I set my alarm for 10:45am and woke at 11:45am (gotta pay by noon and should really be out of the place before 1pm, although they know me and let it slide). I went looking for a laundrette and found it. 900ptas for a small load -- that would be all of my clothes. I then looked for a long time for a place that could mend my trousers. I did find a couple but both of them send the work out and wouldn't get them back for a week. Too long for me. On the way back I passed San Vincent De Paul and entered thinking I'd find a nice assortment of used goods. No such luck. This place is a fresh meat, fish, and produce market. Still a useful place as I purchased fruit and a spicy sausage. Further down the street I found a bread shop and got a nice lump of bread to go with the rest I had just bought, then hit a regular market for more stuff in cans and some boxes-o-fruit juice. Back at the ranch I inspected the wounded trousers more carefully and found other blowouts waiting to happen. Fine. I cut one of the large cargo pockets off of a pant leg for future use (it buttons shut and will work to keep stuff together in my pack). Lunch was a box of peach juice, a peanut butter and banana sandwich, kiwis, a crunchy peach (they aren't supposed to crunch!), a nectarine, and a banana. Finally, after many days of non-communication, I found an internet point where I can get five hours for only 2100ptas. I'll update my site at that price, I did some e-mail for half an hour and had to leave as they were going to move the machines to another room -- I'll be back! Since the pants I like are no longer with me, and I still want another of shorts, I decided to go shopping. I finally found a cool store and got cargo pants (green-khaki), cargo shorts (khaki), swim shorts (white above light blue boxer type), and a t-shirt (olive with the phrase and logo "Explore the Continents") all for only 13480ptas (about US$60-65). The city is an oven with the gas on full. I ate some of my meat and vegetable foods back in my room and went back out to take some night pictures. Evening pictures would have been better but the timing was all wrong (like, it was night, man -- thanx for that one Rex :o). It's 86F at midnight, which is, IMHO, too damned hot. I slept just after 1am.
I woke on my own at 9:30am, blinked and it was 10:45am. I shaved, showered, had a banana, got my laundry that I was supposed to collect the evening before (doh!), and shot alot of day pictures around the Plaza Del Pilar and the park acrossed the river. I returned to exercise, eat more fruit, and then headed out to start my journal update. On my way there, whilst crossing the Plaza Del Pilar, a news crew came up to me and babbled a stream of espa±ol at me. I told them in my best spanish that I don't speak spanish, so he switched to english (nice guy). They said that they saw me wiping the (copious amounts of) sweat from my brow, liked it, and wanted me to do it for the camera. I've always known that I sweat better than anyone I know, got that one from my maternal grandfather, but never thought it would be anything more than an irritation. After my fame and fortune I'm thinking of entering a petition for it to become an olympic event right up there with melodic belching. I think it has a future. They then wanted me to comment (in english, cuz I had the spanish phrase locked and loaded) on how friggin hot it was. That was easy. The only drawback to my sudden fame was that the entire process (about five minutes worth) took place in the middle of the square in the blazing sun -- I didn't think they'd want to move it over to the shade of that big stone dude's head. Anyways (anyone remember Paul Benware? heh), my update progressed throughout the day and into the night. Nine hours later and I had written from 22 May through 08 June. It doesn't sound like alot when you write it out like that, but my ass was sore. I guess they haven't heard of ergonomic chairs, air conditioning, or even a danged fan here in Zaragoza Spain (the room got hotter and hotter as the day progressed), but they have a lightning fast internet connection (for an internet cafe), and are open 'til 11:30pm. The update should be easy to finish on the following day. Although I broght food with me I could definately eat.
After I left it cooled off nicely outside. I went back to my room to drop the junk I had, shower, grab some food and headed for a bench next to the river to eat at about 1am. Dinner was a can of corn, muscles in picante, tuna with veggies in picante, dolmades, and the rest of my lump of bread. I brought Elvis along to sing for me and had an enjoyable time... until I spilled the picante oil from the muscles on my shorts, ruining the mood. I finished eating and sat there for a while ignoring the large orange stain down my inner thigh. It's not like it would help to rush back or anything, and I was enjoying the view. When I got back I washed everything I was wearing in the sink (the only dirty clothes that I had) and ruined the shower I had taken earlier. I went to hang them in my room and couldn't find my clothes line. That's annoying. It's not like there are many places to look. I emptied both my bags and it was nowhere to be found. Ch! I liked that clothes line. It was a bungy type with clothes pins permanantly attached. Excellent design. I'll get over it. At 3am I was ready to sleep, but if I close my door then the cool air that was wafting through my ceiling window would cease to waft and I'll be hot again. I'll wait a bit for it to cool off.
I'm sure I closed my door last night (ok, I think I did), but when I awoke the thing was ajar. No worries, at least my room was cool and I slept well. I woke without an alarm at 10am and was up at 10:45 (what's the rush?). My clothes that I washed and hung in my room the previous night were mostly dry -- amazing. I did what needed to be done in the morning, donned the boxers and shorts from the day before (now clean), ate a peanut butter and banana sandwich, two crunchy peaches, and two kiwis for breakfast, and headed out to finish my update. The plan was to check out more of the city today, but it's 8pm as I'm typing now and I don't think much tourism is possible on a sunday evening. Perhaps I'll delay my departure for one more day and slip into full-on tourist mode. Well, gonna upload this, check my e-mail (I don't tend to get much mail on the weekends so I'm expecting it to be empty), and head back to my room to drop some stuff and eat. Hmmm, that poses an interesting question as I ate most of my food for breakfast. Maybe I'll check out that chinese place to see if it's open...
