A tourist pose at Parc Guell
On the beach in December
Barcelona as seen from cable car
Fairy Bar
Monday, 10 December 2007
BARCELONA
A tourist pose at Parc Guell
On the beach in December
Barcelona as seen from cable car
Fairy Bar
The Buzz of Barcelona (Part 2)
After a night on a bus I arrived in Barcelona feeling like utter shit. Luckily I could crash at Lizzie's sister's for a few hours and recuperate.
Once rested I met up with Annah and Eva and we began wondering the streets of Gaudi's city. Our trip mainly consisted of eating and drinking - wherever we went in the city normally revolved around the next meal. The best place we ate was a vegan restaurant in an immigrant neighbourhood off La Rambla. It was brightly decorated with colourful designs and the food was not only healthy but incredibly delicious. The other highlights of the trip was the fairy bar and the naked male model posters that covered whole buildings across the city.
It was lovely to see Annah and see how much she is enjoying being in a new and exciting city. One of the great things about a year abroad is that when others are slugging it out in their final years at home, we are gallivanting around a foreign country experiencing things that not many others get to experience. It's so refreshing and rewarding to get to be in a foreign environment for a year - to get that feeling of care-free and liberation that you normally only get in the first year.
There are many things I want to say about Barcelona, I do love it so...but I haven't collected my thoughts into a coherent structure yet so i'll leave it there. Maybe on another post I will be able to sum it up a bit better. For now I am just happy remembering an enjoyable and exciting long weekend. As with all good things it came to an end and far too soon.
Once rested I met up with Annah and Eva and we began wondering the streets of Gaudi's city. Our trip mainly consisted of eating and drinking - wherever we went in the city normally revolved around the next meal. The best place we ate was a vegan restaurant in an immigrant neighbourhood off La Rambla. It was brightly decorated with colourful designs and the food was not only healthy but incredibly delicious. The other highlights of the trip was the fairy bar and the naked male model posters that covered whole buildings across the city.
It was lovely to see Annah and see how much she is enjoying being in a new and exciting city. One of the great things about a year abroad is that when others are slugging it out in their final years at home, we are gallivanting around a foreign country experiencing things that not many others get to experience. It's so refreshing and rewarding to get to be in a foreign environment for a year - to get that feeling of care-free and liberation that you normally only get in the first year.
There are many things I want to say about Barcelona, I do love it so...but I haven't collected my thoughts into a coherent structure yet so i'll leave it there. Maybe on another post I will be able to sum it up a bit better. For now I am just happy remembering an enjoyable and exciting long weekend. As with all good things it came to an end and far too soon.
The Buzz of Barcelona (Part 1)
I LOVE Barcelona. It's a city in a class of its own - it's got a bit of everything. It has the pretention of Paris, the brashness of New York and the grit of London, it puts these qualities into a bowl, gives a little stir and what does it get? a city of gingerbread architecture, of falic skyscrapers and of marijuana alleyways.
I came quite on the spur of the moment. It all began on wednesday afternoon - the beginning of a slightly surreal and very Spanish few hours. I had decided to go to Barcelona the day before, finally I had my erasmus grant and a little money to throw around. I met my friend Lizzie in the subterranean bus station that is Avenida de America. It's horrible there and as I wondered the dimly light passages that lead to soot covered buses I found my thin artsy Australian friend and we embarked on the process of buying a ticket. We enquired about prices and times at the ticket desk and then wondered whether we might be able to get cheaper train tickets - with the prospect of 8 hours on the bus we thought we'd give it a try so we hopped on the metro out of that hell-hole and emerged in the rainforest. (no, I haven't been on the wacky backy I am talking about Atocha train station) it's a great train station because it has a rainforst in the middle of it (humidifiers and all) as well as tortoises. So, in this bizarre and humid environment we joined the end of a long and stationary queue. We stood and sweated and the novelty of being in a rainforest began to wear off. No worries we thought, soon we'd be on a comfortable train to Barcelona!
When we eventually reached the ticket desk we enquired about the cheap overnight train we had seen on the internet. This is the point where patience for Spanish incompetance wears thin. The woman who looked like she had that rare but serious problem of lacking a brain stared at us as if we had asked her to multiply 45670 by 230. She then did something on her computer which reminded me of a certain travel agent in a Little Britain sketch and turned to us and said in the Spanish equivalent of "computer says no".
We persisted being sure that this train existed so she called over a neanderthal who seemed to know more about the art of incompetence than her. He typed in a series of coded numbers which came up with the same answer - this train apparently did not exist. By this point the 3 million or so people in the queue behind us were starting to get militant so we decided to adjourn to my place, make a nice cup of tea and prove these idiots wrong.
