Our last day in Spain

I guess I’ve been putting off writing the last day because it’s almost felt like reliving the trip.  Anyway here goes.  We pack our bags for a picnic and take the metro down to Park Guell.  We walked uphill the entire way and entered the park.  If you go you should absolutely pay to get into the ticketed part.  The free part of the park is beautiful but it doesn’t compare to the colours and exploration you can do in the ticketed part. We walked around, had our snacks, named a lizard Harry and just took in the sunshine on our final day. We went back, took a siesta, Sabine did squats in the elevator and shopped a bit.

Our stomachs started to grumble and we were DETERMINED to get to La Paradeta so we walked halfway there, to the general area and then we took a CAB!  Which brought us right to the door of the restaurant.   We realized that we were so close the first time, we just couldn’t figure out the right street.  Anyway we ordered the seafood fresh at the counter and they grilled it right there for us.  We had a massive portion of : tuna, calamari, mussels, clams, shrimp and oysters.

After we ate what was approximately our combined weight in seafood we walked back to our suite and Sophie and Sabine did some acro  yoga.   And once again we had a knock on our door, a hopefully young guy asking for a hair dryer and once again was disappointed that 4 girls didn’t have one between them.

We went to bed that night, unsettled by the thoughts that we would be abandoning this fantastically slow and sweet lifestyle tomorrow and back to our reality.  Ciao Spain- you were amazing.

Cheers

Roberto # 2

I kind of wish I could just write my notes for this blog post because they’re really funny but they wouldn’t make sense to anyone so I’ll actually write a post out. You’re welcome. Today we had breakfast at the hostel and there WAS sponge cake (see, clearly very important to us).  We signed up for a free walking tour and gathered outside at the meeting spot.  A short tan man gathered us up and told us he was taking us to the big meeting spot, where we would break up into different groups depending on which tour you wanted.

Us “Wouldn’t it be funny if his name was ALSO Roberto and he was ALSO from Mexico, like our guide from Madrid”

Guide “Welcome, please follow me. My name is Roberto, I’m not originally from here – I’m actually from Mexico but I fell in love with this city”

Collective us “WHAAAAAAT”

Okay maybe that’s not as big a deal to you guys reading this but seriously what are the odds?! So this man was to be referred to as Roberto #2.  Roberto #2 was very kind and answered all kinds of historic and art questions we had as he led us to the meeting spot. We also met an American couple who were on the tour with us.  They only came to Barcelona because Hemingway was there and they were following his path or something.  We broke up into our tour and we were led by Max through the historic story of Catalunya (Barcelona history- look it up). It started to thunder and poured down on us but we continued our tour.  We visited the place were Picasso grew up and learned about the political problems Barcelona had years ago.  He showed us where people put up protests and we learned that the national sport of Barcelona/Catalonia is castell which is basically massive human pyramids.

We finished our tour and stopped into a pretty expensive lunch because of our location.  I had squid ink paella. We went back to our hostel for siesta and to watch twerk videos.  The guys in the suite down the hall came to ask us for a hair dryer, which none of four girls in our room had. After that we went to our hostel for happy hour and fidue dinner (which is the Barcelonean version of paella).  We met an Australian named Eve and Sophie convinced her and her German friends to go on the pub crawl with them. We played a massive game of jenga and then Soph and Sabine went to the pub crawl and Ally and I decided to explore around our area.  We found the plaza del sol, which is a square surrounded by restaurants and bars and a big open space in the middle for you to have a picnic or just hang out.  People had their dogs running around. Ally and I tried to order a mojito but were ignored so we left after people watching for a bit.  We walked around and found a place that was still open and had some tapas and delicious little desserts.  We took our time walking back to the suite and went to bed.

Note: I’m not sure why but at the bottom of my journal for this day someone wrote “Drizzle Drizzle Drizzle” – Sophie, Sabine or Ally – please explain.

