Tip: ctrl+alt+delete does not bring up the task manager in Win 3.1 but rather goes straight into a reboot of the machine. This could cause one to lose another entire day, say 16 May :o( Up at the crack of 2pm. To be honest I don't believe that 2pm has a crack. By that time the day is in full spin and its 2pm-ness just happens. In any case that's when I awoke. First order of busineess, as with most any other day in the flying pig, is to check e-mail. It takes relatively few brain cycles and by the time you're done you're practically awake and sociable. I went down to find Dave in his usual location on the couch. I joined him to watch the end of whatever it was that was on and then our hunger convinced us that food would be a good thing. The thing I like about McDonald's isn't the stellar food quality, but rather the consistancy of the food quality. After travelling for over 5 months I've come to find that, no matter what country you happen to be in, McDonald's food can be counted on to traverse your system in exactly the same manner every time. so, McDonald's it was. I grabbed a light snack consisting of a McDeluxe meal (super size of course), a Big Mac, a Hamburger, and a Hot Apple Pie (don't judge me, I was hungry ;o). We took our feast back to the hostel and relaxed as we watched whatever happened to come on the movie channel. Dinner consisted of a similar mushroom dish but wasn't nearly as good as the previous night. Because Dave was leaving early in the morning he decided to do the all night thing. I was only able to stay up with him 'til about 5:30am when I finally crashed. It's sad to see him go. Bye Dave :o(
I find that waking at 1pm makes the day so much longer ;oP After a bit of e-mail I went down in the now absent spirit of Dave to watch a bad movie. I then went for a walk around the town and found a bad shawerma place and had a plate of that. It turns out that the Erotic Museum is a waste of money. It's not nearly as complete and informative as the Sex Museum (seriously). I then explored a bit and had an amazing time. Amsterdam is one of those places that is hard to leave because when you think you're done with it you find another aspect that surprises you. I went back to meet up with some folks from the states that just moved into my room (ok, it's not really "my room" per se as I share it with 29 other folks, but you get my meaning. One of them is actually from Seattle and her name is not "Doris", another whose name is not "Peaches" used to be from Seattle but is now living back east somewhere (I have no idea why I call it "back east" as I have never been there...) and the third is from somewhere back east as well and his name is definately not "Wayne". I guess that I should note that my name is not "cake" (or any variation thereof), but these are the names that we used for the evening (why not, aye??) Anyhoo, they settled on going to this improv comedy show put on by americans called Boom! Chicago. I'm glad that I decided to tag along as the thing was nothing less than hilarious. We had an excellent time, stopped for a drink on the way back, and then relaxed in front of a movie that I was unable to fathom -- not because it was so deep, but rather because it was entirely and utterly pointless. So sad :o(
Again, up at 1pm. The urge to shave hit me, so I did (shave that is). Another group from my room (it is too my room!) was headed down to the cinema to check some flick or another out. I'm always up for a movie so I joined them. As it turns out we got there with a couple of hours to spare before the show started so... that's right, beer. It's not my fault, it just happened ;oP The film du jour was Gladiator, which turned out not to be that good. It did star Sid 6.7 from Virtuosity who was ok in the role, but the script died in places and the action scenes were made up from sketchy computer animation -- so sad. All in all it wasn't a bad experience, just not a great one. The evening (after returning from the movie) turned out to be very similar to other evenings in Amsterdam. A bit of relaxation in the main room, kickin' back with the other hostellers. Again, that's the benefit of a hostel. I've had offers to stay in hotels for the same price as a dorm bed in a hostel and chose the hostel just for the social atmosphere. Now if I were only about 10 years younger...
Ok, my standard plan is to pay for my bed in the evening to stay one night ahead of the hostel. Otherwise I have to get up by 10:30am, wait in line, and pay for the following night so that they don't give my bed away. As you can see from previous days there odds that I'll be up just hanging out by 10:30am are slim to none, and slim's outta town ;o) So the previous night I went down to pay for the night of the 19th (the current night -- it's weird typing in past-tense all the time) and they told me that I couldn't do that and needed to come down in the morning. What?! I'm so friggin sure. Sheesh. So there I was laying in bed sound asleep as the nice hostel worker shook me and asked if I was checking out that day. "Hmmmm? 11:30?? Whaaa? Hmmmm... staying another night." Ah, then I must get up and go pay. I went down and they said that I was to put my name on the waiting list, which was quite lengthy by that time. Dang, no way I get a bed. I put forth a minor struggle and they said to come back in 10 minutes -- which I did and got my bed :o) My friends from the movie the day before were having similar problems so I told them what I did and just to go back and ask again -- which they did and got there beds as well. How odd. That's the only night/morning that I've seen work like that. I wonder what happened to make things go so oddly.
