I got up in the morning and readied myself for check out at 11. I was supposed to switch over from here to Liz's today, but I still wasn't sure exactly how to do that. Until this point, Liz and I had been communicating through email, and hadn't exchanged numbers or even confirmed where in the city she lived. I packed up, and walked downstairs to the lobby to check out. Then I sat outside the hotel and scrolled through my phone until I found an earlier forwarded email with her phone number on it. I called it, and was so happy to hear Liz pick up on the other end. I asked her how I could get to her place from where I was, and she told me to follow the street I was on, back to Rambla Street and wait for her at the corner between the KFC and McDonalds. I followed her directions and waited for her to come find me. I began to wonder how she was going to know it was me, but I suppose the huge backpack would add some clue.
As I sat there, leaned up against the wall of McDonalds, I watched the people go by on the street. There were so many different types of people, from everywhere in the world, it seemed. They spoke all different languages, although mostly Spanish, but only every so often did I hear anything I could understand. It all just sounded like noises when I really stepped back to listen. The only way I could really tell what people were talking about was by watching their body language and reactions to hearing others. It was really quite fascinating when I began to separate the words spoken from the action taken. If the world was muted for a moment, I probably never would have noticed that I was in a whole other country. Soon enough, however, I caught a few words in English through the cacophony. "Hey, Tyler?" I looked up from the brim of my hat, and saw a woman bearing 2 and a half kids, smiling back at me. "Yea, Liz?" I asked back, and we shook hands. She introduced me to her 2 kids Marc (7) and Gemma (4), the one in The oven I didn't meet, but I was amazed that she had walked all the way here, watching two small children and carrying another at the same time. Although as suppose, as with everything, after some time you just get used to it.
We walked slowly back to her apartment, minding the children, and making conversation about the area. I told her, briefly what I had seen so far, and she told me some more things I could see. The Temple de la Sagrada Familia she talked especially highly of, and said it was a must-see on a trip to Barcelona. When we got to the house, she introduced me to her husband, Xavi and showed me the room I'd be sleeping in. Xavi cooked us lunch, and explained to us what a good Spanish meal consisted of. Xavi was trained as a chef here in Spain when he was 16, so he knew all about Spanish cuisine. He said that Spaniards eat mostly salads, fish and vegetables. They're actually not very fond of spicy foods, contrary to popular myth. They eat lots of Cod fish, scallops, red meat, and special assortments of vegetables. The lunch he made us, was of course, absolutely wonderful, and came in 3 parts, the appetizer, main course, and dessert; as all real Spanish meals do.
After lunch, I began to make my way over to the Temple de la Sagrada Familia, because Liz seemed so excited about it and I'd also heard from some of the guys in my hostel in Nice that it was definitely something to see. Liz told me of a way to take the metro right to it, but I kinda like to walk whenever I feel I can, so I walked. It was a long way, probably about the same distance from my hostel in Rome to the Sistine Chapel. I was also a little surprised that it was so out in the middle of nowhere; at least a 15 minute walk from any of the other sites in the city. You'd think they'd want to build it where people could come see it easily, and not where you have to trek out a ways to no place in particular, an hour away from where you were originally. However, as soon as I got there I knew it was well worth the trip.
Just seeing it from a distance is pretty spectacular, and for most huge cathedrals, the first impression of the outside is all there is. This Cathedral, however was the most intricately designed thing I'd ever seen in my life. From far back, it looks like a giant beautiful cathedral, then as you get a little closer, you start to see something else, and then closer and something else pops out. When you get right up close enough to see everything, you could spend several days just looking at the decorations on the front entrance. Everything, from the most massive towers, to the tiniest door latch is a work of art. Some decorations even have decorations on or within them. It's just over stimulating at times. This is just the outside of the front entrance I've been talking about, I hadn't even gone inside yet.
The architect for this building is the world renowned Spanish Architect, Gaudi. He's designed several other buildings and sculptures in Barcelona, as well as Madrid and France (I think). He began working on this building in the later part of the 19th century, and construction on it still isn't complete! Over 100 years, and they still estimate construction will take about 10 more years or so. Hearing that, you wonder "How could that be, with modern means of construction? Not to mention the hundreds of people still working there around the clock." But when you're looking at it, and walking through it, you totally understand. On some parts of the main tower, slivers of stone thinner than a sheet of paper were used to decorate the top. Throughout the main hall, Gaudi's design was to have the cathedral resemble nature, and all of God's creation. So the pillars are shaped like modernized-looking trees with tiny nooks, branches, and vines carved into them. At the top is a giant stone canopy all chiseled to perfection in blazing white stone with skylights where breaks in the leaves would be. Gaudi was also very fascinated with the way stone looks under a microscope, so the mineral-like colors, and designs make up the murals on the floors and windows of the Cathedral. If you look around carefully as you walk through several corridors, animals like lizards, turtles, and birds are also represented in statutes peeking out of pillars and towers.
The back side is made up of huge, intricate scenes of what must be hundreds of different bible stories carved into the 3 arches that make up the back entrance, and all the way up to the 12 towers representing the apostles and then the one main tower in the center representing Jesus Christ. To the right side, there's also a smaller tower representing the Virgin Mary, and then a square building next to it (I don't know who that one's for) with a roof like a fallen leaf. The more I stood there to look at it, the more dizzy and tired I got. I couldn't even think anymore, there was so much going on, and so many things to look at which were all so beautiful. My mind was just simply blown. I felt spent.
At the lower floor of the Cathedral was a museum dedicated to Gaudi, and the Cathedral. I walked through that for about another hour, and got to see a lot of the process that went in to building this structure, as well as the inspirations and sketches for the decorations. At one section of the museum, they had pictures of nature, and then next to them they had pictures of decorations or structures in the Cathedral that were inspired my them. It was so cool to see the amazing resemblance between the real nature, and the artistic architectural representation.
After forcing myself to exit the Cathedral, I walked back down closer to the city center, over by where the Arc de triumph stood. It was quieter there, and everything was spread out, it was a good place to rest my brain for a moment. I sat down on a bench, and stared at the Arch, and then walked down the long concrete road to that huge park at the other end. I'd learned that there was a zoo somewhere in the park. I figured it'd probably be closed by now, but I thought I might go have a look anyway. I walked down through some beautiful gardens which glistened in the setting sun. When the sun sets in Barcelona, the whole world takes on a sort of purple and gold shimmer. The sky is dotted with clouds, and rays of yellow light shoot out towards earth. The sun peaks out from behind a cloud and then sinks like a small child lost in a waterbed. Every time it hides itself, the blue sky appears in its stead. It was really piercing blue tonight, the color I love but can't describe in any other word than "piercing". Greens and blues are my favorite colors, and greens and blues were the predominant shades of that moment, in Barcelona.
I walked on, and found another park within the park, this one seemed a part of the zoo. There were life-sized statues of Elephants for children to climb on, and a huge green lake in the center where people rented row boats. At the far end, across the lake, I heard music. It was old swing, big band music near a gazebo full of people dancing. I stood nearby and watched the people dance, and wished I had someone here to dance with too. It was such a fun moment. They danced into the night, and were still dancing when I left them.
From there, I walked to the beach to find dinner. However, before getting there, I heard more music coming from an alleyway right along the shops and cafes. It wasn't swing music though, it was drums and horns like a huge parade, and I saw crowds of people stuffed between buildings, clamoring and screaming phrases in Spanish I couldn't understand. People carried huge banners, and threw confetti into the air. Colored lights were strung in several of these back alleys, and people drank and cheered. When I got down there, I saw that it was a parade, in fact, several parades down almost every side street. I had no idea what all the celebration was about, but I joined in from the sidelines, laughing and dancing to the music. Fireworks went off, and some carried sparklers. The kids waved flags, and everyone together sang songs in a single voice. The Parades marched through the streets, and at every intersection they stopped and the party commenced again. Each parade was dressed differently, and carried different colors with usually different flags. Some of the spectators were dressed up as well, wearing masks or costumes, and dressing in the respective colors, while drinking and hollering with the rest of them. I had so much fun, and it was awesome that when one band moved on, I just walked down to the next intersection, and found another one. On my way through the alleys I found a local bar/cafe and had some dinner, and then sat out on the beach listening to the mixture of the waves, and the distant drums.
