The Eternal City

These are just two (slightly random) pictures from Rome...the top one is my tiny, tiny hotel room and the bottom one is me, Robert, and Pablo sitting on the roof of Pablo's seminary, which clearly has one of the best, most expansive views of Rome in the entire city. A recap...

Thursday: obviously the aforementioned train trip, found my hotel after navigating the Termini train station, got lost trying to find the hotel, Robert & Pablo picked me up, we tried to go to the Vatican Museum (it was closed), went to St. Peter's Basilica, stopped by the convent where Robert was staying, went to Piazza Navona, Chiesa di Santa Maria Sopra Minerva, the Pantheon, the Trevi Fountain, the Spanish Steps, searched high and low for pizza, and took the metro back to my hotel (I got us lost).

Friday: American style hotel breakfast, wandered around trying to find Robert in the line for the Vatican Museum, Vatican Museum, met up with Pablo, found lunch, took the bus to St. Paul's Basilica, saw the steps from Jerusalem (that Jesus reportedly walked on), went to the Coliseum, tried to go to the Forum (it was closed), went to the church where Bernini's "The Ecstasy of St. Theresa" is kept, St. Paul's of the Chains (where Michelangelo's Moses (that you can touch) is kept), took the bus to St. John's where the first Baptistry was built, took a bus way outside the city to a non-tourist dominated Peruvian restaurant, and stopped by the Piazza del Popolo on the way back to the hotel.

Saturday: Hotel breakfast, round 2, meet the boys at the Campanile in St. Peter's square, hiked up quite a huge hill to see the Tempieto (a small Renaissance building housed within the Spanish consulate), visited the Campo del Fiore (where the French Embassy and apparently a lot of nightlife was), saw some of Caravaggio's paintings in Chiesa di San Luigi, went to Chiesa di Ignacius (a Jesuit church with a fake dome and the tomb of one of the founders), visited the Forum, took the bus out to the Catacombs of Pricilla, went to S. Maria Maggiore (where Bernini is burried), visited Pablo's seminary, said goodbye to Pablo, searched for a pasta place for dinner but happened upon Rome's best pizza place for dinner (where the owner would dart in and out of the restaurant and hand pick people out of the ridiculously long line), and finished with Rome's best gelato.

Sunday: Mass at St. Peter's Basilica, packed up and checked out of the hotel, saw the Pope speak in St. Peter's square, and hopped the train back home.

On the road again

In the past 24 hours, I’ve taken nearly every form of available transportation…2 buses, 2 planes, a vaporetto, and now train 1 of 2 to get to Rome (where I’ll take the metro and/or a taxi). Needless to say, the last thing I want to do is sit for the next 5 hours, but what can you do?

It’s only 8am, but I should have definitely been partway to Rome right now. Or even in Rome, had I taken the midnight train last night. Instead, following my good fortune of finding the (free to me) bus full of tourists that went straight to the airport, I ended up stuck in Madrid (where I connected) for quite a while since my plane got delayed over an hour. And that caused me to miss both the 10:20 and 11pm buses back to Piazzale Roma, so I had to take the 11:40 bus, which got me back to Venice around midnight. I then had to dash to the Vaporetto stop to catch the 12:09 boat that would take me to the stop closest to the house (to avoid walking alone, at night, in the dark, and with a wheeled suitcase that takes ages to get over bridges). It was about 1 am by the time I got in and I still had to unpack and repack (Canaries clothes and Rome clothes are a little different!). Mal had looked up the schedule of trains to Rome and told me there was one at 6:30am, one at 7am, and that there were actually a lot. So, I figured I’d let myself sleep in a tiny bit (til 6:45) and not kill myself trying to get on the 6:30 train since it’d mean about 3 hours of sleep.

