Last Day in Barcelona: Summing Up the Spain Experience

BARCELONA, SPAIN -- May 6, 2006

Of all the big, sprawling cities I have been to in my travels, there are few that really stand out to me as being special places, worthy of returning for more than the hustle and bustle of a happening city. Barcelona is one of the most beautiful big cities I have ever seen, and if I'm not overdoing it here, is perhaps THE most beautiful of them all.

Set between rolling mountains to the north (even its own little Montjuic, "Mount of the Jews," which boasts its share of museums, sights, and the Olympic stadium) and the shimmering sea to the south, it has everything from cathedrals to stunning museums to brilliant architecture to beautiful parks in between. I often ask myself as I move through a place whether I could see myself returning, even living, here.

With Barcelona, I could easily answer yes to both. Overrun with tourists through the long summer season, sure. Swelteringly hot in July and August, yes. But these are small things compared to the stunning setting that Barcelona and those who are fortunate enough to live here enjoy.
My last day in Barcelona was spent well, revisiting Parc de la Ciutadella and lingering near the famous cascades (waterfalls) spilling down a manmade mountainside. Its lush interior is the perfect place to spend a lazy afternoon, complete with rowboats for rent in a peaceful lake.

Flower gardens, shady pathways, and plenty of subjects for people-watching... what more does a park need? I took the metro to Barceloneta, one of the stops closest to the famous beachfront promenade, and walked to Sant Sebastia (not to be confused with my two-day retreat to Spain's St. Sebastian), where already the shores were lined with sunbathers. While the water was too cold for swimming, the sun was more than sufficient. I never knew I was such a beach lover, but I guess that's half the fun of my explorations. I've never lived close enough to the ocean to know.
My skin has changed colors, from a pasty white to a light golden tan peppered with freckles, except for a narrow strip of white across my feet where my sandal straps keep my skin hidden from the sun. After leaving Barcelona and the Cote d'Azur (next stop), it will be awhile before I'm back in beach-land. So I'm enjoying it while I've got it.

My last half hour in Barcelona was spent walking La Rambla and reminiscing about my favorite Spanish memories before returning to the train station to board my evening train which would carry me across the border into France.
It has been such a delightful two weeks in sunny Spain. I am already missing the amazing paella and sangria, the warmth of summery sun (despite the fact that it was April and May when I traveled through the country!), the atmosphere of festive celebrations, the colorful flamenco dresses lining souvenir shops and bodies of women during the Feria de Abril, strolling street musicians strumming their Spanish guitars.... ahhh.... such a beautiful country.... I can only hope that I will continue to find such pleasures as I continue on through the rest of Western Europe. But I'm afraid Spain will be stiff competition for its easterly neighbors!

~Melanie

Head Over Heels for Gaudi

BARCELONA, SPAIN -- May 5, 2006

This was the day I fell in love with Barcelona. A beautiful day of blue skies and sunshine never hurts, but it was Gaudi, the famous artist and architect, who made today such a special discovery.

I began at the Sagrada Familia, the cathedral which has become Barcelona's most famous -- albeit unfinished -- building. Gaudi began construction in 1882 and threw himself into its creation until his unfortunate death some twenty-something years later when he was hit by a tram. It is today still unfinished, but as my visit attested, builders are hard at work on the construction of this cathedral, which is estimated to continue until 2082.

Today eight of an eventual eighteen towers stand, their spires rising high above the skyline of the city. The beautiful sculpting of the Nativity Facade (which Gaudi himself supervised) is intricate and beautiful, while the sculpting on the Passion Facade, opposite, is more earthy, angular, and modern in feel (constructed in the 1950's). I climbed a rather congested spiral staircase inside one of the towers, which offered some impressive views out over the city.

Leaving the Sagrada Familia, I next visited Parc Guell, which lies on the north side of the city, a good 15-minute walk from the nearest metro. Set up in the hillside, this park was truly one of the highlights of the city for me. Gaudi's artistic touch, in addition to the beautiful setting, combine to make this park truly memorable.

Gaudi's creativity is evident in the gingerbread castles that lie just inside the entrance, as well as in the earthy, moody touches, such as the famous dragon of tile and broken glass, columns appearing as tree roots, and a snakelike bench atop a lookout point that snakes its way along the rim of the park's upper reaches. I lingered here for some time, as did everyone else, enjoying the fairy-tale feel of this almost other-wordly existence.

