Spain 7

That was one hell of a weekend, and too fast. Thursday night found me packing a couple of changes of clothes and a toothbrush into my backpack and eagerly anticipating the following morning, destined to come too early and not soon enough. In the meantime, I wrote a letter home, slightly distracted, but needing to pass time until I could fall asleep. My roommate's alarm sounded, saying, "6:45 am, 63 degrees." I half crawled and half slipped out of the top bunk to grab breakfast. Back in my room, backpack on my shoulders, ipod in pocket, I scribbled 215 Susquehanna, 1000 Hilltop Circle, Baltimore MD 21250 USA on an envelope, licked a stamp and stuck it on, then headed out. I found the yellow, cylindrical metal can that marks a mailbox here, and stuffed the letter in, then headed to the bus stop a few minutes away. In the pre-dawn light few people dotted the streets. I passed one guy, probably somewhere in his late twenties, opening the grate to some shop. He was regularly dressed, except for his shoes, which were silver and sequined. They caught the light from the streetlights and reflected it, a splash of brilliance in the gray, dull, dusky street.
The bus came soon, and I sat next to Madeline all the way in the back, talking excitedly about Barcelona. I really couldn't care less about the city, all cities being fairly similar and too crowded, but I would be seeing Anna in a mere five or six hours, which was certainly cause for excitement. After the eleven stops to the University, we rushed to the soccer stadium across the street where the ISA bus would be picking us up and carrying us to Barcelona, a four hour drive away. The bus was already there, as were most students and the directors, and we threw our backpacks in the compartment under the bus and climbed in. I sat next to Madeline close to the front, taking the window seat. I wanted to see the view on the way. Ken sat in front of us, or behind us, I don't remember now, although I remember hearing his voice on the way there, a vaguely comforting sound as I dozed a little.
As we drove along the coast, the highway teased us with views of the ocean then retreated behind hills. The whole coast boasts rocky and fairly bare mountains, rocky and tempting. I had the urge to stop the bus, get out, and run for the mountains just to climb to the top and yell out across the Mediterranean's blue waters. The farther North we drove, the greener the mountains became, shrubs and rocks becoming low trees, then forests. The orange tree orchards diminished. Every once in a while we would pass a town, low buildings appearing squat nestled between the mountains and small cliffs, the only noticeable thing being the church spire that stood taller than any other building, a stone marker in a small sea of modern-ish buildings. We stopped for a half hour at a gas station, since apparently Catalunya has a law that says you can't drive longer than two hours in a row, and so the driver could stretch his legs, and us as well. Ken, Dotty, and I shared a bag of olive oil chips and a box of cookies, my first junk food since arrival in Valencia.
Two hours later we arrived in the city and picked up one of the ISA directors of Barcelona's program, who would comment as we drove on a panoramic tour of the city in the bus. It's nestled between two mountains and the Mediterranean, a sprawling mass of humanity and technology. We passed some of the city's monuments, then the bus made it's way slowly up Montjuic, one of the city's mountains, so we could see the whole city. We passed several very new and very impressive buildings that were built for the summer Olympics held there a little over a decade over ago. Thanks as well to the Olympics, money was poured into the city and it was cleaned up and became a major tourist spot, even more so than before. The view from the top of Montjuic was literally breathtaking. I've never imagined so many people living in such close proximity. The buildings, none really skyscrapers, stretched over the whole valley further than I could see, reaching far up the coast to the North. Sardines have more room in their cans than the people who live here. As beautiful as the city is, I was immediately grateful to be living in Valencia, which must only be a quarter the size of Barcelona, or smaller. Though Valencia still seems huge to me, now that I know my way around, it is manageable. I can't imagine anyone getting to know Barcelona in a lifetime, much less a semester. Only one building was really distinguishable from the mountaintop, La Catedral de Sagrada Familia, but I'll get to that later.
