Italy: Parts 1,2 and 3 in Photos

Venice: Part 1

















Florence: Part 2













Rome: Part 3

Italy: Or Pasta, Pizza and Pope...

What everyone said about being able to spend a month or a year in each of Italy’s great cities and still not having seen it all, it’s true. I’m now in a position to reconfirm that unjust cliché. The weather wasn’t so kind to us in Florence or Rome but excellent company made it pretty difficult to complain as well as the best food anywhere, or should I say on par with Mexican. So here’s the blow-by-blow:

Day 1:
Leave early Tuesday morning after having handed in all papers and leaving all presentations to the last day. As usual I cut it close and the airport bus was packed but nothing was keeping me from getting to Milan. I flew Ryanair to Milan and made my way via train to Venice. It wasn’t necessarily as easily done as I’ve just claim and I have virtually no Italian speaking capabilities, but around sundown I rolled into Venice. Though they share the same time zone, Italy gets much darker much faster than Spain and I panicked and walked past the hostel three or four times until I had the brainwave to check the number above the door with its own personal bridge over the canal. Sure enough, one lone bridge to one lone door labelled with a very small brass plaque “The Venice Fish” materialized just before I gave up on my search. It was a very nice place, right on one of the many canals and walking distance to the train. People were friendly and after calling home and being overwhelmed and calmed down by Jamie, I had a lovely night.

Day 2:
I got up early and made my way out to hit the streets of Venice. I bought an afternoon ticket for a boat tour to the islands surrounding Venice to see the glass factories and to see where they make lace, so I needed to make the most of my free morning. I made my way to the Royal Bridge where after taking some cheesy photos, I grabbed my first of many expensive meals. I continued on, bought myself my first pair of genuine leather, cashmere lined gloves. I then trekked over to St. Mark’s Square and watched a few idiots cover themselves in pigeons, which carry disease I might add. I went into the Basilica which was over the top, as I am growing to know. In the afternoon I did the tour, it was getting very dark and very chilly but I did get to see the guy blow a vase and a crystal horse in under two minutes. During the entirety of this voyage I ate and ate and ate. That night I went back to the Hostel, whose price included dinner, and had dinner and a movie with the gang of about 6.

Day 3:
I cleaned myself up and headed for the train which was coming around 11:30 to take me to Florence, where I would meet Elena, Clay and Dave. I waived sadly goodbye to Venice, the city on water that truly blew my mind and headed to yet another magical haunt. Elena and Co. met me at the station and we made our way to the hostel. There was lots of intentional graffiti and famous painting reproductions lining the walls there but we had a four person room which is a nice change from the group sleeps I’m used to. We ate, drank some wine, wandered through endless markets and ate some more.

Day 4:
Up early for a free tour of the city provided by the hostel. It was raining and we were chilly but the sights each were breathtaking. The tour was sort of the lesser known sights of Florence, as opposed to the super tacky ones. We went across the river to the Grand Palace, rubbed a lucky bronze pig for good luck and admired the jewels on the stores on the bridge. In the afternoon we tackled the Duomo in the rain. I thought I was going to have a stroke walking up the 490 odd steps but the paintings on the Cupula were worth it, not to mention the view from above where we could see for miles around. I even bought a yellow beret. We had donair kebobs for dinner and more pizza and slept like babies.

Day 5:
We caught the slow train to Rome which though half the price, cut into our precious and very pocos hours of daylight and once we got to Rome we ended up only seeing the Coliseum in the darkness, tremendous though it was. We ate, again, and got a decent sleep for the huge day we planned for. Our hostel was cheery, lots of nice people, no major complaints.

Day 6:
We got up early only to realize that it being Sunday meant that the Vatican museums would be closed, which were our first plan of attack for the day. Instead we went to the Vatican and toured the St. Peter’s Basilica, the Treasury and the Tombs while waiting for the man in the white hat, the Pope, to give his blessing at high noon. The Vatican is sort of unreal. I can’t really explain it, the faith and the excess juxtaposed at once is almost too much. When we got there the square was empty, when we left we were like bees swarming and coming down off of Pope high. The Pope’s blessing was in seven languages and the sheer volume of people present was out of this world. After we got some gelato, it’s as good as they say it is, and headed for the Pantheon. The Pantheon is one of the city’s oldest structures and once was believed to be the place where the Greek Gods were worshipped (my history might be a bit iffy here, but you get it). It was ominous looking but free so we wandered it. After that we headed, in the extremely heavy pouring rain, to Trevi Fountain and took the trademark tourist photos. Finally we hit the Coliseum, which was the marvel they say it is. We walked around the grounds until we could not take the wet any more and headed back to the Hostel. That night the Hostel provided dinner and we stuck it out to dry out.

