a flamenco show at a place I had read about before the trip, but we got a little lost getting there. When we finally found it, we realized it was a little out of our price range. So instead, we went to a fun bar and had Spanish sangria- this amazing mixture of fruit juice and wine. The bartender, a young guy from Morocco, was hilarious and came over to chat with us, which was a lot of fun.
August 24th
We rented boats at Retiro Park, and rowed around the little man-made lake there this morning. It was so pretty! As we walked around Madrid, I kept thinking about my dad, who studied in Madrid for a semester when he was my age. Every place we went, I wondered if he had seen the same things, and had thought similar things about the places and the people and the culture. Since the Prado museum was closed, we went to the modern art museum, Reina Sofia, which I absolutely loved. There, we saw a ton of Picasso's work, as well of tons of other big, bright paintings and exhibits- it is now my favorite art museum (check out my pictures on Facebook from it!). That evening, we went to an old authentic restaurant on the other side of town called Casa Mingo that makes their own cider. We ordered a whole chicken to share, tuna empenadas, and a botle of cider that tasted like Martinelli's only 10 times better. It was a bittersweet night, because it was our last night together as a group. In the morning, Tim and I were leaving for North Africa, Laura was heading down to school, and Tess was going to meet up with her mom in Madrid to do a little more sightseeing before heading back home.
That night, I began to reflect on our trip- it had gone by so fast! Before the trip, I hadn't expected so many things to go wrong. I had no idea we would have so many train troubles, or little disagreements within our group, or so many cranky mornings and tense moments. I knew that the trip wasn't going to be perfect, but I think I had built it up so much in my mind that I was slightly disappointed that the trip was very much reality, and didn't really resemble a fantasy European vacation at all. Traveling- especially backpacking cheaply- is hard work! It's exhausting and stressful, which doesn't always bring out the best in people. It was also hard traveling with three other people, because we tended to pair up. It was just easier that way; it's hard to walk down the street four people in a row and maintain a group conversation! We also had a lot of little fights here and there- mostly when we wanted to do different things or eat different things at times when we were grumpy or tired or homesick. But I wouldn't trade the trip for anything, because I learned so much about myself and about the world as a result. I think, sadly, one of the things I learned is that life is always going to be difficult, wherever you are. It's never going to be a fantasy world. Being in beautiful places, meeting cool people, and seeing amazing things is so worth it! But it is not fulfilling in and of itself. I think what makes traveling so great is more about what you learn as a result. Sure, resort vacations are great and relaxing, but if you really want to grow, try backpacking through Europe.
You might be wondering what exactly I learned about myself from this portion of the trip. Yes, I definitely learned so much about other cultures and lifestyles, history, fashion, art, food, you name it. But on a deeper level,I'm still trying to sort things out. I CAN say that I learned more about my character flaws than anything else, as hard as that is to admit. Like everyone else, I'm an inherently selfish person, sometimes more stubborn and feisty than others. This trip really humbled me. It's hard to compromise, to let someone else "win", to be okay when plans change and situations are difficult and uncomfortable. That's what life experience is all about. Life is not all about me, which is sometimes hard to accept (yes, i will be the first one to admit it). I was grumpy a lot, and it's something I'm not proud of. At the same time, this trip brought me a lot closer to God, in the sense that I was so far away from Him when it started (and for most of the trip). I honestly didn't have the capacity to be loving and selfless when things were hard on the trip, because I didn't have peace in my heart. The most amazing thing, though, is that I needed to glimpse myself and my own darkness to recognize that I needed God reach in and fill me with HIS peace and HIS light and HIS love. I'm so thankful for that realization, for God's transforming grace.