I walked from the beach across the bridge to the peninsula where the docks, and the long wooden deck reside. I sat down on a stone block, and caught up some of my blogs. The sky was pretty clear, and a crescent moon shone in the sky. I was more or less by myself on the docks, save for the occasional passerby, or wandering couple. It was quite peaceful. I listened to the sounds of fireworks bursting from the other end of the beach, and watched the light flicker from nearby parties. When I got walking back to Liz's house it was late, and there were still people everywhere. I was a long way from Liz's, out here on the docks so I hurried back, trying not to get in and wake everyone up at a really unforgiving hour.
Down Rambla Street, I passed bar hoppers, clubbers, drunks, and the occasional Spaniard selling 6 packs on the street at "discounted prices". I turned onto the street I was mostly sure was the one I was looking for, and wandered through the part of town which was semi sketchy. Fortunately, there were still several people on it, so I felt assured that I wouldn't be mugged. As I passed two guys staring at a map, they called out to me, but I kept on going. I figured they were trying to sell me something like pretty much everyone else on the street. They persisted after me asking for help, so I stopped and looked. They asked me something in Spanish that I could only discern a couple words of, but they wanted to know something about a specific club they were pointing to on the map. I said, I was sorry, and then I put my hand on my chest and said, "English". They said they were from Portugal, and were new here too. I looked at their map, and tried to find where they were pointing to to at least give them a direction, but couldn't figure out where they wanted to go. I apologized, and began to walk away. They thanked me, shook my hand gladly, and patted me on the back. One of them started getting uncomfortably close, and massaged my arm a little too friendly. I started to get the feeling they were drunk, because their actions were all over exaggerated, and when they shook my hand and leaned closer into me, they seemed to rely on me for support. Immediately as a reaction, my hands went into my pockets. As soon as I did this, they moved in a little closer, and one of them became fascinated with my belt buckle. He complimented me, and grabbed it for a closer look. I took my hands out of my pockets to shove him off me, and then the other one grabbed my arm, and I tried to pull away and suddenly realized that they weren't letting me go. I pulled back and shoved myself free, and just kept walking away. I put my hands in my pockets, and felt an emptiness which surprised me. My iPod was missing. I cursed under my breath, and then suddenly felt a tap on my shoulder. I wheeled around to find one of the guys standing there behind me with my iPod. He politely handed it back to me, and then just turned and casually walked away.
I stood their in stunned silence, holding my iPod in the palm of my hand. I was so confused. I quickly checked everything in my pockets, counted all my money, and checked every credit card. Everything was there, and now counting my iPod, accounted for. I couldn't figure out why they jacked my iPod, and then followed me down the street to hand it back. I opened up the iPod and thumbed through the song lists, knowing full well that there was no way in the 25 seconds my iPod was missing, they could have changed or erased anything. However, something different would at least make the moment a little less weird, but no; nothing was different.
As I continued walking onward, I was embarrassed that I couldn't figure it out, and even more so that I'd fallen into that trap in the first place. I'm always really good at identifying and dealing with pickpocket's and muggers. Several times on this trip people have tried both, and been unsuccessful. I learned techniques, and figured out general traits of people who want my money, and I've done well staying away from them. In crowded squares, I can see the guys going through the crowd with "sticky fingers", and when I notice them over my shoulder "casually" bumping into me, or letting their hands wander at their sides, my hands (even just without thinking now) go right into my front pockets (where anything valuable is), I make sure I'm actually touching the things a pickpocket might want, and then I look him/her in the eye as if to say "I know what you're doing" almost immediately, there's always a response, and they back off. For muggers (firstly I try not to even get into a situation where I might be mugged), If I notice someone following me down a street and there's no shop open or anything with people to duck into. I let him follow me to a spot where there is MORE THAN ONE other person, and then I turn to them and let them know that I see them. The confrontation, first of all, scares the hell out of them, and they can't do anything with people around. A mugger doesn't want you to know he's there, he wants to be able to make himself known on his own terms. If you let him know that he's not invisible, and there's people around, he'll bugger off. However if you do that when there's no one around, it'll just pressure him into mugging you right now. These are things I've gotten to know, walking around big cities by myself.
However I've never come across this sort of "gang bang pick pocketing." There wasn't much I could have really done about it once I'd fallen into it. They just kinda pinned me up against each other and had their way with my pockets.
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Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Barcelone uhh... 5/10/08 (I'm entitled to my bad puns)
Morning came quickly, and Mark and I woke up to catch our train. Unfortunately, in waking up, we woke everyone else up too, and now we had to wait in line for our turns in the shower. Fortunately, the hostel was only around 2 or 3 blocks from the train station, and we'd given ourselves plenty of time to get ready, so we didn't have to hurry too much. We each packed up our stuff, and walked across the street to the station, making it to the platform just as our train pulled up. The whole trip to Barcelona would be almost 12 hours. This first train ride would be about 4 hours, with a 3 hour lay over in Montpellier, and then 4 hours and 45 minutes on the second train. It went pretty much as full day train rides go.
When we reached Montpellier we were both starving because we hadn't eaten anything before catching the train. We rushed in to a McDonalds across the street, and even though neither of us wanted to succumb to eating American fast food in France, we enjoyed a full stomach. Afterward, we decided to go exploring around Montpellier for a while because neither of us knew anything about this city, and neither of us wanted to sit around on a train platform for 3 hours anyway. The streets were filled with people. I hadn't realized Montpellier to be such a popular tourist spot. As in every big city in France, there were performers in the streets, and beautiful French architecture. The two of us wandered through the winding streets through back alleys and crowded squares until we finally found a beautiful park to rest in. It was wonderful too, because during this particular time, there was a huge market set up, and crowds of people gathered nearby to watch a volleyball matches. Several over people were clustered around two other people playing a giant sized game of chess on the floor with huge (almost life sized) plastic chess pieces. While they played, a DJ played club techno in the background. Mark and I laughed at the contrast of the music, and the timidity of the game of chess, made into a contact sport by the giant pieces.
We found a huge grassy knoll around a little pond with ducks. Around it, children were playing football (soccer), and young people sat and read books while drinking coffee. Mark and I found a small tree by the lake, so we perched our backpacks up against the tree, and rested in the shade. We talked a little, and both periodically fell asleep listening to the sounds of the beautiful park. We got up to make our way back to the station to catch our last leg of the journey, and again caught our train right on time.
In our bags we'd stuffed some fresh fruit and sandwiches from the little market in the park at Montpellier. We figured we'd probably be hungry again on the train, and would need dinner because our train wasn't expected in until 9:45 that night. The last train ride seemed a lot longer. It was of course, by about 45 minutes, but it seemed several hours longer than the first. This train wasn't quite as nice as the last one. It's walls were rusted and dilapidated, the seats were old and uncomfortable, and there was no real central cooling system in the tiny train car with all those people. You couldn't even put the window down. We did very little talking on this last train ride to Barcelona, we just each sat with our iPods and tried to bear it.
When we got there, the first thing we did was find a map in the tourist office of the train station. We looked for the hotel Mark had booked online in Nice, and found some type of general area the hotel could be in. Mark told me I could tag along, and see if there was another room open that I might stay in, if I wanted. I didn't have a place to stay yet in Barcelona, and I still couldn't get in contact with the person I was supposed to meet here, so I took him up on his offer to find this hotel in hopes they had another room. It was raining a little bit, although fortunately, it wasn't all that cold. We guessed as best we could which street was which, as we jumped puddles, and stumbled down soaked streets. On every hotel we passed, the sickening phrase "No Vacancy" shown in the window. The bars were all packed solid with backpackers, and tourists from everywhere in the world. It's now definitely the tourist season.
We finally got to where it said the hotel was supposed to be, and searched the surrounding area for another 20 minutes before finally finding it. As we entered I got a bad feeling about availability, seeing how small the place seemed to be. Mark stepped up to the old unkempt front desk, and began to talk to the old unkempt front desk attendant. The old man didn't speak a single word of English, and as Mark painstakingly played a hopeless game of charades, you could tell we were getting absolutely nowhere. Mark told him in as few words as possible that he'd made a reservation, and wanted a room for the night. The old man nodded like he understood part of what he was saying, and pointed to a spot on the map, completely opposite of where we were. "No, no no," Mark interrupted. "I have a reservation for HERE," and pointed to where we were right now. The conversation went back and forth for some time, until we got the notion that perhaps he's trying to point us to another hotel under the same owner who keep under the same booking system. We finally gave up the fight, and followed the man's directions all the way across town to another crappy rusted, worn-in hotel. We walked inside, and climbed 6 flights of stairs to the reception, where they finally did have Marks reservation. We asked if they had any other rooms available for me to stay in, but they said they're all book up tonight. I left Mark my email address, and then we shook hands goodbye, as I went off to find a free room somewhere in Barcelona.