Having secured my bed I did a bit of e-mail and almost updated my site. I say almost because just as I was about to my motivation left me and I decided to simply relax all day -- which I did. I believe that's the main difference between being on holiday and travelling. If I were on holiday I would feel obligated to do something touristic and move on to the next town. Because I'm travelling I'm not in a hurry at all and can just kick back if I want to -- and I wanted to ;oP
Great, now that I went through the previous day's struggle to retain my bed I'm now going to check out. Woke at 11am (just a bit late for checkout), checked out, and then did some e-mail and ate 4 PB&J sandwiches for breakfast (yum!). I hung out with folks I'd met in the main room and left the hostel around 2:45pm to head over to Mabel's. I must note that it is much easier to find places once you've been there, or even close to there before. I got to her place around 3:30pm to find that there was no way in hell that she was going to leave by 4:30pm as she had planned (she was still in housecoat and lounging). I dropped my stuff and went for a walk to give her a bit of privacy and ended up seeing the movie Stigmata which left me in an odd state so I turned right around and watched the movie American Pie which I had seen before but was still funny. An interesting note would be that the screen showing American Pie actually had assigned seat numbers on your ticket. How weird. Turns out that nobody paid any attention to the seating and just sat anywhere, but still... The theatre happened to be in the same square as an Irish Pub that I had been in the other day while waiting to see Gladiator (go figure), so I headed over to see what was up in that place (if I was still staying in the hostel then I would have gone back there to look for people). What do you know, plenty of beer drinking was going on. A bit later a group of 16 or so irish bachelorette partiers came in and filled the joint. Not knowing that the party was private I joined them until around 3am, at which point they left as did I. So much for a private party ;o) A useful tip for the novice traveller in Amsterdam would be that the trams stop running at 1am and re-start at 5am. The busses still run but I've never used that system and have no clue what bus to take to get back to Mabel's place (to be honest I actually have no idea where it is). That said, my cab ride was only 18FL (20 with tip) for what I think was a 10 minute ride -- not too bad. It's amazing what sleeping on a non-rubber mattress can do to help you sleep ;o)
Doh, I woke at 3:30pm! The day is cold and overcast and aside from the weather it is oddly reminiscent of the last time I stayed at Mabel's place. This time I don't have quite as much to update though, so I dove in to get as much done as I could. As it turned out I finished my entire update before she got home (that's right, I'm actually typing on 21 May for 21 May -- what a concept!). Basically that's all I did aside from grabbing a shower and eating a PB&Banana sandwich-like substance. Now all I have to do is figure out where I'm headed tomorrow (Spain? UK? Scandanavia? India?). Too many options, what a hard decision...
the next day... Mabel got back around 10pm at which point we chatted for a while. At 11:30pm I wasn't ready to sleep so I went for a walk in the drizzle. My walk took me by a McDonald's which seemed a good idea so I ate more of the known substances that they sell. A short while later, my belly full, I headed back, relaxed a bit, and was finally able to get to sleep.
Morning was uncertain as it found me at 7:30am, and then again at 1:20pm. The second time stuck and I was up, showered, and out of the place by 2pm headed for Central Station still unclear as to what city I would end up in the next day. After stowing my bags in a locker I headed over to an internet cafe to do a bit of e-mail and update my site (*waves at you from The Cyber Cafe in Amsterdam* here I am :o). I believe I've decided upon Spain. Where in Spain is sorta up in the air. Probably Barcelona as that's where everyone tends to go first and where everyone has said that I absolutely must go. After uploading this along with a couple more files I'll head back over to Central Station and actually book a ticket somewhere. In theory I should know my actual destination at that point ;oP
Talk about not being able to make up oneīs friggin mind -- sheesh! I re-entered Central Station and found the International Destinations room and took a number from the nice lady. Nice that they put the information desk and the international ticketing at the same place. As I waited for my number to come up (it's what life's all about after all...) I had decided that I was definately going to either Barcelona Spain, London England, or someplace I've forgotten the name of in the Netherlands (not the same as the nether regions). Time required me to finally bite the proverbial bullet and make a decision. The woman at the desk was even nicer than the ticket wench (I consider that a term of endearment) and asked me pleasantly what my destination was. Without so much as an eye bat I replied "Barcelona Spain". Whew, that wasn't so hard. The deciding factor, I believe, was the heat. It was only going to get hotter and hotter in Spain, so I may as well get it out of the way asap. A 6 person couchette (sleeper car) adds 30FL to the tab, and reservation fees along the way hikes the entire out of pocket expense to the grand total of 59FL (like US$35 I think). The fare would have been over US$300 had I not had my trusty EuroPass for the train. The train wasn't scheduled to leave until 10:24pm, leaving me about 9 hours to mess around.
