18 - 21 July
I felt like I must be headed for some really crazy place. Not a single stamp to represent visits to Spain, Portugal or Italy but 4 stamps just for the train ride from Florence to Budapest. It was an overnight train that had some serious history under it's belt and nothing but seats. I was a bit spoiled because the last overnight train I took, from Paris to Rome, had couchettes so I had a bit of a sleepover with 5 strange men in a cabin. Everyone was perfectly respectful and it was NICE to have a bed for such a long trip!
About every 45 minutes we were woken up during the night - "Passport!"...."Ticket!". Seriously. I was just trying to sleep through the night and these interruptions were endless! I was like, really where am I going?
I had met this great couple at the hostel in Florence. Danielle and Thomas were from Canada but Thomas was Hungarian so they filled in a couple pages in my journal with a mini phrase book and food recommendations. They also reminded me that Budapest is not yet on the Euro so I'd have to get familiar with Forints. Right now 160 Forints = 1 USD. I have no idea how much money I've been spending because this is a tough conversion! I kept pulling out 10000 Forints from the back thinking this was a TON of money and then it would just last the day.
Again, had to resort to a hostel because I just wasn't having any luck with finding someone to host. I arrived in Budapest and took the bus going the wrong way so it took 30 minutes to reach my hostel when it should've been just one stop. I prefer to say that I was taking the scenic route. (It's times like these when I think, maybe travelling alone is my fate. I can't imagine anyone wanting to join me when I'm so averse to planning and am pretty much perpetually lost. I hardly ever really know where I'm going, how I'll get there or what I'll do once I arrive.)
The food so far is pretty good but lots of meat and really really greasy and fatty. Hungary loves sour cream and I do too, so that's okay. So if you were me, how would you have spent the day today?
Well, you would've rented a bike because riding bikes makes you feel free, and then you would've ridden along the Danube River to The Grand Market Hall in search of Langos. (This is apparently some kind of deep fried dough that is covered with cheese and sour cream. Delicious.) The hall would've been closed because you're missions are often derailed or at least detoured.
You would continue your search but finally run out of time before your rendezvous with girls from the hostel. So you'd cave in and just get falafel. You'd present a considerable annoyance to the small shop owner who doesn't have change for the 10,000 Forint that you just got from the ATM. He would have to go next door and purchase things just to make change. He would forgive you when you find out he's french and have a conversation with him that he's probably been starved for because it seems very few people speak french in Budapest and he lives there but doesn't speak Hungarian.
Then we procede to the best part of the day: the Széchenyi Thermal Baths. This is so decadent. They must have 20 baths, indoor and outdoor, of all different temperatures. They also have a sauna that rivals the temperatures in the Native American Sweat I did last winter. Intense. My new friends, sisters from Australia Chloe and Marie, and I spent all afternoon at the baths. At the end of the day we were in basically a giant hot tub outdoors and a proper storm blew in overhead. Our lower halves were submerged in bath temperature water as our heads got pelted with really cold rain, beautiful! Really special moments. I took off when the rain let up because I needed to return the bike. Of course the rain would start back up full force once I got going so I had an adventure of a ride across town to try to get the bike back in time.
Drowned rat would be the best way to describe the way I looked. But I felt more relaxed than I have in several months so there was not much that could bother me at that point.
Tomorrow I take an overnight train to Prague. I'm so excited to see what all the fuss is about. Everyone I've ever met who's been there raves about this city!
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Firenze> Parliano Inglese o Frencese?
It finally happened that I had to resort to a.....Hostel! Actually it was perfect. I found a hostel online that was a bit outside the city center of Florence and it looked so beautiful and peaceful. I got to the right bus stop all right but then was a bit confused when it appeared that the hostel was actually a small house that was empty and under construction. I thought, that's what I get for booking some random place online.
Luckily there was a man headed up this dirt road who happened to be french and he explained that it was necessary to walk up this road for about 5 minutes to reach the hostel, which was actually a renovated villa in the middle of the woods. There were water lily filled fountains, renaissance-scene painted ceilings and sculptures in the stairwells. This was a really nice place to have a few days of tranquility after a crazy weekend in Roma.
Mario had taught me how to ask, in Italian, if someone spoke english or french. To me, this is one of the best things you can learn in a foreign country. Of course it seems that most people speak at least a little bit of English wherever you go in Western Europe, but it seems rude to me to walk up to someone and start speaking english when it's not the native language there. As if you expect that they should be able to accomodate you. Anyway, I actually had a lot of luck finding Italians that spoke French so I had some really nice conversations with people and it came in very handy.