Cheers,

La Rambla and the biggest market ever

We woke up and had breakfast at the hostel.  Unfortunately there was none of that delicious sponge cake (and that must have been important to us at the time because I have it written in my notes).  Because of the construction still happening on our side of the suites, Ally and Sabine got temporarily locked outside.  But it’s okay because we were in Spain and not in the current -20C weather we’re having at home. I digress…We got dressed and were on our way down to La Rambla, which we were told is fantastic during the day and a dangerous outdoor brothel at night.  We walked along with millions of other tourists looking at the little pop up stands and the beautiful trees lining the street.  Then we finally got to mercat de la boqueria. This is one of the biggest indoor food markets and I seriously mean big.  Every edible item you could imagine and more was being sold there.  It was absolutely amazing and completely overwhelming.  Just when you thought you had seen everything another hall appeared and there were even more vendors.  We bought some snacks and had to drag Ally away from the seafood vendors.  We grabbed lunch where I ordered “muslo” off the menu thinking it was muscles.  It wasn’t. It’s a turkey leg. After that we shopped along the stores on our way back to our suite.  We hung out in our suite for a bit, tried to watch TV on what was clearly a paranormal possessed TV set and then had our siesta.  We woke up hungry and asked our hostel what the best seafood restaurant was.  They told us about this delicious place where you choose the seafood from the counter and they cook it fresh for you.  It was called La Paradeta and it looked to be walking distance from our hostel.  On empty stomachs (dangerous) and following verbal directions (even more dangerous) we set out to find this amazing restaurant.  After walking for about 30 minutes and not being able to figure it out, we tried asking around.  No one seemed to know what we were talking about.  We finally got so fed up and hangry we just decided to walk back and stop in the first place we saw. We stumbled into a sweet family owned restaurant where the owner was really kind and gave us a free dessert. After that we called it a night.

Cheers!

When Sophie was better than Shane at his job

I hit my head on the taxi door on the way to the airport. Then I squeezed Sabine’s hand during the entire flight.  Anyway, in no time at all we were checking into our hostel at Barcelona.

Hostel Employee: I’m so sorry, there is a big group of people checking in together.  Would you mind if we upgraded you to the brand new suites in the building beside us?

Us four in unison: not at all

So we were in the fashion district of Barcelona being upgraded to a gorgeous suite.  Mind you they were still in the process of some construction in the building, but that didn’t bother us because we had a kitchen and a bedroom and a beautiful balcony. We dropped everything off and walked to Sagrada Familia. The line was long which allowed us to revel in the intricate beauty of the outside wall design.  Every crevice, every surface, had a different figure or shape to it.  The whole structure itself was telling a massive story that you couldn’t capture in a single frame.  The inside was all the glory its described to be.  The colours and vast open space are simply breathtaking.  We spent as much time as we could trying to see everything in this spectacular church.

When we got back to our hostel we saw that they offer an 8 euro dinner and a happy hour with 1 euro sangria.  Do I need to say more?  We filled up our plates (apparently everyone but ourselves is modest with service sizes) and drank as many 1 euro sangria as we possibly could in that hour.  To our sadness, an hour can only last so long.  We thought our luck had run out but then we found out that the regular price of sangria is only 2 euros!  We were playing cards in the common room with other hostel dwellers when a guy came over to us, introduced himself as Shane, and did his very best to sell us tickets to the pub crawl happening that night.  While he wasn’t wildly convincing, we didn’t have plans and were lots of sangria in so we joined!  Sophie then went on to show her true selling skills  by convincing a bunch of other hostel stayers to also come on the pub crawl, putting Shane’s selling skills to shame.  We made friends with three adorable 18 year old Australians named Anabelle, Emily and Kate.  We were constantly meeting Australians.