After rejunenating myself amid the palm trees and calm breeze, I descended to Passeig de Gracia, a long road running through the area of the city known as L'Eixample. Here lie some of the most famous modernist buildings in Europe, again, with Gaudi at the forefront of the architectural creation. His most famous along the Passeig de Gracia is probably La Pedrera, a gray-stone apartment building which at first appearance does not seem overly spectacular. But its design, with rippling, curving, anything-but-straight lines, is imaginative.

Among its many unusual features, the rooftop is far and away the most amazing aspect of this incredible building. It is a series of steps leading up and down in a random, circular fashion, with immense, masked statues clustered in various places throughout. It's difficult to describe with words, but I found myself lingering here as well, shooting frame after frame of these unusual designs set against a deep blue background of the sky. Incredible.

The night finished out with a few drinks and into-the-early-morning conversation with a couple of very tall Dutch guys on holiday from the southern side of the Netherlands. We chatted up the educational system of the Netherlands, which enabled Mark, the younger of the two, to graduate from university with 35,000 Euros in his pocket. Attending university is virtually free, and on top of that, the government will pay you a stipend for going. On top of that, you have the advantage of an educational system that values multilingual instruction. And when all your schooling is done, you are paid a decent wage to work no more than 35 hours per week. In fact, as Mark explained it to me, if he works a long week, then he has the right to take a day off the following week... or save up a few and have an extra week of holiday to spend as he likes.

Sometimes I wonder if I was born in the wrong country! The Netherlands sure seem to have a few things figured out!

~Melanie

Barcelona: More Than Just a Walk in the Park

BARCELONA, SPAIN -- May 4, 2006

Day One turned out to be quite overcast and disappointing. Still making no headway with my medication, I felt like I was walking around in a blurry cloud. The sounds around me were muffled, and after another near-sleepless night on the train, I was hoping to work in at least a few top attractions before my endurance gave out.I am learning as I travel that Europe is the place for museums, sights, excellent cuisine, and late, late nights, but not so much the place for relaxation, reflection, and rest.

Being an early riser, I'm always cutting it short on the sleep meter, because I'm up when the sun hits my hostel room, and ready to head out into the city. But on the flip side, the evenings tend to be the time to meet up with other travelers, swap stories, relax, and enjoy some company, and I always feel like I'm shorting myself if I head off to bed too early in the evening.

I'm also learning that I don't like lingering in one place too long; I move quickly, and wherever I go, I'm always trying to see and do more than perhaps the average person. I like the freedom of being on my own, but I also like the odd opportunity to meet up with another travelers or a local and take some detours from my previously thought-out plan and see another side to the city I happen to be traveling in. But in any case, being constantly on the move, and always on the lookout for the next new experience is exhausting. I'm going to have to work on finding a balance somewhere... in the meantime, I'll try to adjust to 5 hours of sleep.

Today I strolled the famous "La Rambla" from top to bottom, starting at Plaza de Catalunya at the north end, and ending at the statue of Christopher Columbus on the south, just a few meters from the port and esplanade leading out to Barcelona's wharf and aquarium. La Rambla is an absolute tourist trap, created with every breed of tourist in mind.

Within a few long block stretching to the end of town, this pedestrian-only walkway is cluttered with fresh flower shops, souvenir stands, street entertainers -- including the ever-popular human statues, which generally tend to come covered in layers of metallic paint, cafes and restaurants displaying eye-popping menu-del-dia prices and filling the air with delicious fragrances, and hordes of tourists streaming up and down between its treelined curbs. There is even a canary shop, where the sound of dozens of caged, chirping birds fills the air.

I rambled my way through the Barri Gotic, which is a confusing jumble of narrow streets that contain some real gothic architectural treasures. I eventually found the Catedral, and enjoyed a tranquil walk through its corridors, as well as beautiful views into its verdant central cloister. I then meandered back through the Barri Gotic, until I eventually found my way to the Picasso Museum, on the east side of Barcelona's central district.