I walked all over, down dreary streets looking for something, anything with a bed for the night. However, nothing I walked into had any beds, nor knew anywhere I might find a bed for tonight. They all just shrugged their arms and said "It's saturday night!" As if that was somewhat helpful. "Oh it's saturday night, I hadn't realized. Well then I'll just do something else!" I'm not sure it occurred to them that I was a couple thousand miles from home, and "No Vacancy" tonight might mean I'll have to sleep out on the street in the rain tonight. I passed hundreds of hotels, disregarding the star rating at this point, but I got the same answer from each one. With all the hotels and hostels in Barcelona, there seemed not to be a single one with an open room. How could that be? I had a brief conversation with God, asking what in the hell was I supposed to do now. God had provided before, and I trusted he'd provide for me now, but what was I supposed to do if there was no answer to my prayer? I decided I'd just keep walking until my legs could go no further. When my legs would give up, I would sit where I was and wait for God to respond. I'd walked the circle all the way back to about where the first hotel with the old man was, and saw a row of 3 hotels. I walked into each one right down the line, and not until the last one did they have 1 single room left. It was a 3 star hotel, and all they wanted for the room was 40 euros a night. Mark had paid 60 euros a night for the one star hotel he was staying at, and other 3 stars wanted at least 125 euros a night (had rooms been open). The room wasn't anything flashy, It was tiny. Only the bed and a small TV fit in the main part, while the bathroom was fairly small as well, but it was just absolutely perfect.
That night I had a hot bath, and watched CNN on the one English channel. I thanked God for providing for me, once again. Somehow all of my needs were met just at the moment I let my own fate fall out of my hands. I was so thankful to be in out of the rain, and I slept well.
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When we reached Montpellier we were both starving because we hadn't eaten anything before catching the train. We rushed in to a McDonalds across the street, and even though neither of us wanted to succumb to eating American fast food in France, we enjoyed a full stomach. Afterward, we decided to go exploring around Montpellier for a while because neither of us knew anything about this city, and neither of us wanted to sit around on a train platform for 3 hours anyway. The streets were filled with people. I hadn't realized Montpellier to be such a popular tourist spot. As in every big city in France, there were performers in the streets, and beautiful French architecture. The two of us wandered through the winding streets through back alleys and crowded squares until we finally found a beautiful park to rest in. It was wonderful too, because during this particular time, there was a huge market set up, and crowds of people gathered nearby to watch a volleyball matches. Several over people were clustered around two other people playing a giant sized game of chess on the floor with huge (almost life sized) plastic chess pieces. While they played, a DJ played club techno in the background. Mark and I laughed at the contrast of the music, and the timidity of the game of chess, made into a contact sport by the giant pieces.
We found a huge grassy knoll around a little pond with ducks. Around it, children were playing football (soccer), and young people sat and read books while drinking coffee. Mark and I found a small tree by the lake, so we perched our backpacks up against the tree, and rested in the shade. We talked a little, and both periodically fell asleep listening to the sounds of the beautiful park. We got up to make our way back to the station to catch our last leg of the journey, and again caught our train right on time.
In our bags we'd stuffed some fresh fruit and sandwiches from the little market in the park at Montpellier. We figured we'd probably be hungry again on the train, and would need dinner because our train wasn't expected in until 9:45 that night. The last train ride seemed a lot longer. It was of course, by about 45 minutes, but it seemed several hours longer than the first. This train wasn't quite as nice as the last one. It's walls were rusted and dilapidated, the seats were old and uncomfortable, and there was no real central cooling system in the tiny train car with all those people. You couldn't even put the window down. We did very little talking on this last train ride to Barcelona, we just each sat with our iPods and tried to bear it.
When we got there, the first thing we did was find a map in the tourist office of the train station. We looked for the hotel Mark had booked online in Nice, and found some type of general area the hotel could be in. Mark told me I could tag along, and see if there was another room open that I might stay in, if I wanted. I didn't have a place to stay yet in Barcelona, and I still couldn't get in contact with the person I was supposed to meet here, so I took him up on his offer to find this hotel in hopes they had another room. It was raining a little bit, although fortunately, it wasn't all that cold. We guessed as best we could which street was which, as we jumped puddles, and stumbled down soaked streets. On every hotel we passed, the sickening phrase "No Vacancy" shown in the window. The bars were all packed solid with backpackers, and tourists from everywhere in the world. It's now definitely the tourist season.
We finally got to where it said the hotel was supposed to be, and searched the surrounding area for another 20 minutes before finally finding it. As we entered I got a bad feeling about availability, seeing how small the place seemed to be. Mark stepped up to the old unkempt front desk, and began to talk to the old unkempt front desk attendant. The old man didn't speak a single word of English, and as Mark painstakingly played a hopeless game of charades, you could tell we were getting absolutely nowhere. Mark told him in as few words as possible that he'd made a reservation, and wanted a room for the night. The old man nodded like he understood part of what he was saying, and pointed to a spot on the map, completely opposite of where we were. "No, no no," Mark interrupted. "I have a reservation for HERE," and pointed to where we were right now. The conversation went back and forth for some time, until we got the notion that perhaps he's trying to point us to another hotel under the same owner who keep under the same booking system. We finally gave up the fight, and followed the man's directions all the way across town to another crappy rusted, worn-in hotel. We walked inside, and climbed 6 flights of stairs to the reception, where they finally did have Marks reservation. We asked if they had any other rooms available for me to stay in, but they said they're all book up tonight. I left Mark my email address, and then we shook hands goodbye, as I went off to find a free room somewhere in Barcelona.
I walked all over, down dreary streets looking for something, anything with a bed for the night. However, nothing I walked into had any beds, nor knew anywhere I might find a bed for tonight. They all just shrugged their arms and said "It's saturday night!" As if that was somewhat helpful. "Oh it's saturday night, I hadn't realized. Well then I'll just do something else!" I'm not sure it occurred to them that I was a couple thousand miles from home, and "No Vacancy" tonight might mean I'll have to sleep out on the street in the rain tonight. I passed hundreds of hotels, disregarding the star rating at this point, but I got the same answer from each one. With all the hotels and hostels in Barcelona, there seemed not to be a single one with an open room. How could that be? I had a brief conversation with God, asking what in the hell was I supposed to do now. God had provided before, and I trusted he'd provide for me now, but what was I supposed to do if there was no answer to my prayer? I decided I'd just keep walking until my legs could go no further. When my legs would give up, I would sit where I was and wait for God to respond. I'd walked the circle all the way back to about where the first hotel with the old man was, and saw a row of 3 hotels. I walked into each one right down the line, and not until the last one did they have 1 single room left. It was a 3 star hotel, and all they wanted for the room was 40 euros a night. Mark had paid 60 euros a night for the one star hotel he was staying at, and other 3 stars wanted at least 125 euros a night (had rooms been open). The room wasn't anything flashy, It was tiny. Only the bed and a small TV fit in the main part, while the bathroom was fairly small as well, but it was just absolutely perfect.
That night I had a hot bath, and watched CNN on the one English channel. I thanked God for providing for me, once again. Somehow all of my needs were met just at the moment I let my own fate fall out of my hands. I was so thankful to be in out of the rain, and I slept well.
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Monday, May 12, 2008
Barcelona, Spain 5/11/08
In the morning, the first thing I did was try to find the famous Barcelona Coast. When I found the ocean, I followed the water down one direction, looking for the beach. I walked for a while and found no beach, although I did pass a lot of cool architecture and giant sculptures the size of tall buildings. When I got to the industrial port area, I decided I was heading the wrong way and turned back around the way I came. Going the other direction, I passed through a smaller harbor area with beautiful boats, and tall replicas of spanish galleons. I bought a chocolate fudge covered waffle from a waffle stand, and ate it sitting on the docks. People were all over walking, shopping, and riding bikes down the boardwalk. The sun shone through cracks in the gloom to reveal a bright blue sky behind thick grey clouds. As I began to see the beautiful beach, the wind picked up substantially, blowing little dust devils in the sand. Because of the high wind, and last night's rain, the waves were choppy and the tides were strong. No swimmers were allowed in the water, but surfers were out in large numbers. Wind surfers were having a field day with the high gusts, and choppy surf. They could ride all day, zig-zagging through surfers and catching air on waves like they were ramps.
