Luoghi e alimenti di Roma

Rome: best food of my life. Period.

My first experience, on Saturday night, was free pasta in the hostel cooked by 2 lovely sisters from London, but they've lived in Rome for about 20 years so I figure it's authentic enough. Apparently they live in a castle in the country. What a life. After looking around my wonderfully cozy room (which I had all to myself for one night) and terrace, I turned in early.

Sunday morning was a whirlwind tour of the Colosseum, Palatine Hill, and the Forum, using my free Rick Steves tour podcasts (I told the hostel staff later that they should tell everyone about these-they were amazed). Thanks to a tip from goitaly.about.com, I avoided the huge line at the Colosseum by buying a ticket at Palatine Hill instead (the ticket is good for all 3 places). While the Colosseo was certainly spectacular, I liked Rick's story about the Vestal Virgins' house in the Forum the best. Apparently, a few daughters of the aristocracy were chosen around the age of 6-10 to tend the eternal flame of Rome and the house around it. They would be at this post for 30 years and then, if they were found to still be virginal, received a sweet dowry and were allowed to marry. They were like the female celebrities to the male gladiator celebrities, even had their own box seats for the Colosseo. Great work, if you can get it. The whole morning tour was extremely hot - glad I had my sunscreen and big hat or else I would have been red as the pizza sauce on the delicious slice of heaven I had for lunch. Took a walk from Piazza Popolo down Corso (main shopping street) to the Spanish steps (not really that impressed by these, but interesting story that models used to hang out and perform here because the designer shops are nearby), and then to the Trevi Fountain.

I ate San Crispino gelato (the best in Rome!) while watching all of the sunburned tourists take pictures, make out, or throw their coins in. From what I've seen, there are 3 main groups of tourists: school groups, retired folks, and couples. Three guesses who were the most annoying. I tossed the requisite coins (first for a wish, second to return to Rome) over my left shoulder. For dinner, my hostel-mate and I tried to find a tiny Italian place nearby (recommended by the desk guy, who first tried to get us to go to an Indian restaurant, I mean really). Sadly, the place is closed on Sundays, but we were able to find another place where I ate delicious spaghetti with weird drinking-straw-like noodles, which made it difficult to slurp them up. Still tasty though.

Woke up bright and early Monday morning for my 8:00 Vatican reservation. At 8:00 sharp, the huge green doors opened up to reveal the Musei Vaticani entrance, reminiscent of the doors to the Emerald City in Oz. The museum itself was full of artifacts from all over the world, many pillaged from Rome. No clue what I was looking at half the time, but I feel like I still would have had no clue even if I had paid for a tour guide. The multilingual signs scattered throughout were helpful, and I recognized Dionysus even without the sign-clearly the best god. The Raphael rooms were interesting, especially The School of Athens. This may be cliché, but of course the best part was seeing the Sistine Chapel. With Rick Steves help, I was able to interpret most of the ceiling and the Last Judgment wall, the best part of which was a caricature of one of Michelangelo's critics in hell. I admire the cheekiness. Also interesting to compare the two halves of the room; Michelangelo decided that the first half wasn't dramatic enough, so he went all out for the second half, and you can tell. Still can't believe he did the whole thing by himself; meanwhile I was complaining about neck pain after only 15 minutes of studying the ceiling. There were guards everywhere passionately enforcing the 'no pictures' rule, but I was sneaky and dropped to the floor in the middle of a tour group in order to get this pic:

You can't access St. Peter's directly from the museums, so I walked around the wall and waited in a short line (just for security, entrance is free). The inside is pretty epic, evidenced by the floor plaques in a row down the center marking off where the rest of the world's great basilicas would end. I have no idea who many of the saints represented inside are, but I do know St. Peter, and it was pretty cool to see his supposed crucifixion and burial site. I did not know that he is considered the first Pope. It's ironic that Peter is famous for refusing to be compared to Christ even in mode of execution, and nowadays the Pope is almost as equally revered as Christ. I'm not saying I wouldn't have be starstruck and taken several pictures if I had seen ol' Benny, just that the reason for my visit was more about history than some sort of religious mecca. I wonder if any of this stuff, or modern Christianity, would even be here if Constantine hadn't had a crazy vision of a cross. Perhaps the citizens and tour guides of Rome exaggerate their place in history, perhaps not.

