Work in progress - 2 weeks in

I arrived in Spain 2 weeks ago today and I'm marking the day by spending it on the beach in Barcelona. Not a cloud in the sky! TJ, if you read this, I don't know what Barcelona beaches you were talking about but so far no trash, no pushy salespeople (other than some Asian women selling "massagees"). I did just pay €11 to rent a chair and umbrella but I'm ok with that. The beach issues when traveling alone: sunscreen on my upper back (solved by finding nice looking women to help) and leaving my chair to eat/drink/swim (still TBD).

Yesterday was a fabulous day. I made my way out to Gaudi's La Sagrada Familia, his still unfinished church (but incredible nonetheless) and then wandered my way through the nicer neighborhood to his Casa Botillo (pictures above are of this house). Gaudi was influenced by patterns and shapes in nature, especially, it seems, the ocean. My pictures don't do Casa Botillo justice but I spent hours there.

After taking in some culture and grabbing some tapas and wine (and some gelato) I decided to hit up the Museum of Chocolate (waste of $ really) and the Museum of Erotica. The Museum of Erotica was odd and hilarious and pretty informative. I can't really post pics online (one went up on FB yesterday) but there was some interesting stuff there. I enjoyed the way various cultures depict penis size in their artwork and the sizes and shapes of women. Then I got to the silent, black and white, super old porn. It was horrible but yet impossible to stop watching. The women were voluptuous and not very attractive. The men were not very attractive either and often kept on most of their clothes and always their socks. I haven't watched much porn in my life but, from what I know, we've come a long looooong way.

I talked to EVERYONE yesterday. I don't know what got into me. I talked to a woman on the subway, the 5 Russian women watching the porn with me, an older couple at Casa Botillo (from PA actually), the woman from CA at the Starbucks near La Sagrada Familia who thought I was Spanish and yelled to me about 5 inches from my face "Starbucks is from Ca-li-for-ni-A!!" (Yes, I know, I'm from Philadelphia).

Starbucks brings Americans together. After walking with my iced coffee for a bit I met 2 women from NC and chatted with them on our way to Gracia. They were thrilled to see Starbucks. While we were walking another woman stopped us and asked where the Starbucks was. At least it's a conversation starter.

I also found myself in a bar full of people from Holland for the Holland v Uruguay game last night. It was nuts. I ended up talking to Yan from Paris and Marcus from Sweden for most of the game. Then I met Steph and Jess, 2 women from the NH and Boston area and they were kind enough to rescue me from a very drunk Marcus when the game ended and invited me to join them for dinner. We found a great Spanish crepe place. If you've never had a late night chorizo, goat cheese and honey crepe you've never lived! Perhaps I will see them again tonight for the Spain v. Germany game.

I had many thoughts yesterday as I evaluated my 1st 2 weeks of travel. Monday night, when I decided to regroup with a sandwich and beer alone in my room I think I finally let go of this idea that I have to meet people or have to go out, that somehow eating dinner alone or going home to bed after dinner and not out partying makes me a loser or something. Why I thought that to begin with, I don't know but letting it go, I think, allowed me to enjoy my day more yesterday and not set expectations for my various interactions with the people I met along the way.

I thought a lot about La Sagrada Familia. Hoards of people pay €12 each to get in to see an unfinished church. You stand there and admire the work that has been done and imagine what it will look like when it's complete. When you look down from the structure, the columns and the stained glass it is mostly, however, a construction zone with cranes and welding and netting and yellow barriers and stacks of building materials. Despite the goals and the detailed plans and designs, there is a long way to go and, in my opinion, they may never get it 100% done. It's a work in progress that people are already willing to pay to see (granted Gaudi is a genius of design). Maybe I need to do a better job of appreciating what I'm good at or the attributes I have that make me worth "coming to see" and not get caught up on the areas that still need work. There can be progress without perfection (and control) right?