Once at mine we found straight away the train we were looking for, we rang up and the pleasant Latino lady told us yes of course there was a train and that we should book up fast. Unfortunately after all that the train was actually full so we had to resign ourselves to the fact that we would be traipsing those soot covered hallways again to get on a bus.
After nearly 5 hours of trying we got a ticket within about 20 seconds at the bus station. We could finally breathe, relax and look forward to an 8 hour trip of numbness.
I came quite on the spur of the moment. It all began on wednesday afternoon - the beginning of a slightly surreal and very Spanish few hours. I had decided to go to Barcelona the day before, finally I had my erasmus grant and a little money to throw around. I met my friend Lizzie in the subterranean bus station that is Avenida de America. It's horrible there and as I wondered the dimly light passages that lead to soot covered buses I found my thin artsy Australian friend and we embarked on the process of buying a ticket. We enquired about prices and times at the ticket desk and then wondered whether we might be able to get cheaper train tickets - with the prospect of 8 hours on the bus we thought we'd give it a try so we hopped on the metro out of that hell-hole and emerged in the rainforest. (no, I haven't been on the wacky backy I am talking about Atocha train station) it's a great train station because it has a rainforst in the middle of it (humidifiers and all) as well as tortoises. So, in this bizarre and humid environment we joined the end of a long and stationary queue. We stood and sweated and the novelty of being in a rainforest began to wear off. No worries we thought, soon we'd be on a comfortable train to Barcelona!
When we eventually reached the ticket desk we enquired about the cheap overnight train we had seen on the internet. This is the point where patience for Spanish incompetance wears thin. The woman who looked like she had that rare but serious problem of lacking a brain stared at us as if we had asked her to multiply 45670 by 230. She then did something on her computer which reminded me of a certain travel agent in a Little Britain sketch and turned to us and said in the Spanish equivalent of "computer says no".
We persisted being sure that this train existed so she called over a neanderthal who seemed to know more about the art of incompetence than her. He typed in a series of coded numbers which came up with the same answer - this train apparently did not exist. By this point the 3 million or so people in the queue behind us were starting to get militant so we decided to adjourn to my place, make a nice cup of tea and prove these idiots wrong.
Once at mine we found straight away the train we were looking for, we rang up and the pleasant Latino lady told us yes of course there was a train and that we should book up fast. Unfortunately after all that the train was actually full so we had to resign ourselves to the fact that we would be traipsing those soot covered hallways again to get on a bus.
After nearly 5 hours of trying we got a ticket within about 20 seconds at the bus station. We could finally breathe, relax and look forward to an 8 hour trip of numbness.
Saturday, 1 December 2007
Wednesday, 21 November 2007
How to Survive the Weather
When I arrived in Madrid, I was greated by a city drenched in a golden hot sun which, after having endured the worst summer imaginable in Britain, was a pleasant lick of warmth for my sun-depleted soul.
However, after a few days I began to realise why the madrilenos say they have nine months of winter and three months of hell. It was the trapsing around looking for somewhere to live that did it. For the first few days in Spain I was hopping on and off metros from dawn till dusk, I was discovering new neighbourhoods with quirky names such as Lavapies (wash feet) and Bambu. Whilst doing this I was having to contend with constantly sweaty feet and endlessly empty water bottles. Despite the so-called air conditioning, Madrid's wonderful metro system can get rather stuffy. When I emerged from the airless metro, I entered the airless city. Big cities don't do so well in the heat - all the people, buildings, cars, CO2 ... the romance of a skin-kissingly warm Madrid quickly dissolved into a feeling of 'I think I am about to die' and this was in mid September.
Madrid is Europe's highest capital. It is all between 600 and 1000 metres above sea level. This accounts for its rarified air but it also accounts for a sun that makes one feel they are under a magnifying glass -like little ants sweltering under a relentless and unforgiving heat. As soon as the grip of summer begins to release, the cold is in straight away. There is not much of an autumn in Madrid. One day it's summer, the next it's winter. For the last couple of weeks I have been looking out the window to make sure I am not really in Russia. The brit's view of Spain is of a country that is always warm and balmy. NOT MADRID.
What a silly place to put a city. On a high plateau in a part of the country with no navigable river and hardly any water. This is why on every tap here there is reminder to conserve this precious resource. Having a bath in Madrid is the equivalent of taking a taxi in London - you just never do it!
The way to survive Madrid's weather is to look at your feet first thing in the morning. If they are stiff, it's probably advisable to wear a thick jacket that day. If they are blue, you will need a snow-shovel and ear-muffs. If, by any chance they are wet from that drip in the cealing, that means the first rains in 3 months have arrived and all hell has broken loose. The latter has happened this week. It's been chucking it down. As I skip the puddles in the streets I quietly giggle away with amusement at how the Madrilenos cope with rain. They all jump into their cars and find the nearest and most convenient traffic jam. This way they are all huddled together in herds and must therefore be safe.