Later I grabbed some more pizza and gelato and headed to Plaza Navona (too touristy) and the surrounding side streets. I think I found the door from the Eat Pray Love apartment, and there was a cute little cafe nearby with great paninis. There was a woman eating spinach and boiled eggs outside (I found out later she worked there) who told me she was on a dieta, which is a fail in Italy, I think.

Following a visit to the Pantheon - amazing architecture, and the single hole in the ceiling made it seem as if some god were about to beam down at any moment, Star Trek style - I got ready for the night's culinary adventure. Somewhere around Plaza Navona, I found 2 Italian ladies chatting outside an apartment and asked them where I could find the 'migliore pasta a Roma.' They personally escorted me to a tiny hole in the wall with tables outside full of lively Italian conversation. Between the mouthwatering food and the charming waiter, I was not disappointed. My pesto ravioli made me want to renounce all other forms of pasta from then on. The tomatoes tasted like they had just been picked from someone's grandmother's garden behind the restaurant. And the tiramisu, ohhhh Lord help me, I actually found myself trying to eat faster so that one of the curious passersby could have my table and experience it too. I never really liked Olive Garden in the first place, but it's like a wax statue compared to the real, living breathing body of flavors that is authentic Italian food. Sighhhh.....

I didn't take my camera to dinner that night, so as not to feel like a tourist, but I'll sign off with a picture of the (renovated) apartment building from Eat Pray Love. According to a blog I read, the nearby cafe where I ate lunch may have also been in a movie scene! I think the one where she is eating with the Italian language exchange guy.

Travel tip: Avoid restaurants with pictures of the food outside; the best method for finding authenticity in a touristy city like Rome is to wander around side streets and ask a local for a good recommendation.

Cafe con Leche con Hielo

Spring has finally arrived in Zaragoza, which made for a pretty nice weekend. Friday after work we all went for churros con chocolate. Churros were fantastic (even more like funnel cake than usual), but I wasn't overly impressed by the chocolate sauce - maybe because I got the cheapest one. Spent too much money on tapas and wine for dinner, sadly, so it's looking like peanut butter sandwiches and dinner at home this week. Saturday I woke up to a note that my box of goodies from GA had arrived, so I went on a little adventure to find the post office. Super-nice day for a walk, except I could feel my face burning. Must find face sunscreen this week. By lunchtime I had already read the nice card from grandma and half the Cosmo, and dug into the grits, peanut brittle, and girl scout cookies. Fail. Feeling like I needed another walk after all that sugar, I hoofed it to the Carrefour to buy a bottle of Jack for my friend Jack's birthday. Win of the day: on the way to Jack's, Mike definitely asked me if I brushed my teeth with it, a la Ke$ha, ha. Fun times Saturday night playing an interesting board game called 'Pass Out' and a British/American hybrid Circle of Death card game, and then out for karaoke. We were a bit disappointed by this particular karaoke bar, because they kept playing songs that no one requested instead of our requests. Possibly because our requests were mostly in English, but since we were practically the only ones there this shouldn't have been an issue. I did get to scream 'Livin on a Prayer,' so the night wasn't a total loss, ha. The plan is to try a different place Friday night. Sunday everyone was sluggish in the apartment due to the time change, and we didn't eat lunch until 3, but it was a colossal lunch of smoked salmon, guac, multiple salads (I made balsamic-tomato-cucumber in honor of spring), roasted veggies, and steak, which apparently everyone eats practically raw here - ew. I left mine on for 20 more minutes and it was still delicious:P Later met up with friends at the aptly named Drinks&Pool, but instead drank iced coffee (hence this post's title) and played whist (which is like spades). Overall, a pretty low-key weekend in Zaragoza. Looking forward to buen tiempo this week and possibly Aljafería!

Viva Madrid!