After a long, toasty, uncomfortable (my bags are SO heavy) dash to the train station, the woman at the info booth informed me that the next direct train wasn’t until 10:30, but that I could take a 8am train to Bologna, where I could then pick up a train to Rome. With the connection added in, it’ll take about 6 hours instead of the usual 4 ½ or 5, but I’d prefer to be making progress (and not wasting my effort of getting ready early). I’ll get in around 2, which is good as I can’t check into my hotel until then, but bad because Robert gets in at 10:15 and I had hoped that we could both head from the train station to the hotel and his convent together (I have no map and a bad sense of direction…). If I’d only gotten to the station a little earlier…there was a 7:30 train…but oh well…this way I had time to get a brioche and realize that the ticket vendor only gave me the ticket for the second leg of my trip, which is bad news since they always check for tickets (I went back to the counter and she gave the Veniceà Bologna ticket to me).

The ride from Venice was uneventful and I made it to Bologna successfully but the train station at Bologna was a little confusing and I was glad I had 45 minutes to figure things out. I found my platform and bought a few things from the vending machine in some sort of semblance of lunch (following an oh so healthy breakfast of a chocolate brioche). I also got persuaded into giving my last 2 euro piece to some kid going on in Italian about how badly he needed to buy a train ticket. Even though I knew it probably wasn’t for any train ticket, the kid caught me at a weak moment and I handed it over…I blame sleep deprivation and Dramamine (definitely not my gullibility…). Once they put up the info for my train, they also noted that it was “in ritardo” which means delayed. I’m beginning to think the infamous Manzullo bad travel luck has started to follow me everywhere I go! We left about 15 minutes late, which isn’t a huge deal, but I want to be able to catch up with Robert in Rome since he’s much more well prepared than me in terms of maps and plans. Plus I just want to get all this luggage off my hands by checking in!

In all these travels, I’ve had some revelations (some of which make me thankful I live in the US and some that don’t):

What Europe has figured out:

*public transportation (without a doubt the majority of subway systems are inexpensive and relatively easy to use and definitely don’t have the negative stigma we’ve assigned them in the states)

*a variety of low budget travel companies (the competition ensures low fares to pretty much every major city)

*a continent wide train system (we don’t have anything that comes close in terms of cost, routes offered, or ease of use)

*being multilingual (if there’s anything that’ll make you feel inadequate, it’s the legions of toddlers/kids you hear speaking two+ languages fluently)

What America dominates at:

*assigning seats on planes & trains (i'm a pretty big proponent of this approach)

*lining up to board said modes of transportation in an orderly fashion (you would not believe the lining up procedure at Iberia…mostly because it doesn’t exist and it’s pretty much a free for all…same goes for Ryan Air…adds unnecessary stress)

*being on time (or at least being profusely sorry and offering compensation when not on time)

*customer service (no, really…comparatively speaking, we’re got the edge on this one)

(I'm actually in Rome now, staying at a Best Western in a slightly sketchy part of town, but the room is clean and quiet and nice. And by nice, I mean TINY, but still nice...all the amenities of my room in the Canaries, just 1/4th the size! The walls are a salmon color and the wallpaper is pretty much velvet, which is kind of weird, but it's all very kitschy-cool. Plus, I'm not going to turn down free wireless, free breakfast, my own bathroom, and a TV! Robert is coming to meet up with me now...time to see all the things I didn't get to see in high school when I was sick!)

Gran Canaria: Overexposure

Gran Canaria, the biggest of the Canary Islands, is essentially the Spanish speaking Hawaii and has been my home for the past five/six days of the first ten day break. It’s a beautiful island (which I’m sure you inferred if you’ve been to Hawaii) with mountains in the center of the island and expansive, rocky beaches all around the coast. It’s very touristy, but what island (or other place I’ve visited this semester so far) isn’t? Nevertheless, the island retains very traditional architecture that’s a mix between Mediterranean and Moroccan (it’s much closer to Morocco than Spain) and is gorgeous to look at. Overexposure refers to both the sunburns we all got and the, um, nudity we experienced. Apparently people are much more liberal when it comes to sunbathing in Europe, which we found out both poolside and down on the beach. Nevertheless, the resort was great…kind of like a cruise ship full of food, cheesy activities, families, and older couples, but still the perfect place to spend 6 days relaxing. I wish I could’ve taken a million pictures on the bus ride here, because I got to see the dunes (a la Sleeping Bear Dunes in Michigan) near my hotel, the mountains all around, and the juxtaposition of whitewashed homes and Crayola colored apartments in the valleys and near the beaches.