I've never been much of a modern art connouisseur, but I did enjoy my stroll through this exhibit. Picasso is the man who invented the technique known as Cubism, in which on one two-dimensional canvas, an artist pulls in three-dimensional interpretative views of the subject. There were two entire rooms of the gallery devoted to Picasso's variations of Velasquez's famous painting, "Las Meninas."

Even though my artistic tastes are quite different from those of Picasso, I was intrigued by the artistic capability he had of recreating the same subject with so many alterations, while taking into account the same lighting, placement, and other features which Velasquez used in creating the original work. I was also impressed with Picasso's range of artistic talent -- his early works mirrored a more classical approach, and showed mastery of sketching and painting.

A quick walk through the harbor and the borders of Parc de la Ciutadella rounded out the sightseeing for the day. While it was enjoyable enough, I was missing the sunlight which always seems to make everything that much more beautiful.

~Melanie

The Best of Views, the Worst of Men

SAN SEBASTIAN, SPAIN -- May 3, 2006

Feeling a bit more rested today, I first stopped at a small market where I bought a huge bag of oranges. The medicine I had begun taking didn't seem to be doing much for me, and I figured an overdose of Vitamin C wasn't a bad idea.

I decided to attack Monte Urgull, one of two mountains hugging each end of the crescent- shaped beach. A series of interweaving trails led up the mountainside and offered some beautiful lookouts to the Bahia de la Concha (the body of water which San Sebastian encircles) and a small island, Isla de Santa Clara, in the middle of the blue water. I climbed to the top of the mountain, where a military fort, complete with cannons and lookout posts, offered picturesque views of the deep blue waves, the beachfront, the city skyline, and rolling mountains beyond. A tall statue of Christ, visible from nearly any point along the beachfront, capped the fort.

I picnicked on an old bench over- looking Playa Ondaretta, where I napped/ sunbathed yesterday, and then descended to the other well-known beach, Playa de la Concha, for another day of sun and relaxation. Today was quite a bit cloudier and cooler, which meant the beachfront was a bit more tranquil. I spent the better part of the afternoon camped out in the spotty sunshine, eyes closed, just enjoying the peace of doing absolutely nothing.

When the sun went into permanent hiding, I relocated to the promenade above the beach, watching the world go by as I feasted on oranges.

My fingers were sticky, and a pile of orange peels was growing near my feet, when a friendly stranger walked past and said "hello" in English. For whatever reason, I responded, and spent the next couple of hours with a Frenchman named Samir, on holiday in San Sebastian.

We walked to Parta Vieja, the old part of the city, where the streets are lined with cafes and restaurants. He had deceived me with his English "hello," because from then on the conversation was bits and pieces of French, German, and Spanish, none of which were mutually understood. He treated me to an helado (ice cream), and then started putting the moves on. What is it with these European men? It seems like every guy I meet tries to sandwich a three-month relationship into twenty minutes. It would be one thing if I had been even mildly attracted to the guy. But mostly I just went along for the company. It wasn't long before we parted ways, and I cursed at him behind his back as I walked off in my own direction.

A few hours later, I was back at the train station, boarding for my night journey to Barcelona. This was to be my last stop in Spain, and as many great things as I had heard about the fair city, I was hoping it would live up to my expectations.... because Samir aside, San Sebastian was going to be hard to top.

~Melanie

Sun and Sand in Northern Spain

SAN SEBASTIAN, SPAIN -- May 3, 2006

I first heard of San Sebastian from my brother-in-law Matt, who has raved about it since his visit there during college years ago. It wasn´t even on my itinerary, originally -- I though it was perhaps a little too out-of-the-way, and I knew I´d be enjoying views of the sea once I hit France´s Cote de Azur.

But a few too many hours of sleep lost between overnight train rides and into-the-morning fiestas, and my body was craving some real down-time. And an overnight train ride from Madrid, San Sebastian seemed the perfect prescription for the R&R I was seeking. Now, having spent two marvelous days and a night in San Sebastian, I think I would have have missed out, truly, one of one of Europe´s most splendid beaches, had I passed up on a chance to visit these shores.


I arrived early morning and stashed my bag at Pension Amalur, after waking Miguel, the owner, several hours early to let me in. I was absolutely fatigued, but managed to pick up some fresh bread for a makeshift breakfast and crawl my way to Playa de Ondarreta, where I spread my sarong out on the blonde sand, lathered up with some good SPF, and fell asleep to the sounds of the waves crashing against the shore. It was several hours before I surfaced again, to find the beach dotted with towels and smiling sun worshippers, and dozens of seagulls.