Arrived in Madrid Friday morning....took the Rick Steves tour from Puerta del Sol to the Royal Palace, and actually met a couple of groups with the same guidebook, doing the same tour. Awesome. Puerta del Sol was a bit disappointing, as there is no actual door there anymore, and it´s basically a huge concrete plaza surrounded by shops, and a McDonalds, of course. Is nothing authentic anymore??? I did get a pic of the cute bear & madroño tree statue, which is the symbol of Madrid, and also makes an excellent sugary sweet alcohol, served in a shot glass sized ice cream cone-cup-thing, dipped in chocolate. Plaza Mayor was cool, almost totally enclosed by buildings painted in the democratically chosen color of burgundy. Yep, the city, excited about the right to vote for anything after Franco, actually voted on the color a few decades ago. Rick suggested I try a typical calamare sandwich, which was a bad choice because I don't particularly like calamare, even when fried and in sandwich form. The lovely upscale Mercado de San Miguel with its gourmet wine and tapas bars was a vast improvement.
I explored the Royal Palace Friday afternoon and was amazed by the regality of it all. I, like a typical American, am fascinated by royalty. Also, even though it is pretty young, by European standards, Palacio Real is the biggest royal palace in western Europe. The best parts were the armor of King Ferdinand and the gentlemen's 'smoking' room, with Asian designs covering the walls. I wonder what they smoked. Later I saw the Templo de Debod that the Egyptians sent as a thank-you gift to Franco in the 1960's. A 2000 year old temple in the middle of modern-day Madrid is a jarring sight to see, but not as jarring as all of the enamored couples lounging about the surrounding park. Get a room, people.

Went out on my own for tapas, and met a Dutch couple at one place, where we all got free drinks, and 2 older couples at El Madroño, who bought my drinks for the rest of the night. They said they were my parents for the evening, and took me to the nice Casa Lucio, where Hollywood actors tend to frequent. No Taylor Swift sighting though.

Saturday morning I got up bright and early to visit the Prado. Interesting art, mostly religious or royal-portrait in nature. It gets a bit redundant, lots of paintings of Mary, naked ladies, and kings. Las Meninas has a 3D effect, extremely advanced for its time. It's like the people in the painting are posing, and at any moment they will break character and step out of the frame. Rick Steves' unique interpretations of the artwork made it a more juicy experience, for sure, revealing the historical and sometimes scandalous secrets behind the masterpieces, such as the crucified Christ one that some king had commissioned after he cheated on his wife. After wandering about the Prado for about 3 hours, I grabbed some delicious vegetarian takeout and went to the Royal Botanical Gardens, which were pretty but probably more interesting if one studies Horticulture. I had no idea what half those plants were. The Retiro park was much more lively, as it was Saturday afternoon and ripe for people-watching.
I limped across the park, which was definitely much bigger than I thought, to find Reina Sofía and Picasso's Guernica. It was a bit more difficult to find, not obvious like the Prado, which was on Paseo del Prado and surrounded by beautiful grounds. However, seeing the Guernica and Dali's works was well worth a bit of foot and leg pain - truly moving, and I'm not even an art person. I definitely think I understand Dali and Goya's crazy mind benders - it's like they paint thoughts instead of merely attempting to paint photographs of things in real life, which I think is a lot harder to do. Still, they had to be on some major stuff to come up with some of those thoughts.

After a quick shower, I made it to the Taylor Swift concert early, and my girl didn't let me down. The show was amazing, and I managed to squeeze my way up to the second row! I may have cried a tear or two of pure joy when she finally took the stage at 9:45, singing my favorite, "Sparks Fly." I love going to concerts where I know all the words to every song. Also, Taylor strikes the perfect balance between being that sassy girl you love to hate, and the vulnerable girl you who makes you want to personally face-punch any guy who ever did her wrong. And she doesn't even have to dress like a skank. All in all, I'm extremely impressed and can't wait for her next album/tour!

I was starving after the show, so I found my way back to the Mercado de San Miguel to check out the nightlife there. An excellent spinach empanada, sangria, and chocolate truffle later, I was talking to a middle-aged couple from Orange County. And yes, they were 100% representing the stereotype. This woman could have been a "Real Housewife," no joke. But they were really nice and told me stories about California in the 70's over glasses of "good" sangria. Maybe I'm just getting older, but I honestly enjoyed having a chill time with these older couples both nights in Madrid slightly more than a typical night of clubbing with people my own age.

