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Published: December 3rd 2005
Hello Reader.
As soon as someone stepped away from the counter at the train station in Toulouse, I jumpped in. I told the attendant that our train was supposed to leave in nine minutes and she asked the others waiting if any of them... well, I ASSUME she asked them if I could go before them, it was probably more like 'This idiot's gonna miss a train, do you mind?' Either way, she quoted a price, we gave the money, and we were on the train only moments before it pulled away.
The train ride took almost six hours. We had a stop over in Narbonne and grabbed some food. Nick and I talked for the entire trip about philosophy, movies, traveling, music, and Gloria Estefan. The train finally pulled into the enormous station and we found our way to the area where our hostel was supposed to be. We searched and asked directions, to which we got four different answers, trying to find it. On a wet street corner, there was a guy leaning against the wall, drinking a beer he had just bought off a guy in the street, and he had a backpack on.
Nick
An Olympic Kiss
Love actually is all around.began talking to him. American, traveling, alone, looking for the same hostel, (but obviously in no rush), his name was Tucker. The three of us began looking together and were then we were approached by a long haired, skinny Italian who invited us to a hostel for a cheap rate (fourteen euro). I was definitely apprehensive at first, but the other two were open to it.
He led us to a hostel with nice, clean rooms, our own bathrooms, and a really cool staff. By the time we got settled, it was past midnight and the closest place serving any sort of food was a Kebab outfit just 'round the corner. It was four euro for a large wrap and a water... not bad. We went to the room and slept.
Tucker got up early and went to rent a bike... we didn't really see him until later that night for dinner. Nick and I slept in... we didn't really leave til about twelve. There was an open bar/cafe that we stopped in for breakfast. A ham and cheese sandwich, churros, and hot chocolate the consistency of melted Hershey kisses that have been left in your pocket for
The Olympic Stadium
The old soccer stadium has been converted to a Starbucks. too long. We headed to Las Ramblas, a street with all the shops, bars, restaurants, and life. From there we went to the beach. For the first time, I knelt down and touched the Mediterranean Sea. It felt wet, just like I had expected. The sun was shining and the sand was soft and I just closed my eyes and took it in... then I got soaked by a wave, obviously indifferent to my state of zen. Nick and I took some pictures and walked along the beach until we got to this giant whale like structure made of woven metal. Dumbfounded, we took pictures of it.
We set out to look for the Olympic park and soccer stadium. It took some asking, but we found it on top of a hill. We took the metro, than a bus until we finally found it and we both dramatically ran up the stairs while holding pretend torches and singing the Olympics song. We got in and confused some American tourists by asking where the Olympic Stadium was. We caught the sunset at the perfect time and I took a picture of two people kissing in front of it.
Back
Tucker
Our friend in Barcelona. at the hostel, we met Tucker and headed over to a 'Travel Bar' where we got a free meal and a beer for one euro (a special deal given to the people who stay in our hostel). The meal was rice and chili... at least it was hot, and the beer worked. We went to the internet cafe for a while to try to set up a meeting on Friday night. Nick was the organizer, I was the Vice-President. Afterwards, Tucker, Nick, and I went to grab one last beer before we headed to the hostel to sleep for the night. Tucker took a ride on his bike around town until three in the morning. This would be his last free night in Europe he was headed back to Maine after two months of traveling.
Ang the rock star pulled through for us. She had messaged Becks, a couchsurfing host just outside of Brcelona in Vilanova, she was Ang's old roommate. Becks, without knowing anything about us, trusted Ang's word and agreed to let us stay with her. She has two roommates in Vilanova, Miguel, from Spain, and Sarah, who went to school with Becks in England, near Manchester.
Becks and Sarah
Need I say more. Nick and I awoke and got another Kebab (for breakfast at noon - our third Kebab in two days, our fifth in four days) and parted ways with the Tuckmeister. Nick and I made our way to Vilanova where we called Becks from a pay phone at the train station, it ate my money and then only gave me only thirty seconds per euro when I finally got through... Nick almost ripped the phone off the block.