I absolutely loved Madrid. Today we stayed in the coolest hostel in a really nice part of downtown that was very close to a metro stop. We downtown around 10 PM for dinner at this delicious vegetarian falafel pita place, then checked out the Plaza Mayor. The plaza was filled with cafes and street performers. One of the performers was a man with a table over him and his head sticking out, with two fake heads sticking out on either side. His face was painted like a clown, and it was really creepy in the dim light! As I was walking by, he hissed at me!! It kinda creeped me out! There was also a couple performing a flamenco dance, which was so fun to see. We set out to look for a flamenco show at a place I had read about before the trip, but we got a little lost getting there. When we finally found it, we realized it was a little out of our price range. So instead, we went to a fun bar and had Spanish sangria- this amazing mixture of fruit juice and wine. The bartender, a young guy from Morocco, was hilarious and came over to chat with us, which was a lot of fun.
August 24th
We rented boats at Retiro Park, and rowed around the little man-made lake there this morning. It was so pretty! As we walked around Madrid, I kept thinking about my dad, who studied in Madrid for a semester when he was my age. Every place we went, I wondered if he had seen the same things, and had thought similar things about the places and the people and the culture. Since the Prado museum was closed, we went to the modern art museum, Reina Sofia, which I absolutely loved. There, we saw a ton of Picasso's work, as well of tons of other big, bright paintings and exhibits- it is now my favorite art museum (check out my pictures on Facebook from it!). That evening, we went to an old authentic restaurant on the other side of town called Casa Mingo that makes their own cider. We ordered a whole chicken to share, tuna empenadas, and a botle of cider that tasted like Martinelli's only 10 times better. It was a bittersweet night, because it was our last night together as a group. In the morning, Tim and I were leaving for North Africa, Laura was heading down to school, and Tess was going to meet up with her mom in Madrid to do a little more sightseeing before heading back home.
That night, I began to reflect on our trip- it had gone by so fast! Before the trip, I hadn't expected so many things to go wrong. I had no idea we would have so many train troubles, or little disagreements within our group, or so many cranky mornings and tense moments. I knew that the trip wasn't going to be perfect, but I think I had built it up so much in my mind that I was slightly disappointed that the trip was very much reality, and didn't really resemble a fantasy European vacation at all. Traveling- especially backpacking cheaply- is hard work! It's exhausting and stressful, which doesn't always bring out the best in people. It was also hard traveling with three other people, because we tended to pair up. It was just easier that way; it's hard to walk down the street four people in a row and maintain a group conversation! We also had a lot of little fights here and there- mostly when we wanted to do different things or eat different things at times when we were grumpy or tired or homesick. But I wouldn't trade the trip for anything, because I learned so much about myself and about the world as a result. I think, sadly, one of the things I learned is that life is always going to be difficult, wherever you are. It's never going to be a fantasy world. Being in beautiful places, meeting cool people, and seeing amazing things is so worth it! But it is not fulfilling in and of itself. I think what makes traveling so great is more about what you learn as a result. Sure, resort vacations are great and relaxing, but if you really want to grow, try backpacking through Europe.
You might be wondering what exactly I learned about myself from this portion of the trip. Yes, I definitely learned so much about other cultures and lifestyles, history, fashion, art, food, you name it. But on a deeper level,I'm still trying to sort things out. I CAN say that I learned more about my character flaws than anything else, as hard as that is to admit. Like everyone else, I'm an inherently selfish person, sometimes more stubborn and feisty than others. This trip really humbled me. It's hard to compromise, to let someone else "win", to be okay when plans change and situations are difficult and uncomfortable. That's what life experience is all about. Life is not all about me, which is sometimes hard to accept (yes, i will be the first one to admit it). I was grumpy a lot, and it's something I'm not proud of. At the same time, this trip brought me a lot closer to God, in the sense that I was so far away from Him when it started (and for most of the trip). I honestly didn't have the capacity to be loving and selfless when things were hard on the trip, because I didn't have peace in my heart. The most amazing thing, though, is that I needed to glimpse myself and my own darkness to recognize that I needed God reach in and fill me with HIS peace and HIS light and HIS love. I'm so thankful for that realization, for God's transforming grace.