Enter full-on tourist mode (ībout time, aye?). First order of business was food. I stopped into my favorite chinese restaurant and scarfed their rendition of mixed chow mein (yum!). Since I was in the area I swung by the Cannabis College as I heard that it was informative and frankly amazing -- and it was worth all 5FL that I paid for admission. Now for the rest of the dayīs activities I'll try to give enough detail such that you know what is available, but leave out enough to keep the page to its strictly PG-13 rating. The area is called The Red Light District. I stopped in, as is nearly required for any visit to Amsterdam, for a live sex show at this theatre that had a huge pink dancing elephant for a logo and a few fountains out front of questionable design (if you can imagine it then you're probably right on track). It turns out that the daily show is free with the purchase of an evening show ticket (they don't actually sell daily show tickets, only evening show tickets, and the evening show is the one to see). *sigh* I was forced to see both the daily show and the evening show (ouch, my arm!). There were a few acts during the daily show, which lasted half an hour, followed by a movie which filled the rest of the hour -- I walked out of the movie as it was, frankly, unimpressive. Had I been there 15 years ago then I'm sure that I would have stayed for the entire thing ;oP. I had about an hour to burn whilst waiting for the evening show (at another theatre down the road) so I meandered my way around the district, you know, just to burn time. The evening show was, like the daily show, mechanical and choreographed. Iīm not saying it wasnīt explicit, and there wasn't anything left out that I could think of, with a couple acts that were, um, unexpected. The show let out at 9pm on the dot (when they sell you an hour and a half worth of show then thatīs exactly what you get). With time closing in on my departure I experienced more of the culture, then hit some e-mail before bolting for the train. Not entirely a bad day -- interesting to say the least ;o)
My couchette-mates were three guys from Colorado in their late teens. One of them had just lost his brand new EuroRail Pass and took a while to fully panic about it. The conductor came by shortly after we pulled out to collect our passports, tickets, and reservations which gave my new friend pause to panic again. The conductor took his passport and went away -- they'd figure it out later as the train was non-stop to Paris. Poor fella. I relaxed a bit as here wasn't much else to do in a dark couchette. Just before sleeping one of the other three guys found the other guy's EuroPass in his backpack. What it was doing there none of us knew, but it was not put there by a malicious act. Cool. With everyone happy we all kicked back and sleep found me around 1am.
We woke just before the train pulled into Paris Nord Station by the conductor who was returning our passports, reservations, and tickets. It was odd that they kept them all night, but it kinda made sense on a non-stop sleeper train. I was informed at some point by someone (sorry, sketchy on the details here) that trains don't actually pass through Paris. Coming from the north you get off the train at Paris Nord, take the metro over to Paris Lyon, and get another train. I had 4 hours to burn as we pulled into Paris Nord at 6:30am and my train didn't leave Paris Lyon until 10:30am. Turns out I had never actually been to this area of the city during my stay in Paris, so I decided to lock my bags up and wander around for a bit. I didn't go far as I was fearful that this would turn into one of my "self tours" that always take longer than expected. Man, no wonder this area isn't touristic, it's flat beautiful. I bought some bread at a bakery, a sausage from a butcher, and some juice from a big ol' grocery store. The neighborhood I was wandering in is beautiful. The took the Jerusalem idea of walking on rooftops to the extreme and put gardens and walkways throughout -- you could barely hear the street noise from below. There was also a great park making the entire area seem almost like a biosphere, but without the sphere. It was all very modern. Iīm no archtect, and actually have little interest in archtecture, but found the constructs here way cool -- very practical and soft on the eyes. The weather couldn't have been better, very temperate, sunny, an amazing day. The only problem with the area, all of Paris actually, is that there are few (if any) free toilets, and I was needing one in an ever increasingly bad way. I finally caved and paid the 2.80FF for one that was not nice enough to warrant the 2.80FF charged for it. The time soon came for me to collect my bags (I still had about 68 hours left on the timer, you can't rent lockers in Gare de Nord for less than a 72 hour duration). I found the train easily enough, sat and ate a couple brownies that I had purchased in Amsterdam for breakfast today (always thinkin, heh ;o). On the train I read a bit and then slept until we reached Mt. Pilliar at around 3pm. Turns out that there's a train strike on and we have to switch to busses. It's not so bad as the bus was a nice one. The only problem was the waiting out in the parking lot thinknig that all 300 or so of us would have to try to cram onto the single bus that was parked there waiting. Yeah, right. Three more busses finally pulled in and we were off and only 15 minutes late (3:45pm). We made an unscheduled stop in Figuras Spain at 7:55 to switch us back to a train for the last half an hour, leaving us in Barcelona at 8:30pm. As I left the train I met a couple english speakers named Tania and Emily. They were headed to the same place I was (which would be any hostel or pensione with a bed free) so I hooked up with them and made it a collaborative effort. It seems to me that it's overly warm for 9-ish in the PM. Kabul Hostel, our initial destination had no beds free. The pensione next door had only a double (for the girls) so I reverted to solo and continued my quest. At the next pensione I met up with 3 aussie guys coming out chatting about the same rejection issues I was dealing with (that pensione was full as well -- completo). I attached myself to their group and headed off to yet another pensione about half a mile away. Just a brief aside, after walking the planet for 6 months half a mile is basically on the next block -- nothing to be troubled about. Turns out that the three aussies got a triple in that pensione for a reasonable price and I got a double for an exorbitant rate (ok, only 3800 pesetas (ptas), which is around US$21, but still...!!). I headed off for a well anticipated shower. The shower, dear god, the shower. There was a couple inches of water standing in the tub, but I needed a rinse in a bad way. I stepped in (donīt judge me, think of the situation), picked up the hand-held shower head, and turned on both faucets to full. A trickle emerged that would cease completely when I raised the head up too far. Damn. I basked in the less than exhilerating deluge, got entirely wet at least twice (which I counted as a complete shower considering the situation), and rinsed each foot as I pulled it from the tub. Ahhh, much better :o) I am definately moving to Kabul Hostel in the morning.