Sunday was a lazy day of browsing booths at El Rastro (biggest flea market in Europe - it took up like 10 streets), and later opting out of more museums in favor of a siesta at Retiro. Win of the day: goodies for all my girlfriends back home:)

Travel tip: It is worth it to spend a little more and take the train between cities. The bus is susceptible to traffic.

'Hola, soy el Papa. ¡Bienvenido a España!'

The title of this post is the best quote of the many memorable ones from the Cincomarzarda festivities Saturday. More on that later. I want to talk about how amazingly beautiful the Pyrenees are first. They definitely elicited a stronger reaction from me than either of the beaches I have seen so far. I don't even care that it's even more frigid there, I would definitely live there. I wonder if the Rockies are as grand, because I would much rather actually live somewhere English-speaking. Unless the Rosetta Stone that I will be purchasing upon my return to the States helps my Spanish A LOT. I feel like simply being around all the Spanish is not really helping because, as I've said before, I am not an auditory learner. I find myself zoning out of group conversations when the pace becomes too fast for me, and it's frustrating. Lots of smiling and nodding, which means I rarely know what is going on. I don't know why I just assumed that people in Spain all speak perfect English. It's not that I don't want to learn, but it's easier when people can explain things in English. For example, the definitions in the dictionaries in my Spanish class are in SPANISH! If I don't know what one word means, then how the hell am I supposed to know what the synonyms mean?


Apart from the negativity stemming from my language inadequacy, I had a great time. They don't even need snow blowers for the slopes here; it's all natural powder. I was really happy about this because I was using borrowed, too-long skis, and thus did not need ice patches to further complicate matters. After warming up on the lower slopes and watching my friend's progress at a beginner's pace, I ventured up to the more difficult 'pistas.' My friends said later that I am an adrenalina junkie, ha.

After a brief siesta, we got ready for a night out. Cincomarzada is a bit like halloween, in that people wear costumes, only I think there was a higher concentration of religious-themed outfits. Hence my picture with the 'Pope':

We drank cider and wine and tried lots of tapas, and the fried shrimp with 'special sauce' was the best. I will eat most anything as long as I don't have to look at it, and so I had to draw the line at the squid when the tentacles squirted out. Typically American, I prefer my food to be unrecognizable, or at least not staring at me. I ate rabbit paella in Valencia, but then I saw whole skinned rabbits at the market and that was the end of that.

Felt pretty down yesterday, but mostly because of all of the rapid-fire spanish conversations I was forced to endure in silence. The worst was the chocolate shop owner who was desperately trying to explain to me something radio-related, I think a contest involving the U.S. It helps if I understand a concept in English, but I know nothing about the radio business. *Blank stare* *Blank stare* *Blink blink blink*

Gran aventura del día

My afternoon mission yesterday was to obtain a Carnet Joven card (youth discount card for train tickets and such) and my Taylor Swift ticket. For the CJ card, I read online that train stations usually have them (this was in english, not spanish, so it was not a problem of me misunderstanding). So I go across town to Estacion Delicias, take a number, wait my turn, all to find out that no, they do not have them - you can only get them at banks. Banks? Really? Defeated, I ventured back out into the frigid wind to the bus stop, got on what I was sure was the right bus to Carrefour (a Walmart-type store where I could hopefully pick up my concert ticket), because I HAD checked the location online, after all, only to be told by the bus driver that it was actually the opposite direction from the bus route! However, I was not going to give up, as Taylor Swift was at stake, so I walked about 2 miles down the road in the unrelenting wind to the Carrefour. At least streets are walkable here; there is no way in hell I would walk to Walmart or Kroger from my house in Athens - complete lack of sidewalks once you get out of downtown and campus. But anyway, I asked this old lady at the Carrefour info desk, in spanish, where I should go, and she had no clue what I was talking about. Luckily, another, more knowledgeable employee came to the rescue and directed me to the Carrefour travel agency office, where I successfully got my ticket. I wonder why things are sold at the oddest places here - concert tickets at the travel agency (the concert is in Madrid, hardly what I would call 'travel'), stamps and phone recharges at the tobacco shop, bus card recharges at the grocery store. It's like they do it that way on purpose to confuse foreigners. I am figuring out the system, however, so soon I will pass for a local and world domination is mine! Mwahahaha...