Bar-tha-lona
August 20th-August 21st
Getting to Barcelona was a headache. And I am not exaggerating. We first went to Nice, but had to stop in a city along the way for two hours because there was a fire on the tracks! When we finally got to Nice to buy our ticket to Barcelona and spend the night, all tickets had been sold out. So Laura and Tess begged and pleaded with the woman at the reservation desk, who miraculously found us an overnight train the next night at 9:30 PM to a border city outside of Spain, then a connecting train to Barcelona the next morning. Nice, a resort city on the coast of Southern France, turned out to be a fun place to hang out for a day. After leaving our backpacks in lockers at the train station the next morning (and changing into our swimsuits in the locker room (quite the experience!) we hung out at the beach for the day. A guy even gave us his hot pink blow-up raft! It was so hot, but we laid out on the rocks after swimming and all fell asleep. Bad idea: we all got so burned!! We walked around Nice until our train, which was so tiny and cramped and smelly. But I seriously can fall asleep anywhere, it's one of my best talents. So I strapped on my eye mask and put in my earplugs and slept the whole 8 hours sitting up (that was a first for me). We ended up missing one of our trains, so we had to train hop the whole morning until we finally got the one we needed to Barcelona.
August 22nd
Originally, we were planning to spend two days in Barcelona, but we ended up with only an evening and half a day. Our hostel in Barcelona was great- there was a kitchen where we made pasta for dinner, and it was very cute and clean with bright colors and really friendly travelers. That night, we went out for tapas. The first place we went, our bartender was so mean! He basically ignored us the whole time we were there, and I think he was mad because we didn't order very much. The next place we went was a little off the beaten track, and was filled with locals. We ordered tons of tapas: french fries with hot sauce, squid, bread, chorizo, Spanish cheese.... it was delicious! Some of the locals didn't look too happy we were there, though. I think Spaniards in Barcelona must get tired of the constant stream of tourists- I know I would! We didn't realize until later that we were staying in the gay district of the city. That night, we stopped at a local cafe down the street from our hostel so Tim could get some tortilla espanol. Just about every guy in the cafe turned their heads to stare at Tim (who had his shirt buttoned halfway down because of the heat) when he walked in- especially the waiter! When he brought out Tim's food to-go, he had given him a HUGE portion of tortilla espanol, and had filled the box to the brim with bread and other snacks. It was pretty funny, if not a little awkward for Tim (and me!)
August 23rd
The next day we headed to the Parque Guell up on a hill, which is where the artist and architect who designed the park (as well as many other famous buildings in Barcelona) lived. We toured his house filled with funky furniture, and walked around the huge park, which was really cool. Sadly, we had to catch our train that afternoon to Madrid, but I'm glad we got to see at least a little part of the city.
Getting to Barcelona was a headache. And I am not exaggerating. We first went to Nice, but had to stop in a city along the way for two hours because there was a fire on the tracks! When we finally got to Nice to buy our ticket to Barcelona and spend the night, all tickets had been sold out. So Laura and Tess begged and pleaded with the woman at the reservation desk, who miraculously found us an overnight train the next night at 9:30 PM to a border city outside of Spain, then a connecting train to Barcelona the next morning. Nice, a resort city on the coast of Southern France, turned out to be a fun place to hang out for a day. After leaving our backpacks in lockers at the train station the next morning (and changing into our swimsuits in the locker room (quite the experience!) we hung out at the beach for the day. A guy even gave us his hot pink blow-up raft! It was so hot, but we laid out on the rocks after swimming and all fell asleep. Bad idea: we all got so burned!! We walked around Nice until our train, which was so tiny and cramped and smelly. But I seriously can fall asleep anywhere, it's one of my best talents. So I strapped on my eye mask and put in my earplugs and slept the whole 8 hours sitting up (that was a first for me). We ended up missing one of our trains, so we had to train hop the whole morning until we finally got the one we needed to Barcelona.