Not yet ready to sleep I headed out for a stroll around 11pm. Soon after I found Tania and Emily enjoying a drink at an outside bar and joined them for a moment before walking them back to their pensione (they were tired, go figure...). On my way back I was approached by a nice older man in a suite saying that he was from my hotel and about to have a beer asking if I wanted to join him. Being alone and still not tired I figured what the hell. We went to a bar close to where we met and ordered up a couple of beers. For some unknown reason I offerred to buy the first round, which came to 2000ptas (that would be around US$12 -- an expensive beer no matter what part of the planet you're on). Since the brew was poured I pretty much had to pay, and the man swallowed his and made himself scarce as soon as I looked away. Interesting job. Turns out he gets a commission on any drink sold to someone that he brings in. Reminds me of Egypt. Good to know. A nice Norwegian woman approached me from the other end of the bar asking if I wanted to buy her a drink. Now being savvy I asked how much that would cost. Why, a mere 2000ptas for her drinks. Wow, I assured her that I hadn't that much to spend but I'd chat with her just the same as her english was good and I'm actually part Norwegian (I am, really). She said that that would be nice but that she can't actually speak to a customer unless they buy her a drink. We spoke for a good 10 minutes anyway tho. Interesting job she has there. She doesn't sleep (vertical recreation, you know what I mean) with anyone, but just conversates with them. Kinda cool. Verbal prostitution. She said that there are regulars that come into the club just for that reason. Talk about hard up for a chat. You can buy friends for less than that, but I guess they might not be as interesting, and she gets paid to enjoy your conversation. Part of our conversation was her warning me of the dangers of this particular part of town. She was just leaving as I left so we walked back to the main street together, which was a good thing as my inclination was to turn the wrong way out of the door and go directly into the wrong part of town. Turns out I was about to move to that part of town the following morning. Well, now being tired enough to try to sleep I headed off to my pensione, set my alarm so I'd be sure to get a room at Kabul, and got some shut-eye.
Some annoying damned noise was harrassing me. Turns out it was my alarm. I hit snooze evry nine minutes from 7:30-8:30am but was out of the pensione by 9am to secure my room at Kabul Hostel. I had read in my Lonely Planet guide book that the Kabul Hostel charged a mere 1800ptas for a dorm bed -- the rates had raised to 2200ptas, but I didn't care. I secured a room and went back to my ex-pensione to grab my bags and check out. Kabul definately seems like a party hostel. Not entirely a bad thing -- ok, a good thing ;oP I found a barber and got a shave and a nice haircut for a mee 1400ptas (like US$7). I've decided to try to get the hair on top of my head to grow back to a decent length, so I only had him shape it on top and scrape the sides down to the wood. He said I look like U.S. Army. Hmmm... I'll keep my hat on. On my way back I purchased some deodorant (why were they all cheering and applauding when I went to the counter with it?? ;o) and a snickers. Back at Kabul I was going to grab a siesta when I met a native Seattlite named Greg. He's definately involved in the Green Party movement and we spicifically managed to speak on other topics. I also re-met a blonde hottie named Alexis who claimed that we met in Amsterdam. Man, she definately should have made at least enough of an impression that I'd remember seeing her before, but no dice. I guess I made more of an impression on her than she did on me. Greg was gonna check out the Picasso Museum, so I decided to forego the siesta and wander with him and another guy as that is a place I wanted to check out anyway. Turns out that Picasso died a sick, sick man. His earlier work is nothing less than brilliant. He was doing near photo quality work at the age of 13. Then his paintings became what we recognize as his work and that stuff is amazing. Finally he ended up doing sketches of nudes mainly in brothels. Rooms and rooms full of these sketches. Somethin' wrong there... On the way back we stopped at the S.E. Cahedral Basillica De Barcelona (aka Bari Gotic). I'm pretty churched out, but this place is amazing. The gardens in its courtyard are incredible, and the cathedral itself is breath-taking.