I noticed bunch of lounge chairs stacked up all down the beach. Many of them were all set up, dotting the sand, completely vacant. I waited to see someone else come and sit on one to give me confirmation that it was ok, and when someone finally did, I found one for myself, and stretched out on it, watching the surfers and the waves. I just about nearly fell asleep, when a beach attendant came over collecting tickets to use the beach chairs. Apparently you have to pay to use these chairs, so I got up and kept walking. I walked down the boardwalk, stopping periodically to admire the ocean. Every so often it'd start drizzling again, but it wouldn't last long and the sun would be out shining again.
At the end of the boardwalk, I wandered up through a small park adorned with massive modern art sculptures, similar to the Art Garden I saw in Israel, although more functional. One blue pyramid sculpture doubled as a slide for a couple spanish 4 year olds. A spiral-shaped garden became a place for hide and go seek.
As I began to worry that I'd strayed out too far into the local area, where there wasn't a lot more than apartments on a grid line, and local grocery stores, I started to pull myself back toward the center. As I walked inward, back toward the larger buildings and hotels, I suddenly discovered a giant arch similar to the Arch of Constantine in Rome, except this arch was a fiery red color. On it was an inscription I couldn't read (as is the trend with most foreign relics), and behind it, a walking road stretched on to seemingly no end. I stood and marveled at it for a moment, and then crossed under it following the road on down to nowhere. The road did eventually end, and then started again across the street heading into another giant park. I didn't enter into the park, however, instead I followed the street back into the center. I continued on out the other side, ending up in a huge square where again, more children played, and more street performers enticed flocks of babbling tourists. Off to one side, a stage was set up for a group of young girls with all different types of drums, hammering out beats and teasing the crowd by starting out simple and gradually getting more and more complex until the sound was like orchestrated noise.
I looked to my left, and saw a street at least 3 times as wide as any other, liked with palm trees like Hollywood Blvrd, and masses of people came like waves on the beach. You couldn't see the ground, there were so many people. This was the main street of Barcelona, Rambla Street. I started down it, but found myself lost in churning seas of people, and worried for the contents of my pockets. I know this is an absolute feeding zone for pickpockets. There's probably thousands of them that make a comfortable living just walking up and down this street all day. I turned off into the next available alleyway, where there were fewer people, and could look after myself a little better.
I sauntered out to the docks again, and this time walked up over to a small peninsula where I saw several others going. In the center of it was a huge Imax theater, and a replica of an early submarine. Another boardwalk took me around the other side of the docks, leading to what seemed to be some kind of a shopping mall floating there on the edge of the peninsula. On the way leading up to it was a wooden deck lined with really artsy looking lamp posts, and along the center local artists set up a gallery of their works for people to buy. I browsed through the local art, stopping to stare at some I found which were pretty cool. Sometimes the local art found in the markets and docks is better than the professional art found in expensive galleries. Walking along near the boats, I called my mom to wish her a happy mothers day.
On the way back over the bridge to the peninsula, there was a group of 4 or 5 dogs chasing a remote controlled car on a grassy field in front of me. The dogs were barking like mad, running after this little machine unable to figure out what the heck it was. Hearing the noise the dogs were making at this thing, people began to crowd around and chuckle as some took pictures of this amazingly entertaining situation. I took a couple pictures myself, and laughed as the poor bewildered dogs frustratedly took on the little RC car. In the end, the car ran low on batteries, and the dogs took it as a sure victory. They gloated, proudly panting as they trotted back to their owners.
I gathered some groceries from a nearby market, hoping to illuminate having to buy a couple meals later on. I also picked up something cheap for dinner, and splurged on an ice cream cone which was calling to me. I finally got in contact with that girl who I'd met in Italy on the train back from Pompeii. She was supposed to meet me here in Barcelona, but she and her friends decided to stay in Paris through the end of the month. It wasn't great news, but it was ok. I'll still get to meet up with her in Paris later on. I also, thankfully got in contact with a friend of Jan Francis', Liz, whom I was hoping I might stay with for a couple days while I'm here. She said I'm welcome to stay with her. I told her I'm paid in my hotel through tonight, but tomorrow night I'd love a bed to sleep in. She said that'd be great, and we planned for me to switch over my stuff to her place tomorrow night.
That night, I sat in my hotel room in my underwear, eating pringles I bought from the store, and watched The Daily Show (which remarkably was on CNN). It was wonderful. I called my brother in law, Paul, and wished him a happy birthday, and then debated about going out to find a club to hang out in. But honestly, I didn't really want to go out to a club at the moment. I didn't really have the energy to go make new friends right now. I didn't have the cash to burn for entrance fees and drinks, and I kinda felt like I'd done my whole clubbing thing in Prague. That's not to say I won't do it anymore, but I'm not gunna pressure myself into doing it because I'm in Barcelona. I already did it in Prague. I was happy and content sitting in my hotel for a bit, eating my American chips, and watching my American television. That won't always be the case, but for now it was certainly satisfying.
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I noticed bunch of lounge chairs stacked up all down the beach. Many of them were all set up, dotting the sand, completely vacant. I waited to see someone else come and sit on one to give me confirmation that it was ok, and when someone finally did, I found one for myself, and stretched out on it, watching the surfers and the waves. I just about nearly fell asleep, when a beach attendant came over collecting tickets to use the beach chairs. Apparently you have to pay to use these chairs, so I got up and kept walking. I walked down the boardwalk, stopping periodically to admire the ocean. Every so often it'd start drizzling again, but it wouldn't last long and the sun would be out shining again.
At the end of the boardwalk, I wandered up through a small park adorned with massive modern art sculptures, similar to the Art Garden I saw in Israel, although more functional. One blue pyramid sculpture doubled as a slide for a couple spanish 4 year olds. A spiral-shaped garden became a place for hide and go seek.
As I began to worry that I'd strayed out too far into the local area, where there wasn't a lot more than apartments on a grid line, and local grocery stores, I started to pull myself back toward the center. As I walked inward, back toward the larger buildings and hotels, I suddenly discovered a giant arch similar to the Arch of Constantine in Rome, except this arch was a fiery red color. On it was an inscription I couldn't read (as is the trend with most foreign relics), and behind it, a walking road stretched on to seemingly no end. I stood and marveled at it for a moment, and then crossed under it following the road on down to nowhere. The road did eventually end, and then started again across the street heading into another giant park. I didn't enter into the park, however, instead I followed the street back into the center. I continued on out the other side, ending up in a huge square where again, more children played, and more street performers enticed flocks of babbling tourists. Off to one side, a stage was set up for a group of young girls with all different types of drums, hammering out beats and teasing the crowd by starting out simple and gradually getting more and more complex until the sound was like orchestrated noise.
I looked to my left, and saw a street at least 3 times as wide as any other, liked with palm trees like Hollywood Blvrd, and masses of people came like waves on the beach. You couldn't see the ground, there were so many people. This was the main street of Barcelona, Rambla Street. I started down it, but found myself lost in churning seas of people, and worried for the contents of my pockets. I know this is an absolute feeding zone for pickpockets. There's probably thousands of them that make a comfortable living just walking up and down this street all day. I turned off into the next available alleyway, where there were fewer people, and could look after myself a little better.
I sauntered out to the docks again, and this time walked up over to a small peninsula where I saw several others going. In the center of it was a huge Imax theater, and a replica of an early submarine. Another boardwalk took me around the other side of the docks, leading to what seemed to be some kind of a shopping mall floating there on the edge of the peninsula. On the way leading up to it was a wooden deck lined with really artsy looking lamp posts, and along the center local artists set up a gallery of their works for people to buy. I browsed through the local art, stopping to stare at some I found which were pretty cool. Sometimes the local art found in the markets and docks is better than the professional art found in expensive galleries. Walking along near the boats, I called my mom to wish her a happy mothers day.