Day 7:
Elena and Clay had to leave as their flight back was earlier than Dave and I’s, so Dave and I went back to the Vatican to see the Museums. The lines wrapped around several city blocks but moved quickly. Once we got in, we were crammed in lines like soldiers marched off to the paintings that would change our lives forever. Never in my life have I seen a place like that. The Sistine Chapel is pretty much icing on the cake but the paintings and sculptures of the endless corridors of the Museum are like the art equivalent of the witch’s house in Hansel and Gretel. After the Vatican, we saw the Spanish steps which I’m sure are much nicer in the summer when the flowers are out. We then made it back to the hostel, grabbed our bags and made the hour long train ride to the airport. Our plane didn’t leave until 8 but we got there early to get out of the rain. After more food and good conversation, we dragged our exhausted bodies to Seville and to our beds. One final day of classes awaited me and then three days and five final exams, two of which I am avoiding studying for to write this. Needless to say, I will be back in Italy in this lifetime, without a doubt.

I had been on the fence about this trip because of money and exams and weather but in the end this was one of my favourite trips if not just for Italy but for the people I traveled with. Elena is a friend I hope to stay in touch with in the future, she is a fellow Rotary Argentina Alumni and we get on like a house on fire. Clay is from New Mexico and is very sweet and southern gentlemanly but wouldn’t let Dave push him around. He’s here all year so we will probably go somewhere else or at least have some classes together next semester. Dave is from Chicago and he is definitely the craziest and funniest of the crew. He had me in stitches, me for a change instead of the other way around, the entire trip and I’m sure we’ll stay in touch. You can’t put a price on good company and I don’t know if I would have had as great of a time if I had been alone or with someone else, so good one Lauren!

Now I can almost officially (this time tomorrow when the exams are done) get excited for my parents arrival which is in one week. Not that I’m counting the days or anything. It’s going to be a packed few weeks but I can’t wait. Aren’t you all jealous? I know. Someone’s got to do it.

Re: Barcelona

Please forgive me if this post is a little nondescript, it isn't meant to be so but I've written and done so much school work this week (I know you don't believe it, do you?) that I'm finding it difficult to write when I'm not obliged to. However, Barcelona deserves a small write-up, infact it deserves a big write-up but let's not get too over-zealous. Here is a breakdown of my voyage:
Thursday night: Left Sevilla, via Vueling Air which is my new favourite airline, for Barcelona. Upon arrival, I caught a bus that comes every six minutes and took me within minutes to a five minute walk to my hostel. I was shocked at the efficiency of this operation. Got to the Hostel, which other than the 11 people I was sharing a room with, was pretty decent.

Day 1: I met some American gents that morning for breakfast who were planning on seeing the same sights as I was, so we decided to go together. We went to the Sagrada Familia Temple, whose photos don't even begin to do it justice. It is Gaudi's living, unfinished masterpiece. It's history is too intense to go into here, let's just leave it at the fact that he got hit by a tram and killed in 1926 and construction began in 1888 and in 2007 it is only half finished. Then we went to Park Guell, which was another Gaudi built masterpiece. We finished the evening in the blistering cold discussing whether or not China is going to invade the US. No one could believe that I was not worried about this. I was the only one there who didn't own a gun. Interesting.

Day 2: I decided to go it alone that day and left my American companions to themselves. I went to see Casa Batllo, which coincidentally ended up being on the same block as my hostel. This was my favourite Gaudi work that I saw and it is a house that he redid for a wealthy landowner in the 1920s. It is absolutely bizarre/wonderful/organic and I bought several coffee table books, which is truly how we must judge a good tourist trap. I thought of Jamie the entire time, with the wild wood work and lack of straight lines. The ceiling is the piece de resistance, with it's dragon-like roof line and mosiacs imitating scales. I spent the rest of the day walking around Barcelona, though it was bit chilly, I walked through downtown and to the World Trade Centre building at the harbour. Barcelona, like many cities in Spain, is a city of contrasts. The striking modernist architecture coupled with some of the oldest traditional buildings along the Mediterranean makes for an interesting skyline. This city fascinates me, also with the Catalan language and mild separatists sentiments, it was almost like being in another country.