The bus wound back down the mountain, giving another good view of the sea, then headed down into the city and across it to the opposing mountain, passing Sagrada Familia on the way. When completed, I believe it will be one of the largest in Europe. That's right, it is not completed yet. Its construction began in 1882, and it is only built with the money people pay to enter or donate, which would explain the slow pace of construction. It only has eight of the eighteen intended towers, twelve for the apostles, four for... I'm not sure what the next four are for but the last two are for Mary, and the tallest for Jesus. Already it is an impressive structure, both ancient and modern. It does look like a cathedral, but the two finished doorways, front and back, are very modern seeming. The sight of a cathedral not built in either the Romanesque, Baroque, or Gothic style was very weird, but I liked it. It's certainly worth seeing, and I'm sorry it will not be completed in our lifetimes, nor probably that of our children or theirs.
After passing both doors a couple of times, the bus made it's way up to a park on the opposite side of the city on the other mountain. I can't remember its name, but the park is huge and famous for its architecture, as is much of Barcelona. We wandered the park for twenty minutes or so, seeing the opposite view of the city, taking pictures of the columns, the tiled dragon, and the man dressed like the tiled dragon. I couldn't help jumping up and down in my seat a little on the bus; we would be arriving at the hotel to drop off our bags in a few minutes and there I would find Anna. I saw her before I got off the bus, and I waited impatiently for everyone in front of me to get off, so I could run and give her the biggest hug ever right there in the middle of the road, crying just a little out of excitement and happiness. It took us a while to say anything besides "I can't believe you're here!" and "I missed you so much!" which were the right sentiments but somehow not quite adequate to sum it all up.
I eventually got my backpack from under the bus, threw it in my hotel room, and headed back out with Anna, Ken and Andrew in tow. I hope we didn't alienate them too much, talking about home and friends. Ken, at least, knows all about my friends from home for all I talk about them so much, so he could vaguely follow our comments like, "Wow Max would totally climb that, wouldn't he?" and something about Meaghan's stripper shoes, and Isaac's goatee, and how Anna's roommate reminds her just a little of Ellen. We walked down to the Plaza Catalunya, the center of the tourist part of the city, home to more pigeons I've ever seen in one place together. We walked down La Rambla, Barcelona's version of the Champs-Elysee, or Baltimore's Inner Harbor perhaps. I couldn't believe how crowded it was; I thought Valencia was a big city and busy, but it's nothing compared to Barcelona. Catalan and English were as common on the streets as Castellano (Spanish), and you could hear a smattering of other languages, French probably being the most common, although I couldn't recognize a couple. We stopped at a pita place since Ken and Andrew hadn't eaten lunch yet, but only after we walked through the market. I haven't been to the market in Valencia yet, but Ken has, and claimed ours is a little bigger, but even this one was ridiculous. You could get any amount or kind of chocolate, ham, fish, octopus, fruit, vegetable, rabbit (at least I think that's what the carcass was, stretched out still bloody and in one piece on ice), and more. Ken and Andrew left after lunch to join the ISA group for a short walking tour of the center of Barcelona, which I decided to skip to hang out with Anna, whose tour I preferred. I'm pretty sure we first walked by Anna's University, which was certainly much more impressive than mine in Valencia. It looked straight out of Harry Potter, with courtyards and palm trees (that much we have in Valencia) and stone pillars.
Afterwards I think we walked towards Montjuic to try and see the lights on the massive fountain in front of the palace, but that might have been later. Unfortunately the lights were not happening that night, but after climbing up to the front of the palace, which now actually houses an art museum, I did get the most amazing view of the city yet. Now past dark, only the lights were visible, orange and twinkling. Up on the mountainside the city looked contained and manageable, host to myriad secrets and beauties hidden somewhere in between those orange dots of light. Anna and I sat up there and took pictures, enjoying sitting down after so much walking. I don't remember now all we talked about, just how nice it felt to talk with someone I knew, and who knows me, and to have something in common we could reminisce about.
We rode the metro back to La Rambla and asked at the information desk where we could get a good cheap dinner, and we were not disappointed. We found a salad buffet which was perhaps the most beautiful I'd seen in several weeks. They're not huge on fresh vegetables here, so I ate my first peppers and cucumbers in quite some time there. Anna and I lingered over one, then two cups of coffee (decaf for me, with two packets of sugar), before leaving. Once again, resting after so much walking and traveling in general felt amazing. We walked together afterwards up out of La Rambla on some street I don't remember the name of, trying to find a gelato store, although we didn't realize how late it was and that everything was pretty much closed. Sometime around midnight we started heading back to the hotel, where I read for a little while before falling asleep, and where Anna left me to head back home via Metro.