On the way back over the bridge to the peninsula, there was a group of 4 or 5 dogs chasing a remote controlled car on a grassy field in front of me. The dogs were barking like mad, running after this little machine unable to figure out what the heck it was. Hearing the noise the dogs were making at this thing, people began to crowd around and chuckle as some took pictures of this amazingly entertaining situation. I took a couple pictures myself, and laughed as the poor bewildered dogs frustratedly took on the little RC car. In the end, the car ran low on batteries, and the dogs took it as a sure victory. They gloated, proudly panting as they trotted back to their owners.
I gathered some groceries from a nearby market, hoping to illuminate having to buy a couple meals later on. I also picked up something cheap for dinner, and splurged on an ice cream cone which was calling to me. I finally got in contact with that girl who I'd met in Italy on the train back from Pompeii. She was supposed to meet me here in Barcelona, but she and her friends decided to stay in Paris through the end of the month. It wasn't great news, but it was ok. I'll still get to meet up with her in Paris later on. I also, thankfully got in contact with a friend of Jan Francis', Liz, whom I was hoping I might stay with for a couple days while I'm here. She said I'm welcome to stay with her. I told her I'm paid in my hotel through tonight, but tomorrow night I'd love a bed to sleep in. She said that'd be great, and we planned for me to switch over my stuff to her place tomorrow night.
That night, I sat in my hotel room in my underwear, eating pringles I bought from the store, and watched The Daily Show (which remarkably was on CNN). It was wonderful. I called my brother in law, Paul, and wished him a happy birthday, and then debated about going out to find a club to hang out in. But honestly, I didn't really want to go out to a club at the moment. I didn't really have the energy to go make new friends right now. I didn't have the cash to burn for entrance fees and drinks, and I kinda felt like I'd done my whole clubbing thing in Prague. That's not to say I won't do it anymore, but I'm not gunna pressure myself into doing it because I'm in Barcelona. I already did it in Prague. I was happy and content sitting in my hotel for a bit, eating my American chips, and watching my American television. That won't always be the case, but for now it was certainly satisfying.
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Nice, France 5/9/08
In the morning, I said goodbye to some of my roommates who all had to leave early to catch their trains to the next cities on their trip. One roommate was left from the original 7 I met last night; Mark from England. Mark was 19, and started his journey from Thailand, dropping down to Australia, and then up to some countries in Europe. Like me, his trip will last a total of 3 months with this being his last month, although he stopped home for a couple of days before entering Europe which is a luxury I never got. Also like me, his next city was Barcelona, and he'd found a train leaving tomorrow at 10:08am to take him their. I'd done some searching yesterday to find some sort of train coming out of France, but France seems not to like to do international trains, and so all I could find was the speculation of a train which leaves to another big city along the way which I might find a connecting train to the next, and so on. However, Mark found a train that only switches over once, and goes right through to Barcelona. I asked if he'd mind if I hopped on that train with him tomorrow, and he told me he didn't mind at all, so we set our alarms to go off at 8:30am tomorrow (to make sure we had enough time to get ready and across the street to the station).
It was pretty much business as usual out on the streets of Nice. I tried to hold off eating for as long as I could get away with it, as I did yesterday. I walked along the road, around the side of the big touristy hill to where the docks were. I'd seen several cool antique shops around there which were closed yesterday which I figured I'd go explore through now that the holiday was over. However, once I got there it was just passed noon. At noon in most places in Europe, everywhere shuts down for about 3 hours so that Europeans can go home, eat lunch, and catch a little nap before getting back to work for another 2 or 3 hours till it's time to close shop. The whole European work day seems to be about 5 hours long. It seems like a pretty good gig when compared to the 8 hour, overtime, and often double shifts we're accustomed to back in America. When I worked at Guitar Center, I would have loved to close shop for 3 hours in the middle of the day to go home and nap. Anyway, now I had about 3 hours to kill before I could continue my search.
I walked down to the harbor where I'd never seen so many yachts in all my life. The average boat seen sitting in the Nice docks had more net worth than a fully furnished Laguna Beach home. Some of these boats looked more like small cruise liners than personal sea faring vessels. They came equipped with all the usual bells and whistles: Deck chairs out on their newly finished deck, satellite TV with special home theater installation, full gym and exercise areas, built in bar with 24 hour staff, and a full-time crew waiting on your every command. You could sail the seas without ever leaving the comfort of your mansion.
If I had the kind of money these guys had to throw into their floating palaces, I don't think I'd buy something so modern. I'd buy a huge pirate ship, or a whole fleet of them, with several decks, and hidden compartments to hide treasures in. Each one of ships in my fleet would be fully equipped with an arsenal of cannons, which would be fired to signal the hour. Whenever my ships happened to pass each other in our quests for adventure, my crews would be forced to reenact epic sea battles and the winning side gets a bonus in their paycheck; a "spoils of war bonus". My home on the beach would be specially equipped with its own docks designed to house each ship, and crews of carpenters and craftsmen would go to work repairing the damage done from open sea combat, whenever my ships made port. I'd be the talk of every port I docked at. During special events, I'd lend my ships out to reenactment groups, or kids who just want to pretend to be pirates for a day. I think that's what I'd do if I had that kind of money.
When I'd circled around the harbor back to the beach, I decided to take my sister's advice and buy a mixed drink and sit out on the beach. I bought a super expensive margarita from a beachside cafe, and settled out in a place amongst the rocks. I asked two French girls in front of me what the night life situation was in Nice, and they told me of a night club just down around the corner from one of the big hotels. When 3pm rolled around, I headed back to some of the antique shops, and poked around for a bit. There wasn't much in terms of small trinkets, and compasses. Nice, it seems, is more into antique furniture and costly jewelry, which makes sense because it's certainly more of what the rich tourists around here would be looking for. Regardless, I love just walking through antique shops in foreign countries. Often times you find even cooler things there than in the museums, and it's free to browse. I also love the search for hidden treasures you're on when looking through a good antique shop. The barter system is always in full use, and when you find something spectacular, you know there's nothing else like it any place else. It's a museum where you can touch, and try and even take home the inventory.
When I could find no more shops, I hung around the gardens, and parks. I called some of my friends, just to talk to someone familiar, and gain some encouragement. I caught Brandon in the middle of class, but he still stepped outside and talked with me for a little bit which made me feel special. Then I walked back down to the beach, and called Jordan. The two of us had a good long conversation, and after having talked to some of my best friends, I felt so much better.
That night, Mark and I greeted our new roommates. There were 3 from Canada, an American from Chicago, and an Australian from Melbourne. A couple of them went down, and bought us a couple beers and we talked, and told stories until late into the night. At one point I felt the need to make the connection, just after VE-Day, that we were all the Allies sitting here in France having beers, just like our grandparents probably all did over 60 years ago. I thought it was an interesting coincidence, but the rest of them just stopped for a second and laughed at me.
Mark and I made sure our alarms were set, and told each other to make sure the other was awake and ready in time to catch our train tomorrow to Barcelona.
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It was pretty much business as usual out on the streets of Nice. I tried to hold off eating for as long as I could get away with it, as I did yesterday. I walked along the road, around the side of the big touristy hill to where the docks were. I'd seen several cool antique shops around there which were closed yesterday which I figured I'd go explore through now that the holiday was over. However, once I got there it was just passed noon. At noon in most places in Europe, everywhere shuts down for about 3 hours so that Europeans can go home, eat lunch, and catch a little nap before getting back to work for another 2 or 3 hours till it's time to close shop. The whole European work day seems to be about 5 hours long. It seems like a pretty good gig when compared to the 8 hour, overtime, and often double shifts we're accustomed to back in America. When I worked at Guitar Center, I would have loved to close shop for 3 hours in the middle of the day to go home and nap. Anyway, now I had about 3 hours to kill before I could continue my search.
I walked down to the harbor where I'd never seen so many yachts in all my life. The average boat seen sitting in the Nice docks had more net worth than a fully furnished Laguna Beach home. Some of these boats looked more like small cruise liners than personal sea faring vessels. They came equipped with all the usual bells and whistles: Deck chairs out on their newly finished deck, satellite TV with special home theater installation, full gym and exercise areas, built in bar with 24 hour staff, and a full-time crew waiting on your every command. You could sail the seas without ever leaving the comfort of your mansion.
