Paris – The Romantic City

We woke up on the train at 7:30am in Paris, France.  As we stepped groggily into this new city, the cherry blossoms painted the riverside and the smell of blooming flowers filled the air.  We visited Notre Dame then decided to find lunch.  I told Adrian he could pick and he chose Mexican Restaurant!!!  We were both a little scared when we decided to spend a day in Paris because neither of us know any French.  I can't even count past ten.  Imagine our delight when we found out that our server at the Mexican place spoke Spanish!  We had just spent 19 days mastering the art of ordering food in Spanish, so it was the perfect thing to make us feel comfortable in the strange new city.  Also, Mexican food in Paris is WAY better than Mexican food in New York. 

After lunch, we discovered the subway (metro) system.  At last, something I felt at home figuring out; no one needs to know the language when there are colors and numbers associated with destinations.  Besides, anyone who can navigate the tangled convoluted mess that it is the NYC subway system can definitely decipher the simple zigzag that is Paris. 

That evening we set out an hour or so before sunset to check out Montmartre.  This is a huge hill (small mountain) with a church at the top.  The real gem was that the mountain overlooked the entire city and we enjoyed watching the sun go down over a pink-painted Paris.   I knew when we decided to stop in Paris that it was mostly for the food;  I worked at a wonderful French restaurant in Colorado and have never been the same since!  We found the cutest little restaurant, "Le Basilic" at the foot of Montmartre and enjoyed the wine, the prix fix meal and the romantic atmosphere.  By the time we finished our bottle of wine and stumbled out of the restaurant into the Paris night, we could definitely see why everyone says that it is the most romantic city in the world.  We wandered over to the Eifel tower just in time for the Midnight light show (actually, I think they do it every hour).  We marveled in wonder at its imposing stature, and went back to the hotel to prepare for our trip to Amsterdam the next day.

Everyone always says that the French hate Americans and that they will all be rude to tourists.  If I had visited Paris 2 years ago, before living in New York, I would have completely agreed.  I found that the Parisians were no more impatient than your typical New Yorker.  It may be that the French hate Americans, but if that is true, then I can say that New Yorkers hate EVERYONE.  We were awfully humble when we asked people if they spoke English, rather than assuming they did and as a result; we only encountered good will and helpful attitudes. 

Barcelona

Barcelona was very beautiful but it was the first city where we came across tourists as plentiful as in New York.  There is this long walkway that ends up at the harbor - it's called the Ramblas.  There were all sorts of 'characters' dressed up along the way hoping for donations.  There were fairy princesses, a sleeping mime and a few elaborate demons.  When I asked a friend what we should while in Barcelona, his advice was to check out the works of Gaudi, an architect who died in the first quarter of the 1900's.  His work looks like it could have been done last year, the ultimate in modernism.  It was all very colorful, the most recognizable was the colorful mosaics.  It was obvious that his architecture shook up the city, as there are so many things that have been made to 'look' like his work and it is somewhat the signature style of the city. We walked and walked and walked from place to place looking for more of his work and taking loads of pictures. 

We went to Park Guell, Guell being a tycoon who loved Gaudi's work and commissioned him often.  Park Guell is a pretty big park on the side of a huge hill (mountain even?) and Gaudi's work can be found throughout.  Here is a website where you can see more of what the park is all about (right click and open in a new window).  There are stone walkways that are supported by what looks like petrified, scaled trees. 

There's an amazing plaza with beautiful mosaic features and borders and the buildings on the property look like something the witch from Hansel and Gretel fashioned from colorful marble and glass.    It really took my breath away, over and over again.