The Spanish are rather good at crashing cars and even more so when it rains. The news this week bemoaned the terrible weather for the innately spanish skill of swerving off the road but I am yet to see the them admit that they may just be terrible drivers.
As I sit here I have a heater warming my feet. I go to bed each night wondering if I will survive till the morning but somehow, despite hypothermia, I do wake every morning - must be something to do with that rarified air which has just that bit of life-giving magic in it. It's great.
However, after a few days I began to realise why the madrilenos say they have nine months of winter and three months of hell. It was the trapsing around looking for somewhere to live that did it. For the first few days in Spain I was hopping on and off metros from dawn till dusk, I was discovering new neighbourhoods with quirky names such as Lavapies (wash feet) and Bambu. Whilst doing this I was having to contend with constantly sweaty feet and endlessly empty water bottles. Despite the so-called air conditioning, Madrid's wonderful metro system can get rather stuffy. When I emerged from the airless metro, I entered the airless city. Big cities don't do so well in the heat - all the people, buildings, cars, CO2 ... the romance of a skin-kissingly warm Madrid quickly dissolved into a feeling of 'I think I am about to die' and this was in mid September.
Madrid is Europe's highest capital. It is all between 600 and 1000 metres above sea level. This accounts for its rarified air but it also accounts for a sun that makes one feel they are under a magnifying glass -like little ants sweltering under a relentless and unforgiving heat. As soon as the grip of summer begins to release, the cold is in straight away. There is not much of an autumn in Madrid. One day it's summer, the next it's winter. For the last couple of weeks I have been looking out the window to make sure I am not really in Russia. The brit's view of Spain is of a country that is always warm and balmy. NOT MADRID.
What a silly place to put a city. On a high plateau in a part of the country with no navigable river and hardly any water. This is why on every tap here there is reminder to conserve this precious resource. Having a bath in Madrid is the equivalent of taking a taxi in London - you just never do it!
The way to survive Madrid's weather is to look at your feet first thing in the morning. If they are stiff, it's probably advisable to wear a thick jacket that day. If they are blue, you will need a snow-shovel and ear-muffs. If, by any chance they are wet from that drip in the cealing, that means the first rains in 3 months have arrived and all hell has broken loose. The latter has happened this week. It's been chucking it down. As I skip the puddles in the streets I quietly giggle away with amusement at how the Madrilenos cope with rain. They all jump into their cars and find the nearest and most convenient traffic jam. This way they are all huddled together in herds and must therefore be safe.
The Spanish are rather good at crashing cars and even more so when it rains. The news this week bemoaned the terrible weather for the innately spanish skill of swerving off the road but I am yet to see the them admit that they may just be terrible drivers.
As I sit here I have a heater warming my feet. I go to bed each night wondering if I will survive till the morning but somehow, despite hypothermia, I do wake every morning - must be something to do with that rarified air which has just that bit of life-giving magic in it. It's great.
Saturday, 17 November 2007
WELCOME!
I am starting this blog now even though I have been in Spain a while…but I say better late than never! I hope you enjoy it and I would be interested to hear your points of view as well.
I have been in Spain for over 10 and a half weeks now – with less than 5 weeks to go until I go home for the first time I am beginning to anticipate Christmas and all that it means – seeing friends and family! I am very excited…
This week has been quite a quiet week. The previous week I was feeling quite homesick and it was making me feel low – for the first time since I had got here I was finding it hard – it was hard but I couldn’t explain why because nothing ‘hard’ was actually happening in my life – I had got over all the hard bits of finding somewhere to live and starting university. I think it was just more of a psychological shift. I had hit a brick wall and now I was trying to surpass it.
I think a year abroad is mostly about the personal challenges it presents. It’s so very character building because it involves surviving in a foreign environment, and there is a point where it stops feeling like a holiday in the sun, where the novelty wears off and you realise what it all really means. I am glad not to have gone back to England in this first term as I think it’s too early. I could see myself going back and then finding it hard to leave again after having slipped right back into my normal life.
Spain is good place to do the year abroad as it is sufficiently foreign to present those challenges. It is also a lovely country with a rich culture and a very lively people! Madrid is non-stop and the vibe is good.
I was presented this week with a reality shock as I heard the news that a man had been killed in my local metro station in a pro and anti fascist clash. It’s the anniversary of Generalissimo Franco’s death this coming week and fascist marches are planned in the city. It seems there are two extreme ideologies: one is fascism that seems to survive to this day despite the Spanish having put ‘everything behind them’. And the other is anti-fascism – who will do whatever it can to disturb the marches.