Saturday morning I took the longest shower since Toledo, laying in the bathtub letting the hot water lull me for twenty minutes, almost falling back asleep. The hotel provided a buffet style breakfast, which consisted of several types of pastries, fruits, hams, cheeses, breads, juices, eggs, bacon, and sausage. Once again, I've had nothing but hot chocolate and a madeleine for breakfast since arrival in Valencia, which suits me fine, but it was a nice change. The ISA group caught the bus into the city where we split into two groups and were given a walking tour of the oldest part of the city. It looks much like the rest, except for several secluded and preserved buildings. Only four tall pillars remain from when the city was first founded by the Romans, which means I witnessed stone carved and put in place over two thousand years ago. That was pretty neat. We also visited the oldest cathedral in Barcelona, which had some pretty nice stained glass windows. I really find most cathedrals pretty similar, so I rarely have much original to say about them. Don't think that takes away from how awesome they are, and how I wish we had cathedrals in the US. It's amazing to go into a spacious and completely quiet place, older than our country, that was probably around before Joan of Arc was burned at the stake, and sit in peace, perhaps the only place in the entire city you can do so.
The tour ended somewhere around 1 pm, so I called Anna to come join us. In the meantime we visited the Dali museum which was in the same area. In case you don't recognize the name, Dali is the artist most famous for his melting clocks painting. As bizarre as he was, he's probably one of my favorite artists. He might have had an unhealthy obsession with horses though, and had something about painting and sculpting people with drawers. Not the British version meaning underwear, but actual drawers, with handles and all. He did some pretty amazing things with color, and the museum was totally worth the 6 euros we paid to get in (yea student discount!). We met Anna then back in the Plaza Catalunya. While waiting, Ken bought some birdseed from one of the many stands and we attempted to catch a pigeon. I think they only let kids hold them. Again, the temptation to punt them was almost overwhelming, and it was a miracle with the massive flocks of pigeons all around we didn't get shit on.
We walked back down to the same pita place as the day before, this time the crew consisting of me, Anna, Ken, Dotty, Madeline, and Andrew. We took Madeline and Dotty to the market since they hadn't seen it yet, and Anna, Ken, and I bought chocolates to share. They were again totally worth it. We walked down to the port afterwards, marveling at La Rambla, which is quite some street. I failed to describe it adequately before, but to give you an idea... It's a wide avenue, the median being bare and where most people walk, with small streets on either side to let the cars through. Street performers and people who pose as statues in magnificent and terrifying costumes are every few feet. Stands are set up that sell just about anything you don't need, including chickens, roosters, rabbits, pigeons, parakeets, jewelry, artwork, etc... Caricaturists draw on the streets, most quite good. Even in February, probably the coldest and worst possible month for tourism anywhere in Spain, the streets are packed, and we managed to lose each other several times. I'm really glad we all have phones, lets put it that way. Also I went through about 10 euros worth of minutes and texts just in one weekend (cringe).
The port is awesome; it has a giant mall which turns into a discoteca at night, no small number of cruise ships, and more sailboats and seagulls than Baltimore, maybe. We sat down with our feet over the side of the dock, our shoes suddenly feeling looser than usual, and enjoyed the warmth of the dying sun on our faces and legs. Dotty, Anna, and I all decided we wanted to buy boots, so we went shopping next, back up La Rambla and down some small streets to find the perfect pair. After quite some time, Dotty, Madeline, and I all found pairs we liked, though I cringed just a little at dropping 70 euros on boots. They're pretty hot though, I'm not going to lie, and for boots, comfortable. And leather. Sometimes I'm good at being a girl.