Last day in Valencia

Before heading to Barcelona, we decided to walk around the 'old' part of Valencia.  This included a huge Moorish 'Gate' at the edge of town.  It was a mini castle, and of course, I enjoyed it thoroughly.  We wandered into town and found a stand that sold the tools to make Paella - a very famous rice dish which is the signature of Spanish food.  I was itching for some authentic Paella and it is understood that 'real' Paella is made on Sundays.  I decided that this would be a good place to start in search of the perfect Paella.  I asked the clerk where we could find a good Paella place and without hesitating, she pulled out a piece of paper and wrote down the name of a restaurant - El Forcat -  along with the cross streets of where it was located.  She then told me how to get there, in Spanish.  I nodded as though I understood and walked in the direction she had pointed.  Now would be a good time for me to point out how bad I am with verbal instructions in English I am a very visual person and without a map, or at least all of the words written on paper (in English), I am pretty much lost.  As we walked around for a while, I realized we weren't going to stumble upon it so I stopped at a Souvenir shop and asked how to find the place written on my slip of paper.  This guy also gave me instructions in Spanish.  Another lady in the shop and pulled out a very small map and showed me where to find it in a sea of interwoven and seemingly circular streets. 

We finally managed to locate it and walked in.  The restaurant was empty.  We asked if they were open and she said that they would open in a few minutes.  We quickly found out that she spoke English and asked if we could get a table.  We explained that the woman from the Paella market had given us their name as the best Paella.  She told us that usually people need a reservation on the Weekends, but that they would make an exception and fit us in.  This was one of the most wonderful meals I've ever had.  It was about 5 courses, including Paella of course, and we enjoyed it as families on Sunday gathered with their friends after Church and casually dined.  Afterwards, with overly full bellies and heads full of Spanish wine, we went to the nearby park and fell asleep in the sun.  It was by far the most wonderful day I've had in Spain!

 

Escaping Granada: Peñon de Ifach

On our way from Granada to Valencia, there is a town called "Calp/Calpe" - yes, that's how it's listed on the map, and we have no idea why.  Before heading off to another country, I decided to buy some travel guides.  "Spain's Best Loved Driving Tours" suggested a stop in Calp/Calpe to hike up a certain "Peon de Ifach".  It says only this about the rock: "Recommended Walks: The fit and energetic should enjoy a walk up a good path to the summit of the Peon de Ifach (about 1 hours), from where there is a panoramic view of the Costa Blanca."  Now to me, that sounds very pleasant.  First of all, it's listed as a 'walk', not a hike or scramble.  Being from Colorado, I assumed it would be more like a hike, simply because the word summit was in there.  Also, I assumed that the amount of time given was not only a slight exaggeration, but also a round trip figure, rather than just the one way to the top.  Two and a half hours after leaving our car at the base, we returned both triumphant and parched.  What we got was a walk/hike/scramble that was more than two thirds on very shaky ground over a very shiny and slippery rock - Adrian thought it was Granite, it reminded me more of Rose Quartz, but the kind that has been polished by thousands of hiking boots.  We scrambled though hundreds of seagull - like birds' habitats.  The entire time, there was always a view of white sand beaches with white waves crashing and endless Mediterranean ocean as far as we could see.  We joked, talked nonsense and laughed the entire way up.  There were many alternate trails that didn't reach the summit (and weren't as fraught with peril), but in the end we got up to the summit and enjoyed the unique view while basking in each others' company.  It was a blast!

I don’t know which days these were – Malaga and Granada

It has been a while since I posted, we were out of internet-able hotels for a few days.  We went to Malaga, a beautiful coastal town, my first taste of Playa - beach and the furthest south we will be during this trip.   The weather was sunny and gorgeous; I have the sun-burnt nose to prove it!  We went to the MOST amazing place I've ever been:  Alcazaba and Castillo de Gibralfo - a huge fortress/group of castles.  It was originally started in the eleventh century by the Moors, then taken over by the Christians, a very common theme throughout Spain due to the history of the region.  We were able to walk the castle walls as the soldiers who defended the fortress did.  I was absolutely awestruck throughout the 5 hours we spent walking around.  It's a good thing I got my taste of castle/fortress', because when we showed up to Alhambra in Granada- the last Moorish Stronghold of Spain and supposedly really cool attraction, they were SOLD OUT!  On the way from Valencia to Granada, we wove around the coast line and enjoyed the amazing Mediterranean views, breathtaking!  Once we got to Granada, we settled into our hotel room and went for some dinner.  We stopped at a diner that had a poster of the Rockefeller workers(The one with the beams suspended above central park) on the wall. The waiter kept trying to convince me that it was the Empire State Building!  His brother had visited New York two Christmas' ago.  The next morning we woke up, took our time and had breakfast, then got in the car for a quick hop over to Alhambra (about 2 kilometers).  Turns out Granada had different plans.  As we drove through the tiny streets, we realized that Granada was taking us for a ride.  The only major street going to where we wanted to be was closed to regular traffic- buses and taxis (and apparently suicidal scooter drivers) only. We went in circles about 5 times before finally breaking out of the labyrinth by going the opposite direction of where we wanted to be, going to the very end of town, getting on the highway and following the signs to Alhambra, 45 minutes later.  It was at this point that we found out that Alhambra was sold out for the next two weeks!  Needless to say, I couldn't wait to escape the mountain city that had no consideration for what we wanted to do!