Day 3: I made the trek to Montserrat. I left pretty early in the morning to take the Metro, then the train, then the cable car up the mountain to Montserrat and let me tell you it was a VERY CHILLY 10 degrees up there. I hiked by myself up into the rocky caves where the monks used to trek around. The Basilica was incredible and has one very famous Virgin Mary statue, famous because she is black in skin colour and we went like masses of herded cattle to the second floor of the Basilica to rub/kiss her appendages. Me, not so into that. It just doesn't seem sanitary to me but to each his own. By the end of the day I was frozen solid and I made my way back to Barcelona.

Day 4: I made my way back, early to Seville and just about missed my plane. Apparently going back, not so simple. Apparently early Monday morning everyone and their dog is going to the airport and though I was there an hour early I just made it to the airport in time and because so many of us were late, they made an exception and took us after the gates had already been closed. Needless to say, the plane was late and I didn't make it to class. Instead, I spent the afternoon talking jive with my roommates (which are another blog entry in and of themselves) on our new couch that our landlord bought us so that we don't have to sit around a dinner table and hold high court every time we're all in the kitchen. This makes us all very happy. The roommate's dog however, doesn't make me so happy at all. I'll get into that one next time.

So, that is all for Barcelona. Next bat channel: Tuesday I leave for Italy. I must remember to email the rents all the information re: hostels and contacting me. The Jude, she worries, don't cha know? I can already see Jamie shaking his head.

Until next time, hasta la proxima!

Barcelona and Montserrat...

School is getting hectic and I will write about the trip really soon but here's a taste of some photos for you!
Barcelona:

















Montserrat:


There are the links to the facebook albums should you want to see those:
Barcelona: http://ucalgary.facebook.com/album.php?aid=69064&l=ceabb&id=596070001
Montserrat: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=69067&l=b2b15&id=596070001
That's all for now! I'll write more soon, I promise!

Morocco: Or why with so many different foods available, it always ends up being meat, broth and tubers…

I have many things to say about the trip to Morocco, some good, some bad, some ugly but overall the experience was incredible. It was definitely something that I will remember forever and it has left me with an irking feeling of wanting to go back to try and understand what they’re all about over there but in the mean time, I will appreciate the standards of food safety and customer service that exist here in Spain.

This is a sample itinerary of what we did and saw. I will try and keep the comments to a minimum as I am still at the early stage of African culture shock where I complain, compare and beat my head against the wall in frustration and fear of never being able to “get it”. Here we go:

Day one: We met at 5am at the Torre de Oro here in Sevilla. We were up early, we were pumped, we were on the bus and then we were back asleep… We rode to Tarifa (2.5 hrs.), while the sun was coming up and boarded the ferry to Tangier. Once in Tangier we drove around on a brief tour and made our way (3.5 hrs.) to the ancient city of Volubilis. The ruins are pretty incredible, you can imagine the house of the old emperor and the mosaics are reasonable intact considering that they date back to 5^th or 6^th C. AD (my dates may be wrong, here). We continued on, with a brief but tasty (cookie filled treat) to Meknes. I would have loved more time here but our schedule was tight. We ended up at the hotel for the night, ate Tajine (the tuber/meat stew that we would soon get very sick of).

Day two: Back on the bus (approx. 4 hrs) to Ifrane, the Switzerland of Morocco. This small, touristy town is full of Swiss looking houses and official government residences. It is in the Medio Atlas Mountains and was quite chilly. The photo of me with the stone Lion was taken here. We continued on to Risani, out in the desert where we were to meet the jeeps that would take us out to the desert. Of course they were “late” and so we were escorted to the Burbur carpet manufacturing meca and given a “cultural presentation” that turned into a sales pitch for rugs. The Burbur men in blue outfits are infamous in the guide books and are said to be worse than any thieves and bandits. With that said, I obviously left with a rug. The salesman was very aggressive and if I hadn’t have been so mad and flustered in my French negotiation schemes, he probably could have made me cry. They did offer us good tea and Morocco pizza (calzone-esque) and finally we got in the jeeps and headed to the desert. We had a nice dinner, more Tajine, and Moroccan entertainment. We slept in carpet huts, multipurpose though they are, and waited for 4am.

