Thursday, March 27, 2008

Barcelona, Tarragona, Valencia with the fam

I don't know where to start: my horribly epic (epically horrible?) journey to Barcelona, the amazingness of the vacation itself, the wonderful time with my parents, my continued love of Barcelona, or my slight despondency from being back here in Coria.

Well. My trip from Coria was fucking horrendous, but pretty damn funny. I apologize for the swearing (Tom Robbins influence). My intent was to leave Coria around 2:45, catch a bus to Navalmoral de la mata, then another to Barcelona, spending the night in the bus. This was cheaper than taking the bus directly from Coria to Barcelona, but with about the same travel time (about 12 hours). Well, I got to Navalmoral to find out that the bus to Barcelona was already full. I continued on to Madrid, but while waiting for this bus, I tried to figure out which bus station to go to in Madrid. By calling expensively on my cell phone, trying to navigate through voice automated machines in Spanish surrounded by buses entering and exiting the station at regular intervals. I finally got to Madrid at about 7:30, negotiated my way to the correct bus station (different from the one in which I arrived), bought the ticket, realized it was to Pamplona instead of Barcelona, got back in line, finally got the right bus ticket, and boarded the bus. I was told that it would take nine hours, due to get in around 6am. I got to Barcelona at 4:30. So essentially sweating from Coria to Barcelona due to the temporary, extraordinary heatwave across Spain, as well as a sweltering bus. The bus station was essentially closed; the only people there were homeless sleeping on the floor. I took a cab to the hostal, where we had reservations for Saturday night. The fat bastard at the desk told me I couldn't stay there until the room was ready, that it would be "disruptive" when the guests arose in the morning. Fat bastard! He told me I had to leave, but that things were open on Las Ramblas. Right, 5:30ish at this point. I left, pissed, but too tired to argue, especially in Spanish (and I didn't want to get kicked out of the hostel). Las Ramblas... amazing in the daytime, but sketchy at night/ass early morning. The only people there: drunk people and prostitutes. I walked up and down the area for about half an hour, trying to avoid everyone as best I could, until I asked a newspaper stand man where I could go and sit and wait. There was one café open in the open-air market. The camarero there was super nice and told me it wasn't a problem for me to stay there as long as I needed. But it was cold. At about 7 I started to wander, looking for breakfast, as the sinister had left Las Ramblas, replaced by the light and normal working people. I met a couple from some BC islands north of the San Juans, who bought me breakfast. I wandered around for several hours more, as I did not want to return to the hostel to be told that I had to leave again. I bought lunch and ate it on the street near the hostel. Some guy walking by stopped and began to guess my nationality: "English?" No. "Irish?" No. "Australian?" No. "Canadian?" No. "American?" Yes. He asked if he could sit down, and I agreed because he was semi-attractive. Then he, Mohammed from Morocco, commenced to try to pick me up by bragging about his language skills, his high rollin lifestyle, his drunk and alcohol use, etc. My lunch was not so enjoyable at this point. I got rid of him by tellinig him my parents were waiting for me back at the hostel. Hasty dos besos and he was gone. But seriously, why would he think that would work? Idiot. I went back to the hostel and slept.

The rest of my time in Barcelona was less eventful, but excellent. It was wonderful to see and travel with my parents. As I get older (shit, 23!!) I learn more about them and come to appreciate them more and more as people, instead of just as my parents. I love Barcelona. Its narrow streets and alleyways, its diversity. This was my third time there and each time it gets better. We went to La Pedrera, an Antoni Gaudí designed apartment building; the roof was marvelous. We also went to the Sagrada Familia (Gaudí, amazing), picnic at Parc Güell (Gaudí, life goal to visit), the Picasso museum, the waterfront. Random wanderings. Delicious food: Pakistani, Spanish, Japanese. Lesson learned: Spanish food doesn't have to be terrible, just the food from Extremadura. I was sad to leave.

Next we went to Tarragona, an hour and a half south along the coast. It has un montón de Roman ruins, including an ampitheater and forum because it used to be a major Roman city. It's smaller than Barcelona but still a good sized city. Huge cathedral. It was refreshing to be in a more tranquilo place with less tourists everywhere. It was also nice to be in a new city I had never seen before. Everyone was extremely nice. I love the accent in Cataluña, it's very lilting and sing-songy. It was strange to be in Spain but see a different and hear a different language everywhere. Catalán is similar to Spanish but distinct enough to cause problems.

Valencia is beautiful. It's further south along the Mediterranean coast. The weather was a little strange: bone-chilling winds and rain, then hot and sunny. We wandered a lot. We saw a procesión de Semana Santa: people dressed in robes with pointy hats (similar to those of the Klan), with marching bands and religious floats. These religious rituals are so strange to me. We went to the cathedral, of course. Also, the Ciudad de Arte y Ciencia, which is a series of futuristic complexes at the end of a huge river-bed turned park. There's also a huge playground play structure shaped as Gulliver. While there were children everywhere, it was still pretty cool.