Day 6 – I wanna know: Have you ever seen the rain...

... comin' down on a sunny day?

Today, we witnessed the classic struggle of the elements.  The sun decided that it had gone too many days without showing its face over La Feria, while the clouds insisted they still had more to offer.  It would literally rain for five minutes and then be sunny for the next ten.  I'm ashamed to admit that legends of McDonalds in Europe piqued my curiosity and I dragged Adrian (kicking and screaming) to one of their fine chains.  I'd like to report: the only difference is that they put mustard on their burgers and that you have to pay extra if you want ketchup for your fries.  They had more to their menu than what I am used to in The States, but I went with old faithful - El Quarto Libre con Queso, and I'm here to tell you, in Spain, despite their metric emphasis, they "know what the fcuk a quarter-pounder is."  It, along with the fries tasted just like their American counter parts complete with the sinking, "Why did I just put that crap in my body?" feeling you get at the end of the meal.  Coke, on the other hand, tastes a little different here.  We wandered over to the bull fighting rink and found out that seeing a bullfight in Sevilla is similar in price to seeing a Broadway show in New York.  You can get good prices, if you know where to look, but we had neither the knowledge of a good peddler nor the language to ask for one.  We decided to skip the confusion and perhaps try another day.  After shopping for some souvenirs and wandering around truly aimlessly, we went home.  A very unremarkable day in terms of what most would consider a European vacation; but in Adrian and Alyland, a lazy day is never considered a failure.

Day 5 – La Catedral y La Feria

We journeyed back to La Cathedral and paid admission to go in.  La Catedral is the most famous and notable place in Sevilla.  It's a huge cathedral that was built beginning in the 1600s.  I took many pictures and posted the best ones.  We could smell the age of everything in the air, it made me sneeze!  There was much treasure and many oil paintings.  We saw some Flamenco dancers making their way to the fair grounds and snapped some shots.  We also found a "Texas Lonestar Saloon Sports Bar" with tacos and guacamole; we didn't stop to eat there but were surprised to see a 100% American-aimed restaurant.

 
Later on, we walked about two miles to the fair grounds - La Feria.  La Feria began in the middle ages as a way to sell crops and goods to other towns.  Farmers and merchants would travel through many cities hoping to pay their bills.  Many cities throughout Spain have a Feria of their own, but Sevilla's Feria is widely known.  To us, it was simply a huge party.  There are many tents (casetas) next to one another, each with a different family or organization as the sponsor.  Inside each tent, families sat around and ate, drank, and most importantly: danced the Sevillanes - a local dance with Flamenco elements.  There seemed to be more women dressed up than men, but it is possible that they were just more remarkable with their brightly colored Flamenco dresses, each one tailored to fit perfectly and accentuate their curvy dimensions.  We wandered over to the Municipal Caseta (open to the public), only to find it was a hang-out for all of the teenagers who wanted to escape their watchful parents at their individual casetas.  My favorite irony was the 17 (or so) year old girl who had an elaborate Flamenco dress on (the utmost example of tradition and culture) with a cell phone stuffed in her cleavage for safe keeping.  There was a fair grounds attached with only the most dangerous looking thrill rides, even more scary due to the fact that they areportable.  After wandering around wide-eyed, we returned to the hotel and slept peacefully.

Day 4 – The rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain.