Ayep, and chinese it was, and they had AIR CONDITIONING!! (this would be an odd thing for damned near every place in Zaragoza -- most don't even have a friggin fan, for the love of Pete!) I wanted General Tzo's Chicken, but it seems that they have boycotted anything spicy from entering the country -- go figure :o(. What I did have was some weak fanta (orange), a massive spring roll, some combination chow mein, and for desert... tea (??). And I had to order it all in espa±ol. Ever hear all the folks in a chinese restaurant speakin' spanish? Spooky! The entire experience was good tho, no complaints whatsoever. Ok, two complaints (just as there is always an up-side, one can always complain ;o): 1) I was still hungry when I left, but that wasn't really their fault as I only ordered one meal, and 2) My ass was killing me, but that was from the two day web updated marathon on the folding chairs of the somewhat less than luxurious internet cafe. To knock off the first issue there's always dos McPollo for 500ptas -- but as it turns out I resisted that urge and went for a walk instead. As they say, it was just a walk in the park, or in my case five parks located pretty much all over Zaragoza. It occurred to me that this was an unusual thing to do -- going for a several mile "stroll" around the city just out of boredom, but it was a nice city after all ;o) I did manage to play on the swings for about twenty minutes around 11pm-ish (oddly I didn't have to fight any kids or wait in line or anything ;o). As I was nearing my pensionT at nearly midnight I came once again upon this Irish Pub that I had come upon before (ergo the usage of "again" previously in the sentence), walked past, paused, walked back and entered. The music was excellent (a superb smattering of blues and various rock and roll classics), the Guiness as good as I've had (but not great according to the blokes I was drinking with), and speaking of blokes, the company was great as I met two guys from Athens Georgia who were just passing through on their way to Ireland the next morning. My plan was to have a single Guiness, but they were drinking two, and the place didn't shut 'til 1am, so... It was still a smidge hot, even at 1am, I was still hungry, but a good mood had stepped in and occupied my soul. A couple of peanut-butter and raspberry jam sandwiches capped the night nicely, and sleep found me waiting patiently at 2:45am.
I woke at 10am, and then again at 10:45am, eager to bask in the loving gaze of the blazing sun. Right, so that's not entirely true. I ventured forth from my fortress of dimness (I'm talking about light intensity here, not intellectual prowess or lack thereof) to do battle with my foe, Sol. I, girded in my newly acquired Maximal sunscreen, a hat (the hat), cooler-than-cool Ray Ban(Tm) shades with UV-everything protection, and a shirt big enough such that its sleeves were both too short to be called long and too long to be called short (but comfy as hell in either case). He, the sun, cloaked in an everpresent aura of radiation designed specifically to melt me (that's right, it's personal) down to my boot tops (they're very good boots). Clearly the unavoidable battle was not my only purpose, but rather an all consuming aside. My true goal, my mission if you will (yes, I had chosen to accept it *sigh*), secret in the extreme to prevent those who would from attempting to thwart my every move (unsuccessfully of course, but annoying nonetheless), was to glean information from both the train and bus stations, and to deliver a package of seemingly trivial contents to the postal authorities where they would do things with it that I cared not to know about (for my own safety, of course). The train and bus information was pertinent to my destination which, for matters of utter secrecy, even I was not privy to -- I would know when I was meant to know and no sooner.
The morning was hot -- I say this and find it so understated that my mind has actually boggled -- I am now mostly recovered. The narrow, winding streets in which I live (temporarily, one can never remain in a place overly long for the obvious reasons that I won't take the time to list here as they are, frankly, obvious) afforded me minimal protection as I gingerly stepped forth, much as a rhino would do at full gallop. Soon, however, the sun was full upon me and I was forced to exude massive amounts of persperation in defense, exposing me for who I was and endangering those who would foolishly come in contact with me. I perservered. My first stop was the tourist information office where I would contact an agent of the city who would, upon hearing the secret code phrase, "Um, where's the post office?" would pass on the ultra-top-secret location of my first target. My cunning contact, cleverly disguised as a woman so as not to appear dangerous in the least, was wiley beyond believe. The directions that she gave me, clearly marked on the map and additionally spelled out in such a way as to make it utterly clear where I should go and precisely how to get there, noting to the minute the walking time required for the trek (about 5 mins), directed me to a building no less than three entire blocks from my actual target. The craftiness involved was transparent to the layman, and I was amazed. She didn't even sit at any time that I observed so that an outsider might think that her ass was so dumb that she wasn't able to accomplish the simple feat. Eventually, by contacting various other top secret agents along the street I was able to locate the virtually invisible main post office which was shrewdly unmarked, deliver the package to no less than three desks so as to completely baffle anyone silly enough to attempt to follow my route, and even paid 5250ptas to a gentleman in order to confuse the scent. I was clearly amongst professionals.