Just me and San Miguel

I made it to Barcelona and managed to find my hotel via metro. The block my place is located on isn't fabulous (neither was my block in Madrid now that I think about it) but the location seems pretty great. I'm around the corner from a market, near the university, walking/running distance from a nice park, and walking distance from many of the museums and sites. There also seem to be a bunch of yoga studios around according to the internet so, after I run, the 1st order of business will be to try to find one with some english/bilingual classes. 2nd: get some fruit at the market. 3rd: figure out if I might want to go SCUBA diving in the Mediterranean.

I'm also 1/2 a block from La Rambla which is the main tourist drag of Barcelona. Aside from the restaurants and souvenir shops (and museum of erotica), the place is literally a freak show. There are street performers everywhere crazier than I've ever seen. People sell these horrible noise makers (worse than vuvuzelas) and fling these neon things 25 feet into the sky and let them land wherever. Someone is going to lose an eye...and probably their wallet. Tons of pick-pocketing here.

Other than finding my hotel, nothing went right today. I found out about a week long 4 hour per day intensive Spanish language course. Called them and because I missed today, I can't take it.

Tried to buy my overnight train ticket to Paris for Friday/Saturday and the super super slow internet at the hotel wouldn't load the page right and neither would my phone. Then I couldn't get wireless so I couldn't call anyone (read: Mom) to buy the ticket. Argh.

I showered, regrouped, found 3 internet cafes and went walking. Sadly, none of the internet cafes seem to exist. Came back to the hotel and Manuel the receptionist was nice enough to restart the router for me. Ticket purchased thanks to Mom.

I decided at that point it was 10:30 p.m. and I should just quit. I walked around the corner, got a chorizo and cheese baguette and a can of beer (San Miguel) and came back to crash. I did get invited to a party at the beach with a ton of German teens on a field trip. I passed but maybe tomorrow?

Hopefully tomorrow goes a little smoother. Right now San Miguel has me nice and sleepy so I'm off to bed.

Autobus Numero 8 - an indie flick

I made the mistake of drinking a venti iced cafe americano before my 3hr train from Valencia to Barcelona so I'm wide awake and noticing every cramp and pain in my body from this train seat. I'm in a bank of 4 seats all facing each other so I can't stretch out at all. The man across from me (I think his name is Ruben based in his large gold ring) has the most incredible natural blue-green eyes I've ever seen and I'm pretty sure I have a staring problem. Also, it appears his legs had either been shaved or waxed (but not his arms or chest) as he has some amount of leg stubble growing in, all the same length.

The good news is that I can see the countryside heading up the coast of Spain with occasional peeks at the Mediterranean. I even have a window seat on that side of the train. I'm trying to get a picture but it's virtually impossible to get a good one traveling this fast.

My last day/night in Valencia was filled with unintentional "adventure" and comedy. After returning from my rainy time at the beach I showered and ran into Annie again. I needed to buy my train ticket to Barcelona and Annie needed to find a way to Pamplona for the running of the bulls so we set off on a Sunday walk all through Valencia. Sundays tend to be quiet in Spain but Valencia was dead. Our walk included some sandwiches, some helado, and the decision that we would buy wine for the hostel and go out for a paella dinner.

I got my train ticket but after making it to the bus station which was both across from, before, and after the Corte Ingles (Corte Ingles is a Spanish department store and there are tons and tons in Valencia, even across the street from each other) we discovered that the company with the best bus option to Pamplona was taking a siesta.

We headed to the market back by the hostel and the market was also taking a siesta so we went to the market inside Corte Ingles and bought 2 bottles of vino blanco for about €4 total and a jar of olives.

While Annie went to take her own siesta I finally met the 3 guys sharing my room with me. They were college students from California and definitely did not want to steal my bathingsuit or sarong or make-up so that was good news. I grabbed my Barcelona info and went down to the common room where I ran into Jess and Kate (2 of the Australians from the night before) and also met Sebastian who, as he says, is from everywhere (mostly, I think, the UK and a bit of a previous stint in Spain).

Annie showed up to try to book her bus tickets online and we managed to drink 1 entire bottle of wine and eat the entire jar of olives before she realized there were too many technical difficulties and she/we would have to go back to the bus station before dinner. Sebastian, who had eaten only some bread and chorizo and decided Annie was Dutch (she is French-Canadian), decided to join us. Poor Sebastian didn't know that both Annie and I tend to get lost and he ended up on quite the journey with us. (It was Sebastian suggested that it would have made an excellent indie flick).