Later that night I hung out in the main room and began organizing a game of "asshole" with greg and a couple of others. By the time we had gotten into full swing we had two decks going and a group of no less than 10 including a couple of american sisters (um, not nuns) named Sarah ("You must respect my authoritae!") and Julia ("I'm too buff for this game!"). The rules are fairly simple which is good as asshole is a drinking game. Much beer was consumed. Kabul Hosel is kind enough to have multiple beer vending machines in its common room. Swill (Damme @ 5.2%) can be purchased for 175ptas, and strong swill (Voll Damme @ 7.4%) can be purchased for 200ptas. For some unknown reason they also sell piss (Budweiser -- does it have alcohol??) for 225ptas. After the game broke up we adjourned to an outdoor bar nearby for some more beer where I met an excellent french man named Cedric who didn't live in Barcelona but merely came into town periodically to work and hang out. I'm glad to have met him. As the evening drew to an end I found myself not ready to sleep so I retired to the hall just outside my room and spoke with whomever walked by. This kept me occupied pretty much the rest of the night. One notable personality was a guy (whose name escapes me) who is an assistant director for the television program Walker, Texas Ranger -- poser extraordinairre. I really could have done without meeting Walker, Texas Ranger. I think I slept around 5am, but can't really be sure of it. The plan is to meet Julia & Sarah around 11:00 and check out Gaudi Park.
Doh! (I wrote other expletives on my notepad, but staying with the PG-13 theme...) Because I was inept and unable to set my alarm properly I woke at 12:30, utterly missing my Gaudi Park appointment. No worries, I'm sure I can find it myself. As I wandered into the common room in search of food (they also have a cafeteria that's open at times, although not this time) I came acrossed Greg who was also headed for Gaudi Park. He had some errands to run so we're gonna meet up at the gates at 3pm. Tons of time to grab some food and look around a bit. Ok, maybe not tons. Getting to the park (officially Parc Güell) took longer than I had anticipated as I strolled through the gate at 3:30. Fine, I'm fully qualified to look around a park unchaperoned. The place reminds me of The Flintstones. Gaudi liked things to look like they had grown instead of being constructed, so the rock formations that he put into place have that organic look about them. The place is way cool and if you go to Barcelona and don't see it then I'll tease you mercilessly upon your return -- you've been warned.
Finding my way back to Kabul from Gaudi Park was harder than finding my from Kabul to Gaudi Park, but I managed. My return was heralded by the chimes of 6pm (ok, there weren't really any chimes, but I was having problems making the sentence work). I sat a bit and then followed a couple of guys heading down to KFC (thatīs right, Kentucky Fried Chicken, I'm finding it hard to believe, myself). The deal is that they are having a special of two chicken sandwiches for 500ptas. Ya can't beat that with a stick, so I bought two sandwiches and a massive (and when KFC in Spain says "large" they mean massive) order of fries and carried my feast back to the hostel. Beer started just after 7pm at a moderate pace. Kabul Hostel also boasts a pool table in their common room. They call it a pool table but the felt is shiny, the balls bounce upwards when they hit the rails, and the cues are more bananas than anything else which works well as the balls don't roll straight anyway. That said, I played pool for a while and then hung out with Julia & Sarah. The night beckoned and we looked for a club around midnight. WE first found a bar on the water that was gracious enough to serve us sangria (a wine and fruit type drink that is quite tasty and refreshing). Then, because it's what we set out to do, we danced at a couple of the different clubs on the pier until finally dragging our buff ass back to Kabul around 3:30am. Still not ready to sleep I hung out in the hall again outside my room and met folks, one of whom was another Sarah, this one from the states as well. A brunette with blonde bangs and a quick smile. We became friends quickly and talked about things that you talk about with people you've just met while traveling but can't say to folks you've known forever. I'm glad to have met her as well. It's too bad that whilst travelling you continually meet folks and make friends only to have them leave mere days later never to see them again. There's always e-mail, but itīs just not the same. Sleep smacked me on the head and drug me back to my cave by the hair around 7am with the morning sun glaring angrily on making promises of sweltering, relentless heat.
I woke up from 11am to 1pm. That's right, it's a process not a discrete point in time. I need to buy more shorts. The single pair that I have to wear about town are filthy and I'm not about to wear pants in this weather. Perhaps the sun will cooperate tomorrow... Yeah, right, and monkeys might fly outta my butt! Breakfast, lunch, whatever you want to call the first meal when it's eaten in the early afternoon, consisted of KFC again (SSDD -- Same Shit, Different Day). As I was sitting in the hall last night talking about muggings and such it turns out that two folks got mugged right near the hostel. One was Alexis (blonde hottie that met me in Amsterdam), the other was an irish guy. Neither lost more than money or a phone card, but still...