Travel tips of the day: don't trust everything you read online, and when trying to make complicated requests, like 'where can I get my concert ticket,' be sure to bring along a friend who speaks the language better, or at least locate a store employee who looks like he/she would know about such things (i.e., not a sour old lady).

Cómo puede uno ciudad tener tantos lugares hermosos - al mismo tiempo natural y hecho por hombre!

No shortage of things to do or see in Barcelona, that's for sure! I started out at 10:00 Friday with a walk down La Rambla, the most famous (and subsequently touristy) street in Barcelona. My favorite place there, of course, is La Boqueria, the huge food market. I mean, the Mercado Central here in Zaragoza is OK, but this place was insane. They had fruit I have never heard of - I bought a piece of what I think was dragonfruit that was conveniently cut in half and wrapped up with spoon. Perfect snack on the beach later.

After the ramble down La Rambla, I found the Gothic Quarter, and thoroughly explored all of its treasures, including the underground centuries-old ruins of a Roman domus, winery, and dye shop. I told my new Italian acquaintances later how strange I thought it was to have Roman ruins in practically all of the major cities in Spain. Of course, they said 'if you want to see Roman ruins, go to Rome,' which I will do.

I made my way to Barceloneta, the old fishing town, for lunch on the beach. One word: guacamole. I thought it was a Mexican thing, but apparently the Spaniards are fond of the yummy green goo as well. The sand on the beach was odd and sticky. My hostel roommate told me the beaches are fake - built for the 1992 Olympics - but I looked it up later and found that the beach I was on is actually natural. Wonder why the sand was like that then...

The roommate and I went to a Rick-Steves-approved Catalan restaurant Friday night, and I guess the stew was good but there is no telling what kind of meat was in it. New food strategy: close my eyes before trying things in order to taste impartially. I accidentally ate baby goat at the taste test experiment last Thursday because I had no clue what it was. Anyway, the patatas bravas at this place were the best I've had so far. They are basically fried potato wedges drenched in spicy tomato sauce that reminds me of Zax Sauce, which goes to show that not ALL American fast food is bad:)

Saturday was a nice juxtaposition of Gaudí's creations and the natural wonder of Montjuic (a mountain practically in the middle of the city). Sagrada Família is epic - no wonder it is a World Heritage Site. The outside is covered in intricately carved sculpture, and a lot of the architecture outside and inside is inspired by nature, such as the 'canopy' of columns in the main part. It is supposed to actually be finished by 2026, 100 years after Gaudí's death. So basically I have to come back to Spain in 15 years. Parc Guell was originally supposed to be a suburb for the rich in 19th century Barcelona, and while that plan was a failure, the park itself is amazing, with its famous mosaic dragon and curved benches, and the grand entrance that looks like it belongs in Willy Wonka's factory. Who wouldn't want to live here?

Montjuic took less time than I thought, mostly because I chose to skip the tourist trap Poble Espanyol on the advice of Rick Steves. So glad, because then I had more time to sip sangria and enjoy the sunset from the castle at the top of the mountain with some awesome Italians. Got down the mountain just in time to see the light and music show at the Magic Fountain - no clue about the spanish, but I could guess each Disney song by the music, while having interesting life and love conversations with the Italians. Top quote of the night: 'Italians do it better!'....we shall see, in about April. Can't imagine Italy being better than this!

El tiempo se va rápido

I can't believe I've been here for almost a month! It's been business-as-usual around here, which I suppose is a good thing - that means I'm assimilating successfully!

Highlights of last weekend: tour of the Ambar brewery and museum. Couldn't understand a word the tour guide said, but there were conveniently located informational signage throughout. Seeing the old equipment was interesting, as was the fact that one ingredient, lupulus, is in the same family as marijuana. Definitely smelled similar, too! We didn't taste that, but we did get to taste different types of barley.