As a foreigner who is not used to seeing extreme right-wing marches occur in the middle of a capital city, I am somewhat shocked. I am torn between the right for people to express their points of view, no matter what they are, and the fact that this ideology is a provocation of hatred and violence.
I have read an interesting book recently called ‘Ghosts of Spain’ in which the author, a British foreign correspondent living in Madrid, follows the resurrection and burial of mass graves left over from the Spanish Civil War. 32 years after the end of the dictatorship people are finally beginning to speak up about things that were previously forbidden. It is interesting though as it also shows that Spain has not quite come to terms with its past and the ideological conflict that many say, was a precursor to World War 2. Underneath the surface, the feelings are still raw and the fear still present.
On the face of it Spain has changed enormously – it has an excellent transport system, improving public services (though bureaucracy still reigns as I have often experienced first hand) and richer, healthier people. It’s a country that is going forward, no doubt about it. The past is slowly turning into ancient history as the post ’75 generation grows up with only the memory of democracy and greater affluence.
I stand at an interesting vantage point – I can look at this country as an outsider and draw more objective conclusions of it. I had no particular fascination with Spain before I came but now I have been here for a while, not only do I have a great affection for the country and its people, I have also learned that it is not simply sun, cerveza and flamenco. It is a multi-faceted country with different languages and different people. It is a country of contradictions, where the Roman Catholic Church is still strong but where gay people enjoy more rights than in most other countries.
Anyway, I’ll leave it there for now. Will write more soon…possibly about the farcical system of trying to sign up for university.
I have been in Spain for over 10 and a half weeks now – with less than 5 weeks to go until I go home for the first time I am beginning to anticipate Christmas and all that it means – seeing friends and family! I am very excited…
This week has been quite a quiet week. The previous week I was feeling quite homesick and it was making me feel low – for the first time since I had got here I was finding it hard – it was hard but I couldn’t explain why because nothing ‘hard’ was actually happening in my life – I had got over all the hard bits of finding somewhere to live and starting university. I think it was just more of a psychological shift. I had hit a brick wall and now I was trying to surpass it.
I think a year abroad is mostly about the personal challenges it presents. It’s so very character building because it involves surviving in a foreign environment, and there is a point where it stops feeling like a holiday in the sun, where the novelty wears off and you realise what it all really means. I am glad not to have gone back to England in this first term as I think it’s too early. I could see myself going back and then finding it hard to leave again after having slipped right back into my normal life.
Spain is good place to do the year abroad as it is sufficiently foreign to present those challenges. It is also a lovely country with a rich culture and a very lively people! Madrid is non-stop and the vibe is good.
I was presented this week with a reality shock as I heard the news that a man had been killed in my local metro station in a pro and anti fascist clash. It’s the anniversary of Generalissimo Franco’s death this coming week and fascist marches are planned in the city. It seems there are two extreme ideologies: one is fascism that seems to survive to this day despite the Spanish having put ‘everything behind them’. And the other is anti-fascism – who will do whatever it can to disturb the marches.
As a foreigner who is not used to seeing extreme right-wing marches occur in the middle of a capital city, I am somewhat shocked. I am torn between the right for people to express their points of view, no matter what they are, and the fact that this ideology is a provocation of hatred and violence.
I have read an interesting book recently called ‘Ghosts of Spain’ in which the author, a British foreign correspondent living in Madrid, follows the resurrection and burial of mass graves left over from the Spanish Civil War. 32 years after the end of the dictatorship people are finally beginning to speak up about things that were previously forbidden. It is interesting though as it also shows that Spain has not quite come to terms with its past and the ideological conflict that many say, was a precursor to World War 2. Underneath the surface, the feelings are still raw and the fear still present.
On the face of it Spain has changed enormously – it has an excellent transport system, improving public services (though bureaucracy still reigns as I have often experienced first hand) and richer, healthier people. It’s a country that is going forward, no doubt about it. The past is slowly turning into ancient history as the post ’75 generation grows up with only the memory of democracy and greater affluence.
I stand at an interesting vantage point – I can look at this country as an outsider and draw more objective conclusions of it. I had no particular fascination with Spain before I came but now I have been here for a while, not only do I have a great affection for the country and its people, I have also learned that it is not simply sun, cerveza and flamenco. It is a multi-faceted country with different languages and different people. It is a country of contradictions, where the Roman Catholic Church is still strong but where gay people enjoy more rights than in most other countries.
Anyway, I’ll leave it there for now. Will write more soon…possibly about the farcical system of trying to sign up for university.
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