It seems that today would be the day that I go down to the beach. I cautioned my three companions to wear sun glasses as I would most likely remove my shirt at some point. Their nervous laughter betrayed their fear. We sat at a beachfront bar and paid more than we wanted for a beer that was smaller than we would have preferred. The sand and waves were beautiful with a gentle breeze making the heat bearable and the sun lethal. I removed my shirt for 20 minutes per side and achieved only a light shade of pink -- if it don't hurt it's a tan, folks ;o). One thing about topless beaches, they fully adhere to and support my theory of the why vs. the what. That is to say that a woman with her top off lounging about sunbathing is no big thing. Now the same woman with her top off for other reasons would be an entirely different matter -- ya get my drift? That said, the topology of Spain's beaches is breathtaking at times ;oP Two of the guys I was with had to leave (actually leaving town) so I and the other guy (an american) walked the beach for a while and then went to the mall to see if I could find some shorts. I didn find some that I wasn't so fond of and then found them to cost a whopping US$50. Nuf sed, I left without making the purchase. Back at the ranch I hung out in the common room for a while where a guy gave me half of a massive bottle of multi-vitamins (he didn't want to carry all of them in his pack). Later a bunch of us headed down to The Black Sheep Pub where they offer a 3 litre pitcher of sangria (that's alot) for only 1700ptas (that's not alot). There were eight of us and I think we went through three pitchers of sangria and had a great time overall. We headed back and I tried to sleep at 3:30, succeeding just after 4:30.
I woke at the crack of 12:30 -- hey, that's almost morning! After a shave and a shower I decided to hand wash a couple pairs of boxers and my only pair of shorts (you remember, they were filthy a couple days ago). I was starving but didn't want to succumb to the siren's call of KFC. In my quest for food I bumped into Julia & Sarah who were on their way to a tour of some building that Gaudi had designed (they're all over the city). I was going to join the tour but it turns out that the english tour was sold out and the only available slot was in the spanish tour -- not much good to me. I left and continued my search for food. I happened on a small local joint and got a vegetal pollo sandwich
(toasted french roll, warm chicken, tomato, lettuce, mayo, and like that) and an espresso. Still hungry I grabbed an apple and two bananas from another vendor and scarfed them. I suddenly felt energized and realized that I mustīve been outta gas -- I should pay more attention. The weather today is mostly cloudy, which is nice as I'm forced to wear pants. Julia & Sarah are packing today to leave tomorrow morning so we got a couple 1 1/2 litre bottles of sangria for way cheap and drank them in their room (that they share with Walker, Texas Ranger and a guy named Ryan) while they worked. Afterwards we headed down to the pier for tapas (appetizers -- if you eat enough then you'll have a meal) and another litre of sangria. On the way back I was approached by someone who, as they spoke I said "no, gracias" to which he responded "don't I know you from Interlaken?". I guess I should pay a bit more attention to folks I meet on the street. Enter Marlin, american dude I met one night in Interlaken. When you think you'll never meet someone again... We hung out in Kabul for a while (read: beer) and then a group of us headed down again to The Black Sheep Pub for a proper send off for Julia & Sarah. Because there were only 4 of us this time we limited ourselves to only two three litre pitchers. The night beckoned, we succumbed and walked on the pier to allow them a final look before returning to a place called Ypsiquali or something located in the north and eastern portion of the US (Pennysylvania or Michigan or something -- they're all the same anyway...). We hung for a bit on a bench and drank in the night. On our way back a gentleman approached me with the intent of removing items from my person that I had grown attached to (money and such). I shoved him away and we continued walking, making certain that he was duly dissuaded. Entering the square that contained our hostel (note that the entire walk was no more than a mile, mile and a half tops) another more persistant gentleman was interested in the same things, him I introduced to the brick wall that was nearby and learned a few choice expletives in spanish. I headed back downstairs with the intent of schooling this last gentleman in greeting tourists. It didn't seem entirely wise to go about this alone, so I tried to enlist the group of six or so guys that were chatting in the hallway. They begged off in fear that the guy might have a friend (we would have seven to their two or three in that case, odds I felt good about). I was non-plussed and should definately enroll in some anger management courses. I called it a night and let the man live in ignorance. Sleep, seeing my apparant and continued anger, refused to come near me for hours. Eventually I slept.
I woke after 1pm thirsty enough that a litre of water left me wanting more. I was compelled by Ryan and Marlin to take the Bus Touristic tour of Barcelona. It's an open topped double-decker bus line that operates just like the city bus spaced 15 minutes apart but goes only past the cities considerable number of tourist sites and costs 2000ptas for a single day (or 2500ptas for 2 days, but I just got the one). They speak about the upcoming sites in both english and spanish and you can get off the bus and re-board all day. For that 2000ptas you also get a coupon book that will save you the 2000ptas easily in entrance fee reductions if you visit very many of the sites in the city. They book also has a coupon for KFC, which Ryan and I put to good use and got a steal of a deal for lunch :oP Ryan and I decided to check out this apartment building designed by Gaudi called Caixa De Catalunya. We didn't pay the fee to tour the building, but there was an exposition of art there by my new favorite artist (after seeing the exposition) named Alberto Giacometti. The guy rocks. Does sculpture, sketches, paintings, you know, all that art stuff.