Right before we left, we had a National Anthem sing off and were almost asked to vacate the property.  There’s no “lower sound” button to Country Pride.  The first stop on the crawl was a small bar owned by suspicious looking Middle Easterners.  They kept trying to convince us to buy “deals” which mathematically were not actually deals.  We then met Scott, who was high out of his mind, and trying to organize another pub crawl which included handing out sleeveless shirts to those who had premium bracelets.  Scott was actually from BC and while Ally talked to him about our home country Sabine snagged us a couple of T shirts.  They say “I survived Barcelona b**ch” quite largely along the back and are possibly the comfiest things we’d ever own. After that we were on to our next club.  While Ally and I stood at the back judging the age of everyone Emily and Kate came over to chat with us.  They were having some friend circle problems but ultimately told us that they were indeed best friends for the last two years and that nothing was going to tear them apart.  Ally and I laughed and told them that we had been best friends longer than the two of them had even been alive.

Not too long after that we called it a night.

Cheers!

The rest of Mallorca

It hasn’t quite been a year since the last post so technically no one can be upset with me.

Anyway – it’s our second day in Mallorca and we wanted to go on a Boat Tour.  After some searching we found one that included sangria and snorkeling.   The tour was absolutely stunning.  All that cliche “sun was shining” “water was deep blue” stuff.  Seriously, it was almost too much to take.  We had our sangria and boated by celebrity and rich people hot spots and by the time we got to where we were going to snorkel, the waves were pretty heavy and I was feeling a tad seasick.  Which I swiftly put aside to jump into the water and look for fish.  The four of us swam around and then I promptly went back up to the boat to throw up – no regrets.  After that I was basically dizzy for the rest of the way back so I layed down on the bench.  Which actually worked out well for tanning.

Later on we went to another German influenced restaurant for dinner where we learned that waitresses have absolutely no idea how to split the bills up. We relished in our last night of Mallorca and headed to bed to be ready for our flight to Barcelona, our last city of the trip, the next morning.

Cheers

Landed in…Germany?

We took a short flight over from Malaga to Mallorca. I sat beside a very sweet older couple from Argentina. They were excited when I told them I was from Canada because they watched “How I met your mother” and knew that Robin was from Canada. I wanted to practice my Spanish and the woman wanted to practice her English. The man wanted to exchange bad words in each other language and by the time I landed I knew very well how to perfectly insult someone in Spain. We checked into our hotel which was exactly 113 steps from the beach. We were a little hungry so we decided to grab some lunch at one of the millions of restaurants lining the beach. We thought it was interesting that schnitzel was on the menu and that it was written partly in what we thought was German.

After lunch we went down to lay on the beach which had soft sand and beautifully clear water. I don’t know why but we started talking about gas prices back home. Two guys sitting in front of us heard us complain about them and told us how much worse it was in the Netherlands, which is where they were from. Then they let us know that it was strange that we were staying on their side of Mallorca even though we were from Canada. We were confused so they explained to us that the Island of Mallorca is split into sections. From the flag behind us onward to the right was the German section. From where we were sitting onto the left was the Dutch section. The English section, you guessed it, was on the complete other side of island. We also mentioned that in our early planning we had considered Ibiza instead of Mallorca to which they replied “Ibiza is gay”.

The rest of our evening was filled with people confused that we spoke English and that we were from Canada. “Why are you on this side of the Island?” was the most common question that we got. We had a delicious albeit slightly expensive dinner at a German restaurant (where the waitresses had a really hard time splitting our bills) and then spent the night walking up and down the crowded street along the beach. It was beautiful, filled with tourists speaking German and a great way to relax.

Cheers!

The day we were carnivores

Here are the inexcusable excuses I’m using to cover up for not posting in so long: Thanksgiving, Christmas Shopping,  Christmas Time,  Boxing Day recovery, Pre New Years Plans, New Years, Post New Years resolution creation, post resolution disappointment.   In any case, I promised Sophie yesterday that I would get back on track so this post is as much for her as it is for me.  Here goes.

