Four Days, Four Cities

My itinerary for the past weekend follows along these lines:

Thursday morning: Barcelona.

Thursday day: Milan.

Thursday night and Friday: Cinque Terra.

Saturday: Florence.

Sunday: Rome.

Monday morning: Barcelona

*note: Consumption of gelato occurred at least once on each of these days.

Thinking back I can't quite figure out how we thought it possible to experience and see as much as we did in Italy with this schedule, but I, my roommate Katie, and friend Anne are always up for a challenge. Why not take full advantage of a four day weekend in Barcelona?

The continual fast-pace of this trip started Thursday morning when we redefined the idea of a "close call." We left Barcelona at 7 am thinking we had plenty of time to catch our Easyjet flight out of Barcelona at 8:55. After a much longer than expected metro and train ride to the airport, chaos arose. We found ourselves sprinting through the airport, dresses, sandals, giant backpacks and all, until we reached our gate at approximately 8:53. The required 30-minute predeparture arrival for all discount airlines was thankfully waved by the very friendly workers just closing the door to the jetway. After a call to the plane we ran down the jetway, were stopped at the plane's door until a few run-throughs of the safety procedure spiel were given in multiple languages, and were barely buckling our seat belts as the plane taxied to the runway.

A couple hours later we touched down in Milan and caught a train to the center of the city where I believe our first stop out of the station was a gelateria. We wandered around the city with our backpacks enjoying the gelato, went into the Duomo, and admired the city's abundance of beautifully fashionable people. (I learned that over half of the population of Milan works in the fashion industry). In fact, we caught the beginning of fashion week and enjoyed a free and up-close sound check by the band The Kills who were preparing for a concert and fashion show that night in the plaza right in front of the Duomo. While we enjoyed our time in Milan, we all agreed that these few hours were quite enough.

Next stop: Cinque Terra, one of my new favorite places. I didn't know much about this place before I arrived but it's quaint atmosphere and charm captured me from the beginning. It's interesting that such a large tourist destination can still have such a small town feel. So small that we were immediately recognized by the owner of our hotel who was watching a Milan fútbol game in town's center. We must have looked a bit out of place as we strolled around with large backpacks and a puzzled look on our faces while searching for our hotel when the hotel owner approached us, knew Katie's name, and led us through crooked alleyways until we reached the place. We stayed in the small town of Monterosso, one of five in Cinque Terra. One of the main attractions of Cinque Terra is the hike along the seacoast between all five lovely little towns. This hike was absolutely beautiful, but absolutely brutal as well. (the first part at least) The portion from Monterosso to Vernazza, the next town, consisted of nearly all steep, rocky steps and very narrow paths. However a quick glance at the Mediterranean beside us would not let our energy levels drop too low and pushed us until we reached Vernazza where we re-energized with a very delicious €5 spaghetti pomodoro. Each of the towns are very similar with amazing food, beaches, and little shops along the streets. People refer to last stretch of the hike from Manarola to Riomaggiore as "Lover's Lane." While walking right along the sea cliffs you will see small locks everywhere as lovers have latched a lock somewhere along the trail and thrown away the key. After stepping off of Lover's Lane and saying goodbye to Cinque Terra we set out for Florence where once again we had to make a run for it as we saw a train just about to leave from our platform. Anne and I watched the doors close on Katie but managed to shove them open and squeeze ourselves and nearly human sized backpacks through the doors and inside the train. Only problem: wrong train. Luckily this small local train stopped in La Spezia where we were able to catch our correct high-speed train to Florence. Phew.

