Up by I hope where the King of Spain don´t care
I don´t think I have given enough attention in this blog to the weather in Europe. Both London and Barcelona have been VERY hot and humid. I know that I sometimes criticize those that complain about hot weather and that I still insist that hot weather is better than cold. Still, August and September in Europe are brutal! I´ve started wetting my shirts in the sink with water before I go out, just to stay cool for an hour or so.
Given the "wallet theft" fiasco, I had to take yesterday and today slow. Without money, there isn´t much one can do when travelling. I had planned yesterday to take a day trip to Figueres to see the Dali museum, but there was no way I was going to use up any of my precious Euros on a train that was not absolutely necessary.
Things got better though. After waiting around for a few hours, Western Union opened and I received the small amount of money that my credit card company was able to wire me. I wandered up and down Las Ramblas. Admired the animal vendors. All sorts of birds, turtles, lizards. Kind of disgusting actually to see all these creatures screaming inside cages, but I told myself "at least they aren´t in Thailand or China, so they really shouldn´t be complaining about the conditions, should they be?"
What is there to do in a city that is fun, relaxing and free? I remembered around noon that Barcelona has a beach. Only a 30-40 minute walk from my hostel, so I gave it a go. Most who know me are familiar with my lack of beachiness. I awkwardly walked up and down the beach in my sneakers, until I found a spot I found satisfactory. The Barcelona beach is moderately pretty, not stunning, but also not disgusting like some of the beaches in L.A. The sand was a bit more like dirt than like sand, and it contained a healthy share of cigarette butts, but the water was calm, I heard music coming from a nearby cafe (including R.E.M.´s "Daysleeper" and 10,000 Maniac´s "Like the Weather"), and the people watching was excellent. The benefits of a mostly topless beach are obvious, but the abundance of very old, fat and sun-leathered folks takes a bit away.
I read more of Hemingway´s For Whom the Bell Tolls, which just won´t seem to end. I don´t hate the book, and I find the philosophical musings intriguing. And it gives me a much better sense of what it felt like to be a guerrilla fighter in the Spanish Civil War. But the scenes between the male protagonist Robert Jordan and his love interest Maria consistently make me want to vomit. I have no gripe with sexuality and romance in novels; often I like it. What I can´t stand is overly romanticized mushy talk. And I have near zero tolerance for the the pet name "rabbit" that Jordan uses to address Maria. Yuck. These scenes alone make me dislike Hemingway and make it harder for me to enjoy the rest of the book, which is much better written.
Despite an hour and a half with no sunscreen, I escaped sunburn. I ate a hot dog on the way home. And took a nap with my iPod. Oh how nice!
Woke up refreshed, walked around Las Ramblas with Tony. Bought myself a cheap bottle of wine, found myself the bodega where I had my first dinner in Barcelona (after half an hour of searching through the Barri Gotic), and enjoyed a feast of bacalao and sheep´s foot. Yes, "sheep´s foot." I ordered by pointing at the display case, not exactly understanding the rapid Spanish explanation I was given by the owner. After about 15 minutes of picking through small bones and trying to find an efficient method for not wasting the tasty meat and sauce I asked him again what I was eating. I had figured it was rabbit. "Pie de ternera" he says. Go figure. I´m glad I tried it.
Now, feeling much, much better, I returned to the hostel. Since I had spent 10 Euros already on dinner, I figured it would be wise to stay in for the night. I chit chatted with 2 Israeli girls who were in the same hostel room, alternating between English and Spanish (as I know probably fewer than 20 words in Hebrew), and went to sleep early.
And had the strangest dreams I have had in years.
Given the "wallet theft" fiasco, I had to take yesterday and today slow. Without money, there isn´t much one can do when travelling. I had planned yesterday to take a day trip to Figueres to see the Dali museum, but there was no way I was going to use up any of my precious Euros on a train that was not absolutely necessary.
Things got better though. After waiting around for a few hours, Western Union opened and I received the small amount of money that my credit card company was able to wire me. I wandered up and down Las Ramblas. Admired the animal vendors. All sorts of birds, turtles, lizards. Kind of disgusting actually to see all these creatures screaming inside cages, but I told myself "at least they aren´t in Thailand or China, so they really shouldn´t be complaining about the conditions, should they be?"
What is there to do in a city that is fun, relaxing and free? I remembered around noon that Barcelona has a beach. Only a 30-40 minute walk from my hostel, so I gave it a go. Most who know me are familiar with my lack of beachiness. I awkwardly walked up and down the beach in my sneakers, until I found a spot I found satisfactory. The Barcelona beach is moderately pretty, not stunning, but also not disgusting like some of the beaches in L.A. The sand was a bit more like dirt than like sand, and it contained a healthy share of cigarette butts, but the water was calm, I heard music coming from a nearby cafe (including R.E.M.´s "Daysleeper" and 10,000 Maniac´s "Like the Weather"), and the people watching was excellent. The benefits of a mostly topless beach are obvious, but the abundance of very old, fat and sun-leathered folks takes a bit away.
I read more of Hemingway´s For Whom the Bell Tolls, which just won´t seem to end. I don´t hate the book, and I find the philosophical musings intriguing. And it gives me a much better sense of what it felt like to be a guerrilla fighter in the Spanish Civil War. But the scenes between the male protagonist Robert Jordan and his love interest Maria consistently make me want to vomit. I have no gripe with sexuality and romance in novels; often I like it. What I can´t stand is overly romanticized mushy talk. And I have near zero tolerance for the the pet name "rabbit" that Jordan uses to address Maria. Yuck. These scenes alone make me dislike Hemingway and make it harder for me to enjoy the rest of the book, which is much better written.
Despite an hour and a half with no sunscreen, I escaped sunburn. I ate a hot dog on the way home. And took a nap with my iPod. Oh how nice!
Woke up refreshed, walked around Las Ramblas with Tony. Bought myself a cheap bottle of wine, found myself the bodega where I had my first dinner in Barcelona (after half an hour of searching through the Barri Gotic), and enjoyed a feast of bacalao and sheep´s foot. Yes, "sheep´s foot." I ordered by pointing at the display case, not exactly understanding the rapid Spanish explanation I was given by the owner. After about 15 minutes of picking through small bones and trying to find an efficient method for not wasting the tasty meat and sauce I asked him again what I was eating. I had figured it was rabbit. "Pie de ternera" he says. Go figure. I´m glad I tried it.
Now, feeling much, much better, I returned to the hostel. Since I had spent 10 Euros already on dinner, I figured it would be wise to stay in for the night. I chit chatted with 2 Israeli girls who were in the same hostel room, alternating between English and Spanish (as I know probably fewer than 20 words in Hebrew), and went to sleep early.
And had the strangest dreams I have had in years.
posted by Jed at 3:16 AM
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