It was past eight by then, and we were all beginning to get hungry again, but couldn't stand the thought of paying for a restaurant meal. We stopped at the Corte Ingles, which is a giant department store chain, something kind of like Walmart in the US, except classier and without the controversy as far as I know. We grabbed hot, fresh bread, fruit, ham, and cheese and made our way back to the hotel. We all hung out in my room eating and chatting. Anna left to meet her roommate and catch a nap before heading out later, and I kicked everyone out of my room for a nap as well. I failed at the nap, thanks to my forgotten 11 pm alarm, a knock on the door, and the brief return of my roommate. At 11:30 pm I left the hotel to rejoin Ken, Dotty, Andrew, Madeline, and Leigh, who had left for some food, but ended up wandering for twenty minutes thanks to slightly mistaken directions. This combined with my lack of a nap left me in not the best mood to be going out. Andrew headed back to the hotel to get some sleep, and the rest of us caught the metro to join Anna. We were slightly, no, extremely disgusted by the guy who looked about ready to puke in front of us on the metro, spitting on the floor every once in a while until he had a puddle accumulated, that the next passenger, sadly and grossly, managed to step in unawares. Ew...
Anna met us at the metro and we headed to a bar before going to the salsa club Anna's roommate had recommended, since no one goes dancing before at least 2 am. The first place we found was altogether too crowded and smokey, but the next was perfect. We went upstairs where low lights, low couches, and cushions were a welcome respite from outside. We ordered (rum and coke for me and Ken, mojito for Anna, wine for the others), and sat and practiced Spanish for the next forty five minutes or hour. It was perfect, surrounded by friends, comfortable, and speaking in Spanish, no less. We decided that upon our return to Valencia we would try to speak solely in Spanish. It really is the only way to learn quickly, despite the temporary frustration. We left eventually, sometime after 2, and walked the few blocks to the Salsa club. Madeline caught a taxi back home since she was exhausted, but the rest of us wanted to dance. It was not quite as expected.
It was smokey and crowded, and it took us a while to find a place for our coats and then a niche on the dance floor. Nonetheless, it was a ton of fun, I missed dancing so much, even if it is club dancing. The DJ played a mix of Spanish and Latin music and American hits from the 90's and early part of this decade. It brought me back to high school, except that this was much better. We sang along to all the songs we knew, and Anna and Ken promised to tell Max how I danced with a Spanish guy (well, now you know). I missed Victor, and wished he could show me how to dance Salsa better. We didn't leave until around 4 am, exhausted and happy and sweaty. Anna took the metro home, and the rest of us split a taxi, which is pretty cheap if you have three or four people. I collapsed in bed and slept almost immediately, as soon as I managed to ignore the ringing in my ears from the music.
Sunday morning's 9 am wakeup call came way too early, but a half-hour shower and a big breakfast later left me ready for another tour. This time we walked around the Barrio Medieval, where we saw more old and awesome buildings, and yet another cathedral. This one was once again not much different from the one the day before, except a mass was going on, and a few minutes after entering a choir started singing along to organ music. The soprano lead of the choir was excellent, and though I couldn't understand anything being said (I'm pretty sure it was Latin, not Spanish), it was beautiful and moving. I love cathedrals.
The second half of the tour was in the Picasso museum. I loved the first half, Picasso's early work, before his blue period and then cubist stage. He was once a realist artist, and amazing at capturing people's characters on canvas. His Blue Period wasn't too bad either, although soon after the Rose Period he delved into cubism, which I really think art could have done without. Oh well. The museum was still pretty amazing, and we finished the tour around 1:30 pm, in time for lunch before having to catch the bus home at 4. Anna joined me then, and the two of us split a sandwich and had Chocolate con churros, which is delicious. The chocolate is more like the consistency of pudding than hot chocolate, though served warm. Churros are kind of like skinny ridged donuts, but not that sweet, and intended to dip in the chocolate. After food, Anna and I walked slowly back down towards the port, in part planning our next reunion, in a mere three weekends from now. Next time Anna's joining me in Valencia, and there will be more adventures!
The ride back home was again long and uneventful, although I borrowed Ken's ipod for the last few hours and discovered that he had almost everything by Great Big Sea, which reminded me of Max and singing. The moon was almost full outside the window, and I thought about Mallorca and home and the first time I'd heard all the songs I listened to. What a great weekend...