We reached Florence and got off at Firenze Rifredi. Another problem: wrong station. We weren't too worried though as we hopped on another train that was ten minutes behind us. This train dropped us off at the next and correct station: Firenze Santa Maria Novella. Here we saw Ricardo, our Couch Surf host in Florence, in his green plaid shirt waiting for us at the station's entrance. (The Couch Surf Project is an organization in which people register their homes as a place for travelers to stay free of charge in exchange for an opportunity to learn about and share cultures. One can request a host after viewing his or her very detailed profile on the Couch Surf data base and read reviews about that person from past travelers.) Ricardo, who was born in Italy, got his PhD in political science at George Washington University, now works at the US Consulate in Florence. Since he is fluent in English and Italian and has lived in the US and Italy it was quite easy to get along with, communicate, and relate to him. He led us to his very nice apartment building right in the center of town (you really couldn't get more central) up 90 steps to his apartment and to the terrace which had a view of the Duomo, Santa Cruz Basilica, and just about the rest of Florence. Staying with him we enjoyed home-cooked Italian meals, conversation about differences and stereotypes of each other's cultures, and of course a few games of The Beatles Rock Band the first night to sort of break the ice. During our full day we set foot in the city seeing as much as possible in a day including all 635 steps of Brunelleschi's Duomo, crossing the Ponte Vecchio, and one of my favorite parts, the Accademia and Michelangelo's David. I now know that Michelangelo, one of my favorite Renaissance artists, is not considered a Renaisance artist at all in the art world since he was born at the end of the Renaissance period in the mid 16th century. I absolutely loved the rich art and history everywhere you walked in the city whether checking out the next tourist attraction or meandering down a random street. Thanks to Ricardo we had the opportunity to get a real feel for Italy in the short amount of time we were there. While we of course visited all of the "touristy" places we were also able to get a local perspective everywhere we went.

The next morning we were on our way to Rome by 6 am and met Guiseppe, our next host, waiting for us at the top of the metro stairs in Rome. He was quite the accommodating host as he let us throw our bags in his car so we could start our tour of Rome right then and there since we had only 9 hours that day. Unfortunately by the time we made it to the Vatican at 1 we learned that the Vatican closes at 12:30 on Sundays. But no worries, after throwing a coin behind us into the Trevi Fountain later that night we knew we would be back again someday, as tradition tells us. After our attempt to get into the Vatican we made our way to Saint Peter's Square, the Spanish Steps, the Roman Forum, the Colosseum, and about everything else you could expect to see in Rome in just 9 hours. I even bumped in to an old friend from Redlands walking down the street near the Colosseum who had coincidentally just dropped off another old friend at the bus station. Small world. Guiseppe picked us up from the Colosseum later that night and after 9 hours of walking and being on our feet the drive to his apartment on the outskirts of Rome were wonderful as was the remainder of our time with him that evening. At his apartment he only made us homemade pasta and meatballs using his family's homemade olive oil from the south of Italy, his mother's homemade tomato sauce and preserves, and freshly grated parmesan. The food alone in Italy is enough to bring me back. We awoke the next morning at 5:30 and Guiseppe kindly drove us to the airport to catch our flight back to Barcelona, saving us from the chaos, time, and money it would have taken to get to the airport via metro and bus. We made sure to leave at least 2 hours before our flight this second time round, however when in Rome, missing a flight wouldn't be the end of the world in my mind.

I always thought I would like Italy and was absolutely right. I mean who wouldn't love it? The trip did make it slightly depressing that Spaniards don't quite share that same passion for food with the Italians, but I would probably go broke on food alone if that were the case. Either way it is so nice to know how nearby just about everywhere is in Europe and how convenient this makes it to travel and try all sorts of great food. Where shall we venture to next?

This view of Vernazza greeted us as we neared the end of our hike from Monterosso to Vernazza

Just turned the corner from our hotel in Monterosso:

Lover's locks on lover's lane

Reaching the end of Lover's Lane:

This man in Milan would throw bird seed at people so that all the Pigeons would follow:

Fashion week!

Duomo in Milan:

inside:

Brunelleschi's:

On the dome of St. Peter's Basilica

Loved the way the light beamed in through all of the windows:

Just thought I might add, in case you didn't already know, that if you click on the photos they will enlarge

Los Pireneos

"I kind of forgot that places like this actually exist," I recall saying casually to my friend while trekking through the Pyrenees just yesterday. I'm sitting here looking out my window at clusters of modern buildings and streets thinking that it's kind of crazy that twenty four hours ago we were in one of those places. We were in Taüll, a small village of 300 hidden and tucked away in the Pyrenees mountains. It was one of those places that most have never heard of or will ever step foot in, but has so much mysterious charm and awe because of it.