If I had the kind of money these guys had to throw into their floating palaces, I don't think I'd buy something so modern. I'd buy a huge pirate ship, or a whole fleet of them, with several decks, and hidden compartments to hide treasures in. Each one of ships in my fleet would be fully equipped with an arsenal of cannons, which would be fired to signal the hour. Whenever my ships happened to pass each other in our quests for adventure, my crews would be forced to reenact epic sea battles and the winning side gets a bonus in their paycheck; a "spoils of war bonus". My home on the beach would be specially equipped with its own docks designed to house each ship, and crews of carpenters and craftsmen would go to work repairing the damage done from open sea combat, whenever my ships made port. I'd be the talk of every port I docked at. During special events, I'd lend my ships out to reenactment groups, or kids who just want to pretend to be pirates for a day. I think that's what I'd do if I had that kind of money.
When I'd circled around the harbor back to the beach, I decided to take my sister's advice and buy a mixed drink and sit out on the beach. I bought a super expensive margarita from a beachside cafe, and settled out in a place amongst the rocks. I asked two French girls in front of me what the night life situation was in Nice, and they told me of a night club just down around the corner from one of the big hotels. When 3pm rolled around, I headed back to some of the antique shops, and poked around for a bit. There wasn't much in terms of small trinkets, and compasses. Nice, it seems, is more into antique furniture and costly jewelry, which makes sense because it's certainly more of what the rich tourists around here would be looking for. Regardless, I love just walking through antique shops in foreign countries. Often times you find even cooler things there than in the museums, and it's free to browse. I also love the search for hidden treasures you're on when looking through a good antique shop. The barter system is always in full use, and when you find something spectacular, you know there's nothing else like it any place else. It's a museum where you can touch, and try and even take home the inventory.
When I could find no more shops, I hung around the gardens, and parks. I called some of my friends, just to talk to someone familiar, and gain some encouragement. I caught Brandon in the middle of class, but he still stepped outside and talked with me for a little bit which made me feel special. Then I walked back down to the beach, and called Jordan. The two of us had a good long conversation, and after having talked to some of my best friends, I felt so much better.
That night, Mark and I greeted our new roommates. There were 3 from Canada, an American from Chicago, and an Australian from Melbourne. A couple of them went down, and bought us a couple beers and we talked, and told stories until late into the night. At one point I felt the need to make the connection, just after VE-Day, that we were all the Allies sitting here in France having beers, just like our grandparents probably all did over 60 years ago. I thought it was an interesting coincidence, but the rest of them just stopped for a second and laughed at me.
Mark and I made sure our alarms were set, and told each other to make sure the other was awake and ready in time to catch our train tomorrow to Barcelona.
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Saturday, May 10, 2008
The French Riviera 5/8/08
There was no breakfast being served in the morning to the hostel I was in, so there was really no point to getting up too early. I slept in till a comfortable hour, and then casually made my way to our tiny bathroom to shower. When I was finally ready to greet the day, it was around noon, and I headed out the door onto the main street.
The city looked a lot different in the light, although not any less spectacular. People were everywhere, piled into shops, and clustered around street vendors like gulls after a bread crust. The prices, even on the tiny vendors, were grossly overpriced. Everyone was here to for the sole purpose of spending lots of money, and lounging on the beach. As I walked, my nostrils were filled with that comforting smell of sea salt and sunscreen, which I'd come to love back home. To me it always smelled like summer, and good friends. I stopped and closed my eyes and pretend I was back home for a while, which was not hard. The architecture in Southern California is all based on that French Riviera style. The houses adorned with clay shingles are all like those in San Juan Capistrano, and Santa Barbara. The plant arrangements, and coastline back home are all a part of that Medditerranean feel. Often I forgot I was even in France, because none of it looked at all like Colmar or other images I'd had in my mind of France. The beach itself however, doesn't look anything like back home. The sand is not really sand at all, but rocks. It's not even like the beach is rocky. At home me have Doheny Beach which is full of rocks, and after walking around in the sand for a while your feet'll start to bleed. However the rocks here are all smoothe like the hot stones they use for spa treatments. It's strange to see the coastline covered with these perfectly smoothe stones, as of someone individually laid them there.
Today was an interesting day to be in France, also because it was VE Day. VE Day (Victory in Europe) was the day of the Nazi surrender in WW2, and so the whole town, and I can only assume the whole country, was alive and partying. There were streamers, and musicians playing in the streets. All of the privately owned shops in the city were closed, however all the stores on the main strip stayed open. Around near the pier, there stood a huge memorial to all the French soldiers. Massive crowds gathered around for most of the day while heads of state stopped by periodically to pay their respects, and get their photo ops with other country officials.
Because food was so expensive here, I tried to hold off for lunch as long as I could. I discovered though, that the cheapest places to eat were all right around my hostel, which was still a little way from the beach. The further down, closer to the beach you got, the more expensive the food was. So if I was going to eat something, I needed to do it while I was still near my hostel, otherwise wait until I headed back in that direction.
For the rest of the day, all I prettymuch did was walk around, and lay out on the beach. It was nice to just lounge around. It seems I've been having a lot of time lately, to just hang around. The beginning of my trip was almost non stop action, and constant motion, but now I think I've hit a lull in my trip where things seem to be slowing down a little. However with all this time to just sit around, the boredom and loneliness starts to set in.
You can really only walk through so many places, and the beautiful places to see in Nice are all right there on the coast and down the strip. After you've covered that, you just find a relaxing place to lay down, and bake under the sun. There aren't really any cool little shops here like there are in other cities in Europe, everything's part of a massive chain, and all the stores along the strip sell clothes, and souveniers you can prettymuch buy anywhere for half the price. On the other side of the big touristy hill, there are a bunch of cool antique shops near the harbor, but they were all closed today for the holliday. I sat, and I people watched for a lot of the day.
In terms of beautiful people, the French Riviera is certainly full of them. Walking along the beach here can be torture on any man with moral fiber. Women lay topless, sunbathing shamelessly sprawled out on the rocks. However, I'm somewhat desensitized to nudity since I've been in Europe. This whole area just about got over the whole nakedness thing long ago. It's portrayed in their paintings, statues and architecture. On billboards and every commercial women are very seldom ever clothed, and as long as the women's nether regions aren't shown (or she sits in a way to cover it up), it's all fair game. On primetime TV you've got cartoons and sesame street and topless women on adjacent channels. It's just a different culture. In the Middle East you couldn't even show a woman's neck on regular TV. Back in America, we have sort of the middle ground, but here in Europe it's all very acceptable. In a way I think that's pretty cool. From the time these people are little kids they see nudity all over the place, and they start not to associate it at purely sexual. It's just another human body, and as a result of seeing it that way, they're much more comfortable with themselves. I wish I had half the confidence in my own body to walk out there on the beach wearing the banana hammocks so treasured by old, fat French men. It is true what they say, that 90 percent of the naked people on beaches in France are not the sort you want to see naked. The good looking ones are few and far between.
When the sun finally went down, I watched the sunset sitting on the rocks near the shore. Behind me, a group of guys from South America had gotten a fire going, and sat in a circle around it playing a wide assortment of drums. A couple of them cast lines into the ocean, hoping to catch something they could cook over their open fire. They played on well into the night, and the little French town took on, again that tropical feel. A little ways further down the beach I called my sister, Amy. I started to miss home a little, and needed someone familiar to talk to.
It's hard meeting people, knowing you'll probably never see them again. I long for a friend here that'll know who I am the next day. For the past 2 months I've lived a life of single-serving friends, leaving again to meet all new ones who I'll eventually have to leave also. After a while of that, you start to feel removable. It's as if the world turns, and you're standing above watching. I pop in and out of people's lives everyday, but it's importaint to feel anchored to something, or more specifically, someone. I love the people I've met, and I love that I continue to meet new people, but I miss my friends and family who know me. These people I've spent time learning about, and getting to know are really the only things that keep me from fading out of existance altogether. I have identity because I have people who know me. My name is just a label, and my image, just a face; but who I am resides in the hearts of those who miss me when I'm gone.
I felt much better after connecting with my sister. She told me to go walk around and buy myself a lavish drink, on her. That night I met, and talked and laughed with some of my roommates who were mostly all leaving in the morning. It was good to meet them, but it was sad to see them go.