Hungry from my endeavors, and needing a break before proceeding back into the fray with the sun, I stopped at a shop and purchased some top regenerative supplements cleverly disguised as two overripe bananas, some grapes (micro capsules had been inserted disguised as seeds -- ewww!), and an apple so potent in its nutrition that it tasted fully disgusting and I had to pitch it in fear that I would become overly potent and be recognized amongst the civilians who unknowingly hid me in their masses. The time was 1pm.
At my normal walking pace (faster than normal humans yet slow enough that I could pass for one of them unless scrutinized directly, at which point they would see from my copious perspiration that I was, indeed, myself) I arrived at the bus station shortly after 2pm and found it to be closed. This was curious at first but then I realized that the locals required a siesta during the midday hours to maintain even the slug-like pace that they enjoyed. I played at lounging in a nearby park, seemingly watching dogs frolicking after crowds of pigeons, until 3:45pm when the station attendant returned. The information was sufficient for me to make the decision to proceed to San Sebastian the following morning. That is, unless the information provided at the train station didn't contradict that decision as it often did in order to throw any possible pursuers off my trail.
En route to the train I decided step into a cafe for some chicken salad, a hamburger, fries, and a coke, using the delay to watch for any unwanted hangers-on. As anticipated, I was unmolested. My contact in the cafe informed me that the code word for mustard in this region was mostaza, which, conveniently, is the same as their word for bird shot. The plot thickens... I found the train station easily enough, but doubled back on my trail a few times to confuse it. The information given assured me that the decision to take the bus was the correct one. I was only told of two coaches leaving for San Sebastion (at 2am and 5pm), both of which were more expensive than the bus fare, which left at 9:30am (a nearly optimal time). My mind was set.
In keeping with my decision of some weeks ago to learn the local dialect, and being somewhat disheartened at my attempt to learn it via a local children's book, I did what I should have done in the first place and looked to our top group of agents, The Simpsons, for help. I stopped into one of our spy stuff outlet stores and purchased a Super Simpsons hard bound comic book (actually a series of comics in one hard bound volume) written in espa±ol. Bart really only knows eight words or so, and Homer, well, nuf sed. That, and the pictures should help :o) Back at the ranch I grabbed dinner in the pensionT cafe, again, to appear as one of the locals -- incognito one might say. There, as I ate the sumptuous cuisine set before me, I met a couple from the south of England going under the names Mike and Lisa. We chatted in code about seemingly nothing of import until around 12:30, by which time I had gleaned that I was to head out with them on a 6:30am train to San Sebastian -- a train that my contact at the train station had cleverly omitted, clearly knowing that "Mike and Lisa" would inform me of the fine details, keeping me in the dark for as long as possible. So shrewd... We meet at 5:55am in the darkened hall where the shadows could mask our escape. Whilst packing I found that an agent working in conjunction on the other side had succeeded in a covert operation which left me without my fork -- doh! I drifted into a half sleep, completly restful, yet always aware on the off chance that he would return for my knife, but alas it was not to be.
*grin*
Woke at 5:30am. *freakin yawn, man* Ate the last of my peanut-butter and the last of my raspberry jam on the last of my bread and ate a can-o-pears. I was supposed to meet Mike and Lisa at 5:55am but didn't get down there until 6:00am. Thinkin' there was no way for them to get down the stairs without my notice I was confident that they hadn't left without me. I waited... Mike staggerred out at 6:05am to assure me that they were coming. We left the building at 6:12am for a "15 minute walk" to the train that would pull out at 6:30am whether we were on board or not. As we got closer we walked faster. By the time 6:25am rolled around we were practically jogging. As we entered the train station we found that we wanted platform '7' -- great, now to find platform '7'. No worries, we stepped onto the train with at least 30 seconds to spare. I mean really, who wants to just sit around on a train that isn't moving anyway?? We waited an hour watching the world blur by and then had four minutes to switch trains, a station that our conductor assured us was massive. We jumped out of the train, dashed down some stairs, flew up some other stairs, erupted onto the platform only to see our conductor casually step out and point to the next track where our train was waiting. No time to blink in confusion so we simply bolted through the tiny station building and onto our train. No worries whatsoever, well over a minute to spare. No more than five minutes into the ride our conductor predictably came by to check our tickets and I was priveledged enough to get to see Mike and Lisa shift into a full-on panic -- Mike had left his wallet and passport on the other train. Normally that wouldn't be world shattering except that he was carrying all of their cash and both their bank cards (better to keep them together, yes? <clearly sarcasm there>). I tried to calm them and suggested things like breathing, having the conductor contact the conductor of the other train (who definately remembered us from moments ago), and not, by any means, panicing. They did speak to the conductor. Just to make the entire ordeal more interesting, Mike and Lisa had laid out on the beach in Benicassin Spain for no less than six hours, burning the hell out of themselves (Lisa turned dilligently while Mike seems to have preferred laying on his back for the majority of the time). I accused them of being lepers and laughed at Lisa's pitious attempts to save the flesh that so wanted to leave her body by applying multiple "pots" of moisturizing cream. She's sure that they helped her somehow, and Mike agreed that it at least kept her busy. The conductor came back about five minutes after Mike spoke with him. He had used his mobile phone to contact the main office who had in turn contacted the other train's conductor, who had in turn found the missing items -- as I had predicted :o) *smug grin* We understood that they would get the wallet in San Sebastian at 5pm -- our train arrived there at 11:09am. Cool. Well it would have been cool, but we were wrong. As it turns out, Mike and Lisa stayed on the train at 9:27am in Aria when I made the switch to the train headed for San Sebastian and they continued on to meet the conductor of the first train. Long story short, they got the wallet and passport intact and I met them at the train station at 4pm as we had arranged when we split. Just so I wouldn't be bored, I spent the entire time from 11:09am to 3:45pm hunting for a double room for them and a bed for me -- and yes, it did take the entire time. The dudes in the pensionTs either weren't there, or the pensionT was full (completo!. Finally though, with much perserverance, I found us both some nice accommodation (theirs a double for 5000ptas, mine a double allowing a single price reduced to 3000ptas) and met them at the train to swap stories of our day. All in all it was quite successful.