Speaking of the bus ride to the airport…Tristan and I took a taxi when we got in late Thursday night/early Friday morning since the bus system wasn’t running at approx. 3 am when we finally got off the plane, got our luggage, and found the taxi stand. But, the ladies at the front desk of our hotel recommended taking the courtesy bus up to the bus station (a 3 minute ride, a 20 minute walk), then buying a cheap bus ticket (3.30 €, a bargain compared to our pricey taxi) for the bus that would take you to the airport in about 45 minutes. Since Tristan had success with that yesterday, I figured I’d give it a shot to save some €. I decided to hop the 9:50 courtesy bus and the 10:15 airport bus just to make sure I didn’t have an trouble getting to the airport for my 1:25 flight. I checked out around 9:35 and went outside around 9:40, a bus pulled up, and a load of people piled on after stowing their luggage underneath. I asked a woman if this was the bus going to the airport and she sort of nodded, plus I remembered Tristan’s bus being early, so I figured it was the right one. Next thing you know, we’re stopping at a dozen of the local hotels and NOT the bus station. I reasoned that we HAD to be going to the airport, though, on account of the obscene amount of luggage under the bus. Plus, I had left myself enough time that I could hop a taxi back to the airport in the event that the bus didn’t go to the airport. That aside, I began to worry I was going to get in trouble for being on this bus and not having paid, as I had to assume my fellow passengers paid at some point to get door to door service. And then the bus got really full. I mean I was really starting to worry they’d sold just enough tickets to fill the bus up and soon I’d be tossed out on the street with my bags in the middle of God only knows where. But, the seat next to me stayed mercifully empty (the only empty one, mind you) and we soon rolled into the airport parking lot. And then panic set in again when a woman got on the bus, gave a 5 minute little speech in German (and only German), then everyone moved towards the doors. I do not speak or even begin to understand German and I’m sure I stuck out like a sore thumb being oh, the only blond 20 year old toting a pink backpack and a look of utter terror. But, I made it off the bus and away with my luggage before any questions could be asked. So, luckily I’m hanging out in the Gran Canaria airport for a good while before my flight (the check in desk kindly let me check in early AND gave me window seats near the front of the plane). And despite my newfound hate for flying, I still love airports and all the hustle and bustle and the people around me, so I don’t mind spending a good bit of time here. (ps-on the bus, the driver was playing Michael Buble’s CD, which made me think of you guys, Grandma and Grandpa!)

Lengthy side story aside, the past six days have flown by…it really seems like Tristan and I just got here. We had pretty much the same routine each day…up in time to have breakfast before the restaurant stopped serving at 10:30, out to the pool, lunch at the poolside cafe, clean up to walk to the nearby shopping area for dinner, back for some cheesy TV or even cheesier hotel entertainment.

Friday we spent part of the day at the pool, then got cleaned up, explored the nearby shopping center, and then came back to hang out in front of the hotel to wait for Mom to get in. Turns out her plane was delayed (a trend among European airlines that drives me insane…they find it perfectly acceptable to board and depart a solid 15-30 minutes late), so we waited outside for a good while, but the weather at night is beautiful, so it wasn’t bad. Then we showed her around a bit and took her to the boardwalk restaurants on the beach right by the hotel…and we ate Chinese (something very hard to find in Venice).

