Paris

Need I say more?

Love,
Cyn

Bye Bye Barcelona

Barcelona is now behind us and that is both good and bad.

The food in Spain was excellent for the most part, the exception being one place that was recommended by an old man at our Barcelona Hostel. Culinary highlights of Spain included a tapas bar called "Casa de Abuella" in Madrid where we had excellent garlic prawns, bread and shots of spicy wine for under 8 euros- a bit strange but open at 11:30pm so, me gusta :). The waiters at Grandma's house were surly which, as I later found out, is to be expected of Spanish waiters as they are usually old and underpaid. The other notable restaurant in Madrid was "Casa Mingo Sidar." It's a 100+ year old cider house near the Royal Palace, with young and old waiters (more friendly than at Grandma's House), and following in the Spanish style of meat + bread + alcohol= meal, we were served an ENTIRE roasted chicken, two pieces of bread and shots of incredibly good cider. We tried to order a bottle but that was lost in translation and instead were served numerous shots. There was a sign inside the restaurant that said "No Cantar" and after Jack pointed that out, I realized that was why the waiters would not stop whistling... they found a loophole!

Our roommate hotel in barcelona was very, very nice. Clean, organized and quiet. We were pretty close to the port and La Rambla so we were able to walk everywhere except the last day when we took the metro up to Guell Park. The street performers were gimmicky on La Rmabla, which is not to say I wasn't mesmerized by them- I was, but the real jewels were in the metro and in Guell Park. One guy in particular was playing a steel drum type of instrument that was unlike anything I've ever heard- a bit spooky but beautiful as well. Guell park was the perfect setting for this guy as we both had a similar impression of Gaudi architecture. It was raining on and off but still beautiful and definitely worth the intense hike/never ending stair climbing. Oh, and there was a nice, semi-feral kitty (who was very fond of Jack) that greeted us at the top of the stairs so that made for a well rounded, excellent experience.

Other highlights included the Picasso museum, the chocolate museum (tickets were a bar of chocolate) and this great vegan restaurant we found called Juice Jones. The chef is from India and makes both Catalunyan and Indian food as well as a variety of fresh juices, hence the name, well the juice part anyway. I don't know who this Jones guy is. We shared the "thali" plate of the day which was served raw and cold, with a small glass of wine (not spicy this time). Most importantly, it was the first non-meat meal of our Spain endeavor, so we were very glad to put our scurvy worries to rest.

Barcelona was so upbeat, it definitely felt like more of an active city than Madrid, which Jack and I decided felt like plaza after plaza (pronounced "platha after platha"), where cars and pedestrians amazingly navigate the streets as a single entity almost. One thing is for sure, the prostitutes are a lot more subtle in Barcelona. I was fascinated by the prostitutes in Madrid who looked like men and hung out in the entry ways of sex shops and other businesses along main streets like Calle Mayor, because they were almost threatening in their sollicitous stares and THEY LOOKED LIKE MEN! But I was intrgued by the prostitutes in Barcelona who advertise discreetly by sticking a manequinne's leg out of the window. So much to ponder!

We ended our stay in Spain with a lost hotel reservation and decided to embrace adventure and spend the night in the airport. We were not as prepared as some other travellers who laid out sleeping bags and were snoring at some point, but we snuck in a few hours of sleep and do not wish to repeat the experience :) We've made it to Paris safely and LOVE our apartment. So far, we've been taking advantage of the goverment regulated price of plain baguettes (about 80 cents) and made a huge, much needed pasta dinner. We've more or less relaxed today, catching up on lost sleep and icing my ankle I sprained in Barcelona right before we left. We'll update with a shorter post soon. :)
Love,
Cynthia