Becks and Sarah met us at the station, a two minute walk from their flat. Both are supermodels... well, maybe not, but close enough. They showed us their nice apartment and then Becks showed us a little bit of Vilanova until she had to go to work (an English teacher) at five in the afternoon until twelve. Nick and I again headed to the beach and were there just before the sunset again. Orange and pink tie-dyed the sky, like someone had spilled guava juice, until the sun finally sank into the horizon. I wondered how people who lived there could resist coming to see it everyday of their lives.
Nick and I looked for a restaurant but there were none open until about eight-thirty. Spanish culture obviously doesn't take hunger into consideration. We found a small cafe that made us a couple of hamburgers and went home to hang out with Sarah and Miguel. The three of us (minus Miguel) went to an internet cafe and then to meet Becks after her work. We went to a couple of bars and talked like old friends. The night ended about two am, after going back to Becks house and drinking two bottles of champagne. I took the couch, Nick took the matress. He owes me one.
I woke up a little early, just before eleven, and checked my e-mail. I stopped at the grocery store on the way back and picked up three big oranges and two apples for one euro (Extremely cheap), and some croissants and stuff for breakfast for Sarah and Nick (Becks had gone to a class).
When Becks finally got back, the four of us (Nick, Sarah, Becks, and I) went to pizza hut where we stuffed ourselves full for six euro. They started to watch Garden State, and I went out for a walk. Nick and I left our bags at the flat in Vilanova and caught a train into Barcelona and made it there just after seven pm. We ate Subway and went to meet our couchsurfers in Plaza de Catalunya. While waiting for everyone to arrive, about twenty different street vendors had set up blankets with their goods on display, the police came shortly and they all took off like the running of the bulls, but they were street vendors. They started yelling at me when I took a picture of them.
Nick was happy that his first organized meeting produced eight attendees. Zuki, Viet-Namese but from everywhere and now living in Finland, Frederico, from Italy studying evolution of the mind and artificial intelligence, Rose, from Holland with a great laugh and perfect English, Carmilla, from Brazil who was studying human rights in Italy for a year, Monica, from the North of Spain studying Art and liked Eighties music (like Nick), and Gerard, Monica's boyfriend from Barcelona, an engineer who wants to move to Ireland - and of course Nick and me, the Vice-President.
Monica led us to a sandwich shop and then to a bar. We ordered three liters of Agua de Valencia (Mimosas - more or less) and split it among all of us. If this really is what water in Valencia is like, I'm definitely moving there. We left and went to a club called Otto Zutz, half of the group got in, but two girls didn't have proper shoes on (which was a crap excuse) and weren't allowed in... The real reason was because I am black - by location. Nick had gotten in for a few minutes before he met us all back outside and he told me it was the real deal. A nice place with good music.
Feeling a little down, we headed to another bar and met another couchsurfer (Daniel). We got in at a quarter to three and they had just stopped serving drinks. We danced anyways for fifteen minutes and I took some funny pictures. The bar closed and we went our seperate ways. Nick and I would have to wait until almost six in the morning to catch the train to Vilanova so Monica allowed us to hang out in her apartment with Gerard and Carmilla until about five, when we left for the station. I slept until we had to leave. We caught the train, on which I slept again, and finally made it to her flat and to sleep for real at seven this morning. I slept until one-thirty.
Today I am resting up for another night of partying with my new CS friends, but this time Sarah and Becks will be coming. Which will make me more attractive by association. I don't know if I could ever get used to this lifestyle of partying all night and sleeping until noon. But this seems to be a completely acceptable way of life here. In the meantime, I am 'doing as the Spaniards do.'
Tomorrow I head to Valencia to check it out. (That is, if I survive tonight.) After all, Valencia might end up being my home for the next few months.
I have some great pictures already picked out for this entry, I will add them as soon as possible.
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Aussie Anth
Anthony Castanza
Spanish life
I figured this is what would happen once in Spain. I know people who have gone and they all say the nightlife is above average, if not great. But cool for you for going to your first euro club. lol its funny this trip so far, you have consumed more alcohol than you have since you turned 21, or so it seems =P Well have fun partying and drinking and speaking spanish ( which i know you have been waiting for ), as all of us WORK! boo.. :( Don't get too used to that lifestyle! Glenny, John, Simona, Naomi and uhh...someone else i forgot say hi. in the past 2 days about 20 people no lie asked me about you. We all miss you.