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The city looked a lot different in the light, although not any less spectacular. People were everywhere, piled into shops, and clustered around street vendors like gulls after a bread crust. The prices, even on the tiny vendors, were grossly overpriced. Everyone was here to for the sole purpose of spending lots of money, and lounging on the beach. As I walked, my nostrils were filled with that comforting smell of sea salt and sunscreen, which I'd come to love back home. To me it always smelled like summer, and good friends. I stopped and closed my eyes and pretend I was back home for a while, which was not hard. The architecture in Southern California is all based on that French Riviera style. The houses adorned with clay shingles are all like those in San Juan Capistrano, and Santa Barbara. The plant arrangements, and coastline back home are all a part of that Medditerranean feel. Often I forgot I was even in France, because none of it looked at all like Colmar or other images I'd had in my mind of France. The beach itself however, doesn't look anything like back home. The sand is not really sand at all, but rocks. It's not even like the beach is rocky. At home me have Doheny Beach which is full of rocks, and after walking around in the sand for a while your feet'll start to bleed. However the rocks here are all smoothe like the hot stones they use for spa treatments. It's strange to see the coastline covered with these perfectly smoothe stones, as of someone individually laid them there.
Today was an interesting day to be in France, also because it was VE Day. VE Day (Victory in Europe) was the day of the Nazi surrender in WW2, and so the whole town, and I can only assume the whole country, was alive and partying. There were streamers, and musicians playing in the streets. All of the privately owned shops in the city were closed, however all the stores on the main strip stayed open. Around near the pier, there stood a huge memorial to all the French soldiers. Massive crowds gathered around for most of the day while heads of state stopped by periodically to pay their respects, and get their photo ops with other country officials.
Because food was so expensive here, I tried to hold off for lunch as long as I could. I discovered though, that the cheapest places to eat were all right around my hostel, which was still a little way from the beach. The further down, closer to the beach you got, the more expensive the food was. So if I was going to eat something, I needed to do it while I was still near my hostel, otherwise wait until I headed back in that direction.
For the rest of the day, all I prettymuch did was walk around, and lay out on the beach. It was nice to just lounge around. It seems I've been having a lot of time lately, to just hang around. The beginning of my trip was almost non stop action, and constant motion, but now I think I've hit a lull in my trip where things seem to be slowing down a little. However with all this time to just sit around, the boredom and loneliness starts to set in.
You can really only walk through so many places, and the beautiful places to see in Nice are all right there on the coast and down the strip. After you've covered that, you just find a relaxing place to lay down, and bake under the sun. There aren't really any cool little shops here like there are in other cities in Europe, everything's part of a massive chain, and all the stores along the strip sell clothes, and souveniers you can prettymuch buy anywhere for half the price. On the other side of the big touristy hill, there are a bunch of cool antique shops near the harbor, but they were all closed today for the holliday. I sat, and I people watched for a lot of the day.
In terms of beautiful people, the French Riviera is certainly full of them. Walking along the beach here can be torture on any man with moral fiber. Women lay topless, sunbathing shamelessly sprawled out on the rocks. However, I'm somewhat desensitized to nudity since I've been in Europe. This whole area just about got over the whole nakedness thing long ago. It's portrayed in their paintings, statues and architecture. On billboards and every commercial women are very seldom ever clothed, and as long as the women's nether regions aren't shown (or she sits in a way to cover it up), it's all fair game. On primetime TV you've got cartoons and sesame street and topless women on adjacent channels. It's just a different culture. In the Middle East you couldn't even show a woman's neck on regular TV. Back in America, we have sort of the middle ground, but here in Europe it's all very acceptable. In a way I think that's pretty cool. From the time these people are little kids they see nudity all over the place, and they start not to associate it at purely sexual. It's just another human body, and as a result of seeing it that way, they're much more comfortable with themselves. I wish I had half the confidence in my own body to walk out there on the beach wearing the banana hammocks so treasured by old, fat French men. It is true what they say, that 90 percent of the naked people on beaches in France are not the sort you want to see naked. The good looking ones are few and far between.
When the sun finally went down, I watched the sunset sitting on the rocks near the shore. Behind me, a group of guys from South America had gotten a fire going, and sat in a circle around it playing a wide assortment of drums. A couple of them cast lines into the ocean, hoping to catch something they could cook over their open fire. They played on well into the night, and the little French town took on, again that tropical feel. A little ways further down the beach I called my sister, Amy. I started to miss home a little, and needed someone familiar to talk to.
It's hard meeting people, knowing you'll probably never see them again. I long for a friend here that'll know who I am the next day. For the past 2 months I've lived a life of single-serving friends, leaving again to meet all new ones who I'll eventually have to leave also. After a while of that, you start to feel removable. It's as if the world turns, and you're standing above watching. I pop in and out of people's lives everyday, but it's importaint to feel anchored to something, or more specifically, someone. I love the people I've met, and I love that I continue to meet new people, but I miss my friends and family who know me. These people I've spent time learning about, and getting to know are really the only things that keep me from fading out of existance altogether. I have identity because I have people who know me. My name is just a label, and my image, just a face; but who I am resides in the hearts of those who miss me when I'm gone.
I felt much better after connecting with my sister. She told me to go walk around and buy myself a lavish drink, on her. That night I met, and talked and laughed with some of my roommates who were mostly all leaving in the morning. It was good to meet them, but it was sad to see them go.
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Thursday, May 8, 2008
Too Nice 5/7/08
That morning I woke up early with the rest of the crew who were leaving this morning. The night before, Randy and I had found me a train in the morning going to Nice. Janelle, Amanda, and Daniel had to catch a train to Paris at 10:01, and my train was at 10:45, so the plan was for me to catch a ride in the morning down to the train station with Randy and all the rest of them so that Jan and Randy would only have to take one trip to get all of us to the train station. We all got ready, and said goodbye to Jan as she left. She had somewhere she had to be in the morning as well, so all hugged her goodbye before we all loaded up into the car to head off.
When we got to the train station, the other kids all bought their train tickets, and we all got situated out on the platform waiting for the first train to arrive, which was theirs to Paris. When we were all situated, we said goodbye to Randy, and thanked him for his amazing hospitality. He asked me to write down my parent's emails and phone number for him, because he said he'd love to get back in contact with my parents after all these years. He hugged me goodbye, and said we were all welcome back anytime.
Shortly after, the train to Paris arrived, and so I said goodbye to Janelle, Amanda and Daniel, and then walked across to the next platform to wait for my train. As their train pulled away, I just caught a glimpse of Daniel's hair in the window, and laughed a bit to myself.
For the rest of the day, I rode the trains. My trip was 10 and a half hours from Colmar to Nice. On the way, I changed trains twice. I didn't really have any issue changing trains. I do it a lot now, so I've gotten the hang of it; it doesn't matter what language it's in. On one of the trains, I sat next to a really nice French kid my age. His name was Aubey, and he asked me why I'd decided to travel to such a random place as Aixen. I told him I was changing trains to get to Nice. In his very best English, he explained to me which he thought the best areas in Nice were, and we talked about Nice, and school for pretty much the next 2 hours until we finally arrived at the station. He quickly jotted down the spots to see on the back of his bookmark with the naked cartoon woman on it, and handed it to me. I thanked him, and shook his hand goodbye.
Throughout the day, I kept telling myself that now would be the best time, since I had nothing to do for 10 hours, to catch up on the blogs I missed. However, I just didn't want to do them right now. Every time I tried, I just couldn't seem to put the words down, and I couldn't keep myself focused. I eventually just put my phone away, and figured that if I really wasn't into writing these blogs right now, forcing myself would only make them crappy blogs, and that doesn't help anyone. I finally just succumbed to sit and stare out the window. I didn't really think about anything at all, to my surprise. My mind was blank. I was bored like I've ever been, but I didn't want to do anything but sit there, and stare.
When I got to Nice, I had little trouble finding a hostel right near the train station at 20 euros a night. After I'd checked into my room. I decided to go out and explore the city. It was just about 10:00 at night, but still the whole city was alive and partying like it was noon. All the shops, and restaurants were still open. All the street performers were still out performing, and tourists were still out walking. This city seriously doesn't sleep at all.
I walked down the main street, which was covered in festive blue lights to a huge square painted like a checkerboard. In the square, the lamps were shaped like some kind of meditating buddhist monk in various poses, and lighted up different colors. I made my way through all this to a giant fountain just past a beautiful park. This whole area is the real nice touristy part with street performers and nice restaurants everywhere, and it's like this all the way up to the beach. The hillside next to the sea, is all lit up at night as well, and gives it very much of a luau in Hawaii sort of feel. The weather's too warm for jackets even at night, and the air smells sweet and almost tropical.