It was our last day in Malaga.  When we were having breakfast we told Gerome that tonight was our last night and we wanted his famous BBQ dinner that we witnessed the first night.  He promised it would be the best dinner we’ve ever had.  We walked down to the beach and proceeded to have an incredibly relaxing day.  Alternating between swimming, tanning and people watching.  It was beautiful and well deserved.  The sky was blue and the water even bluer.  We could have layed there forever but we started to smell like a mix of sun screen and sweat and knew that there was quite a lavish feast waiting for us.

We got prettied up for the second time this trip and walked down after the sun set to find that Gerome was already getting the BBQ fired up.  We didn’t specify what we wanted so our palates were at the mercy of this french, slightly insane but genuinely caring, self proclaimed famous pastry chef.  Our dinner that night consisted of pounds upon pounds of meat, meat and more meat.  Were there sides?  Nope.  Just meat.  And of course Gerome’s famous sangria.  We were served sausages, following by steak, followed by pork chops, followed by (and I quote) “De Best Chorizo in Da World”, ending with more steak.

We were in a food coma.  Or more accurately a carnivore coma.  I vaguely remember being offered a piece of bread to soak up the protein.  But hey, there’s fruit in sangria right? We stayed up listening to Gerome tell us his world adventure.

The next morning we were off to the island of Mallorca.

Since there should be mo more major distractions in the month of January ( I’m not making any promises – the Canal opened this week), I will do my best to post in the next three weeks.

Cheers!

Our day in Granada

We woke up early to a cute free breakfast offered by our hostel. I was mostly excited about cereal.  It was only corn flakes but it was the food I miss most when I leave home.  We got on a bus and were on our way to Granada for the day.  When we got there we spoke to the rep at the station who sold us on an “electric bike tour” with the promise that it was really easy and she did it.  We had originally wanted to go to the Alhambra but tickets for that sell out months in advance.  This tour sounded like the next best thing since you start down in the village and bike all the way to the top of the mountain and basically get a view of the Alhambra from the other side.  You’re also promised a spectacular view of the city.

Granada is an absolutely adorable city, rich in history (some of it very Arabic influenced) and simply beautiful. Our tour guide Joaquin, with long curly hair and an explorers hat led us to the bikes.  He then gave us these wildly embarrassing neon yellow vests to wear with our big white clunky helmets.  Note: He did not have to wear any of these.  This attire not only served to keep us safe in the tiny bumpy streets shared by drivers who don’t care about you, but also as an easy target for locals to ridicule us.  After a grueling uphill battle in which I quite literally almost passed out, we were at the top of the city in front of one of the most breathtaking views I’ve ever had the pleasure to witness.  Not only could you see the entire city, but even further out as if the world never ended.  You would think that the way down would be so much easier than the way up.  However flying down cobblestone streets with barely any control of your surroundings and terrified that a car is going to zip by you is not as pleasant as one might think.  Sophie also had break malfunctions and basically crashed into a wall.

After our tour, and immense amounts of high fives and back patting (also a lot of self realization about how out of shape I am) we were starved.  Joaquin told us about this phenomenal deal where a lot of restaurants will give you free food when you order drinks.  We ended up in a medieval themed pub and each ordered a drink and like magic it came with a plate of bagels! We then explored the little shops along the streets, half of them filled with Spanish dresses and souvenirs, half of them with Arabic makeup and plates and incense.  We passed by a massive church hosting a wedding open to the public.  Adorable little blonde children sat on the steps dressed in white frocks and small blazers, looking bored as if forced to attend this event they could care less about.  I bought spices and tea and the day was nearing its end. We bused back to Malaga, had a late dinner at a restaurant beside the station and then called it a night.