August 22nd
Originally, we were planning to spend two days in Barcelona, but we ended up with only an evening and half a day. Our hostel in Barcelona was great- there was a kitchen where we made pasta for dinner, and it was very cute and clean with bright colors and really friendly travelers. That night, we went out for tapas. The first place we went, our bartender was so mean! He basically ignored us the whole time we were there, and I think he was mad because we didn't order very much. The next place we went was a little off the beaten track, and was filled with locals. We ordered tons of tapas: french fries with hot sauce, squid, bread, chorizo, Spanish cheese.... it was delicious! Some of the locals didn't look too happy we were there, though. I think Spaniards in Barcelona must get tired of the constant stream of tourists- I know I would! We didn't realize until later that we were staying in the gay district of the city. That night, we stopped at a local cafe down the street from our hostel so Tim could get some tortilla espanol. Just about every guy in the cafe turned their heads to stare at Tim (who had his shirt buttoned halfway down because of the heat) when he walked in- especially the waiter! When he brought out Tim's food to-go, he had given him a HUGE portion of tortilla espanol, and had filled the box to the brim with bread and other snacks. It was pretty funny, if not a little awkward for Tim (and me!)
August 23rd
The next day we headed to the Parque Guell up on a hill, which is where the artist and architect who designed the park (as well as many other famous buildings in Barcelona) lived. We toured his house filled with funky furniture, and walked around the huge park, which was really cool. Sadly, we had to catch our train that afternoon to Madrid, but I'm glad we got to see at least a little part of the city.
The Cinque Terre
August 18th
This afternoon we arrived in the Cinque Terre after a series of train rides. Our last train we took wove through a long stretch of tunnels next to the coast. It was so fun, because every once in a while we were spit out of the shadows of the tunnel and into the sunlight for a few seconds before more tunnels. It was like a glimpse of paradise: the water was a pristine, deep blue and the cliffs jutted out over the Mediterranean. It was very surreal. We got to the town we were staying in, Corniglia, and had to walk up a gigantic hill with our backpacks, since it's up on a cliff. It was so hot and sticky all I wanted to do was jump into the ocean and swim! After checking into our hostel, we went down to the beach, which had huge, flat rocks you could sit on instead of sand. There were so many people down there (mostly Italians) on their summer vacation. The water was warm, the sun was toasty, and it was so, so beautiful I can't even describe it. Tim jumped off a 20 foot cliff into the water with some local Italian bows, and we swam around, soaking in our surroundings. Later, we took a local train to the neighboring town of Manarola for dinner where we found a little Italian joint called Il Porticiolo that Rick Steves actually recommended in his book! I had pesto ravioli that was delicious- I could eat Italian food my whole life and always be happy. Right near the restaurant was a small marina where we witnessed another exquisite sunset. The Cinque Terre is such a peaceful place, I love it.
August 19th
After breakfast, we hiked to the neighboring villages of Vernazza and Monterrosso. It was hot, but gorgeous. The hike was a lot of uphills and downhills, with steep stairs and winding, narrow trails- there were so many people out! Towards the end of the hike, we often had to pull off to the side of the trail to let people going the other way get by. But the views on the hike were stunning, since it was directly above th coast. It was so much better in person than I could have imagined- I would recommend going to the Cinque Terre if ever in Italy. With about a mile and a half to Monterrosso (the hike took 2 hours), Tim and I ran, even though we got some odd stares. But I wasn't about to pass up the chance to run on one of the most beautiful trails in the world :) When we got to the end of the trail, we sat down on the stairs to wait for Laura and Tess. Fifteen minutes went by, then a half hour, than 45 minutes and they still hadn't shown up. We asked a park ranger on the trail if she had seen them pass, but she hadn't. So we stopped at a little foccaciaria for lunch, then hiked all the way back to Corniglia. By the end, we were exhausted and disty. It was torturous to hike all the way back staring at the refreshing blue water below! Tim and I went down to the beach to swim, which was just what we needed. Later, we took the traint o Monterrosso for dinner, where we met up with Laura and Tess for gelato. Back at the hostel that night, we met two guys our age from the East Coast who went to school at Duke and were going to study for a semester in Barcelona. We sat outside of the hostel with them, and then four Australians joined us (two couples around 25 who live in London and work as high school PE teachers). It was so much fun talking with them, joking, and listening to their aussie accents and abbreviations for everything (for example, they call all swimsuits "swimmers"!). I would love to visit Australia someday. We all talked late into the night, which is something I will always remember because we were all from such different places but we had so much fun together. I love the feeling of meeting new people- the excitement of sharing stories and thoughts about life and travel and culture. It was one of the best nights of the whole trip.