First order of business was to do some e-mail, then a quick shower. Ok, I took a quick shower while they took a slow shower. I grabbed a couple of beers at a little place whilst waiting for them. I say a couple beers, but the barman (also "barman" in spanish) kept putting more in my glass so it was actually closer to three and utterly not my fault. Starvin', we went to Pans & Co., which was a first for me. It's a sub shop chain that's quite good and popular in Spain. I had a hamburger shaped like a sub, fries, and a beer 'cuz they had it -- and you can super-size the beer :oP We then went to an english bar that had been recommended to Mike for a football match (a.k.a. "soccer game") where england was playing someone else and subsequently lost (I think). We switched to Murphy's Irish Stout, much like Guiness, only a little different. I got back to my pensionT (something I'm quite proud of) at an unknown hour. I know I slept because I was that way in the morning.
I was awakened by the guy who runs my pensionT at noon saying something spanish about switching rooms or leaving or something. I agreed to whatever he was saying and got up. By that time he had returned to tell me to forget the whole thing, which I did. Did my daily diligence (ie: worked out), which I've still only missed like one and a half days of, showered, and left to meet Mike and Lisa at 2pm. I knew I needed to meet someone there and then because it was written on my hand, and I was assuming that it was them and not some rabid harley riding maniac crazed enough to write a note on my hand because he couldn't be bothered to kill me the night before (not that there's anything inherently wrong with dudes on harleys). They actually showed up, and we actually did e-mail. I didn't have much e-mail to read, not that that's any of your fault or anything (*accusing glare*), so I found a store and bought water and juice while they finished up. Afterwards we stopped off at Pans & Co. for me to grab a burger/sub and fries on our way to climb Monte Urgull. Now I don't want to mislead you and make you think that it was a massive effort or anything, it was more of a walk than anything else, and the weather was a bit humid, but overcast and not overly hot. The main attraction up there would be the massive statue of Christ doin' the two-finger salute that he's famous for -- that, and the view was spectacular. Christ lives in the Jardin Public Castillo del la Mota Park, which comes complete with posh cannons and fortifying battlements (it used to be an old fort that would protect the harbor, and quite well from the looks of it). While touring the park, Mike thought to take a picture of me and in payment I shared with him a couple of knowledge nuggets I had collected over the course of my life. First, one should not photograph korean children, as they believe that you are stealing their soul -- according to Hawkeye. Second, one should not chew bubble gum around korean children, as they believe that you are blowing your stomach out your mouth -- according to B.J. As fate would have it, three americans (Mike, Tim, and Wendy) were also touring the park and recognized the M*A*S*H trivia. Needless to say, we became fast friends, which was a good thing as Tim knew where the garden bar was located up here at the top of the hill. We followed him there and drank-in both the sangria and the amazing view for the better part of the afternoon. We split up around 7pm when Mike, Lisa, and I went back to our restaurant for a feed. We all decided on a place to meet at 11pm as Tim had a class he was taking over the web that he had to attend until 10:30pm (poor fella). I took the opportunity to sleep from 8:30-10:30pm, as did both the other Mikes -- gotta love that siesta thingy ;o). We all managed to show up at or around 11pm and moved on to check out the bar scene. First stop was Tas Tas, a disco pub that was small and packed to the gills. There we met a norwegian guy that was literally flooded and using pretty much everyone in the place to walk. That was no fun for us and, as there was no bouncer in the place, the staff said that we should take care of it. Mike, being the more diplomatic, spoke with him at great length. Then, when he came back again, I took the american approach and escorted him out of the bar. He wasn't fully on board with the leaving idea, but there was enought liquor on the floor that I just slid him out and one of the aussie blokes we met picked him up and carried him about a block away where he was convinced not to return. No worries, all in all a good experience. From there we went to a place called Zibbibo which was about twice as big and just as packed. When that shut we all moved en masse, along with the barmen from Zibbibo (named Ramone and Asil) to TrTbol. When we got there Lisa seemed fine, really she did. Then, a couple minutes later, Mike walked up to her and she literally collapsed into him. After pouring her into their pensionT, Mike and I returned to the fest at TrTbol until they shut at 5am. Still not ready to sleep, we hung out and chatted with Ramone and Asil until just after 6am -- this was made easier by the fact that Mike spoke pretty danged good spanish (I'm up to understanding about every 10th word or so in a conversation). Bed found me relatively sober around 6:30am.