Annie and I were confident that we could just take the 8 bus to the bus station. We hopped on and ended up touring all the areas where Sebastian should not rent a flat for 1 month. We did find some fabulous parks where he could sleep, exercise and bathe but he wants to hold out for a roof. Annie finally asked the bus driver if we would get to the train station and he told us that we weren't going that way today. All I have to say is: that's Sunday in Spain. So we hopped off and onto a different 8 bus which took us back where we came from and eventually to the bus station. We should have just walked perhaps?

While Annie bought her bus ticket, Sebastian and I found the most amazing condom/lube/massage oil/sex toy vending machine ever. If you are heading out of or into Valencia via bus you will definitely not have to worry about safer (and slippery) sex.

We decided to walk back to the center of the city to find our authentic and much deserved Valencian dinner. Yeah, so did I mention EVERYTHING is closed on Sundays in Valencia? We found some pricier places that none of us were interested in (Sebastian didn't want to "splash out" - my new favorite term meaning splurge), we found a fenced off construction site for Sebastian to live in (it had a front and back door) and then we found Beirut King, which, although not authentic Valencian food (it was Lebanese if you didn't guess already), was quite delicious and affordable.

We wandered back to the hostel, only getting lost briefly, and showed Sebastian the plaza with the hat and sunglasses (and lighters and certain drugs and etc.) salesmen and the fountain that I have yet to see "fountaining" (or "splashing out" said Sebastian).

Then we found the baby with "cojones de oro" according to his mother. This little baby was laying in his stroller with his legs wide open and propped up on the front safety bar sort of thing. The mother pushing the stroller saw or heard us discussing the baby's laid back position and confirmed that indeed, he has balls of gold. We spotted a baby girl in a stroller soon after. Obviously she did not have cojones de oro but Annie thought the baby definitely had quite the gangster stance. Valencia's next generation, huh?

And that's that. We found our hostel, finished off our 2nd bottle of wine, and played/watched some pool until I decided I might miss my train if I didn't go to bed. El fin.

La playa

Today is my beach day in Valencia. Depending on where I end up in Italy or what I feel like doing in Barcelona it could be my last beach time of the trip. Sadly it's a bit overcast (with an occasional rain drop...scratch that, with light rain showers :( had to leave to save my phone and iPod) but I guess that's ok...I'm tan enough for 10 days into my trip and I'm not dripping sweat and plastered with sand like I was in Cadiz.

I like this beach. It is not incredibly attractive (especially after being in Cadiz) but it's big, relatively clean, people are playing backgammon on their towels (soooo jealous), and men of all ages have a beach futbol game going on (shirts v skins, barefoot and apparently no formal positions or limit on # of players). There is a "boardwalk" lined with little shops. I didn't bring a beach towel on my trip in an effort to maintain the carry-on status of my backpack. I found a sarong type thing, big enough to work as a beach "sheet," in one of the shops and it's compact enough to pack and take with me. Small victory. Oh, and I asked a complete stranger to put sunscreen on my back.

I had a fun interaction on my way to the beach. I was told to get the 32 bus at the park. I found a stop for the 32 on each end of the park and I figured one must be going to the beach and one must be returning. I asked a friendly grandmother, in Spanish, where to get the 32 to the beach. She told me I was in the right place and that she was waiting too and then proceeded to tell me that she'd been waiting a while because the streets had been closed for a run this a.m and she didn't know when it would come. I told her I would wait with her. Along came 2nd grandmother and her and 1st grandmother proceeded to talk for about 30 minutes about the busses. Everytime a bus came around the corner they would ask me if it was the 32 (maybe they couldn't see?) and we would all laugh when it wasn't. Then, they told me to ask the driver of the 31 bus if it went to the beach. He told me it went close to the beach but the 32 would be there in 5 minutes. Knowing my new-found ability to get lost everywhere, I decided to wait with my new friends for the 32. Well, 5 minutes was more like 20 but we did get on the bus and they directed me to sit because it was a long ride. So I did. I love those ladies. They made my day.