Saturday we kept our routine, this time sticking around to watch the sunset (I have maybe 1000 pictures of daily sunsets, but they’re all amazing), then walking down to the nearby shopping area to have a more typical Spanish dinner of paella and sangria. Sunday at dinner time, we ventured even further down past the shopping area to see the dunes, then came back to the hotel for dinner (quite possibly the biggest, nicest buffet ever) and then had sangria and watched a cover band of the Bee Gees, which was possibly the most hilarious thing ever (3 Spanish guys, singing disco esque songs, lots of older people dancing…Tristan has videos…it’s great). Monday was a bit more stressful since we decided to figure out what I was doing for the second 5 days, which was rough since we don’t speak Spanish, which made communicating with Iberia Airlines impossible. Begonia, the customer service woman, called for us and helped us in a very real way, but I couldn’t make the Madrid-Salamanca-Venice itinerary work because Iberia wanted to charge me 200 € to change my ticket, then I’d have had to buy a 350 dollar one way ticket back to Venice on top of paying for a hotel in Madrid/Salamanca. I decided to revert to my original plan of going to Rome via train and got permission from Laura, the house director, to stay at Casa Artom tonight (since my flight from Madrid to Venice, scheduled to arrive at 10:15, would probably be late enough that making a midnight train would be a huge stretch. Yesterday I was mostly alone (Mom left at 5am, Tristan at 11), so I spent some time reading by the pool, wandered down by the beach, did some homework, watched some tv, and then went back to the Chinese restaurant by the beach, ordered food to go, and sat on a lounge chair on the beach to watch my last sunset of the trip. I finally bit the bullet and went upstairs to pack, but when I took a break to check emails, I ran into basically the British version of my Grandparents. Instead of stopping on their floor, they got off with me and we had a nice chat about North Carolina (they’ve been there a few times), Illinois (apparently they lived there), what I was doing in Gran Canaria, whether Mom and Tristan had enjoyed it, etc…I wish we’d met them earlier!

And now I’m sitting at a Cafe where I paid way too much for a muffin and water, but it was worth it for the view. My little table looks straight out the floor to ceiling windows at the planes/runways (I’ve always been obsessed, which I’m sure you know if you’ve known me for very long) and even better, a nearby mountain which leads down to the ocean…the last time I’ll see it from the ground unless I ever come back to the Canary Islands.

(pictures coming soon)

it's safe to say i left my heart in switzerland

So I'm about a week behind, but between traveling to Switzerland last weekend, having a big presentation (called a RWPS--Reading Writing Presenting Showing) this past Monday, a big debate Wednesday, and a crazy art history midterm today on top of preparing to leave Venice for a compulsory 10 day break, I've barely found time to sleep!

After what seemed like a simultaneously short and long 4 days at Casa Artom after Barcelona, Allie, Trevor, Tristan, Robert, and I left for the train station shortly after our art class visit to the Accademia Galleries. In true Jenny fashion, I packed heavy (I mean it's cold in the mountains, right?) so the walk was a bit painful, but otherwise uneventful. The train trip itself was so, so long...3 1/2 hours to Milan (luckily Jess joined us ((she was meeting her Dad in Milan)) and the 6 of us dominated a compartment), 3 more from Milan to Montreaux, then 10 minutes-ish from Montreaux to Aigle. I got chastised on the train from Milan to Montreaux for having my feet on the seat (makes the 4th language I've been yelled at in), and the passport control people (who get on at the border of Italy and Switzerland, check passports, then get off again near Brig) asked us a lot of questions, but we made it without missing a train connection, being majorly delayed, etc. We were all even smart enough to pack sandwiches/snacks for the long haul.

When we got to Aigle (pronounced like Ay-guh) around 10:45, we started to look for our ride (the hostel owners from Gryon had to come pick us up at the station since the local train between cities wasn't running that late). Turns out it was two Australian guys, middle aged, and wearing SHORTS. It was only in the 30s and raining...no biggie. Matt and George were their names and they drove us in their retro white Toyota van from Aigle to Gryon...which involved quite a few pin curl roads up the mountain...needless to say we were all a little green by the time we got to Chalet Martin. Nevertheless, we had to check in, get a tour, learn the rules (no shoes inside the house, don't be noisy after 11pm, so on, so forth), and get fitted for skis. Matt fit us for skis/snowboards/boots/poles in the ski shop and I rented ski clothes since a)I don't own them, b)until I succumbed to peer pressure, I hadn't planned on skiing. He tried to convince us to buy rental insurance in case something happened to the equipment (or we'd have to pay in full for damages). He also convinced us to get up at 7am to go 45 to ski on "Glacier 3000," which sounds um, a little cheesy and not very serious, right?...