Up at 11:30am to meet Mike and Lisa at noon in our restaurant (only time for half my normal workout, such that it is). I used the time to enjoy a double espresso (hadn't had coffee in weeks) at a leisurely pace. By the time 12:30 rolled around I decided to stalk them. It turns out that Lisa's disguise as a human fell apart (I'm convinced now that they are space aliens with a bad skin job) and she had been spewing black ichor all morning (ewwww, in the biggest way!), poor Mike. As she pulled herself together I met a nice canadian chick named Sybil in the hall. She was just arriving so we invited her to come find the amazing restaurant with us, which she accepted. Breakfast, finally, 1pm: Orange juice, Bacon, Eggs, and Chips (fries, whatever). We then walked all over town, thinking that we were going to climb "the other hill", a thing that only Mike really wanted to do. We protested greatly and he managed to stealthily walk us up an entirely different hill. No worries, the day was nice (read: overcast), it only took like three hours, and the view from even the wrong hill was nice. Upon returning we had this stuff that they call hot chocolate but it's way thicker and generally eaten with a spoon and some fritters to dip in it (in our restaurant of course). I gave it my all and was only able to consume half of the small cup as it was sooooo rich! Needless to say, the girls loved it. The sad moment finally came for Mike and Lisa to return to their home planet (they claimed to be travelling to Bilboa where the Guggenheim Museum is located -- whatever, I wasn't buying that whole English bit for a minute). Intending to go to the beach, but thwarted by inclement weather, Sybil and I wandered around aimlessly and accidentally bumped into Mike, Tim, and Wendy, who had met Jamie and Jason since we had seen them last. Since they were sitting and drinking Guiness we decided to join them... and drink a couple ourselves (ouch, my arm!). The conversation took an interesting twist and diagrams were drawn outlining where the "A-spot" is -- not quite so far in, a bit to the left, and more pressure is needed (according to the diagram). I must apologize for this content being on my site, but I felt it important and rest assured that I am duely embarassed as I type it. After the beers and a long evening everyone split, Sybil and I chatted and were tired enough that we didn't hook up with the others at 11pm (sorry folks, missed ya). At midnight, not wanting to just sit around any longer, we decided to find the beach. According to Sybil, who had taken off her shoes to enjoy the sand, the ocean was cold as luke-warm beer -- oddly descriptive and utterly accurate. We walked the length of the beach and got back to civilization around 2am-ish. The weather was perfect as it was dark, not humid, and just on the warm side of cool. I went back to my pensionT and sewed the button back on my new shorts (shouldn't've pulled that string...), sewed the button back on one of my new pairs of boxers (I swear I didn't pull that string!), and darned a sock that needed it -- I'm so friggin domestic. I finally slept 3am-ish.
I slept like a baby, waking at 5:30am, 8:30am, 10am, and finally got up at 11am to hit the restaurant by noon. Sybil met me there for breakfast, for which I had eggs, chips, steak, tea, and a double espresso for dessert. I did a bit of e-mail and then, as she had yet to see Christ, I made the pilgrimage once more up the hill. On the way up we met a couple with names Paul and Maret, both living in Dublin, he an Aussie, she Dutch. We hiked (using this term in the loosest sense of the word) the rest of the way up, played tourist for a moment or two, then found the bar once more. The weather had taken a turn for the worse, as the clouds burned off and the temperature rose. I was foolish enough to be caught in trousers, so the only relief I could get without undue emarassment was to remove my shirt. We and the diminishing sangria were up there from about 2:30-dusk. You might guess that I got sunburned, but no blisters this time :oD We did have a great time, and if I had it to do again I would, but I'd wear shorts and sunscreen. We had a great time, and I met the two aussies from the pubs the other night and said good-bye to them as they were on their way out of town. Next stop was this restaurant that Paul remembered (kinda) on the water that serves "the best" roasted sardines. We found a place that could probably have been it and had some really nice roasted sardines. Paul was beside himself, utterly content, and we were all happy. Then, as the last bits of light left the sky at around 10:30pm, we decided to walk along the beach. About halfway along it Paul decided that a swim was in order. Having no suits, he and I stripped down and confirmed why they call it a nude beach. This was a number of firsts for me: 1) touching the atlantic ocean, 2) Swimming in an ocean, and 3) being nekked on a beach, or even being nekkid in a public place for that matter. I must say, swimming in the waves was some of the most fun I've ever had, I'll definately have to do it again. Finally, as if our day wasn't full enough, we walked to the very end of the beach (it turns out that Sybil and I had only walked to the end of a portion of the beach) to see these pipes in the stones that Paul remembered from before. Massive gusts of air are shoved through these things by incoming water when the waves roll in. According to Paul's memory, they used to play music. Now, however, they just blast air, but are still cool.We caught our last glimpse of Paul and Maret as they left for their campsite at midnight. I got back to my place for a shower and finally slept at 1:30am after an amazing day.