When I got down to the beach, the whole coastline was filled with people gathered around in large groups, drinking, laughing and burning bonfires on the beach. The air smelled like home in the summer, and surfaced cherished memories in my mind. I walked along the beach through group after group, watching them as I went by, and thinking about how I'm catching a glimpse of what will one day be a highly cherished memory to them too. I walked until I got to a group of people my age speaking words only Americans say. I stopped, and walked over to them. I told them I was so glad to hear some people down here speaking American, all I'd heard so far was French. I introduced myself, and asked where they were all from. They said they were from all over, but mainly east coast. They were on some kind of French field trip for students trying to learn French. They asked where I was from and what I was doing here, and so I told them a little about my adventures. I got talking to really 2 of them specifically, Lisa and Spencer. Lisa was from Ohio, and I can't remember where Spencer was from, but sort of befriended them a little bit, and they invited me to sit with them. I told them I wanted to go explore around a bit more, but I'd probably be back. In these sort of situations, you don't want to just show up and overstay your welcome. I've found that you can only just show up uninvited to a group if you have something to offer that's worth their while, like an interesting story or something to keep the group entertained. Once you run out of stories, and interesting things to talk about, you need to move on and not just linger around like dead weight. If you leave at the right time, you'll most likely be invited back. Then when you're invited, you don't have to try so hard to entertain them.
So I walked down the beach a ways further, and found several other Americans who must have been in high school, or just entering college. They were all blind drunk, and acting as teenagers do when drunk. I walked right past them, not stopping to say hello, they wouldn't remember me if I did anyway. On my way back, I found the original group of Americans again, and by that time they were just leaving. They wished me good luck in my travels, and I said it was nice to meet them, and I continued walking down the beach. I felt good about that group, they seemed to like me, and I did good about not seeming clingy or creepy walking up to them and randomly starting conversation. I'm sure that if I end up seeing them again while I'm here, they'll be happy to see me.
I'm learning more and more about being social. It's a very hard skill to get the hang of, especially when you have to go find people and start up conversations for no real good reason. It's a lot easier being introduced, or being put in a scenario where you're forced to communicate. However it's important, especially when traveling, to be able to just be sociable and seek out the groups and conversations worth talking about. That's how you meet the really interesting people. That's also really the best way to ward off loneliness too, when you're in an unfamiliar place where no one knows you. Usually around here, people aren't going to just introduce themselves and invite me in to their inner circles (however that has happened). I usually have to approach them, and see to it myself that a connection's made. That's where I'm trying to learn how to develop my social skills, and get over this innate fear of people that most Americans have. In the long run, I'm sure I'll be much happier knowing that I can make friends anywhere, and talk to people I really want to talk to.
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When we got to the train station, the other kids all bought their train tickets, and we all got situated out on the platform waiting for the first train to arrive, which was theirs to Paris. When we were all situated, we said goodbye to Randy, and thanked him for his amazing hospitality. He asked me to write down my parent's emails and phone number for him, because he said he'd love to get back in contact with my parents after all these years. He hugged me goodbye, and said we were all welcome back anytime.
Shortly after, the train to Paris arrived, and so I said goodbye to Janelle, Amanda and Daniel, and then walked across to the next platform to wait for my train. As their train pulled away, I just caught a glimpse of Daniel's hair in the window, and laughed a bit to myself.
For the rest of the day, I rode the trains. My trip was 10 and a half hours from Colmar to Nice. On the way, I changed trains twice. I didn't really have any issue changing trains. I do it a lot now, so I've gotten the hang of it; it doesn't matter what language it's in. On one of the trains, I sat next to a really nice French kid my age. His name was Aubey, and he asked me why I'd decided to travel to such a random place as Aixen. I told him I was changing trains to get to Nice. In his very best English, he explained to me which he thought the best areas in Nice were, and we talked about Nice, and school for pretty much the next 2 hours until we finally arrived at the station. He quickly jotted down the spots to see on the back of his bookmark with the naked cartoon woman on it, and handed it to me. I thanked him, and shook his hand goodbye.
Throughout the day, I kept telling myself that now would be the best time, since I had nothing to do for 10 hours, to catch up on the blogs I missed. However, I just didn't want to do them right now. Every time I tried, I just couldn't seem to put the words down, and I couldn't keep myself focused. I eventually just put my phone away, and figured that if I really wasn't into writing these blogs right now, forcing myself would only make them crappy blogs, and that doesn't help anyone. I finally just succumbed to sit and stare out the window. I didn't really think about anything at all, to my surprise. My mind was blank. I was bored like I've ever been, but I didn't want to do anything but sit there, and stare.
When I got to Nice, I had little trouble finding a hostel right near the train station at 20 euros a night. After I'd checked into my room. I decided to go out and explore the city. It was just about 10:00 at night, but still the whole city was alive and partying like it was noon. All the shops, and restaurants were still open. All the street performers were still out performing, and tourists were still out walking. This city seriously doesn't sleep at all.
I walked down the main street, which was covered in festive blue lights to a huge square painted like a checkerboard. In the square, the lamps were shaped like some kind of meditating buddhist monk in various poses, and lighted up different colors. I made my way through all this to a giant fountain just past a beautiful park. This whole area is the real nice touristy part with street performers and nice restaurants everywhere, and it's like this all the way up to the beach. The hillside next to the sea, is all lit up at night as well, and gives it very much of a luau in Hawaii sort of feel. The weather's too warm for jackets even at night, and the air smells sweet and almost tropical.
When I got down to the beach, the whole coastline was filled with people gathered around in large groups, drinking, laughing and burning bonfires on the beach. The air smelled like home in the summer, and surfaced cherished memories in my mind. I walked along the beach through group after group, watching them as I went by, and thinking about how I'm catching a glimpse of what will one day be a highly cherished memory to them too. I walked until I got to a group of people my age speaking words only Americans say. I stopped, and walked over to them. I told them I was so glad to hear some people down here speaking American, all I'd heard so far was French. I introduced myself, and asked where they were all from. They said they were from all over, but mainly east coast. They were on some kind of French field trip for students trying to learn French. They asked where I was from and what I was doing here, and so I told them a little about my adventures. I got talking to really 2 of them specifically, Lisa and Spencer. Lisa was from Ohio, and I can't remember where Spencer was from, but sort of befriended them a little bit, and they invited me to sit with them. I told them I wanted to go explore around a bit more, but I'd probably be back. In these sort of situations, you don't want to just show up and overstay your welcome. I've found that you can only just show up uninvited to a group if you have something to offer that's worth their while, like an interesting story or something to keep the group entertained. Once you run out of stories, and interesting things to talk about, you need to move on and not just linger around like dead weight. If you leave at the right time, you'll most likely be invited back. Then when you're invited, you don't have to try so hard to entertain them.
So I walked down the beach a ways further, and found several other Americans who must have been in high school, or just entering college. They were all blind drunk, and acting as teenagers do when drunk. I walked right past them, not stopping to say hello, they wouldn't remember me if I did anyway. On my way back, I found the original group of Americans again, and by that time they were just leaving. They wished me good luck in my travels, and I said it was nice to meet them, and I continued walking down the beach. I felt good about that group, they seemed to like me, and I did good about not seeming clingy or creepy walking up to them and randomly starting conversation. I'm sure that if I end up seeing them again while I'm here, they'll be happy to see me.
I'm learning more and more about being social. It's a very hard skill to get the hang of, especially when you have to go find people and start up conversations for no real good reason. It's a lot easier being introduced, or being put in a scenario where you're forced to communicate. However it's important, especially when traveling, to be able to just be sociable and seek out the groups and conversations worth talking about. That's how you meet the really interesting people. That's also really the best way to ward off loneliness too, when you're in an unfamiliar place where no one knows you. Usually around here, people aren't going to just introduce themselves and invite me in to their inner circles (however that has happened). I usually have to approach them, and see to it myself that a connection's made. That's where I'm trying to learn how to develop my social skills, and get over this innate fear of people that most Americans have. In the long run, I'm sure I'll be much happier knowing that I can make friends anywhere, and talk to people I really want to talk to.
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