I am discovering how very bad I am at learning new languages. Maybe some people just aren't as naturally inclined; I think my problem is that I am a visual learner, so unless a word or phrase is written out, I will not remember it.

Trips to Barcelona this weekend, Madrid in March for a T-Swizzle concert, and Italy (Rome and Naples) in April.

La paella se sirve mejor en la playa

Two days since I returned from my holiday in Valencia - I needed a vacation from the vacation! Barely had time to sit until Sunday on the beach. I met a fellow American on the train Friday who happened to be staying in the same hostel AND room as me. Small world for sure. We started the weekend off right with delicious authentic paella at a small cafe. Paella is a rice dish made in a hugh cast iron skillet with saffron, vegetables, and some kind of meat, usually seafood on the coast (ours was chicken and rabbit). After, we were able to see the Catedral and several other monuments, because in Spain things are open from 5-9. This makes more sense than the MO in America, where you practically have to skip work in order to get anything done. Or run errands on your lunch break. People here believe that meals are an event, which is definitely how it should be. Even to-go drinks and food are somewhat of an anomaly, whereas in the states the coffee barista just assumes you want your grande mochachino 'para llevar'.

Saturday we returned to the Catedral to see the 'Santo Grial' and I just know that it is the real Holy Grail. It has the most convincing story, anyway. The Catedral also has a century-old mummified arm of some saint, and a ton of really old art, some of which you can touch (never would be allowed in U.S.!). I think it's strange how Christianity in general is supposed to be about renouncing earthly riches, yet so many denominations, especially Catholocism, build huge cathedrals and basilicas filled with priceless gold and gemstone decorations. I mean, I'm glad they took the initiative to save all of those artifacts, but as for actual church, if I go it should be outside in nature - God's creation, not man's. Just seems more logical.

After the Catedral and scaling the massive Micalet tower (leg pain for 2 days after that one), we found the Mercado Central. Much much bigger than the one here in Zaragoza, and so much fresh food to choose from! I wish we had one back home! I bought sugared figs, strawberries, and the best sweet oranges ever. We also tried horchata, a local specialty drink made from tigernut, and it was terrible - the only thing I've had so far that I absolutely do not like. Feels like powdered sugar going down your throat. I did get a laugh out of the farton, which is the doughnut-like thing you are supposed to dunk in horchata. A five-euro random wine tasting and then epically delicious tapas and cider at a cider bar (also need one of these in Athens!) made up for the bad horchata though - chorizo cooked in cider? Yes please!

The Oceanográfic is part of a huge new futuristic complex - Ciudad de las Artes y de las Ciencias. It is largest aquarium in Europe, and has a dolphin show, which was the best part. For some reason there were people at one end of the pool who apparently were competing with the dolphins. One would dive from the high dive, and then the dolphins would jump high in the air, and so on.

After a rest Saturday night, we went out on a pub crawl with people from our hostel and other hostels. Six places with a free drink at each for 15 euros? Can't turn that down! Felt kind of bad for waking up the 2 other girls in our room when we got back, but they really should expect that sort of thing in a youth hostel. Sunday we ventured to la playa (beach) to chill, and it was pretty empty until lunchtime at 2. Of course, right when we wanted to eat. Most of the massive crowd were locals, I think. They had reservations. Luckily we were able to find a table outside on the beach at one place and had delicious paella (even better than the first place). Awesome weekend - can't wait to pick my next destination!

Travel tip: Research how to find good authentic food before you go. It may not be as cheap as the chain restaurant stuff, but it's way more worth it to spend money on food experiences then useless stuff.

Más despacio, por favor

I went to my first free spanish class yesterday. There were people from all over: Syria, Morocco, Russia, England, Italy, and Nicaragua (i think that woman just wants to learn PROPER spanish). The instructor (Chatti-an appropriate name for sure) probably thinks I should be in the level 1 class, but really I just can´t understand a word she says. You would think a teacher would think to speak more slowly when teaching a class of non-speakers. Also, I find that often I have the correct answer, but either I am not enunciating clearly enough or she just can't understand my accent, or maybe she just enjoys making people feel like they are wrong. I believe she is an actress of some sort, which makes sense because she definitely looks like the Spanish Goldie Hawn, and this is only a side gig. I wonder if my spanish really is that bad or if I'm just a bad listener in this language as well. Either way, I am not used to being the slow kid in class. It's like sophomore year when I tried to take the Honors accelerated spanish class, and the teacher banned english on the first day, so I quit. Only, there is no sense of foreboding like there is with a graded university class. Really freeing, actually - I might actually learn something this way.