Morning greeted me at 11am. My sunburn was tender, but not blindingly painful, the worst of it restricted to my shoulders and upper chest -- a really lovely shade of red, it turned out quite nicely :o). The owner of my pensionT notified me that he would have to charge me the full price for the room if I stayed longer -- it would have been nicer to hear it the previous day, but no worries. I dashed acrossed the street to Aussie Pension (ok, it was a slow dash, more of a stagger. Remember that I had just woken up.) The guy was actually there and needing to put a solo in with a canandian guy that was staying there. Cool, I went back, paid the first place, and moved across the street where the nightly rent went down from 3000ptas to 2250ptas, but I was now sharing with a dude from Toronto named Ian -- nice guy that's been travelling for eight months. After the move, my first stop of the day was the pharmacy to acquire a bottle of After Sun (no laughing, Lisa!). The woman at the counter blessed me with the first of two blinding realizations awarded me by the day: tu es muy blanco (translation: You are very white). She said this after handing me the pediatric after sun lotion. I questioned all the reference to children, infants, etc and she said that I was in need of maximal after sun care. I didn't have the heart or the words to explain that I really wasn't that badly burnt. Next stop was the restaurant for food where I was served up with the second of two blinding realizations of the day by the woman behind the counter when she found out that I was a computer programmer (we were conversating in mostly english): Computers are really going to take off -- they are the future! Good news for me and my colleagues, aye? She also served me a great hamburger, even by U.S. standards, fries, and a large pepsi. I left there to walk around a bit and then headed over to do some e-mail, update my site, and pull some music down in the process.
Ya ever have a song running through your head? Gloria Gaynor's I Will Survive has been haunting me for quite some time, and I've finally located and acquired it, along with a stack of other stuff. Finally! :o) I was chased out of the internet cafe at 10pm with a minidisc full of random songs, a list of sites to get more music, and not much of my update done, but tomorrow's another day... The main problem with pulling music off the web isn't really the download time, sure that's annoying, but the real problem is all of the dead links. I hate weeding my way through pages of duplicate and irrelevant search results only to find that the link to the MP3 file itself does not exist. And I'm payin' to find that out! }:o| c'est la vie, I got some good stuff anyway -- there's always an up-side. Back at the ranch I found that the outlet in my room is merely decorative, and not even very pretty. I'll have to recharge somewhere else at a later date. Bummer. Ian was just about to go out, so we went to a couple of places as I searched for folks that I knew and found Jamie, Jason, and Sybil at Zibbibo where we all stayed until they shut. I had an interesting conversation with an Argentinian Military Police dude that was here on leave. We had a great time, actually. The only reason that the conversation was interesting is that he knew about as much english ast I knew spanish. By the end we were passing my mini-dictionary back and forth to fill in what we wanted to say. On to the after-hours place where we re-met the Argentinian dude. Finally, Sybil had heard about a party on the beach, so we headed down there to check it out. All we found was one party that was private and another that wanted like 3000ptas for entrance... on the way back I played on the swings for a bit and finally hit the hay at around 5am.
My alarm rang for no apparant reason at 11:20am. I did the only sensible thing and shut it off, rolled over, and was back to sleep immediately only to wake up finally at 12:30. I decided to shave, caught a shower, and met Ian and Sybil at the restaurant at 1:30pm where I enjoyed spaghetti bolognaise and a ham, egg, and tomato toasted sandwich. Sybil decided to leave today, so I walked with her to the bus station for want of something better to do. Once there we stowed her pack and met the afore mentioned Jason at 2:30pm, who was also leaving, but soon in the afternoon. We chatted with him for quite a while and convinced him to leave on a night train instead of the afternoon one. He stowed his bag and we headed back into the old quarter. Jason and Sybil needed to do some e-mail so we hit up a different cafe for a very short internet session. Sybil had only eaten that chocolate for breakfast, clearly not a sensible meal, and was obviously hungry again, so we returned to the restaurant for her to eat the spaghetti and me to have a burger and fries. During the conversation at the train station Sybil had decided to stay one more night as there was a fooball match on between spain and france, both wanting to try for the World Cup. We split for a while and I caught some internet time. Grrr... While typing in 21 June 2000, I hadn't saved in a while (45 minutes or so) as I was also recording Eric Clapton Unplugged and was distracted. Of course this would be the only time that the machine locked and needed a hard reboot. I clearly could have avoided the need to reboot by simply saving frequently. *sigh* I left at 9pm with no real progress except that I now owned most of Eric Clapton Unplugged. On to the game... Spain barely snatched defeat from the jaws of victory and france emerged on top of the 1-2 score. It wasn't a complete waste of time as I had a tasty guiness and re-met a friend of Ian's named Dave, another Canadian who I had met previously in Barcelona (not the Dave from Interlaken, Prague, and Amsterdam, or the other Dave from Amsterdam, a different Dave -- try to keep up). A bunch of friends of friends of friends hooked up and eleven of us headed for dinner. Before we could even walk away we met another backpacker and became twelve. The restaurant that we entered should have been pleased with the business, but we quickly got the idea that we were a massive imposition. C'est la vie. The dinner was fairly tasty, but more than I would have preferred to pay at 2300ptas, but not too bad all in all. I was major tired, probably from lack of sleep, but perservered and went with the group to Zibbibo and then TrTbul and finally just hanging out near the beach and chatting until after 5am again. Sleep, 5:20am, sheesh.