I had a really nice time in Florence and loved wandering the streets. But I found it to be really expensive. I'm sure it had something to do with the fact that I was a tourist and didn't really know the best places to go for food, etc. But regardless, Florence was tough on the pockets. I had planned on also going to visit Venice, but this would've necessitated doing the short 2 days in each place stint which I really don't enjoy. I realize that a lot of people find a lot of value in seeing as much as possible while they're in Europe, but I prefer to have time to get a feel for a place.
Towards the end of my trip I met a couple girls from the UK, Eve and Natasha, who entertained me to NO end. We spent a day together wandering around and it was a really nice change from spending days alone. For a couple of hours before they caught their train, we sat on the steps of the Duomo Cathedral and people watched. After a few minutes we noticed that there was an Asian guy trying to be sneaky and sitting next to me while his friends took a photo. When we realized what they were doing, I started posing with him just to be silly. So then he gets up and another one of his friends comes over and sits next to me and she asks if I'll put my arm around her for a photo? I will now be in the photo albums of 4 different people in Asia. I have no idea why! They acted as if I was somebody famous or something, but I'm pretty sure I don't resemble anyone like that. Eve and Natasha decided they thought we were the Spice Girls.
Luckily there was a man headed up this dirt road who happened to be french and he explained that it was necessary to walk up this road for about 5 minutes to reach the hostel, which was actually a renovated villa in the middle of the woods. There were water lily filled fountains, renaissance-scene painted ceilings and sculptures in the stairwells. This was a really nice place to have a few days of tranquility after a crazy weekend in Roma.
Mario had taught me how to ask, in Italian, if someone spoke english or french. To me, this is one of the best things you can learn in a foreign country. Of course it seems that most people speak at least a little bit of English wherever you go in Western Europe, but it seems rude to me to walk up to someone and start speaking english when it's not the native language there. As if you expect that they should be able to accomodate you. Anyway, I actually had a lot of luck finding Italians that spoke French so I had some really nice conversations with people and it came in very handy.
I had a really nice time in Florence and loved wandering the streets. But I found it to be really expensive. I'm sure it had something to do with the fact that I was a tourist and didn't really know the best places to go for food, etc. But regardless, Florence was tough on the pockets. I had planned on also going to visit Venice, but this would've necessitated doing the short 2 days in each place stint which I really don't enjoy. I realize that a lot of people find a lot of value in seeing as much as possible while they're in Europe, but I prefer to have time to get a feel for a place.
Towards the end of my trip I met a couple girls from the UK, Eve and Natasha, who entertained me to NO end. We spent a day together wandering around and it was a really nice change from spending days alone. For a couple of hours before they caught their train, we sat on the steps of the Duomo Cathedral and people watched. After a few minutes we noticed that there was an Asian guy trying to be sneaky and sitting next to me while his friends took a photo. When we realized what they were doing, I started posing with him just to be silly. So then he gets up and another one of his friends comes over and sits next to me and she asks if I'll put my arm around her for a photo? I will now be in the photo albums of 4 different people in Asia. I have no idea why! They acted as if I was somebody famous or something, but I'm pretty sure I don't resemble anyone like that. Eve and Natasha decided they thought we were the Spice Girls.
Roma, Italy: Gelato, Negroni and Scooter pains
July 10 - 17
I'm getting worse at this, yes? Okay, just a few bits of memory from Italy.
So I was rescued from a hostel-fate at the last minute by a CS host named Mario. He lived in a house with a bunch of guys that was actually kind of reminiscent of my last apt in DC. Welcome home!
I spent Friday exploring the city on my own while Mario worked (what is that about?). It was great to visit St. Peter's Basilica. I remember so well seeing photos of this famous basilica projected up on the walls of classrooms during my first art history classes. I am not a religious person but this place was magnificent. Truly. The floors, the walls, the ceiling. Even the speakers were painted faux marble to blend in with the decor.
There was a castle, there was really really hot sun and there was plenty of gelato. We decided that my visit to Roma could be summed up by 2 words: gelato and Negroni. Negroni is a famous local drink that Mario and one of his roommates, Carlo, love. It's made with Campari, sweet vermouth and gin. It's not what I would call delicious. But I'm not going to lie, it's so strange that it kind of grows on you. No one seems to know how it got it's name, which literally means "big black men".
