But honestly, won't someone stop this train?
Saturday, June 27, 2009
But honestly, won't someone stop this train?
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
He kissed her, She said mister, Take an inch and I'll give you a mile
Friday, June 19, 2009
And Rocky Road Ice Cream, And Hell Yes I Love My Dog, And Jack D In My Coke, But Honey I love your love the most...
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
I don’t know, I don’t know what he’s after, but he’s so beautiful, Such a beautiful disaster, and if I could hold on, through the tears and the laughter, Would it be beautiful or just a beautiful disaster?
I’ve made it through 16 days of travel through Spain. It’s been ridiculously crazy, but I would have it no other way.
After taking a train to Malaga from Granada and getting Sarah on the plane home, I had two days by myself and I decided to stay in Malaga and see the sites. I spent time on the beach with the Hostel workers and some Canadians. Climbed up to the highest peak and saw all of Malaga, went to the Picasso museum, was introduced to a Malaga style botellun (basically a big street party where everyone drinks and drinks) and spent even more time on the beach. At the end of the third day I was on an overnight bus to Madrid, that included translating for some Canadians and absolutely no sleeping.
The bus pulled into the station at 5 in the morning before the metro was even open. I slept on the bus bench and around 6:30 was awakened by the baton of a security guard. I guess my sleeping brain doesn’t respond to Spanish well… I made it to the hostel, checked in, slept on another bench, went to some free museums, found a couch to sleep on, met some crazy kids from Florida, Brazil, Switzerland, and a nomad and hit the town. I found that bars offer free shots to get you in and it is common practice to get a free shot, then move on to the next bar without paying much. You can get a lot of alcohol without any money that way. I spent a few more days by myself, found the 24 hour McDonalds that offered happy meals and hookers outside. Got lost for about six hours, and in the process figured out the city, and spent time in the park listening to the Beatles with a Spanish accent, I met up with my friend Micah on the third and have been laughing ever since. Then I got to see the city with Liz and then got on a plane to Barcelona with Micah. We barely made the plane thanks to Ryanair and their cheap tickets. It meant my fifty pound suitcase was twice as heavy as allowed and would have cost two hundred euros to load it. Unwilling to unload that amount of money we ended up stuffing as much of my things into our carry-ons (and sneaking them on to the plane). But the call to Barcelona was to strong…. So we answered
We arrived in the city at four and spent the next four hours lugging my suitcase up and down the streets of Barcelona in search of a cheap hostel or pension that was available. We walked and pulled and walked some more and finally after four hours found a pension that had open beds. In Barcelona we saw museums, crazy Gaudi buildings, markets, walked around the city, went to the beach, ate a bocadillo everyday, cooked dinner in the pension every night and I learned the actual Spanish meaning of Salir. Salir translated means to leave, however in Spain this is their word for going clubbing, and man did we salir! The discotechs didn’t open until midnight and the Spaniards didn’t get there until 2 or 3 in the morning. We left early with 2 Puerto Ricans, 2 Italians, 1 Portuguese, and the 50 year old owner of our hostel. We danced to hip-hop, got more free shots, danced to the oldies, more free drinks, then found the salsa club where we stayed for about three hours. Around five o’clock in the morning we decided to go to the beach and wait for the metro to open. The eight of us went to the beach, put our toes in the cold Mediterranean and laughed away the morning. When we made it back to the sidewalk there were a few boys waiting for us, causing the owner of the hostel who is ex-military to go into high alert and scare them away. The best part of the night is one of the Italians, who was pretty fiery chased after one of them ready to fight, when he came back he said, “What kind of Italian would I be if I didn’t do something” and pulled his hands out of his pockets in the shape of pistols and fired a few “warning shots” That was probably Italy at its finest right there.
Now I’m sitting in the Barcelona airport waiting for my delayed flight to Lisbon to arrive. I’m getting my country fix from my itunes and am busy digesting these past few days… I spent hours and hours talking to Sarah, liz and especially Micah. I have been comfortable outside of my comfort zone and even got something that was 4 years overdue. It’s been an amazing trip, and the stories are even better to hear that to read, but that will have to wait until I return in August.
More to come from Lisbon and my experiences with Portuguese and brain cells… delicious combination!