This afternoon we arrived in the Cinque Terre after a series of train rides. Our last train we took wove through a long stretch of tunnels next to the coast. It was so fun, because every once in a while we were spit out of the shadows of the tunnel and into the sunlight for a few seconds before more tunnels. It was like a glimpse of paradise: the water was a pristine, deep blue and the cliffs jutted out over the Mediterranean. It was very surreal. We got to the town we were staying in, Corniglia, and had to walk up a gigantic hill with our backpacks, since it's up on a cliff. It was so hot and sticky all I wanted to do was jump into the ocean and swim! After checking into our hostel, we went down to the beach, which had huge, flat rocks you could sit on instead of sand. There were so many people down there (mostly Italians) on their summer vacation. The water was warm, the sun was toasty, and it was so, so beautiful I can't even describe it. Tim jumped off a 20 foot cliff into the water with some local Italian bows, and we swam around, soaking in our surroundings. Later, we took a local train to the neighboring town of Manarola for dinner where we found a little Italian joint called Il Porticiolo that Rick Steves actually recommended in his book! I had pesto ravioli that was delicious- I could eat Italian food my whole life and always be happy. Right near the restaurant was a small marina where we witnessed another exquisite sunset. The Cinque Terre is such a peaceful place, I love it.
August 19th
After breakfast, we hiked to the neighboring villages of Vernazza and Monterrosso. It was hot, but gorgeous. The hike was a lot of uphills and downhills, with steep stairs and winding, narrow trails- there were so many people out! Towards the end of the hike, we often had to pull off to the side of the trail to let people going the other way get by. But the views on the hike were stunning, since it was directly above th coast. It was so much better in person than I could have imagined- I would recommend going to the Cinque Terre if ever in Italy. With about a mile and a half to Monterrosso (the hike took 2 hours), Tim and I ran, even though we got some odd stares. But I wasn't about to pass up the chance to run on one of the most beautiful trails in the world :) When we got to the end of the trail, we sat down on the stairs to wait for Laura and Tess. Fifteen minutes went by, then a half hour, than 45 minutes and they still hadn't shown up. We asked a park ranger on the trail if she had seen them pass, but she hadn't. So we stopped at a little foccaciaria for lunch, then hiked all the way back to Corniglia. By the end, we were exhausted and disty. It was torturous to hike all the way back staring at the refreshing blue water below! Tim and I went down to the beach to swim, which was just what we needed. Later, we took the traint o Monterrosso for dinner, where we met up with Laura and Tess for gelato. Back at the hostel that night, we met two guys our age from the East Coast who went to school at Duke and were going to study for a semester in Barcelona. We sat outside of the hostel with them, and then four Australians joined us (two couples around 25 who live in London and work as high school PE teachers). It was so much fun talking with them, joking, and listening to their aussie accents and abbreviations for everything (for example, they call all swimsuits "swimmers"!). I would love to visit Australia someday. We all talked late into the night, which is something I will always remember because we were all from such different places but we had so much fun together. I love the feeling of meeting new people- the excitement of sharing stories and thoughts about life and travel and culture. It was one of the best nights of the whole trip.