I look back on my entries and think that it sounds like I'm not doing much of anything and maybe blazing a trail around Europe ignorant of all the amazing history, etc. I swear there is lots of culture going on in my journey, but I never really intended for my blog to be very educational. Hope you don't mind.
Mario and I played pro tourists all weekend. We rode around the city on his scooter and we did this great tour for the Colosseum and the Palatino. Scooters are such a blast! However, let me warn you about the exhaust pipes. Most of them these days are covered because they get VERY hot. However, some people prefer to ignore the potential for injury in favor of having gleaming chrome exhaust pipes. They park their scooters very close together in Roma. Do you see where I'm going with this? Yes, I am the proud owner of a nasty burn on my leg from the quickest brush against the neighboring scooter as I was waiting to hop on Mario's. It's in the shape of a backwards D and is a little bigger than the size of a quarter. It's healing well and I suppose if it scars then at least there's a good story.
And you guys were worried about it being dangerous to travel alone! So far the most dangerous things have been the seagull incident and now the scooter burn. (Knock on wood). Actually my friend Kieran from Galway sent me an article that reminded him of me, entitled "Woman Savaged by Swooping Gull". Apparently a woman ended up going to the hospital for treatment of 4 puncture wounds from a gull in Ireland! I told you, these birds are no joke.
I'm getting worse at this, yes? Okay, just a few bits of memory from Italy.
So I was rescued from a hostel-fate at the last minute by a CS host named Mario. He lived in a house with a bunch of guys that was actually kind of reminiscent of my last apt in DC. Welcome home!
I spent Friday exploring the city on my own while Mario worked (what is that about?). It was great to visit St. Peter's Basilica. I remember so well seeing photos of this famous basilica projected up on the walls of classrooms during my first art history classes. I am not a religious person but this place was magnificent. Truly. The floors, the walls, the ceiling. Even the speakers were painted faux marble to blend in with the decor.
There was a castle, there was really really hot sun and there was plenty of gelato. We decided that my visit to Roma could be summed up by 2 words: gelato and Negroni. Negroni is a famous local drink that Mario and one of his roommates, Carlo, love. It's made with Campari, sweet vermouth and gin. It's not what I would call delicious. But I'm not going to lie, it's so strange that it kind of grows on you. No one seems to know how it got it's name, which literally means "big black men".
I look back on my entries and think that it sounds like I'm not doing much of anything and maybe blazing a trail around Europe ignorant of all the amazing history, etc. I swear there is lots of culture going on in my journey, but I never really intended for my blog to be very educational. Hope you don't mind.
Mario and I played pro tourists all weekend. We rode around the city on his scooter and we did this great tour for the Colosseum and the Palatino. Scooters are such a blast! However, let me warn you about the exhaust pipes. Most of them these days are covered because they get VERY hot. However, some people prefer to ignore the potential for injury in favor of having gleaming chrome exhaust pipes. They park their scooters very close together in Roma. Do you see where I'm going with this? Yes, I am the proud owner of a nasty burn on my leg from the quickest brush against the neighboring scooter as I was waiting to hop on Mario's. It's in the shape of a backwards D and is a little bigger than the size of a quarter. It's healing well and I suppose if it scars then at least there's a good story.
And you guys were worried about it being dangerous to travel alone! So far the most dangerous things have been the seagull incident and now the scooter burn. (Knock on wood). Actually my friend Kieran from Galway sent me an article that reminded him of me, entitled "Woman Savaged by Swooping Gull". Apparently a woman ended up going to the hospital for treatment of 4 puncture wounds from a gull in Ireland! I told you, these birds are no joke.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Lisbon, Portugal: Beaches, Mosaic Sidewalks and FADO
June 24 - July 4
Yes it appears that I am two countries behind so I will try to catch up!
Lisbon is magic and my friend Miguel was a great guide. This is such a beautiful city and I love the sound of the language, though I definitely don't speak it. I learned a few key phrases including my favorite (inspiration from my sister) : "please don't arrest me, I'm a foreigner". Luckily I only had to use this one in party settings where I was looking for a laugh and not reprieve from official repercussions for who knows what.
It was a great time to be in Lisbon because thanks to Miguel I had a home, friends and a family to spend time with. This is a friend who has not lived in his home country or city in 6 years so during his 3 months there this time, he had many many engagements to keep. So I got to see some REAL portuguese culture that I would never get the chance to participate in otherwise. This time in Portugal was some of the best time I've had during my travels so far for this reason.