I woke at like 12:30-ish, but didn't actually leave the place until around 2pm. Decided to finally eat at the restaurant acrossed the street and had some paella mexicana that was the spiciest thing I've eaten in Spain -- which isn't saying much. It was actually pretty tasty, no complaints, although it could have been cheaper at 1075ptas. Ian missed his connection with Dave so stepped in and had some pizza. Then I was off to the internet where I fully caught up (hiyas! :o), did some e-mail, recorded the rest of Clapton's Unplugged album and filled the rest of that disk with some B.B. King duets that flat rock. The boyfriend of the girl working here came in with U2 Zooropa, which I wrote over one of my crap tape recordings and filled the rest of the minidisc with the best songs from Sting's The Soul Cages and Ten Summoner's Tales. Finally, still needing to type a bit and having access to discs, I took a Janet Jackson that I've never heard. She's achieved such status that she doesn't need to title her freakin' albums anymore. What the hell is up with that. Such a star that she fells that she flat must be a freak. She doesn't even split her tracks at all so it's hell trying to record the danged thing onto a disc -- granted she probably isn't interested in folks not paying for her music, but still... it's just inconsiderate ;oP
Well, that brings me fully current. *waves at you staring at your computer monitor* Nothing else to type here so I'm gonna stop. There will definately be more. Food is undoubtedly next. I'll probably grab a hamburger combo at the restaurant -- after writing about it so much I've started salivating.
In the near future... I'm thinking I'll follow Ian over to this place that's about a six hour bus ride west of here up in the mountains. Peaceful, nice place to just hang out and chill. Then I'll come back and watch the running of the bulls in Pamplona -- I am here, after all...
Later... It rained as I was leaving the internet cafe! I got soaked :o) After changing clothes I dashed into the restaurant to meet everyone and eat a big ol’ sloppy hamburger combo (con huevo sin queso). We agreed at 9pm to meet at the guiness pub at 10:30 -- our standard meeting place now, I went early. We all hung out there for hours, having a nice quiet night of it, and I slept finally at 2:45am. This entry, to me, seems utterly unexciting. Poor you... :o(
Ian and I were up at 9:30am and just barely missed the 10:30am bus to Bilbao with a guy named John from New York. Since we had an hour to burn waiting for the next bus and were all hungry, we went acrossed the street to a sandwich shop for breakfast. Ok, it was only breakfast as it was the first meal of the day and in the morning -- I had a chicken bocadillo (like a crispy sub), fries, and a coke. It turns out that John has like 30 minidiscs. This is both a good and a bad thing. The good thing is that he has them with him and we listened to Radiohead’s OK Computer on the bus ride over. The bad thing is that he’s leaving in the afternoon never to be seen again (by me, anyway). I met him on 25 June at that large dinner we had with 11 folks. I shoulda pried into his private life and found that he was carrying music -- and such good music it is, too :o( Bygones...
We got to Bilbao at 12:30 and the Guggenheim shortly thereafter. Bilbao is a fairly industrial city, but sports a couple of very nice parks that we saw on the way to the museum, and the museum itself, which is nothing short of spectacular. The outside is kinda freaky. If you step way back and look at it just right then it looks like a ship at sea -- all silvery curves and surrounded by water. I didn’t catch this detail without the help of a picture that Ian pointed out to me as we were walking the streets (thanx, dude). Ian and I gave our money to John to pay for our entrance all at once. This allowed me to get in for the 600 ptas student rate instead of me having to pay 1200 ptas (Ian and John both are students). Now look, it’s not that I lied or anything, they just assumed that we were all students, which was not really my fault, although the deception was intentional. This museum is the best I’ve seen thus far, and frankly I’ve seen a few. It had a motorcycle exhibit going on with hundreds of bikes on display. The oldest was a very old style bicycle with a steam engine sitting over the front tire. There was also the chopper from the film Easy Rider, and a few other famous movie bikes. Interestingly, they also had large lists of things that occurred during different centuries. Their other featured exhibits, entitled Degas to Picasso, was actually pretty cool. Here’s an exerpt from the Guggenheim site describing the exhibit:
Degas to Picasso: Painters, Sculptors, and the Camera brings together works in a broad spectrum of media, with more than 350 paintings, drawings, sculptures, works on paper and photographs dating from 1860 to 1940. Included are works by prominent and influential artists such as Edgar Degas, Paul Gauguin, Pablo Picasso, Auguste Rodin, Edvard Munch, Gustave Moreau, Constantin Brancusi, Edouard Vuillard, Pierre Bonnard, and Alphonse Mucha, as well as important but less widely-recognized artists including Medardo Rosso, Fernand Khnopff, Franz von Stuck, and FTlix Vallotton. The works selected show how differently artists reacted to, and made use of, the new medium The exhibition also includes vintage prints by the period's professional photographers, notably Edward Steichen and Eadweard Muybridge, as well as popular photography of the day, such as picture postcards and snapshots.Ok, enough of that. We munched lunch whilst waiting for the 4pm bus back. I had some peanuts, two bananas, a snickers, and a really bad mini-donut like substance (ewww!) -- I was kind enough to share one with Ian, after all, what are friends for? ;o). We left Bilbao at 4pm, hit San Sebastian at 5pm, and I was changing for the beach by 5:30. I "swam" for an hour (I think I’m getting better), saw a couple doin the wild thing in the ocean (yes, I’m sure), caught a shower, and headed for the guiness pub to meet with Ian and the three Canadian girls at 7pm -- they were late, of course. One of them dashed up a bit later and said that they would be late (duh) and then bolted away again. No worries, we were at a pub after all :oP When they finally came back our plans changed and we decided to meet at 10pm. Whatever. Spaghetti bolognaise seemed a great idea, so I headed to our favorite food joint where everyone knows my name now -- perhaps I should eat less... Quaffed a guiness slowly at the cool pub, saw the sunset (‘twas purdy), and did a bit of a disco-pub crawl in the order of: Zibbibo, World’s End, Zibbibo (again), and finally Treboul. Being drunken, hot, and in San Sebastian, the five of us (Ian, Carlie, Aviva, Arleigh, and myself) took advantage of the darkness and the waves and dipped skinnily in the warm waters of the atlantic at 4:15 in the AM.We then walked the girls back to their pension and got thrown out immediately after grabbing a nice hot shower (neither hanky nor panky occurred at any point). Sleep found us sleepy at 6:40am.