Next stop was the Sagrada Familia, that big ass cathedral that Gaudi designed and has taken the past 100 years to get half completed. Nothing short of amazing. It's just wild. You'd have to see it to know what I mean. Talk about huge and utterly different, and they haven't even done the cathedral part of it. There are eight spires completed all of which you can climb and get an amazing view of the city. Outside the Sagrada Familia I bumped into Sarah (not Julia's sister -- they went home in the morning), and two guys from India that I can't remember the names of (that really bothers me, we were pretty good friends, but I don't think I knew their names when we were hanging out together either). Sarah and one of the guys went into the cathedral to check it out while the other guy and I wandered around the area to see it and to look for a bottle of water for me. The area wasn't interesting and the water was expensive. We four took the metro back and ate paella (like chow mein but different) near the hostel. Actually myself and another guy paella, the other guy ate burger king slower than anyone I've ever seen (we timed him), and Sarah had the worst pizza known to man. The guy that sold us our food came out to clear up and asked how the paella was and said "bad pizza, yes?" to Sarah -- they know it's the worst pizza on the planet and continue to serve it!! Gotta love capitalism :o)
Back at the ranch we eased into a four man game of asshole (we three guys and Ryan). Eventually Ryan left and another soon-to-be friend of mine named John joined in. We played until the common room closed at 3am and then moved out to the plaza. In hindsight this was not a wise move. This plaza is notorious for crime, Lonely Planet even talks about it. We've seen knife fights every night after 3am. So, the four of us bought too much beer (at least four each since the vending machines would be locked up and this was our last opportunity to buy -- and asshole is a drinking game...). I should note, before I get into the morning's activities, that I was president all night with the exception of one hand when I was vice president, and another guy was vice president for all but two hands. Sadly he kept referring to himself as Al Gore -- I didn't have the heart to comment on his choice of VP's. Right, we've just entered the plaza encumbered with beerverages, sit down and begin shuffling. At that point we are approached by four (or five, maybe six) natives who request some beer. Yeah, right. Sober I may have felt neighborly enough to offer one, but at 3am of a night of asshole I'm thinkin "you can have my beer when you pry it from my cold dead fingers". One thing led to another and next thing you know one of them darts in, grabs a beer, and bolts. John and I give chase while the other two guard our stock -- bad call number two. The rabbit drops the beer about 50 yards away and I was reluctant to return without blood, but I did. The conversation with the other two guys had escalated both in heat and volume by the time we returned. None of us were really in a chatting mood, although John kept his head pretty well. I'm not generally the violent type, but I think I have a problem with victimization in general and frankly these guys just got under my skin (probably due partially to the hours of lubrication I had undergone). Things went about as far as the home team was going to go for just beer. When all was said and done our cards were wet, two beers were popped on the ground, and they had absconded with about four others leaving us with about half. Aside from the rabbit none was taken directly from me yet I was still enraged. We then tried to move to the hostel of those two guys from India but no luck. The manager there wouldn't let us in to play anymore than the Kabul staff would. John's hostel was the same story except that I was able to anger the guy at the desk before leaving. It wasn't intentional mind you, I just wanted him to know the setting that he was sending us back out to and that I felt that he was uncaring -- ok, so I didn't phrase it exactly that way; He was throwing us out onto the streets anyway so it didn't matter much. We gave up on the game and headed back to Kabul to sit on the steps just inside the entrance, where we should have gone to play in the first place! Feeding off eachother's frustration we bitched and moaned for hours before finally heading up to bed. Again I couldn't sleep and sat in the hall to reflect. Sarah came by and we chatted some more about what went on (she was with one of the nameless guys from India down in the entrance to Kabul). I finally drug myself to bed around 8am. Welcome to Barcelona.
In defense of all of the anti-alcohol thoughts (if not comments) floating around out there let me say that alcohol did not cause this. If we were sitting in that plaza with no beer then they would have wanted our cards, our money, our passports, anything that they could take from us, and I still would have been enraged.
Woke at 2:30pm. I had meant to be up at 1:30pm to meet friends to go to the beach but didn't make it (I don't get hungover, so blame laziness). I got my bank card from my locker, walked the block and a half to the cash machine scrutinizing everyone that approached, got cash, walked back the same way, returned the cash card and most of the money to my locker, locked it, and left for the beach in confidence at 3:30pm. On my way to the beach I swung by the pier (ok, officially it's called Voll Pier) and grabbed a burger, fries, and a pepsi at a place called "Pokey" or something. The burger was awesome, the fries way too salty (I tried to wipe them off), and the pepsi was, well, pepsi. From there I passed a big ol' movie theatre (8-plex) with no screens playing in english *sob*. More walking and even a bit of a jog (?!?). I arrived at the beach, removed shoes, socks, and shirt and walked the length of the beach as I had done the other day. It takes me just about 20 mins to walk each direction on the beach, which is just right for the ammount of sun on my front and back. I didn't see my friends, but that's not surprising as my pattern recognition skills have always been substandard. As I finished my walk I noticed a small stretch of beach beyond where I usually exit/enter that I had not seen before. I was under no time pressure so I decided to proceed down that stretch to see what it might yield. About 10 yards into it I abruptly changed course as I realized that this would be the fully nude section. Normally not an entirely bad thing except when you consider the type of individual that would hang out in the fully nude section of a topless beach -- thatīs right, fat old men. Ewwww! On my way back from the beach to town I took a bit of an unscheduled walking tour. It's really not that far between the beach and Las Ramblas (the main drag off of which is the plaza off of which is Kabul Hostel), one wonders how I lost my way. Actually one shouldn't wonder much with my sense of direction. I did get to see a large portion of the pier that most don't see, although it was mostly industrial and warehouses, but still...