Bueno, Malo, y Anticipación

Fantastic weekend in Zaragoza with new "compañeros de trabajo" aka friends from work, followed by sad news from home.

Saturday night started out with tapas, then a "salsa dance," and ended up at a discoteca that played Spanish and American music. Unfortunately, the only Spanish music I knew was Shakira's. However, dancing is a universal language:) I do think my Spanish is better when I'm talking about food and music. Ordering a mixed drink is more difficult than I thought, but "una cerveza" is generally understood. I noticed that it is cheaper to order things separately (like a shot of rum and a bottle of coke) than it is to have the bartender mix it. I wonder if it is in the U.S....

Couldn't watch the super bowl sunday night, but I did experience a British futbol match at an Irish pub. I feel like I will be going there at least once a week because it's the only place I can really blend in, provided I don't open my mouth.

Bad news about the family dog Monday, and also less-than-perfect news about mi novio's potential cross-country move. It's weird how things seem less real an ocean away, but I still had to get my mind off things with some retail therapy yesterday. I swear I went in every store in Gran Casa, and found the cheapest, best bag at the very last one. Since I now have a bag in which my camera actually fits, I am ready to tour!

I was looking at Madrid for this weekend's trip, but the hostel I picked booked up since yesterday. I heard that paella, the traditional Spanish dish, originated in Valencia, which is on the (warmer) coast, so that is my likely destino. Found a hostel with a girls-only dorm, no bunk beds, free breakfast, and great reviews after 2 hours of surfing the website, and also a train ticket. I like spontaneity, but not TOO much. (Athens friends, feel free to laugh at this)

Travel tip: slower trains, or the bus = half the price of the high-speed trains, and let's be honest, you could probably use the 4 hours of sleep.

´´La experiencia es más importante que el trabajo´´

First day of 'work' yesterday and this is what Luis tells me. Technically, I'm supposed to be researching articles on local food chains in the US and UK, but I don't think I actually have to turn in anything. It's really great having British guys working here as well, just in case I need a break from the mindmelt that is Spanish conversation. We found an Irish pub, which is actually run by a Scot named Scott, and played trivia. Sadly, I could only stay for one round because I had to catch the last bus home. Luckily, roommates were still up and let me in, as I had grabbed the wrong keys that morning in my 7am fog. Hopefully all of this enhanced forgetfulness and general clumsiness is just the adjustment period. Because carrying a plastic bag full of peanut butter, pringles, and postcards into an irish pub at 19:00 screams 'i'm a tourist.'

Travel tip: never buy an international cell phone/sim card before you actually arrive at your destination, because you will probably get the wrong thing and feel bad about having made your friends pay long-distance rates because your number is not actually spanish.

Las primeras observaciones

I got off to a bad start Monday - lost bag at the airport and lost me at the train station and running on 2 hours of sleep. Might have had a small breakdown at airport following a taxi driver's refusal to take my card, but I'm chalking that up to the sleep-deprivation. I explored my neighborhood yesterday; everything is within a 5-minute walk. No need for giant SUVs in Europe! I live with a couple who actually just moved in the apartment last week. They speak OK english and I speak OK spanish, so we meet in the middle somewhere between "WiFi" and "WeeFee". Victor likes to cook when he and Arlen get home at 10:00. I said I would try anything, so I had to eat "el pulpo" last night. Not so bad if you don't think about it.

I took the bus to the downtown area today to buy a laptop adapter and see the sights. I had some cafe con leche and tortilla sin cebolla at a small cafe at la Plaza del Pilar and attempted to talk to the guy working there. Too bad the only english phrases he knows are "my name is" and "which liquor?". I said "esperare' por tu" and apparently he heard "espiritu." I guess ordering a "spirit" at noon is the norm around here.

My room smells like spilled hair products, necesito aire fresco!