When we got in on Friday afternoon the rain promptly followed the dark and ominous clouds that seemed to time their arrival over Taüll with ours. At first I thought that this was the last thing I could want to happen during our free time to explore the village however it cast a rather sublime tone over the town. We wandered around the village on narrow cobblestone streets carving their way through the old stone buildings of the seemingly abandoned old town. The two twelfth century romanesque churches at each end of the village provided shelter from the rain. I had such a peaceful feeling of comfort and awe while sitting on a pew in the dark 900 year-old stone churches listening as it poured outside. The view from the top of the bell-tower was also quite incredible.

That night we found hot chocolate in a very small restaurant next to one of the churches and sat listening to the rain outside and enjoying the warm atmosphere inside. There I found a friend named Flo, a giant Pyrenees dog who walked into the restaurant like he owned the place and of course wouldn't leave your side once you start petting him. A gentle tap on the back from an outstretched paw would remind you of his presence the instant you stopped petting him. At around midnight we left the restaurant and simply walked up the small hill to our hotel.

Thankfully the rain stopped when we awoke at 8 am the next morning and boarded a bus for Igüestortes i Estany de Sant Maurici National Park, one of the 14 national parks of Spain. When the bus drove as far as it could we were packed like sardines into old rickety Land Rover jeeps with two rows in the back facing inwards. While zipping up the extremely narrow and curvy paths up the mountain I tried to avoid looking out the window when going around a curve as a sheer drop took the place of the road below us. Somehow we made it safely to the trailhead and went on a breathtaking 4 hour hike in such crisp, fresh air. The scenes were absolutely incredible and seemed to me the epitome of nature. The photos really don't do justice and it is so hard to put such beauty into words.

I highly doubt that I'll ever be able to return to the same spot but it sure has made its mark on me. Each thought I have about the town of Taull and of the national park that we barely made our own mark in with only 4 hours to explore still and always will strike me with a bit of awe.

lunchtime:

Roadblocks:

Flo!

12th century church

San Sebastien!

I don't even know where to begin while thinking about San Sebastien. The fact that all eleven of us were so reluctant to board the bus back to Barcelona on Sunday, such an amazing city in itself, seems like a good indicator as to just how sensational it was. I'm pretty sure we lucked out by traveling there last weekend because the regatta races were in town. I had no idea what a huge deal regatta was here in Spain but the people, the town, and the crazy fans sure let me know.

We took the 7-hour overnight bus to San Sebastien on Thursday night and arrived at 6 am. Not a whole lot to do at that hour as nothing was open, so naturally we decided to hit the beach. Now I'm actually glad to say that so many promises of surfing lessons by friends in California fell through since I'm able to say I learned to surf in San Sebastien. One of the guys we were with gladly gave a few lessons to me and two other girls on the trip. I almost emerged from my hunched-over form to stand upright completely but not quite. Definitely next time.

After a few hours at the beach we walked just a couple blocks to our hostel and after climbing four flights of a steep spiral staircase (my calves are still a little sore from climbing it constantly) a very friendly husband and wife greeted us. They provided us with maps and recommendations on where to go to explore the city.

It took no time for us to discover the pintxo bars in Old Town. Pintxos are like tapas, but way better. The bars generally have standing-room only and everyone crowds around the counter eating pintxos and drinking kalimotxos, half wine half coke, the signature drink of San Sebastian. Paying is all based on the honor system, when you finish you simply tell the bartender what you have had to drink and how many pintxos you ate. They generally cost about 1.50 euro each which was pretty easy on the pockets. After just a couple weeks in Barcelona finding cheap yet great places to eat is always a plus.

We generally stuck to all cheap or free attractions while in San Sebastien. The first night we walked quite a ways to one end of the city to take the funicular up the mountain though found it just closing when we finally arrived. We still enjoyed the night view of San Sebastien just across the beach and watching the waves crash quite violently against the edge of the walkway we were on. The next day we did a bit more walking/hiking up to the giant statue of Christ overlooking the city and of course the view was incredible. Little did we know that the trails to and at the top would be absolutely packed with people watching the regatta races the next day.