Morning came at 12:45, sheesh! I bought some water and looked for blank minidiscs with no luck. Ian and I ate at the restaurant and headed down to the beach for a couple of hours. I succeeded in burning only my forehead, which had sweat the sunscreen off. We headed back at 5pm to do some laundry (1000ptas/load), e-mailed during the process, and finished up by 6:30pm. It turns out that all of my clothes weigh less than their 4 kilo load limit -- Ian threw some in with mine. King Crimson (a rock band) was setting up in a small courtyard so we checked that out for a while before meeting the canadian chicks at 7:15. Standard night: Spaghetti Bolognaise at the restaurant and then to the pub for a guiness and the game between France and Portugal in the ongoing struggle for the Euro Cup. France won. I’m not even into football (soccer) and was disappointed to see Portugal win. We caught the end of the King Crimson concert (missing it was no loss, IMHO) and then grabbed a beer with Ignathio (the owner of Aussie Pension, where I’m staying). I packed up and then sleep found me at around 1:30am. I had no workout today, but I did swim so I don’t feel so bad about it.
Finally woke at 9:30am with just enough time to leave for the bus at 10am. The bus to Arriondas cost 2900ptas and left with us on it at 10:35am. It stopped many times, once for 20 minutes when I was able to grab a tuna, lettuce, tomato, and egg sub and a tuna pocket patstry thing, which I frankly could have done without. We caught another bus out of Arriondas at 6:15pm heading to Arenas de Cabrales for 370ptas. From Arenas we had to take a taxi for 1000ptas each to Sotres, our final destination. We weren’t all that happy with the price of the cab initially, but after the ride we appreciated the value as it was quite the drive through the winding mountain roads. Sotres is tiny, in the smallest sense of the word, and one of the most beautiful places I’ve had the pleasure of visiting -- we got there at 7pm and checked into our pension (1800ptas each per night): La Perdez. After a shower and a shave we headed down to the quaint Meson Pe±a Castil Restaurante for a delicious and not too spendy dinner. Feeling full and eager to get at the mountains, and because we had the wrong time and missed the game between Holland and Italy (Holland lost, dangit, and it was a great game -- so we heard) we walked out of town and ascended a ridge to get a better view of the area. The long grass was infested by hordes of slugs and wet from the incoming fog. It was cool and damp and I was loving it. On our way back I had to pause and flirt with three local teenage girls (it’s all good fun, folks) with my best spanish -- I’m not sure if they were laughing with me or at me, but I felt good about it. Back at the ranch we found ourselves exhausted at 10pm. Not feeling right about sleeping before the sky was completely dark, I muddled through a bit of my Super Simpson’s comic book (in espa±ol of course). Ian got a good chuckle as I fell asleep in the pages of the book. Fine, with the sky fully dark, I could finally drop off at 10:30pm (I was amazed!) -- gotta love that mountain air :o)
We woke refreshed at 11am with over 12 hours of sleep and caught a lousy breakfast at noon. Mine was a dry french roll with something entirely forgettable inside. Ian’s was slightly more tasty, but nothing to write home about. Feeling adventurous we dove head long into the beautiful day conquering the first ridge quickly and back by 2pm thirsty for more. Who could believe that this beautiful mountainous region was in Spain?? We headed up a canyon road for a few miles and returned sweating profusely on a not-so-hot day by 5:30pm completely spent. After a mug of cold beer and a conversation with a nice french couple (to be honest, I watched as Ian conversated) I eased into a much needed shower. The next order of business was definately food, and in no small amounts. We went to the other restaurant in town and I ordered espaghetti con tomate y truche. The first part was clearly "spaghetti with tomato", and the second was surprisingly "trout", which turned out to be quite delicious and I learned a new word :o) This time I was in bed by 9:30pm and managed to read some more Simpson’s and listen to a bit of music until 10:30pm when I finally allowed myself to sleep after a most excellent day.