Florence Knows How to Make Pizza
August 17th
Early this afternoon we arrived in Florence- a charming little city chock full of gelaterias, pizzarias, ridiculously expensive clothing stores, and old, picturesque bridges stretching between the two halves of the city. As we walked from the train station to our hostel, I began my daily people-watching session that is so much more fun in Europe than in the States (obviously). Tim and All of a sudden we heard someone yell "Tim!", and when we turned around, a dark-haired guy about our age came running at Tim, greeting him with a big bear hug. It really is a small world- it was Tim's friend, Brandon, from Azusa Pacific, who was visiting Florence with his cousins! Oddly enough, I wasn't all that surprised. Tim is the kind of person that runs into people he knows pretty much wherever he goes, which I love about him. Anyways, we got to our hostel on a narrow, alley-like street near the river where the owner, Leonardo, showed us our (very pink) room. It had blue shutters and an amazing view of... well, a cement wall. It wasn't the most glamorous of places, but it was affordable in a city where tourists are up the ying-yang. Leonardo told us about this pizza place, so we went there for some authentic, hot, glorious Italian pizza- it was perfect! We checked out the Duomo, an elaborate dome cathedral- and I had the privilege of wearing a disposable poncho because I had a tank top on- that go a few laughs! Of course, we also had gelato ( I had coconut and hazelnut- my favorites), which is much cheaper (and better) in Italy than in the States. The only thing I didn't like about Florence was the fact that most of the people there were tourists. I know, I know, I'm also one of "them", but to me touristy cities don't feel like the real deal with the endless streets of expensive stores and gift shops clogged with photo-snapping, fanny-pack-wearing tourists. Nevertheless, Florence was very pretty, especially the place where we ate our calzones next to the river on a park bench. After dinner, Tim and I took a walk along the river and saw the most beautiful sunset over the water. That night, though, I got eaten alive by a swarm of mosquitoes that buzzed through our window... they must have tasted all the sugar in my blood from all that tasty gelato :)
Early this afternoon we arrived in Florence- a charming little city chock full of gelaterias, pizzarias, ridiculously expensive clothing stores, and old, picturesque bridges stretching between the two halves of the city. As we walked from the train station to our hostel, I began my daily people-watching session that is so much more fun in Europe than in the States (obviously). Tim and All of a sudden we heard someone yell "Tim!", and when we turned around, a dark-haired guy about our age came running at Tim, greeting him with a big bear hug. It really is a small world- it was Tim's friend, Brandon, from Azusa Pacific, who was visiting Florence with his cousins! Oddly enough, I wasn't all that surprised. Tim is the kind of person that runs into people he knows pretty much wherever he goes, which I love about him. Anyways, we got to our hostel on a narrow, alley-like street near the river where the owner, Leonardo, showed us our (very pink) room. It had blue shutters and an amazing view of... well, a cement wall. It wasn't the most glamorous of places, but it was affordable in a city where tourists are up the ying-yang. Leonardo told us about this pizza place, so we went there for some authentic, hot, glorious Italian pizza- it was perfect! We checked out the Duomo, an elaborate dome cathedral- and I had the privilege of wearing a disposable poncho because I had a tank top on- that go a few laughs! Of course, we also had gelato ( I had coconut and hazelnut- my favorites), which is much cheaper (and better) in Italy than in the States. The only thing I didn't like about Florence was the fact that most of the people there were tourists. I know, I know, I'm also one of "them", but to me touristy cities don't feel like the real deal with the endless streets of expensive stores and gift shops clogged with photo-snapping, fanny-pack-wearing tourists. Nevertheless, Florence was very pretty, especially the place where we ate our calzones next to the river on a park bench. After dinner, Tim and I took a walk along the river and saw the most beautiful sunset over the water. That night, though, I got eaten alive by a swarm of mosquitoes that buzzed through our window... they must have tasted all the sugar in my blood from all that tasty gelato :)
Off to Milan!