During the days I wandered around on my own while Miguel worked long hours at his internship with an investment bank. I wandered around the Old Town and Barrio Alto through winding streets with tiled buildings and stone mosaic streets and sidewalks. Lisbon is beautiful from the roofs to the ground...it seems concrete does not exist to the Portuguese and I loved this. All the streets/sidewalks that you walk on are set in stone mosaics, many times with designs or symbols.
One day I decided to be a super tourist and take a guided bike tour. It turned out that there was just the guide and one other woman, from Canada, so it was actually a lot of fun. We went all through the city and down to the river and then rode along the river all the way out of Lisbon to where the river meets the ocean. We heard lots of stories about the history of the city and I got lots of inspiration talking to the guide, who spent a year travelling around the world and who has turned his love of seeing cities by bike into a profession. What a beautiful thing.
Friday came around and Miguel's sister, Carolina, invited me to go to a show at the bank where their mother works. The bank often does cultural events to stay engaged with the community and this night they were having a show of "Cirque Invisible", which is a show that is done by one of Charlie Chaplin's daughters, Victoria Chaplin, and her husband, Jean Baptiste Thierrée. They have been doing just 3 shows for the past 10 years and it was so entertaining!
For 2 hours the two took turns doing short bits of a kind of performance theatre (the picture above is from the show). Some of the pieces were only 30 seconds long and they all involved really extravagant costumes and props. It alternated between Thierrée's silly shows of magic and slight of hand tricks and Chaplin's transforming costumes. I can't imagine how they come up with these ideas but she would come out on stage in some complicated dress that she would deconstruct and remake in a way that all of the sudden she would look like some animal.
My favorite piece was when Chaplin came out on stage covered in a costume of bowls, plates, and glasses. She walked around the stage creating a tune from hitting different glasses and bowls and knocking her knees together, etc. It seemed like entertainment for children but I felt afterwards that it was actually deceptively simple. Thierree would go for easy laughs but actually a lot of what they each did was really strange and kind of surreal.
During the weekend we went to the beach with friends of Miguel's. They have all known eachother since they were 3 years old and it was great to get a different picture of a person that I only got to know in DC. We went to a surprise birthday party for one of Miguel's cousins and had a blast. His cousin Diogo lives in the UK and has just made it through the first round of some astronaut program in Europe. I told him that I've definitely never met a potential astronaut! Lot's of interesting people and luckily for me, there were a lot of people who spoke english.
Even during family gatherings though, for example a lunch on Sunday that was all in Portuguese, I discovered that there was still a lot to enjoy. When you don't understand the meaning of the words or what the conversation is about, you start to pay attention to different things. It was actually fascinating to just watch body language, facial expressions, to the ways that people relate to one another in these ways.
But finally, I will say that my most simple and favorite pleasures of Lisbon were the pastry pastel de nata and the music fado. I think I probably ate one of these patries at least once every day. I was on the search for the best espresso and pastel de nata in Lisbon. Who knows according to anyone else's standards, but now I know I have my favorite.
And Fado. I travelled a long way to finally hear this music in person and I told Miguel ahead of time that really the only thing required of him as my host during all my time there was to take me to see Fado. The last night we went to a place recommended by Carolina as the best Fado house in Lisbon; Mesa de Fades. Just a small hole in the wall, as most truly great places. There were old toile-like paintings on the tiled walls and when the music was about to begin, the doors were shut and everything stopped except the instruments and the singer.
This particular singer is only 23 years old but sings Fado like she has an old soul that has weathered times of beauty and hardship. What a voice and what a performance! Fado is a music local to Lisbon and it has a great history of being born of an amalgamation of cultural and social forces beginning in the early 1800's. The word Fado literally means "fate" or "destiny". This music is achingly beautiful even when you don't understand the words. To me, actually, this is the mark of great music, when it can touch you through the music alone, and without the aid of the more intellectual meaning of words.
Thursday, July 3, 2008
Barcelona = Couchsurfing the original way, more flesh than sand and the Festival of Saint Joan (watch your step!)
June 20 - 24
I swore the last time I visited Barcelona that I would be back! I have the best memories of wandering the streets and finding random music and the best breakdancers I´ve ever seen. And oh, the beaches.
Thanks to my new Dharmahouse friend, Keiran, I was able to stay with him at his friend´s house: Herbert and Carol...what a beautiful apartment. It took a good bit of train travel and then some adventures by metro but we surfaced above ground in Herbert´s neighborhood by the metro stop Llacuna, which is just a 10 minute walk from the beach. We were both a bit confused to have our first breaths of Spanish air accompanied by what would seem to be gunshots. Exactly what type of neighborhood is this that we are going to be staying in, we thought??