The next morning, we all woke up super early, slipped and slid down the path to the van, popped some Dramamine for the curvy road down one mountain and up another, and loaded our gear into the packed van. I sat smooshed between Matt and George since George and I were dubbed the "hurlers" for our potential for getting car sick. Luckily we all made it up to the glacier without any sicknesses (even after a stop for pan au chocolat). Matt dropped us off at the ticket window and told us to meet back at 4 (or risk getting left at the glacier). We all whipped out our ISIC cards (otherwise useless, I promise) to get a discount on lift tickets, then rode 2 gondolas up to the top. The gondola ride alone was pretty much worth the price of the lift ticket...you slowly climb up a 10,000 foot mountain, and I swear it looks like you're going to crash into it right before you lift up a little more (and on the way down, it pretty much flies, which is fun).

At the top, Robert and I realized we were in trouble when we got yelled at (I swear I attract it) for trying to take a chairlift DOWN the mountain. See, the problem was, to get down to the main area where all the ski runs started, you had to ski/snowboard down a series of hills. Pretty steep ones. Mind you the last time I skied, I was maybe 14, it was in Denver, my sister and I did maybe 1 bunny hill run, and gave up. After walking down a part of the hill, I suggested to Robert we use his snowboard as a sled to get down a particularly steep part since we'd die if we tried to go down it via skis/snowboard and because Allie, Tristan, and Trevor were waiting. It was absolutely hilarious...until I let go of my skis at pretty much the top of the hill. I was worried that someone would hurt themselves tripping on them and also that I'd owe stupid Australian Matt 800 Swiss Francs for his skis since I so unwisely opted out of insurance. A fellow skier grabbed them on his way down the hill and gave them to me, so a major crisis was averted, but nevertheless...we made it (all equipment in hand and in one piece) and with Allie, Trevor, and Tristan's help, Robert and I only fell off the t-bars (up to the top of the runs) about 10 times and made our way down the run quite a few times before Robert and I gave up (before we hurt ourselves) and went to the cafe for lunch.

Later that night, we got dinner at a local pizzeria. None of us got pizza (Allie and I split fajitas, Tristan had fondue, and Trevor and Rob both tried a baked toast/ham/egg/cheese deal), and it was expensive, but it was so good and we were exhausted from the day on the glacier. We definitely slept in the next day, then got up, walked 5km (each way) to Villars, the local hotel/ski village further up the mountain (yes, I actually walked 5km, twice, in the snow, I'll give you a second to properly close your mouths after that shock). It was a great town, very laid back and so obviously ski oriented that we stuck out for not having on ski clothes and boots. We just wandered around, shopped, had coffee at a cafe, ate our packed lunches at the train station, and then did more shopping before heading back to the Chalet to cook dinner and hang out. I learned about 8 different card games (including texas hold 'em, which I've been meaning to learn forever now), lost all my chips, and gave up cards in favor for philosophical conversations with Rob and Tristan (apparently mountain air/free time will do that to you...) before going to bed at a "decent" hour so we could get ready for the train trek back.