August 16th
This morning all hell broke loose. We were cleaning the apartment in preparation to leave for Milan in the early afternoon, and were about ready to leave when I realized that I couldn't find my Eurail pass. I usually kept it in my money belt, but it had, to my horror, disappeared. We were already running late, but I frantically threw everything out of my backpack to search for my pass. I threw rumpled (and slightly smelly) clothes over my shoulder, scoured my backpack, and began to panic when I still couldn't find it after a thorough search of all my stuff. Tim even looked through his stuff with the slight hope that somehow he had picked up my pass by accident. But it was nowhere to be found. My heart started racing: the pass was around $400, and I needed it for two more weeks of travel on who knows how many more trains. But we already had reservations for our train to Milan, so we set out for the train station via the metro. At the metro stop, Jessi came running up behind me: I had left a bag of electronic cords at her house! I was so relieved that she caught us in time. On the metro, hot tears began to form in the corners of my eyes- I didn't even know if they would let me on the train without my pass, but I didn't have time to buy a whole ticket before boarding. We rushed to the station, boarded the train, and sat down. And then I decided to look just one more time-just to be safe. But I still couldn't find it. Then Tim tapped me on the shoulder. He pulled out his wallet, reached inside, and retrieved my beautiful, wonderful, perfect Eurail pass. I didn't know if I felt like laughing or crying- whatever I felt, it was a very, very good place to be :)
On the train, Tess had a broken seat so the conductor moved us to this plush first -class private box at the very front of the train- it was so nice! After 7 hours we arrived in Milan around 9:30 PM, and had to wait in line to reserve our train the next morning to Florence. The air was sticky, but Italy already felt less stuffy than Paris in terms of the culture: everyone in Italy seemed a whole lot more friendly and relaxed, and it made sense! Italian sounded so beautiful, and even the little girls in line who were running around screaming their heads off sounded like mini enlightened poets- the rhythmic words slid off their tongues like smooth jazz, and I was in awe. Even the bus drivers in Italy were friendly. We timidly asked a bus driver perched outside his bus eating a slice of pizza dripping with hot cheese where bus #60 was, and he quickly whipped his head inside his bus and yelled in Italian: "Does anyone speak English?!" Everyone on the bus turned their eyes toward us, and shook their heads "no." Strangely enough, none of the passengers appeared annoyed by our disruption of their bumpy commute home. They all looked so darn happy to be sitting on a bus at 10:30 at night in Milan- don't ask me why :) Laura, who is regularly blessed with strokes of genius, said "sesenta" (60 in Spanish), and the driver let out a loud "Ahh!" and pointed us to the other side of the street. Our bus was just about to leave when we boarded- luck seemed to be on our side that night.
The only damper to the evening came when I attempted to pull my 35 pound backpack off my back and onto the seat just as the bus was pulling out. Apparantly, driving in Italy doesn't quite match the laid-back lifestyle of this pasta-eating, rhythmically speaking country. I slammed against the window, and my backpack slid down my arm, leaving a gnarly looking bruise. Defeated, I sat down to nurse my battle wound until we got to our hotel- or so we thought. We walked up a long flight of stairs to a front desk where a young Italian guy sat glued to the computer screen, watching a YouTube hip-hop video titled "Come Turn Me On" or something grotesquely and distinctly American like that. He quickly exited out of the page and turned his attention to us, but couldn't find our reservation! Before we could say "Ay, Mio!" he whisked out his phone, called someone, and then told us we had a reservation at the hotel next door. At the other place, we had a cute little room with four rock-hard beds lined up in a row, and a hideous flower painting mounted on the opposite wall. Since we had been on the rain for 7 hours, none of us were all that tired. So we all laid in our beds, staring at the cieling in the unforgiving humidity. Maybe it was the insanity of traveling, or the fact that we were in a strange, random place just for the night. But something struck, and we all began laughing hysterically for no good reason. It was glorious.