Day three: 4am we were rousted from our beds and moved out to where the camels were sleeping. They too appeared grumpy to be up so early. We rode them for a half hour or so into the Sahara and watched the sunrise. It was magnificent, surprisingly chilly, but well worth the trip. Some trips only get a two minute parking lot tour with the camel which seems drastically inhumane so we were quite lucky. Of course, the entire time the guides/carpet/fossil dealers tried to sell us stuff on the basis of providing for their families and minimal tourist during the hot summer months. I laughed to myself when one of the camels peed on the guy. I know, it is a tough life out there but enough already. I’ve failed to mention that the other group had 5 people try to sneak across the Ferry by holding on under their bus to get to Spain. Unfortunately for them the our bus wasn’t going across, there was another waiting at the other end, and they all had to crawl out, covered in soot and find another unsuspecting vehicle. Of course, some people (I won’t name origins) tried to take photos and make a spectacle of it. We headed back from inland Morocco to Fez. We got there late and many had the shits. Thankfully, I did not.

Day four: A local tour guide took us to the main Mosque, though we weren’t allowed in and then guided us through the gong show that is the Medina. It was here where I was the most overwhelmed with smells, sights, tastes and people hawking their wares. The meat hangs, I guess Muslim tradition means that all the blood has to be drained out before it can be eaten so the cats (of which there are millions) wait underneath to drink the blood and get their protein. We went to several textile operations and one leather factory where we watched from a nice, relatively clean distance, while the men soaked the hides in coloured vats of dye in the afternoon sun. Yellow hides and satellite dishes mark the horizon inside the Medina. It’s something else. I’ve also forgotten to mention that inside the Walled-in downtown section there are no cars allowed so donkeys come zooming past and people yell “Balac!!” which means get the hell out of the way, and they mean it! Getting a taxi once you leave the Medina is almost impossible and all the children are more than happy to help you find one, but only for a price. Our guides were afraid to leave us in the Medina for the afternoon because they thought we would be sold drugs (which by the way, the most offers came from right outside the hotel) so they directed us to the newer part of the city. BIG MISTAKE. We did not want McDonalds. We returned to the Medina and battled it out on our own. It was worth it and I was able to get us around with my passable French. Our hotel was pretty posh and we ate well there. We went to a Moroccan ‘Show’ that night of music and belly dancing, and all and all we had a good time.

Day five: We got up early and headed to Chauen. This city is exquisite and I wish we’d had more time there. If I go back, it would be there and to Marrakesh (which we did not have a chance to this trip). Chauen is Spanish speaking, unlike the rest of the cities we had seen and I felt a little more at home. The city is painted Flinstone blue (as I’ve named it) to keep the heat and the mosquitos out. Our guide was a strange old man with one shred of a tooth left and claimed in his very high old voice that he was in the Lonely Planet video for the region. I have yet to verify this. Once again we were sold carpets and traditional burka type outfits, but this time we were much more ruthless. We ate, at a very very slow and shitty restaurant and were put back on the bus. We weren’t all that thrilled because Chauen had the best, relatively laid back shopping so far. However, our fate was back on the bus, where we would be all the way back to Tangier, ferry, Tarifa, Sevilla. We arrived back at 11pm and I headed home, this time on the city bus, back to my warm bed (which I’ve now put the down feather duvet on because 23 degrees to sleep is far far too cold).

That, my friends, is the recap. My thoughts on Morocco are yet to be determined. The culture shock was indeed aggressive, to say the least. The sights were breathtaking but I felt clearly out of place. My western viewpoint on women’s rights and cleanliness standards do not jive with the Moroccan way of life, but perhaps they don’t have to. Perhaps if we remove the value judgements and just take it in, we get the most enrichment out of it, but I will not buy another rug and I will not eat any more Tajine… for a while.

Roadtrip Andalucia...

It's been a little while since I last posted and I'm trying to get you all caught up on my whereabouts these past few weeks. It's been a whirlwind for sure and though a few moments of homesickness have risen their ugly heads, they have been swept away quite quickly.

The roadtrip was this: I rented the car, though I could not drive stick, and we were on our way. The other three, Chris, Jenna and Phil, shared the driving and the parallel parking while I took the helm for directions and got us lost a few times.