Not a lot to report; it was a lazy rainy day.  It would sprinkle, then pour, then sprinkle again, then came the wind.  When we went out for a dinner, we walked down a narrow street that had traffic backed up about half a mile.  A little bit down the road, we found out it was an oversized truck that had attempted to go down this street, but had realized at some point that it wasn't going to happen.  We kept moving and found the most amazing little tapas bar and ate gambas al ajillo (garlic shrimp - a lot like scampi) and Manchego cheese.    On our way back from dinner, a huge arbol (tree) actually fell into the street as we walked by.  It caused a big ruckus but it was on a major street so traffic was able to slowly go around.  Finally, as we got close to the hotel, we saw the truck that had been stopping traffic; it had reversed through the streets and was finally very close to being back to the main road, about two hours later.



Despite the plethora of sturdy umbrellas we have at home, we didn't bring one along.  This 5 dollar umbrealla is the worst.  It 'blows out' every few feet; something I thought only umbrellas in comedies did.

Day 3 – Mocos

Today, I woke up with a vicious cold and it rained on an off all day; it seemed to be off when we were in the hotel room, and then within 5 minutes of stepping out, it would begin to rain again.  We went to this restaurant that had a men del da posted (this is a good deal in Spain, you can get an entire meal for at least half of what you would pay for it if you ordered each item individually).  There were these two American kids (by kids, I mean college students) who we talked to for a little bit.  When the meal was about half over, the server brought us a bottle of red wine that the kids had bought for us in honor of our Honeymoon.  Very sweet!  We couldn't finish the bottle, but we put a good dent in it and wandered blearily to the internet place.  While Adrian took his turn, I went to a farmacia (pharmacy) to try and get something for all of my congestion.  Unfortunately, I have forgotten what I learned the week we studied illness and symptoms in Spanish Class.  I pointed to my sinuses and sniffed, juicily, at the pharmacist, and she emerged a few minutes later with some medicine.  I looked at her questioningly and she said "para mocos."  When she said that, we both giggled and then she asked how I say it in English, I told her, "boogers."  It's good to know that not only is moco one of the only words regarding illness I can remember in Spanish, but also that I still giggle like an 8 year old when I say booger (or moco, for that matter)!  The medicine box states that it has 'efervecentes' on the packaging, so I'm thinking it's a lot like alka-seltzer, the only problem is that is that I am only allowed to take it once a day.  I don't know of any medicine that can reduce symptoms for 24 hours.  We went back to the room to nap.  We emerged about 9pm and bought an entire chicken from a little corner store - it was delicious.  On our way back to the room, it started raining.  After a few hours of reading and Adrian playing some video games, we went out for a walk, around midnight.  We walked as far as we could - about a mile, until it started raining.  We turned around and came back to the hotel.  I finished book #1 and fell asleep at around 3am. 

 

To do tomorrow - Buy an umbrella.

 

We woke up a few hours ago (Day 4) - and it's been raining heartily the whole time. It looks like it won't care if we are coming or going today the sky is determined to cry on us all day long. 