This morning all hell broke loose. We were cleaning the apartment in preparation to leave for Milan in the early afternoon, and were about ready to leave when I realized that I couldn't find my Eurail pass. I usually kept it in my money belt, but it had, to my horror, disappeared. We were already running late, but I frantically threw everything out of my backpack to search for my pass. I threw rumpled (and slightly smelly) clothes over my shoulder, scoured my backpack, and began to panic when I still couldn't find it after a thorough search of all my stuff. Tim even looked through his stuff with the slight hope that somehow he had picked up my pass by accident. But it was nowhere to be found. My heart started racing: the pass was around $400, and I needed it for two more weeks of travel on who knows how many more trains. But we already had reservations for our train to Milan, so we set out for the train station via the metro. At the metro stop, Jessi came running up behind me: I had left a bag of electronic cords at her house! I was so relieved that she caught us in time. On the metro, hot tears began to form in the corners of my eyes- I didn't even know if they would let me on the train without my pass, but I didn't have time to buy a whole ticket before boarding. We rushed to the station, boarded the train, and sat down. And then I decided to look just one more time-just to be safe. But I still couldn't find it. Then Tim tapped me on the shoulder. He pulled out his wallet, reached inside, and retrieved my beautiful, wonderful, perfect Eurail pass. I didn't know if I felt like laughing or crying- whatever I felt, it was a very, very good place to be :)
On the train, Tess had a broken seat so the conductor moved us to this plush first -class private box at the very front of the train- it was so nice! After 7 hours we arrived in Milan around 9:30 PM, and had to wait in line to reserve our train the next morning to Florence. The air was sticky, but Italy already felt less stuffy than Paris in terms of the culture: everyone in Italy seemed a whole lot more friendly and relaxed, and it made sense! Italian sounded so beautiful, and even the little girls in line who were running around screaming their heads off sounded like mini enlightened poets- the rhythmic words slid off their tongues like smooth jazz, and I was in awe. Even the bus drivers in Italy were friendly. We timidly asked a bus driver perched outside his bus eating a slice of pizza dripping with hot cheese where bus #60 was, and he quickly whipped his head inside his bus and yelled in Italian: "Does anyone speak English?!" Everyone on the bus turned their eyes toward us, and shook their heads "no." Strangely enough, none of the passengers appeared annoyed by our disruption of their bumpy commute home. They all looked so darn happy to be sitting on a bus at 10:30 at night in Milan- don't ask me why :) Laura, who is regularly blessed with strokes of genius, said "sesenta" (60 in Spanish), and the driver let out a loud "Ahh!" and pointed us to the other side of the street. Our bus was just about to leave when we boarded- luck seemed to be on our side that night.
The only damper to the evening came when I attempted to pull my 35 pound backpack off my back and onto the seat just as the bus was pulling out. Apparantly, driving in Italy doesn't quite match the laid-back lifestyle of this pasta-eating, rhythmically speaking country. I slammed against the window, and my backpack slid down my arm, leaving a gnarly looking bruise. Defeated, I sat down to nurse my battle wound until we got to our hotel- or so we thought. We walked up a long flight of stairs to a front desk where a young Italian guy sat glued to the computer screen, watching a YouTube hip-hop video titled "Come Turn Me On" or something grotesquely and distinctly American like that. He quickly exited out of the page and turned his attention to us, but couldn't find our reservation! Before we could say "Ay, Mio!" he whisked out his phone, called someone, and then told us we had a reservation at the hotel next door. At the other place, we had a cute little room with four rock-hard beds lined up in a row, and a hideous flower painting mounted on the opposite wall. Since we had been on the rain for 7 hours, none of us were all that tired. So we all laid in our beds, staring at the cieling in the unforgiving humidity. Maybe it was the insanity of traveling, or the fact that we were in a strange, random place just for the night. But something struck, and we all began laughing hysterically for no good reason. It was glorious.
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