It turns out that we were in the last few days leading up to the biggest festival of the year in Barcelona, which is the Festival of Saint Joan. The sounds we kept hearing all weekend were not firearms but firecrackers. People were testing out their new toys for the party to come on Monday night. No one seems to know exactly what the story behind the festival is. What they do know is that it´s the cause of the biggest parties all night on the beaches, on a Monday night. It´s normal for the vast majority of people to take off of work for at least one day after the festival. More on this later.
So my days in Barcelona were lazy ones of wandering and beaching. That first day I headed off in the direction of the beach and was greeted by a seriously intense scene. Truly, you could see many more bodies than spaces of sand. Also, I forgot that it is completely normal to be topless on the beaches in Spain. I staked out a small space for myself and set up to watch the world go by in front of the Mediterranean. I´m seriously trying to soak up these moments...I don´t know that things like this will ever come again!
I was very happy to have the day alone on the beach, but I quickly discovered in the heat of the Spanish sun, that there is one significant dilemna to beaching solo. There is no one to watch your things while you swim. It was very hot and the water was beautiful. This was a problem. Of course everyone around me was speaking spanish and I´m absolutely certain that I could´ve figured out how to mime to someone my request, but I decided to wait it out for a while. Luckily, just when I had decided that maybe the water was not for me this day, two guys sat down next to me and I heard them speaking french. Saved!
We started chatting and I finally got to experience the sea. They are from France but living now in Barcelona...and loving life. It turns out that one of their good friends, who is living there but is actually originally from Philadelphia, is also a couchsurfer. I have just one night that I will need a place to stay and had not yet figured out where to spend it. They convinced me that their friend, Brendan, has a couch and that of course he would love to offer it to me! (It´s so easy to volunteer space when it´s not yours)
With some arranging it actually did work out for me to stay with Brendan, but he warned me via emails that for Monday night he did not plan on sleeping because of the festival so he hoped that would be alright with me. Had no idea what to expect but already knew that I was game, regardless (:
So we met up on Monday after he finished work and he took me to a barbeque at a house of one of his friends. What a blast! He told me that we were going to be with his Portuguese friends, and they were so much fun. Brendan has lived in Barcelona for 4 years now and all his friends swear that he is Spanish at heart, not American. Around midnight we started out for the beach, but not without some ominous warnings.
In Barcelona, they will sell fireworks for very cheap, to anyone. Even a 5 year old. In the States, this is maybe not what we would call "safe". Nonetheless, you have to be prepared for the fact that the Spanish love their fireworks and on a night like this, during Festival of Saint Joan, there are people of all ages and abilities setting off fireworks in the streets. On the sidewalks. In the sand on the beach. Literally, everywhere. I was warned to watch my step. The way to the beach was fraught with certain danger, but we reached relative safety once there and I can tell you that it really was worth the risk.
There must have been thousands of people, all along the beach where we were and apparently all along all the beaches in the city. There were huts set up with bars and music blasting out over the sand and sea. We found a space for our little group and stayed there all night until they booted everyone off of the beaches at 6 in the morning. It was such an amazing feeling, to be dancing around in the sand with music all around and fireworks going off in the air. I´ve never been to a party like this. What a great way to end my visit to Barcelona! They are famous for their nightlife and up until this point the weekend had been relatively quiet. This one night more than made up for it.
Tuesday morning at 9am I had a flight to Lisbon, to stay with my friend Miguel. After less than one hour of sleep, of course it was destined to be a difficult journey. I was certain that I´d left myself enought time but everthing took longer than expected. I got to the airport alright but it was a mobscene and I started to realize that there was a large chance that I would miss my flight. (Actually, had I noticed the "Last minute check-in" line, I would have been fine! With lack of sleep, etc working against me, I suppose I was really not at my peek performance. I will say it again: there is a very steep learning curve involved with travelling this way. These things seem like the simplest common sense just after the fact.)
I was determined to reach my destination and I was so mad at myself that in some warped way I thought it would be suitable punishment to help me learn my lesson if I had to waste money on a new flight. Luckily, with a relatively small amount of monetary movement, I was again on my way to Portugal just a couple hours later than intended.
I swore the last time I visited Barcelona that I would be back! I have the best memories of wandering the streets and finding random music and the best breakdancers I´ve ever seen. And oh, the beaches.