I haven't seen anything quite like what was going on all over San Sebastien for the races. The entire town and surrounding areas seemed to take the day off and fill the streets, beaches, and any of the city's surrounding hills with a decent view of the beach to celebrate and watch the regatta races. People were dressed in their team's color from head to toe romping around the beach and crowded streets with thunder sticks yelling cheers and chants or singing songs. So many enthusiastic people provided such great photo opportunities. Some just bluntly asked for me or Katie to take their photo. I only filled up my 4 gigabyte SD chip with roughly 700 photos.

After this experience I can only wonder how intense people must get during fútbol or other popular sports here. Spain seems to use any excuse to celebrate. I know of four festivals in Barcelona alone coming up within the next couple months and apparently there is one tomorrow in Barcelona! I wish the US would follow suit!

At the top of the tiny statue of Christ on the hill in the photo above:

Packed streets of Old Town:

Just a few fans:

Our favorite pintxos bar:

Hasta Lunes

I'm about to board the overnight bus to San Sebastien for the weekend, camera in hand and an open mind to absorb the city and find some wonderful things to share on here on Monday.

ps. Someone asked me for directions today on my way home from class this morning. I walked the rest of the way with a slight boost of confidence knowing that I am finally starting to blend in and might possibly pass for a local :-)

Tapas!

My skeptically raised eyebrow was by no means alone in the room as I watched vinegar, honey, ketchup, tabasco, worcester sauce, olive oil, and a pinch of salt and pepper follow each other into the same pan. The result: a delectably delicious red sauce to cover a plate of fried potatoes commonly known around here as patatas bravas. Also on the menu were pinchos, tortilla de patatas, aioli, and champiñones al ajillo. Tapas, as you probably guessed already, were the theme of the evening last night as I and twelve others attended a tapas cooking workshop at Escola de Cuina Terra d' Escudella. That's cooking school in Catalan.

Before entering the kitchen we sat through a brief introduction and history of tapas by the head chef who's name I cannot remember for the life of me. According to el cocinero tapas were introduced by a king in the middle ages with an incessant upset stomach from the constant binge eating and drinking of those times. His very wise doctor advised him to eat several small meals a day to ease his pain and as a result the king introduced this diet to the rest of Spain. These meals adopted the name tapas, which means lid or cover, because the small plate on which they are served was often placed on top of the wine glass to prevent excessive drinking. I do not understand exactly how this prevented excessive drinking since simply removing the plate from the top of the glass does not appear to be all too difficult, but that's how the story goes. (I also find it funny that I have heard an extremely similar story as to how the famous Spanish lisp came to be however Wikipedia insists that it is an urban legend). Anyways I think we can conclude that however they may have come about, Spain would not be quite as yummy without tapas.

After the brief history lesson we followed suit of the chef by tying on our plastic white aprons. He of course was not in plastic, but in a professional chef's hat and white coat, over pajama pants and Crocs might I add. We followed him to the kitchen and each posted up in front of a cutting board and knife at one of several stations around the kitchen. Throughout the lesson we were each given ingredients to slice, dice, or peel at our station which were collected to be cooked, stirred, whipped, mixed, fried, or grilled at some point and place around the kitchen. The chef gave me the honor of making the champiñones de ajillo (musrooms and garlic). I won't lie in saying this wasn't the least complicated dish with hopes that he selected me randomly and didn't single me out for it. Nevertheless we all were able to observe and join in a bit on all the dishes making it a great learning experience.

The tapas were definitely the best I have had so far in Spain. This could be due to the satisfaction of knowing the personal effort put into each dish or maybe we are all just great chefs in the making. I'd like to think the latter.

A tasty tid bit: whenever the people here eat bread or toast they cut a tomato in half and rub it on the bread until the top layer of bread has a nice coating of tomato juice, then drizzle a bit of olive oil on top...it's quite delicious...you should try it!