By mid afternoon, I was eager to head back to the hotel, where I showered for the first time in two days. I stopped at a pharmacy for some medicine for the sinus cold / ear infection that I had been unfortunate enough to catch while in Madrid. The overnight train ride to San Sebastian had been absolutely excruciating for my ears, which were now plugged beyond recognition. I explained to the pharmacist in simple English my problem, and left with a box of medicine that I was completely unfamiliar with.

I had picked up some pasta, cheese, tomato sauce, and fresh zucchini in Madrid, thinking I would be able to cook up a nice dinner while staying at my hostel there. Unfortunately, there was no kitchen. So I carted all of these ingredients with me to San Sebastian, and was intent on cooking up a storm for my evening meal tonight.

As I began talking to Miguel, the pension owner, it became clear that he spoke not a word of English. So with my 8-years-rusty high school Spanish, I managed to carry on a fairly good conversation about the use of the kitchen. Miguel explained that normally, the kitchen was off limits to hotel guests. But for me, he was willing to make a special exception. Well! Lucky me!He started a pot of water boiling for me, and I got to work chopping zucchini and cheese into small pieces. When I told him this was an "experimantal" dinner, he opened his cabinet and pulled out a small skillet and cruet of olive oil, and began cutting the remaining zucchini into julienne strips and sauteeing them in the skillet.

He then reached into his frigo (fridge) and pulled out a bag of cheese and a large salami, which he began dicing to add to the sauce which was quickly becoming a novel creation. Ten minutes later, I dined on a delicious two-cheese and salami pasta dinner with tomato-zucchini sauce.

I ate until my stomach hurt, and then Miguel spooned the rest into a small container which he said he would keep for me for dinner tomorrow.With my stomach full, ears plugged, and eyes heavy, I decided to take a nap for a few hours, even though it was only 6:00 PM. I woke at 8:00 AM the following morning!

~Melanie

Roaming Spain's Southern Gorge: Ronda

RONDA, SPAIN -- April 22, 2006

I leave for Ronda via the train early this morning, enjoying 30 minutes of silence before a load of noisy Spanish daytrippers descend on my railcar and fill it with the rising din of their exuberant voices. At 10:00 AM I am at the station, with not a map to my name, and no idea how to find my hotel or anything worth seeing in Ronda.

I am here on good recommen- dation only. The town will be mine to explore, sans guidebook. I head off in the general direction of the bus station, and am more than fortunate to stumble across a sign posting the direction of my hotel.

After dropping off my bag, I begin my wanderings, and end up at a beautiful lookout point, staring up into the side of the gorge upon which this ages-old Spanish city has been built. I munch on the remaining strawberries from Granada's fresh produce market, and bask in the beauty of this Andalusian hilltown which is beginning to gleam in the rising sun.

I follow a few daytrippers as they linger at "my" lookout point and then continue around the bend. For several hours, I meander through the cobblestone streets of Ronda, peering out beyond whitewashed houses and over rolling hillsides to distant mountains beyond.

I find a trail leading down towards the base of the gorge, and spend a good hour or so hiking down, down, down, pausing here and there along the way to enjoy the smell and sight of the wildflowers blossoming along the trail. I stand in awe of the majestic sight before my eyes of this Andalusian village peeking out through the stories-tall arch standing before me. Ronda has been a treasure to discover, and has left me with lasting images of its rustic charm and striking beauty.

~Melanie

Maxing Out in Madrid

MADRID, SPAIN -- April 30 - May 1, 2006

I had little expectation from Madrid other than a trip to the Museo del Prado, one of the world's most impressive collections of paintings from the Spanish, Flemish, and Italian greats. The museum truly did not disappoint. I wandered through room after room of canvases of immense proportions from artists such as Velasquez, Rubens, El Greco, Goya, Boticelli.