They also helped me decide that I am going to take Spanish classes once I'm done traveling. I want to be fluent and not just get by. I love this language, even with the challenges and frustrations I experience when I get confused or lost, and I love feeling my brain work.

I'm liking my hostel experience so far. Yesterday I met a woman named Annie from Montreal while we were doing laundry and we wandered around the city a bit. Annie had bought food to cook dinner at the hostel and was kind enough to share. I hope I find her again today so I can return the favor (although I'd prefer to take her out for paella tonight). I hung out in the common room for the Spain v. Paraguay game and met a great group of travelers from Australia. We went out bar hopping for a bit and oddly enough I was the only one in the group who spoke any Spanish. It felt kind of great to be the one "translating." I even taught 2 of the women how to order gelato in Spanish.

So while I hope I find Annie or the Australians again (or meet someone new even) once I get back to the hostel, something odd happened to me this a.m....I woke up and just wanted to go to the beach alone. I wanted quiet, I wanted to think, I wanted to wander my own way. It was fabulous to socialize for a bit but I have gotten used to a weird silence in Spain where, if I choose to, I can hear people around me and join in but, mostly because of the language difference, I can also just tune everyone out and just hear myself over the buzz of the babel. I guess it's about balance...taking the time to "do me" but also finding company when I want it. It's also about being ok letting my thoughts and feelings roam when my attention isn't occupied for a moment.

Last night I considered switching my reservations in Barcelona to a hostel. I like the open invitation to talk to anyone that exists in a common room at a hostel. But then this a.m. I had my "I want to be alone" moment coupled with having to tiptoe down from my top bunk (1st bunk bed in 11 years!!!) and then attempt to silently get myself together so as not to wake the 3 sleeping men who were not there at 3:30 a.m when I got in and I'm sure they did not want to wake up at 9 a.m with me. I like being able to lay out my clothes (although I'm sure these 3 guys don't want to steal my bikini or the dress I wore last night) or charge my phone while I go to the bathroom. Also, I've realized, I don't really party like I used to.

So, for now, my decision is to stick with my private room w/ shared bathroom in Barcelona. This place also has a common breakfast room so, perhaps, I will meet people there. If I get down or lonely again I will revisit my choice of hostel/hotel in Rome and Florence, well, maybe just rome. I'm considering making Florence/Tuscany (my last stop on my trip) my week of beauty, silence and relaxation.

And for now, I really hope I'm on the right bus (and find the right stop) to get back to the hostel...fingers crossed!

Travel lessons and my 1st (real) hostel

I made it to Valencia today and immediately realized that the place I had booked for my 2 night stay was not anywhere near anything. I had thought, when I initially looked at a map, that it would be closer to the beach and that would be better than the town center. WRONG!

So, I made a game time decision, pulled out my lonely planet guide and found a hostel (ironically the purplenest hostel) with great reviews. Within an hour I was checking in at my very first hostel. I am sitting on a terrace doing laundry (which happens to be a great way to meet people I've discovered) and tonight the hostel will be playing the Spain game with free tapas for each drink you buy. I can definitely handle that and, hopefully, I'm not going to feel sad and alone tonight. Phew!

I think tonight I'm going to go to the City of Arts and Sciences and then come back for the game and tapas. Tomorrow will be a beach day and then I'm off to Barcelona on Monday!

Hansel, he's so hot right now!

(Thanks to Susan for the title of this entry)

I spent my last day in Madrid quite leisurely. Woke up, ran in the park, did some yoga in my hostel room, and then made my way to El Prado. I have another confession...art museums make me sleepy. I wish with all my heart that I had the appreciation for art that others do. I try, I recognize the skill and beauty of artwork but I'm more likely to get lost in a history or archaeology museum (where I can read and learn and be nerdy) or be able to differentiate between the sounds of music producers than I am painters or sculptors. And, honestly, there is not enough sunshine in any museum for my liking.

So after my 2 hour stint in El Prado I decided I was going to have a big meal. I have not been eating enough. Not on purpose but between running all over and the time of meals here (which I'm still not 100% used to) I find myself getting shakes from hunger or realizing my dos cervezas at the bar are doubling as my dinner.