Madrid

Madrid is a weird, weird place. But I´m not complaining because it is the first place I´ve seen a cat in almost 2 weeks!
There are so many strange street "performers"- I use that term very loosely- everywhere. The only ones who qualify as performers are the musicians who have been pretty good for the most part, even with the cheesy, repeating back tracks that seem to accompany them everywhere. Maybe it´s just me, but I can only hear Pachelbel´s Cannon so many times. Down the street from our hostel, we have a classical violinist, a harpist and an African Drummer. On the metro ride from the airport to our hostel a really great guitar player serenaded our caboose with a popular Spanish song to which the young kids were singing along. I was SO sad when we saw a lady setting up her portable microphone just as we stepped off the train.
We got lost for about 2 hours when we got off the metro. It turns out our hostel was relocated to another part of town, but no one bothered to communicate this to us or to the tourist ambassadors at the airport. So we wandered around, and I finally stopped in the street to sit and cry for a bit. Jack spotted a Best Western and we were finally able to sort things out there.
Our hostel was not as dirty as the generator but was also not very secure. Our doors did not lock nor did our lockers. We did however luck out with the only room with a private shower. The price we paid for this was the roomates we had on the second night, two bratty American girls who came home very drunk at 3 am, one of whom burped and vomited in her sleep and later snored too violently for any sober person to sleep.
We did meet some helpful, normal, nice people at this hostel, or as they call it in Spain "Roommate Hotel." A British guy gave us a great website for cheap bus travel throughout Spain as an alternative to the trains. This was helpful as London was so expensive and we are trying to even things out here.
The Meseu de Prado is HUGE and we didn´t quite finish the whole thing. We visited the Classical Sculptures which I thought had much better Roman sculpture than the British Museum and saw the two Goyas we were anticipating. We then cut over to the Royal Botanical Gardens, where we strolled around for a few hours and I was able to pet and sort of hold a kitty who lived near the Olive Trees :) :) :)
Most of the time spent in Madrid was done walking and people watching. There is always something happening, and as we´re approaching Easter weekend, we saw an elaborate procession in front of the Palaccio Real, complete with praying men in robes and crucified, gold Jesus, being carried by the crowd. The Palace itself is overwhelmingly huge but I was happy to see later that evening that the palace fountain now serves as a wading pool for local dogs who come to run around and play.
Sorry for the super long post, I´m trying to make up for a few days of unpredictable travel and internet connection. We´re in Barcelona now, we arrived last night after a 7 hour bus ride during which we were pulled over by the Policia! Our Spanish isn´t too great so I´m not sure exactly what happened, but in the end, our bus driver came back in the bus and we were on our way again. Oh how I would appreciate a universal language like music or math or even karate right now.
Adios,
Cyn

RYAN AIR

It´s true that Ryan Air makes you pay for everything! Along with $5 bags of chips we were also offered Christian Dior, Armani Diamond and Jennifer Lopez Perfumes as well as Armani coats. Hearing this offered in broken English just makes it that much better.
As for the flight itself, it was fine. I accidently packed my books so I had to rely on countless games of hangman with Jack for entertainment, which of course, did not end well as I´m too competitive to play games and Jack always leaves out letters that have already been guessed. I ended up sharing a racy book with the old English woman sitting next to me, (although she didn´t know this) but had to stop when lines like "...the next hour: sex, sex, sex..." did not let up and I was blushing/laughing too hard.