Day One: We didn't have pre-purchased tickets to set the Alhambra but we headed for Granada anyways. The Gods were on our side that day and we were at the head of the line, tickets and audio guides aplenty and we spent the entire afternoon until around 7pm discovering the wonders of the Alhambra. It was spectacular and a definite MUST SEE while here in Andalucia. The city of Granada is just as neat and the shopping there was by far the best I've seen in Spain so far. My parents and I will be heading there again come December and I can't wait to share this place with them. That evening we met up with our fellow Canadian friend Annie and her friend from highschool who was here visiting. We went to a sheesha bar and smoked tobacco and drank Arabic tea. It was a really lovely day.

Day Two: At 3am we had to pick up Chris from the bus station in Granada, is he is an Aupair here and couldn't leave the children he looks after until late Friday night. We picked him up and went back to the hostel to crash. The following day, if my memory is correct, we checked out the Granada cathedral and wandered around downtown and then we headed for Malaga. We took a seriously scenic route but the views were spectacular and I made sure we had snacks. We ended up in Malaga, found a place to stay and checked out the Picasso Museum that evening. It was this day that Jenna and I had the worst, most undercooked burgers of our careers. More on that later.

Day Three: Left Malaga and headed for Ronda. We didn't have much time in Ronda but Chris gave us the tour (since he's spent the most time there). Ronda is a quaint little mountain town with an incredible bridge and one of the oldest bullrings in Spain. During the drive to and out of Ronda, we saw many of Spain's landmark "Pueblo Blancos" or White Towns. These white towns are tucked away in the mountains, and all the buildings are painted white to keep the heat out, I'm sure in the same grain as in Greece. Anyways, the views again were gorgeous and the variety of landscapes available to us here in Spain is quite amazing. This evening Jenna left via bus back to Sevilla to be in school Monday morning and we headed off down the coast to Estepona.

Day Four: We arrived pretty late in Estepona and planned to sleep on the beach. After a great Italian meal in Estepona, which is on the beach just past Malaga but WAY WAY down the mountain from Ronda, we pulled up our stuff and attempted sleeping on the beach. Chris, as usual slept like a rock but because Phil didn't have a sleeping bag, I volunteered to share mine. Now don't get any romantic ideas here people, this is a mummy bag meant for one person and the drafts I kept getting were relentless. Around 5am we headed back to the car in an attempt to catch a few hours before heading back. Chris awoke around 7, well rested and ready to drive home, while Phil and I were cold and cranky. But, Chris drove us safely back to Sevilla and I made it back for my Monday afternoon class.

I had class Monday and Tuesday and then we left this past Wednesday for Morocco. Morocco is a whole other story which I will retell in a few days as I have to get going. Needless to say, after all this travel, I am glad to be back in Sevilla. I'm attempting to catch up on my sleep but with the International Film Festival in town, I'm trying to see some movies, so sleep is taking a back seat. You will know this if you've talked to me lately, I've been up until 1 or 2am with my mind racing. Oh well, you sleep when you're dead I guess.

One misses the Rock when one isn't on it...

Live from The Rock, it's Saturday night! Well, actually now it is Sunday morning but you get the idea. Yesterday I went out on a limb and joined a student tour to Gibraltar. By out on a limb I just mean that I decided not to just take a train/bus to Gibraltar and fend for myself. I'm sort of skeptical of these little student tours because most of them are riddled with American students all travelling in packs talking about getting drunk at every moment of the day. I figured that in going with a tour, even if I was by myself, I wasn't really by myself. And so I got to benefit from not having to make my own travel arrangements and not having to organize bus tours and guides and I was pretty happy with the final result.

Yes there were lots of annoying Yanks, but the two girls who guided the tour were lovely and our bus guide once we got to Gibraltar was a funny old Brit who knew all sorts of things due to his 28 year self imposed exile at Gibraltar. It was a beautiful clear day and we could see the tip of Africa and we could see the two ocean currents meeting along the Straight. We saw St. Michael's Cave, which was once converted to a military hospital during World War 2 when Hitler was trying to take Gibraltar, to a concert hall as of today. The monkies were out in full force, playing savage for the tourists. I was thrilled but had to wash all my clothes upon arriving home.

All in all it was a good trip and a pretty decent way to see and appreciate the Rock. I hope to be able to go back there when the parents come, but we'll have to wait and see. Next week I'm road tripping around Andalucia with some friends, so stay tuned!