It was just about time for the Brazil v Holland game and I decided to find a tapas bar to eat this huge meal and watch the game. I wandered for about 30 minutes. One place was too empty, the next too full and intimidating to my solo self, the next didn't have enough food options. I finally found a place, found a table directly in front of the TV and ordered a feast of gazpacho, goat cheese & honey, empanada de carne, a cerveza and, as the game proceeded, 2 glasses of vino blanco.

My waiter was quite good looking but spoke almost zero English. When I got up to pay we chatted a bit and I learned that he is Hansel from DR. Hansel suggested that I return later in the night around midnight to speak with him and practice my Spanish. He was, however, working until 2a.m. As my night unfolded (I'll get there in a minute) I decided not to join Hansel because, as you also probably assume, he did not just want to give me Spanish lessons at 2a.m. Poor Hansel, I hope he's not still waiting.

I did consider at least going back to the bar. I've gotten VERY good at saying "no" (it's the same in English) and "no you can't come with me/walk me home" en espanol and figured the bar was at least a safe place. But then I met the Egyptian...

Last night was the start of Madrid's gay pride festival. I decided to go walk around and see how it compares to the states. It was early still (about 10:30 p.m) and not too packed. I learned the gay jai ho/macarena (which involves taking your shirt off although I was not drunk and decided not to venture there). I was about to head over to meet Hansel when 2 men stopped to talk to me. One spoke mostly French and the other spoke a bit of English and then, for me, predominantly Spanish. I caught neither of their names althouh I do know that the Egyptian's facebook name is Moja Ayad.

At first it was nice to have company and test my Spanish skills some more. But then Egypt started touching my hands and my shoulders and my neck...nothing inappropriate per se but enough that it made me uncomfortable. Not to mention he whispered "por que eres guapa?" in my ear multiple times. By the time I escaped and made sure he wasn't following me all I wanted to do was bathe in antibacterial gel and go home. Bleck.

I got to my hostel and thought about men and women and the differences in intentions and communication styles. I'm not known for my successful relationships so perhaps I am not an expert but here go some examples (and advice for men)from my own experiences and some anonymous friends.

If a woman is chewing food, it is not the time to try to stick your tongue in her mouth, especially if she has given NO signs that she would enjoy that even were she not chewing. (No, having drinks 2 nights in a row is not a sure sign that physical contact is wanted).

If you've just met a woman, learn what an appropriate amount of touching is. Dancing (read: NOT sex on the dance floor) is probably ok. Teaching the woman the bachata, also ok. Repeatedly stroking arms/hands/neck/back is CREEPY. Smacking her ass as you leave the club, not ok. Trying to sneak a small kiss, maybe ok depending on the woman's interest level (which grown men should be able to judge - if you can't, you're too drunk). Trying to all out make-out with a woman you've just met in public, especially if she already said no to your advances, not ok!

Most women do not respond to dirty picture texts the way men do. Some may choose to send and receive them but it's probably more entertainment than going to lead to any sort of hot and botheredness (new word, yes?). Also, if you think a woman might be topless sun bathing and ask her for pictures and she says no, that's her right. It does not give you grounds to call her a "bitch."

If you invite a woman over for lunch and dessert, there is a good chance, unless you have already been intimate, that she is going to think you mean chocolate cake and not "dessert." Maybe that's just me...?

The construction worker who yells out inappropriate "cat calls" to women as they walk by is not "complimenting" her.

And, these may be TMI but I feel the need to include them. Talking about "pre-cum" is NOT sexy. (Seriously, WHY??? I can't even stand typing that!) It just brings up memories of high school health class and the chance of getting pregnant or diseases. Finally, if you make advances on a woman and she says no, phrases expressing how badly you want to put "it" or stick "it" inside her are not going to increase your chances.

Respect people, respect!

Sorry, I digress...so now I'm on the train to Valencia for my beach weekend. I've learned that all beaches there are topless-ok and some are nude. Should be interesting. Yon Sanchez Paisal and I had a talk about how he felt with his previous girlfriends going topless...apparently not all men love the idea. Also, for you American men with Playboy Mansion fantasies...picture more like a women's locker room and less like centerfold central.