George Green Farm

We spent our last night in England on a small, 300 year old farm in the countryside. It is no longer a working farm, but the owners still keep farm animals such as a few sheep, a horse, rabbits, and a Shetland Pony (which at first, I thought was a giant donkey with a very swollen stomach). They also had about 10 eggs in an incubator, ready to hatch on Easter- how quaint! I became fast friends with the resident dog, a border collie named Poppy, and spent quite a while searching for the infamous Thomas, the fat, white house cat. Doug and Marie (the owners) speculated that Thomas was out "mousing" and that I'd have better luck finding him in the morning. At first I thought they were bragging, but indeed, I saw a complete mouse skeleton in the grass on the walk over to the pub for dinner (this was a short walk as the pub is next door). Our dinner was more entertaining than satisfying. The 400 year old pub was filled with local old men trying to one-up each other with tidbits of foreign knowledge (ex: "Did you know it is illegal to drive your kid to school in the states? It's true. They are required to take the yellow school bus."). We sat next to a giant painting of George Harrison titled "The George" and tried to enjoy our gigantic portions of fish and chips, but were a little worn out on greasy pub food at that point. Cuisine was definitely not a highlight of England. Fashion on the other hand, was!
1/3 of the Londoners we saw echoed the same "hipster" fashion we're used to in the US (tight black pants, messy hair, rebellious leather jackets and Ray-Ban sunglasses). For this, I was grateful because a few of the days were very warm and leggings were completely appropriate (Bill's favorite, I know). I would describe the next third as a black cloud, boring and basic. And the last third, my favorite, included the expected "Euro-terrible chic" ensembles that are at least ten years behind and often, monochromatic in color from head to toe. This last group encompassed all ages, ethnicities (including gypsies!) and color schemes: head to toe pink, green, orange, and yes, even yellow. Pictures of these will definitely follow.
We're going to go explore Madrid now and worry about uploading pictures later. So far our time here has been spent listening to excellent musicians in the metro station, getting lost for well over 2 hours followed by a mini-tantrum, and finding an excellent, cheap place to eat called "Istanbul."
Adios.

Leaving London

We are getting ready to leave London. We went to the Tate Modern yesterday which Jack and I both really loved. It was a bit exhausting to do it one day however. We crossed the bridge to visit St. Paul's but were not permitted to enter as it was Sunday and we are not catholic.**Correction: Anglican, thanks Bill. Now I feel even worse for the woman wearing that butch priest getup.**
Jack is FIRED as the Time Master as we woke up this morning at 3:30 instead of 6:30 and had three hours to kill before breakfast or anything else opened. Looking back, I should have known because I had the showers to myself. Looks like I'll be buying a watch first thing in Madrid. This morning, we made a second stop at the British Museum and visited the Ancient Egypt and Greece exhibits- so glad we went back!!
We're getting ready to take a 2 hour train ride to our next stop (last stop in England), the George Green Farm, hair dryer included :) I'm REALLY hoping to see a British kitty while we're there but I'll settle for a baby goat or lamb.
Love,
Cynthia

Camden Town

So, I take it back about looking forward to leaving the expensive area of our last hostel. When we got to The Generator yesterday, the alley was blocked off by a huge group (maybe 40) of arguing Italians. That was the best part. Upon entering the building, we were surrounded by neon blue lights and the smell of the Chuck-e-Cheese ball pit. If you are unfamiliar with this smell, count yourself lucky.
The receptionist was a young German girl who was either very tired or very drunk. She gave us our room information and encouraged us to visit parts of the hostel called "The Fuel Stop" and "The Turbine." To make a long story short, our room smells like cheap men's body spray (think AXE) and again, the ball pit (no pun intended). The ladies bathroom is on the other side of the wall and what must be the world's oldest hand dryer is mounted to the wall we share. Every time a person washes her hands, we hear a sudden jolt of noise which sounds like the combination of a vacuum, a spaceship, and a construction zone. Lucky for us, the people around here don't seem to wash their hands too often.
We decided to skip our afternoon naps and only come back to sleep when it was absolutely necessary. When we returned in the evening, we discovered that "The Fuel Stop" is only the cafeteria in the morning, but doubles as an ALL NIGHT CLUB at night, and we could feel/hear those glorious disco beats all the way in our room on the 5th floor. We were not able to sleep so we went down stairs to watch people dance. That was pretty entertaining.
Disgusting hostel aside, we are having a lot of fun. We went to the |British museum yesterday and saw the Ancient Rome and Clocks and Watches exhibits. The air conditioning was broken for the ancient exhibits so we chose Rome over Greece. I've been dropping hints to Jack that we should go visit Amy Winehouse's house as she lives in Camden. Apparently kids drop by her stoop and talk to her through the intercom all the time. We'll see.
Pictures of The Generator/Camden Town to come later this evening after we charge the computer.
Cynthia