Bob Marley

Day 2 – El Conquistador and Bob Marley

We started out the first full day in Sevilla by sleeping in until 11am.  Then we laid around for another couple of hours.  We finally took our showers and set out to explore.  We walked east for a while until we came across a little street restaurant and promptly ordered two Cafs con Leche (milk and coffee).  I must point out here that this is the yummiest form of caffeine ever to pass my lips.  Their sugar packs seem to hold about three times the normal amount we'd find in the US, but taking it to be the suggested serving size, I went with it.  While we were still waiting for the coffee to cool enough for drinking, we ordered two beers.  In Spain, you don't order a specific type of beer, you just ask for "Dos cervezas por favor," and they bring you whatever they have on tap, usually Cruzcampo, a very elegant version of Budweiser.  We gulped down our coffee and enjoyed a lazy lunch with beer.  We then continued the adventure by walking around aimlessly.  We saw amazing architecture, including El Universidad - which had a real moat surrounding it (no longer filled with water, only palm trees).  We made our way over to La Catedral and were stopped by two gypsies, offering us sprigs of rosemary.  We shook our heads and attempted to keep walking, but she thrust it in my hand, saying, "Un regalo," a gift.  Seizing the opportunity, she grabbed my hand and started pointing to different areas of my palm, prophesizing my future.  I have a strong heart, great love and will have two 'bambinos,' a boy and a girl.  She then rubbed her fingertips together, asking me to pay her for the fortune.  I explained that I didn't ask for the fortune, but she kept saying, "Dinero," money.  I walked over to where Adrian was, who had just undergone a similar encounter with the other woman and he asked me to give them money.  I pulled out two Euros and handed them over, as the woman who had assailed me shook her head in disgust and walked away.  "May I ask why we just rewarded their behavior?" Adrian replied, "They were gypsies, you don't mess with gypsies because they are unpredicatble; next time, we should just keep walking."  Lesson learned.  As soon as we were far enough away, I threw away the rosemary, not wanting the bad energy associated with them to follow us.  We continued to make our way through the city and found ourselves outside of the regular tourist area at a Plaza named after Hercules.  We decided more beer was in order and found another sidewalk caf.  As we enjoyed our glasses of beer, we watched two dogs, off leash, playing in the plaza.  The first was a dog covered in dreadlocks (I'm sure there is a breed name here, but I am unfamiliar), whom we affectionately named Bob Marley.  He just sauntered around with his dreadlocks bouncing.  The second dog was less descript but infinitely more animated.  He bounded around playfully, growling at anything that threatened his authority (i.e. moved faster than him, made more noise than him, etc.).  We decided his name was Princeton. 
There was a child's rattling toy that he came across at one point.  After a long time of trying to rip it apart to get to the noise making part, he finally got it perfectly within his 'grips' and pranced around the plaza growling, while it rattled, as though he had achieved some great feat.  Everyone in the area laughed at his display.   He was promptly promoted to "El Conquistador Princeton."  We later heard his owner call him 'Leo', but we decided that "El Conquistador" was more fitting.  I must also point out here (for the ladies) that our waiter looked like a cross between Johnny Depp and Orlando Bloom.

After going back to the hotel and napping for awhile, we emerged from our room at 11pm in search of dinner.  We settled at the fourth or fifth sidewalk caf we encountered and sat down.  When our waiter came along to take our order, we asked for some calamari, jamon serrano (cured ham) and croquettas.  When I asked him what the (insert Spanish word I can't remember here) was, he explained that it was a filet of beef.  I asked if it was good, and very animatedly (and in Spanish) he replied "Sure, if you want to throw up in la basura (the garbage) after eating it."  This prompted him to give us a full assessment of the restaurant we had innocently chosen at random.  He told us not to eat anything that wasn't cooked or fried to within an inch of its being.  He told us to never order jamon unless it was out in the open for us to see.  He told us all of this in English, because after seeing our eyes widen at the basura comment, he had figured out that we were American.  It turned out that he had been a tourist here at one point, too.  We found out that he was Italian. The first truly friendly person we came across was from another country.  Adrian got such a huge kick out of this guy that we tipped him 3 Euros (this is a lot in a place where tipping is fully optional).