((Madrid Airport interlude: so because this post is so delayed, I'm attempting to recount Switzerland while traveling to the Canary Islands. And Tristan and I are in the Madrid airport waiting for our connection to Gran Canaria. And the plane ride from Venice to Madrid was, um, interesting. After bumming around the house/city for a bit after the art history midterm, Tristan and I headed for Piazzale Roma to buy bus tickets and catch the bus to the Marco Polo Airport. We checked in, found our gate, and had an early dinner before we boarded. I had heard some negative rumors about Iberia and true to (alleged) form, we boarded and took off about 15 - 20 minutes late, but it wasn't a big deal because we were anticipating a 3+ hour layover in Madrid. The take off was pretty rough, and we had a lot of turbulence, during which I completely uncharacteristically freaked out (the freaking out isn't all that uncharacteristic, just the fact that turbulence, which I've dealt with on literally hundreds of flights in my life, caused it). After we got airborne, Tristan and I moved a few rows back to the very back row to stretch out and rest (and I popped Dramamine...I'm thinking I'm a little dependent...) but it still took a good while to get calmed down (not to mention I'm not exactly looking forward to this next flight). Anyways, in the back row, we got some rest, I calmed down, and then we realized the couple in front of us was totally fine with some serious PDA and ridiculous gum chewing (mental picture, I know, I'm sorry), which, if you know me AT ALL, you know those are pretty much two of my absolute least favorite things period, but especially when I'm confined to a tiny seat on a bumpy airplane. I told Tristan a small part of me really wanted to actually throw up.... all over them. (no really, they totally deserved it. it was just awful). Now we're just hanging out and taking advantage of free WiFi...oh, and I just bought a jacket...not exactly the picture of financial responsibility or practicality, but oh well))

Back to Switzerland...Robert and I really wanted to see the sunrise (the one we barely got to see Friday morning was amazing), so I happened to wake up and see flickers of light coming up over the mountain, so I woke him up and we sat there waiting for the sun to rise. It felt so early/dark, so we checked the time...it was 4:30 am...and we realized we'd gotten up to watch the moon rise. After feeling moronic and then getting some more sleep, we all got up, had breakfast, made more sandwiches for the train, and headed for the nearby local train stop (no curbside service from Matt and George this time). After some confusion, we made it back up to Villars, hopped a bus to Aigle, and got on the Montreaux to Milan train. The Milan to Venice train was so busy...we weren't sure whether to blame it on Sunday being a popular travel day or Carnivale, but 3 of the boys got stuck standing when people came to claim 3 of the seats in our compartment. We got back to Venice and really noticed the transformation...people were everywhere, wearing masks and costumes and filling up the streets and Campos in a very uncharacteristic way...it's very weird to see, plus we're missing the biggest days of the Carinvale celebrations because of our 10 day break. But, I'm beyond thrilled about getting some beach/pool time in for the next 10 days (like I said, coat does not equal practical)...

(The hostel in Switzerland was really cool...it was an old house/"chalet" that was converted into a hostel and it's comprised mostly of wood paneled walls, wood floors, kitschy old furniture, and communal bathrooms. There was a fairly large number of long term residents (aka college kids who visited while studying abroad and never left) in addition to big groups of study abroad kids like us. The whole communal living/one big family approach was definitely interesting and the house itself was so stereotypically Swiss. Despite the long train ride, it was 110% worth it...the views will never be justified via pictures, the skiing was priceless (to do AND watch), the towns were so laid back and friendly...I even enjoyed hearing French instead of Italian for a while! I hope I'll have the chance to go back some time in the future and explore more!)

i'm all about a good cliche

I know you're not supposed to use cliches in formal writing or anything and they're pretty cheesy, but I'm relatively positive that they're so ubiquitous because they're true...

Nevertheless, the one that has been floating around the front of my head for the past 2 days is "absence makes the heart grow fonder"...neglecting the fact that the word fond makes me uncomfortable (it's one of many...I'm weird, I know), I really think being away from Venice this past weekend made me realize how much I really, really love it. I mean I love it so much that even the cold drizzle today couldn't keep me from bounding down the streets gushing about how much I love it (just ask Allie). It's definitely a good feeling because at first I was concerned that filling many of the semester's weekends with travel would make me feel jipped in terms of getting to know and love Venice. But traveling to Barcelona and back made me realize that I already do know and love it and that I might not appreciate it quite enough if I were here all the time.