Hopefully I can do something like rent a bike or find a good place to watch world cup games (Spain plays tonight) or anything at all to occupy my mind this weekend. I'm at the point I get to on all vacations where I miss my scheduled life back home. I miss being busy. Hell, I even miss working. I keep saying "breathe, relax, let go" in my head during down time rather than constantly seek a way to fill the space but that's still a work in progress, maybe even more than my spanish speaking.

I ate pizza in Madrid and other confessions (and an update)

So I admit it. Yesterday I was starving and smelled the most delicious smell and there was the most gorgeous pizza I've seen in weeks staring back at me...€2 for a slice?! Sold! It was worth it and I'm not embarrassed.

I'm also ok with sometimes getting Starbucks in the a.m. I need a huge iced coffee at times and if I have to be a typical American to get one, well...so be it.

Also, I'm going to confess that until I get my gelato in Italy, I'm perfectly fine with my 2 trips (so far) to Ben and Jerry's.

I don't mind the "Americanization" I've found in Madrid. The New York feel, the stores blasting Biggie or Rihanna, the refreshing smell of Axe body spray (I'll take that over cigarettes any day!), and the cat calls....in the States I want to punch men BUT hearing "Calor! Calor! Oh dios mio!" And whistles as I walk by an old man or a construction worker...music to my ears.

And there's more: my feet are constantly dirty and I have some serious sandal tan lines (I'll keep a pic of my dirty feet to myself), I have not worn a "real bra" but for 2 nights of drinks, and I bought a new purse at H&M today because my pink one sometimes clashes with my outfits.

It's not like I can become a new person completely, right?

And the update...I hit another low last night. It's always about dinner and whether or not I'm "going out." Again, I was alone and bummed. I went on craigslist and miraculously found an international "get to know you" type group that was meeting at a bar last night. I went and had some great conversation with some really interesting people from all over the place.

This is how I met Yon Sanchez Paisal (aka Jon, but I prefer using all 3 names I think). Yon is from San Sebastian, Spain and he claims it's the best place in Spain (yet he lives in Madrid). Yon speaks excellent English though he never studied it and made it too easy for me to be lazy and stop speaking Spanish. He did almost convince me to scrap my time in Prague and Italy to spend an extra 2 weeks in Spain to practice speaking. I won't lie when I say I'm seriously considering it. We shall see. I'll start tonight though, when I see Yon again for dinner/drinks, and make him force me to speak Spanish!

I tend to sleep in 3 hour blocks of time here. It's very weird. 2 or 3 a.m. til 5 or 6 a.m. and then either I fall back to sleep til 9 or, if it's a travel day, sleep on the train ride. Then there is my evening siesta from about 5 til 8 p.m. This is a much much slower pace than usual for me, even when on vacation but I'm getting used to it I think.

I got up this a.m. and ran in the park that's about 1 mile away from my hostel. It was excellent. I'm going to do it again tomorrow. Then I took a long walk (suggested by Yon) and made my way to the Royal Palace. Then I felt brave and meandered to Calle de la Cava Baja which is known for tapas. Given that I am becoming known for getting lost I was nervous BUT I made it there and back!

I found an adorable little spot there for lunch and a glass of wine. I forgot to take a pic on my phone but I do have some in my camera for when I get back to the states. I heard another woman (who happened to also be eating alone) speaking in English and this is how I met Cecilia from Norway. Cecilia is traveling with her sister and invited me to join them out tonight or perhaps hit up the gay pride festivities with them tomorrow. Yay!

Speaking of gay pride festivities...it seems that every gay man in Europe is flocking to Madrid for the weekend. It's disappointing for us straight women (and Cecilia agreed) to realize that all these gorgeous men are sadly not here for us. Oh well...at least tomorrow is going to be one hell of a party.

So the big question of the day...can I manage yoga en espanol? I can barely do it in English but I'm beyond craving a good yoga class and it's not like I can't just look around and copy people, right? I'm working up the courage...