By the time I arrived back at the hostel I was tired and a bit depressed. I was really beginning to need a vacation from all the partying I had been, um, party to. So I just flopped in the common room and said my good-byes to Sarah and all the rest of the folks that I knew in the hostel. Time to move on. I was in the mood for pasta and found a really bad example of some at a local restaurant. Later I did some e-mail and then watched the knife in the plaza at 1:30am (the visitor won). This re-awakened my anger which helped me not to sleep most of the night although I was in bed by 2:10am. What's a boy to do...?
Finally gave in and got up at 10am after a mostly sleepless night. I wanted to hit the Contemporary Art Museum as it looked to have some really cool exhibits, but alas it's closed on tuesday (go figure). I was disheartened. Went back to Kabul and read for a while(someone had given me John Grisham's The Testament in the past couple of days). Then, not wanting to sit around any longer, walked the beach again (much less eventful today). Returned to read some more and then went to a rotisserie chicken place I'd been eyeing for a while to eat half a chicken and some chips (best rotisserie I've had except that it was too damned hot to touch for a while). When I got back I met Critter -- a guy that I had been mistaken for by a cute canadian girl. Aside from the fact that he's black and a medical resident I guess we're alot alike in that we're both american (although he's from back east somewhere) and he tends to wear a hat (although not nearly as cool a hat as the one I wear ;o). We decided that it would be a good idea to get a game of asshole going and began collecting people -- too many people. Finally the plan changed and we were to head off to The Black Sheep Pub for some sangria. Mobilizing that many people became an issue and the longer we stayed the more folks we collected. This would be how (and when) I met the two british birds Paula and Ross (like Ross on Frasier). The group finally split and half of them headed off to the pub. Critter had joined in a game I had never seen where you have to do different things depending on what card came up. One card called for the person who turned it over to say something that they had done (or handn't done) and anyone that had done it had to drink -- I drank frequently. We finally all headed en masse to the pub and had some sangria. Things progressed, people left, and we decided that it was time for dancin'. Cedric (that french dude), Paula, Ross, and I among others headed down to the clubs on the pier and tripped the light fantastic -- for a while. Cedric went to see what the scene was at the adjacent clubs and didn't return for a while. This got me wondering so I went to investigate. He said that he was blocked from re-entering because of the way he was dressed. Unthinkable, we were just inside. I went in to tell the girls that we were going to another club and my way was blocked. By gestures he basically told me that I wasn't dressed appropriately. That would be fine except that I had just been inside a moment before(?!?). *sigh* ok, we waited outside. The girls finally came out and saw us reclining outside the door. They sat with us needing some air and chatted. Next thing we know Paula's purse is gone. It was inbetween us and we knew who took it but didn't find it on him (it was a small pocketbook thingy). Luckily when she had gone to get cash earlier I had cautioned her not to take all of it and not to keep her bank card on her. We could do nothing and it seemed that the security personnel were there only to guard against fashion crimes. Ok, we finally took the hint and left the scene. Back to Kabul to finish the night chatting in the hall. Sleep found me at 7am.
Up at the crack of noon. I decided to look for a pensione for my last night here in Barcelona. There is one just around the corner of Kabul that is considerably cheaper than Kabul and I could still hang out in Kabul's common room if I wanted to. Ok, they were full as was every other place nearby that I checked. I got the message and bought another night in Kabul. Outside the entrance to Kabul is an outside cafe where I found Paula and Ross taking tea. What the hey, I decided to join them. I went up to read for a bit and then, just as I was leaving in search of food the girls returned and were about to eat as well. I suggested the rotisserie chicken place. Initially you would think that a vegeterian (Paula) would find nothing to eat there, but au contraire. She had had abyssmal luck with food thus far in Barcelona. She would specify no meat but they don't feel that seafood, chicken, and ham are "meat" -- go figure. At least at this place she could see the dishes laid out in front of her before ordering (it's cafeteria style with large pans of the food set out that they scoop individual portions from). I had sausage and some fried veggies. The vegetables were too greasy, but the overall experience wasn't that bad as the girls enjoyed what they ordered. They were heading out to the bus station to get information on transport to a small, quiet town in the mountains called Andorra. I had nothing else to do so I headed up with them. We eventually found the place and got the information that they needed. On the way back we looked for a small local restaurant/bar to get some sangria instead of the highly touristic joints that are all over the place. The place we found wasn't much to look at, but the barkeep made a mean (downright vicious) sangria. We had three small pitchers and a few tapas which frankly wrecked us. Over the course of the afternoon I decided to follow them to Andorra as it sounded like just what I was looking for. Back at the ranch we chatted for a while and finally got to sleep around 2:30am.