Thanks to my new Dharmahouse friend, Keiran, I was able to stay with him at his friend´s house: Herbert and Carol...what a beautiful apartment. It took a good bit of train travel and then some adventures by metro but we surfaced above ground in Herbert´s neighborhood by the metro stop Llacuna, which is just a 10 minute walk from the beach. We were both a bit confused to have our first breaths of Spanish air accompanied by what would seem to be gunshots. Exactly what type of neighborhood is this that we are going to be staying in, we thought??
It turns out that we were in the last few days leading up to the biggest festival of the year in Barcelona, which is the Festival of Saint Joan. The sounds we kept hearing all weekend were not firearms but firecrackers. People were testing out their new toys for the party to come on Monday night. No one seems to know exactly what the story behind the festival is. What they do know is that it´s the cause of the biggest parties all night on the beaches, on a Monday night. It´s normal for the vast majority of people to take off of work for at least one day after the festival. More on this later.
So my days in Barcelona were lazy ones of wandering and beaching. That first day I headed off in the direction of the beach and was greeted by a seriously intense scene. Truly, you could see many more bodies than spaces of sand. Also, I forgot that it is completely normal to be topless on the beaches in Spain. I staked out a small space for myself and set up to watch the world go by in front of the Mediterranean. I´m seriously trying to soak up these moments...I don´t know that things like this will ever come again!
I was very happy to have the day alone on the beach, but I quickly discovered in the heat of the Spanish sun, that there is one significant dilemna to beaching solo. There is no one to watch your things while you swim. It was very hot and the water was beautiful. This was a problem. Of course everyone around me was speaking spanish and I´m absolutely certain that I could´ve figured out how to mime to someone my request, but I decided to wait it out for a while. Luckily, just when I had decided that maybe the water was not for me this day, two guys sat down next to me and I heard them speaking french. Saved!
We started chatting and I finally got to experience the sea. They are from France but living now in Barcelona...and loving life. It turns out that one of their good friends, who is living there but is actually originally from Philadelphia, is also a couchsurfer. I have just one night that I will need a place to stay and had not yet figured out where to spend it. They convinced me that their friend, Brendan, has a couch and that of course he would love to offer it to me! (It´s so easy to volunteer space when it´s not yours)
With some arranging it actually did work out for me to stay with Brendan, but he warned me via emails that for Monday night he did not plan on sleeping because of the festival so he hoped that would be alright with me. Had no idea what to expect but already knew that I was game, regardless (:
So we met up on Monday after he finished work and he took me to a barbeque at a house of one of his friends. What a blast! He told me that we were going to be with his Portuguese friends, and they were so much fun. Brendan has lived in Barcelona for 4 years now and all his friends swear that he is Spanish at heart, not American. Around midnight we started out for the beach, but not without some ominous warnings.
In Barcelona, they will sell fireworks for very cheap, to anyone. Even a 5 year old. In the States, this is maybe not what we would call "safe". Nonetheless, you have to be prepared for the fact that the Spanish love their fireworks and on a night like this, during Festival of Saint Joan, there are people of all ages and abilities setting off fireworks in the streets. On the sidewalks. In the sand on the beach. Literally, everywhere. I was warned to watch my step. The way to the beach was fraught with certain danger, but we reached relative safety once there and I can tell you that it really was worth the risk.
There must have been thousands of people, all along the beach where we were and apparently all along all the beaches in the city. There were huts set up with bars and music blasting out over the sand and sea. We found a space for our little group and stayed there all night until they booted everyone off of the beaches at 6 in the morning. It was such an amazing feeling, to be dancing around in the sand with music all around and fireworks going off in the air. I´ve never been to a party like this. What a great way to end my visit to Barcelona! They are famous for their nightlife and up until this point the weekend had been relatively quiet. This one night more than made up for it.
Tuesday morning at 9am I had a flight to Lisbon, to stay with my friend Miguel. After less than one hour of sleep, of course it was destined to be a difficult journey. I was certain that I´d left myself enought time but everthing took longer than expected. I got to the airport alright but it was a mobscene and I started to realize that there was a large chance that I would miss my flight. (Actually, had I noticed the "Last minute check-in" line, I would have been fine! With lack of sleep, etc working against me, I suppose I was really not at my peek performance. I will say it again: there is a very steep learning curve involved with travelling this way. These things seem like the simplest common sense just after the fact.)
I was determined to reach my destination and I was so mad at myself that in some warped way I thought it would be suitable punishment to help me learn my lesson if I had to waste money on a new flight. Luckily, with a relatively small amount of monetary movement, I was again on my way to Portugal just a couple hours later than intended.
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