Each frame holds a magnificent masterpiece, but the sheer quantity is so overwhelming that, sadly, I find myself strolling through the corridors and glancing in this or that direction for one to catch my eye. Most of the works on display are portraits of high society, and depictions of Christ and the "Sagrada Familia" (sacred family). I find one quite moving, albeit a little graphic. Jesus, struggling up the hill of Golgotha, has fallen upon a boulder along the roadside. His body is pale and weak, and the crown of his head is plastered with the blood from the crown of thorns pressed into his flesh. His expression is one of absolute fatigue and pain, and I am at once awed by the talent of the hands that created this image which spoke to me.

I later stroll through the adjacent park, El Retiro, where a good number of Madrid's locals are enjoying a Sunday stroll of their own. The grassy areas are a patchwork of picnic blankets and sunbathing bodies, children running and adults breaking into a game of futbol (Americans, read: soccer). I meet a threesome of energetic locals, one of whom is an English teacher here in Madrid, who land their futbol close to the bench where I have been enjoying my picnic lunch. It never fails to amaze me how easy it is to meet people everywhere I go.

I was hoping for a day-trip to Toledo during my second day in Madrid, but sadly, due to the nationwide holiday, every train to this picturesque town less than an hour from Madrid, is completely full. Luckily, I do have a ticket out of town on the overnight train to one of Europe's most beautiful beaches, San Sebastian, for tonight. It's time for a little R&R -- whoever thought long-term travel was a vacation was.... partly right. But keeping up with the Spanish and Portuguese night life has left me running on empty. Here's to a relaxing few days of sun, sand, and hopefully, a hefty amount of zzzz's!

~Melanie

Finally! Flamenco Night in Seville

SEVILLE, SPAIN -- April 26, 2006

My last day in Sevilla was spent wandering the Barrio Santa Cruz, lined with shops, cafes, restaurants, all enclosed in a labyrinth of narrow, winding, cobblestone streets. What is it with Europe and these twisting alleys? I enjoy getting lost, but I must admit, my sense of direction is really suffering!! I shared a farewell lunch with John before he left for the train station. It was 2:00 PM, and we were the first to be served. Everything is later here in Spain. The paella, fried calamari and marinated fish on the set menu were fabulous.

The highlight of my day -- and probably of my entire stay in Sevilla -- took place this evening, after the sun went down. I enjoyed a light dinner of crusty bread, cream cheese, and ripe, red strawberries before returning to the Barrio Santa Cruz, to find the Casa de la Memorias, where I had a reservation for the night's flamenco performance. As soon as I entered the inner courtyard where the performance was to be held, I knew I was in for a treat. The setting was intimate -- no more than 60 people lined the stage area in a U-shape, and the backdrop was a stone wall covered with vines and blossoming flowers. The ceiling opened to the floor above, and overhead, I could hear birds chirping their sweet melodies.

Soon the guitarist and soloist entered, and an incredible energy began sweeping through the room. The sounds, the melodies, the rhythms, were so captivating, so emotion- evoking, completely visceral and yet classically artistic. It was so moving that I felt my skin prickle over and my eyes haze over with the beginnings of tears. After a powerful opening performance, the first of two flamenco dancers took the stage.

This young woman was beyond beautiful, her hair carefully coiffed in a traditional Andalucian style. Her dress was colorful and flambouyant, ruffles spilling from her shoulders to the fringes at her ankles. She threw herself into the expression of the dance, tapping out intricate steps in hurried succession, swirls of dust rising into the air from the floor upon which she stood. And then in a split-second, her motions slowed to graceful, fluid movements, a fan in one hand which she flipped, opened, and twirled with the grace of a ballerina. Her face was composed and focused, her eyes searching and serious.

The second dancer brought a somber mood to the floor. Cloaked in black, her movements and expressions reverberated a sadness, a loss. One look into her face, which appeared and disappeared into the shadows of the night, and you could feel the pain which she so masterfully displayed through the motions of her body. Without warning, her body would convulse into a caucophany of brisk steps that would outdo the most trained of tap dancers. She pulled the ruffles of her skirt up to her knees to display her speed-of-lightning footsteps. It was exhilarating. And then, in a moment, the croon of the singer's melancholy melody would pull her back into an ethereal dance of sadness.

I was absolutely moved by the artistry of the Spanish flamenco. I left Sevilla feeling that I had authentically experienced this fine city. It is no wonder that it ranks so high in the wishlists of would-be travelers, and among the favorites of those who have visited and returned.

~Melanie