Our First Spain Picture

Day 1- Language Barrier

As we de-board the plane in Barcelona, we stop to look over our itinerary to see which airline and flight number we have for the connecting flight to Sevilla.  We were already nearly the last people off the plane and stopping to check our itinerary meant we were the last ones at the gate.  We follow the signs to the domestic flight area of the airport and are stopped at a security checkpoint.  We get through and are standing in the middle of a large open area with no idea of where to go next when 2 policias stop us and ask to see our passports.  They take them and pace around looking at them, then hand them back and tell us to go ahead.  (I think this is what they said, as they speak very rapid Spanish, and I've only conversed with very patient speakers until now)  They then walk away.  We have no idea where to go so we find the nearest glass door and walk through.  No one stops us.  We wander around, trying to figure out where we should be, and finally stop at an information booth.  A nice woman tells us we need to go to concourse B and points us to the policia booths at the end.  We walk over and a rotund, grumpy policia stops us and asks for our passports.  This guy looks like every other mean, non-helpful American policeman I've ever met who only became a policeman in order to have an excuse to be a bully.  He then says something, we have no idea what, that leads us to believe that we are not leaving.  I tell him in Spanish that I don't understand; can he say it in English?  He says "No hablo Ingles," Adrian and I think this to be a bold faced lie. He points us back to the information desk.  We go back to the same lady and she walks us back over to the booths, but ignores grumpy policia and goes straight to two young Spaniards, presumably explaining our situation.  At this point, I decide we've run into a situation like the one in The Terminal, starring Tom Hanks.  They won't let us leave and we'll be forced to live and eat in this international area of the airport until it's time to go home.  That would be a grand Spain vacation.  The grumpy guy saunters over to the group discussing our plight and joins in.  Finally, she comes back and tells us that we need a stamp.  We then are escorted back to the information desk and through another door that leads us to right outside the gate where we deplaned.  We are finally taken through the security check point again; this time they let us go through the metal detector with our bags and all and then over to these other unmanned booths.  The two younger policia show up, look at our passports and stamp them.  They let us through and we are finally released from the airport limbo.  What I gathered from the situation, but which has not actually been confirmed by anyone, was that we were not supposed to go through that first door, even though no one stopped us.  We still have no idea why the first policias we came across would look through our passports, not stamp them, and then just walk away.  I didn't start crying through this whole thing until they stamped our passports.

 

As I write this, I am sitting next to an open window looking over the rooftops of Sevilla, Spain, while some street party below plays the song Strangers in the Night.  Adrian and I are strangers to this beautiful city, but we have 7 days to get to know it well.

DAY 0 - Who wears the shirts in this relationship?

The real travels began about an hour and a half before the car was to pick us up from our house and take us to the airport, as we started to pack.  Adrian pulls out 11, yes ELEVEN, t-shirts from his dresser.  I say, "What are you doing with those?"  He replies, "Taking them to Spain."  I walk over to investigate, they are seven of the most ratty t-shirts he owns, followed up by six other newer ones (read: I picked them out when we bought them).  I ask, "Why are you bringing these ones (the ratty numbers)?" 

He replies, "Because I never wear them anymore."  What he doesn't realize, is that the reason he never wears them anymore is because every time he pulls one out and asks me if he should wear it, I pull out a different one saying, "Wear this one instead."  This is usually one of the shirts that I have chosen for him on one of our charmed shopping trips, which always end with the comment, "I hate when you look at me like I'm a ken-doll and you can dress me however you want."  At this point I continue to point out, as I have five times already, that I'm really only taking enough outfits for a week, so I'm going to have to do laundry at least that often.  The discussion goes on for awhile, until he walks over to the closet, chooses his favorite 8 dressier/work shirts and brings them over to me, "Are these good?"  I say, "I'm not telling you until you cut your t-shirt stack by half."  He will not concede.  I reluctantly look through them and say "Leave this one out, bring the blue polo - that's my favorite on you."  So he's busy figuring out how he is going to pack 19 shirts in the suitcase with everything else he's brought and I ask, "Are you bringing undershirts?"

"No," he replies, "I don't have room." 

"Isn't it a little humid and sticky in Spain?" I ask.  So he makes his way over to the dresser, takes out a stack of his white Hanes undershirts and walks back over to the suitcase. 

"How many are you taking?" I ask.

"Ten."

Ladies and gentlemen: My dear, sweet husband has brought 29 shirts along on our 24 day trip to Spain.  He told me that I am not allowed to tell this story without also saying how many books I've brought on this trip.  Nine.

Note

I'll be posting everything in reverse, with the newest first.  You can start from the bottom and work your way up if this is your first visit.

ALL UPDATED! Pictures (click on the album you wish to see)

If you want to keep this page open, right click on the below link and choose "Open Link in New Window"

Best of the Best - Cliffs Notes Version

Day 1

Day 2

Days 3 and 4

Day 5 - La Feria and La Catedral

Day 1 of Malaga

Malaga - Alcazaba

Calp/Calpe - Penon de Ifach

Valencia

Barcelona

Paris

Amsterdam



See the entire Album