Our first day in Malaga

We woke up super early, before the world even started in Spain and got our stuff together to go to the train station. We got to Malaga just as everyone was starting to rise. Dropped off our belongings at the hostel and walked down to Plaza de la Merced to grab a bite to eat. After that we returned to our hostel to figure out where the beach was. When we walked into the main entrance the door to the backyard was open. It was cute, with a bar, outdoor kitchen and about 10 picnic tables. There was when we spotted a short Seth Green look alike wearing a fedora singing “Bad Boys Bad Boys, watchu gonna do, watchu gonna do when they come for you”. He had a thick french accent and was bouncing around. His height made it incredibly comical. Our hostel was a family owned place. Mama was a tough looking Spanish lady with curly hair and a demanding voice but you knew she was fair and kind. Papa was cute and jolly and spent almost the whole time we were there, in the kitchen. We got directions to the beach and walked down, we were about 25 minutes away and spent the afternoon getting golden. When we got back we had a really difficult time opening our door and had to ask Mama for help. She sent up one of her sons Rico, who looked like he would rather be clubbing in Hull than working at the hostel, to help us out. We got changed, and decided we’d go back to the plaza for dinner.

Trying to get to the plaza posed to be a challenge. Apparently, unknown to us of course, this weekend was the festival of Malaga. This weekend everyone in between the ages of 15-19 and living within a 300KM distance comes into the city to drink in the streets and cause general chaos. We weaved through the slew of teenagers and ate a delicious dinner. After that we returned to our hostel to have a drink in the backyard. Mini Seth Green came over and introduced himself as “Gerome”, former semi-famous pastry chef from France. After a life of travel adventures he landed in Malaga. Mama and Papa found themselves short a cook, Gerome found himself in love with the city and the rest is history. We ordered a sangria, which wasn’t on the official bar list but Gerome proclaimed “I will make you the best sangria ever” with a thick french accent and a promise of using the secret ingredient of “love”. In his defense, it was in the top sangria we had the whole trip. We spent the night laughing at Gerome’s many worldly stories, his ridiculous facebook alias, and his love of eccentric hobbies and then called it a night. Just as we were leaving we could smell the BBQ and decided that before we left we’d eat there.

The last day in Madrid

We couldn’t believe that we were already on our last day of our first city. We woke up on Spain time (late) and decided we were going to have a lazy picnic day in Retiro Park. We grabbed some food, I used my first full Spanish sentence to find us some very important ham, and found a beautiful spot in this massive park to lounge and eat. Two things we were, at this point, experts at. We took our time in the sun, not doing much of anything but enjoy the company. Retiro Park is absolutely humungous, and the more we walked through it the more we were blown away by what was in it. We went past a mini river where you could rent boats and beautiful statues and finally we made it to the famous Crystal Palace. Which, on pinterest, was this beautiful abandoned castle filled with a rainbow of colours. In reality, spoiler alert, it was just a greenhouse. Poor Sabine was so very disappointed. I tried my best to position myself in a way that the sun hits the glass to create the illusions that we saw online but it was almost impossible. I’m not telling you not to go see it, I’m just telling you to be quite weary of what you read on the internet (duh – I guess). We continued to walk through the park and got to a beautiful garden with peacocks just hanging out. Seriously, peacocks, everywhere, just doing their thing, being peacocks. In this public park, with no one bothering them. No one seems to think this is as cool as I do. I would love to trade every god damn squirrel we have in Ottawa for a peacock. And no there would be no repercussions.

After our lovely day in the park we went to the famous chocolateria (official term probably) for churros. This is the one that all the celebrities visit and stuff so it was a must. And the chocolate dip was so delicious I wanted to drink it. Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t – it’s not relevant to the story.

After siesta, we went to Reina Sofia, the modern art museum where we got to see La Guernica, the daunting but wildly impressive painting by Picasso depicting the bombings in Spain. After that, we grabbed quick dinner and went to play Cards Against Humanities in the common room of the hostel. It was getting late and we once again, wanted churros. I once again, wanted to drink the entire batch of chocolate. We ended our final night in Madrid in a sugar high, both happy to be moving on to the next city and sad to be leaving. We were also sad to be ending our very scientific Prostitute observation. Our train in the morning was very early.

Prostitute Count:
Early during the day : 7
Mid Afternoon : 24
Late Evening: 33
End of Night: 31

Cheers!