We were supposed to come to Coria on Monday (work on Tuesday), but all the trains were full so we had to get up early early early to catch the 6:50am train to Madrid on Tuesday. We had 5 hours in Madrid until the bus to Coria so we went to the Museo Thyssen-Bornemisza, which has an amazing collection, including Monet, Dalí, Picasso, van Gogh, Gauguin, etc. Excellent. Then bus to Coria = many hours of travel. And we're back! To crappy work. Oh well. Only two more months which should fly by if all goes as planned.

Pretty much, a fabulous, stupendous, phenomenal vacation. I apologize for spelling errors, the stupid spellcheck doesn't work, and I need it more than ever.

Thursday, March 13, 2008

Monfragüe

On Saturday I went to the Monfragüe National Park, about 45 minutes from Coria. I had wanted to go there before I left but I didn't think it would happen (no car, you know...) I went with Jenny, students and profesores from Moraleja, and a group of Swedish students here on an exchange. Lavishly financed by the EU. All the Swedes looked out of place: pale, pale, pale. For once, I wasn't the whitest! They got more stares than I usually get, too. Monfragüe has a huge population of birds; I believe it's a refuge of some type... There are montones of vultures. I don't think I'd seen one before coming to Spain. They're HUGE. We hiked to this "castle" (some ruins), and all the Spanish students complained the whole time ("no puedo más"). Afterwards, we went to Plasencia. Now, I haven't been on a high school field trip in years, but in the US they are very different than what I saw here. No buddy system, no head counts every 5 minutes, no strict supervision and chaperoning. Kids were smoking left and right. One of the profesores handed out cans of beer to the "adults" (shit, I include myself here, as I am not a student), the Swedish teachers ordered brandy at the bar, the kids went off by themselves for several hours.. Very different. I also realized how American PB&J sandwiches are; Jenny and I with ours, the Spaniards with their baguettes of jamón or salchicha.

Our favorite bar, Las Candilejas, has reopened after 3 months of renovation. It's much bigger now and I realized that when we went to the inauguration, I knew about half the people in the crowded bar. One of the pinchos was morro, or pig snout, probably my least favorite pincho. You can even see the bristly fur on some of the piece. It's gelatinous. Sick. It's all about the pig here; if you can't identify the meat, it's probably some sort of pig. En fin, I miss being a vegetarian.

Tuesday, March 4, 2008

9-M

Spanish presidential elections are coming up on the 9th of March. They started campaigning about a month ago. Yes, a month before the election. This is why every Spaniard who asks me when our elections are is shocked when I tell them November. In this context, it really is quite ridiculous. 10+ months of campaigning!? I've watched several rounds of debates here, the first in 15 years, between Zapatero and Rajoy, the leader of the opposition. They are juvenile, childish, frightfully immature. They interrupt each other (the moderator doesn't seem to do a thing), blame each other, throw accusations around. And use graphs and quote extensively from articles. It's terrible. I come away from it thinking how they both seem to be bad choices for the presidency if all they choose to do is blame each other for mistakes made by the GOVERNMENT. As if they weren't an integral part of it. I haven't determined much of their plans for the future; what they would do if elected. Even the Spaniards agree that it's quite absurd.

Let's see. This weekend, Jenny and I met Sydney in Cáceres. Mainly to get out of the doldrums of Coria. The problem is that there's nothing to do and the interesting people usually leave during the weekends. The last time we were there we met some chicos who told us they would show us good bars with good pinchos and good cañas the next time we came. They took us to a "mountain" right outside the city which overlooks it. Afterwards we went bar hopping. The first bar we went to was one I had been to before: three and a half months prior, with some of the profesores from Coria. I joked that I still couldn't understand a thing of the menu (no, really, just half this time). But it gave me a basis of comparison for how far I've come since then. At that time, I was so utterly confused by everything Spanish: the language, the culture, the people, the food... cañas? pinchos? Pinchos versus tapas--wtf? Until I had this experience I guess I hadn't realized how much more comfortable I feel in everything Spanish (hah, now for my deteriorating English...). Excellent.

This is really a scattered post. Alas, my English and my ability to write, out the window! Do I blame it on Spain or on the time out of school? Anyway, the weather is starting to get nice. This weekend in Cáceres it was like Washington summer, at least 80 degrees. If it's doing this now, I don't know how I'm going to survive May! It's gotten really windy these last couple of days, though. I used to mark the coming of spring with the reemergence of my freckles. They never left here, though, so I can't use that. It's strange. This weather is strange. I like the sunny fall and winter but I couldn't live like this forever. And the summer is dreadful here, I've been told. I guess I'll stick to rain and beautiful summers, distinct seasons, and disappearing freckles!

I've bought a pair of hiking boots so it makes it real! The more I think about the camino, the more I can't wait! I can't believe there are only three months of my job left and a week and a half until my parents come. I'm flying home on August 3rd, everyone, travelling back through time and arriving on August 3rd! Nearly every weekend from now until the end of work is planned out: a hike, Feria in Sevilla, Morocco, Cádiz, Mérida... I can't wait!