Monday flew by despite the sheer volume of classes...Between my morning and afternoon classes, Allie, Mal, and I managed a trip to Billa (and the "bleeding euros" feeling continued as I forked over even more money for food). Aside from that, I just hung out and did work and even found the time to borrow Mal's movie Return to Me to watch before bed, which is a nice change from the busy 24/7 mentality I have at Wake. This whole no extracurricular activities thing is new and much more liberating than I realized. It's so nice to have time for all the things I need to do from errands to schoolwork to travel to keeping up with people back home.

Today I tutored Mary Grace (stilllllll trying to get the hang of being an educator/authority figure/friend/whatever else I'm getting paid to be) then dashed to Bar da Gino--a habit I need to get out of ASAP--where Mal and Robert were sitting at a table and apparently called my name repeatedly/waved and yet throughout my macchiato ordering/drinking/paying process, I never saw them (embarrassing! I blame being tired...). Then I bought a few postcards/stamps at the Tabacchi that just opened by the house (after they took all of January off) to send to the Bowlings, Grandma and Grandpa, and Audrey. I proceeded to write them during art history, a)because I fall asleep easily in that class, b)because who doesn't love to multitask?! Just writing those 3 made me realize how many more I want to send...which is good, I have a ton more art history classes and once those lights go off, I have a hard time staying awake no matter how much I like Chiari and the subject matter! After lunch, a group of us walked to the train station to buy our tickets to Switzerland this weekend, which was expensive, but a relief since we weren't sure if the times would work out. It's going to be cold but absolutely gorgeous and I might even ski...

Life Lesson #113: You Get What You Pay For

(Pictures...#1=fruit market on Las Ramblas near our hotel in Barcelona, #2=me on the steps at Park Guell on the outskirts of Barcelona, #3=the view looking down from the hike up to Park Guell)

Allie, Jess, and I went to Barcelona Thursday evening and just got back tonight...this is as concise of a summary as I can manage...hope I don't bore y'all!...

Thursday: We had class until 12:30, then Allie, Trevor, and I hit the nearby coffee shop (closer than Bar da Gino and recently opened after taking the winter off) for lunch, then we came back to get our lives together before Allie and I headed to the airport. Allie, Jess, and I got to Piazzale Roma, where buses/cars connect Venice to the mainland, in plenty of time, bought our bus tickets, and were on our way to Treviso, which is a really small airport about an hour outside Venice. We flew RyanAir, which is a lowcost airline and in order to keep costs low, they fly in/out of very small cities that are usually an hour or two outside big cities like Barcelona. The Treviso airport was definitely old and a little run down, but we got such a bargain on the airline tickets that the state of the airport wasn't too bad. After waiting in a really long line to check in, going through security, and getting to the boarding area, we realized that RyanAir doesn't assign seats, so it was a bit of a stampeded to line up at the boarding door for people to get good seats. Despite being midway through the line, we scored the bulkheads and settled in for what was a bumpy flight during which RyanAir peddled its wares in order to make the money it doesn't necessarily make on tickets. We got to Girona right on time and forked over more euro (which became the trend of the weekend) to buy a Barcelona Bus ticket and headed into the city. About an hour later, we got to Barcelona and took the metro to a stop near our hotel. Turns out our hotel was in the red light district, and the lack of any sort of deadbolt on the door or soundproofing of rooms made me really, really anxious (this was my first time really traveling without my family, so I felt much less protected), but the girls convinced me to get over myself long enough to go find dinner. We found a cute restaurant near our hotel on Las Ramblas and literally devoured our 1/2 chicken & potato dinners before going back to the hotel and passing out.

Friday: We woke up early and headed out for a day of sightseeing. My craving for some sort of American breakfast led us to the nearby Dunkin' Donuts, which was conveniently right next to a HUGE fruit/veggie/fish/pastry market. We ended up perusing the market and taking pictures for about 1/2 an hour because everything was arranged so beautifully. After that, our first"real" stop was the cathedral, which was full of beautiful designs all throughout. After wandering through the main part of the cathedral, we took the "lift" (aka elevator) up to the top which gave us some beautiful views of the city. After the cathedral, we ventured towards the Picasso Museum. Mom called as we were entering and I thought I had lost the signal, so I told the girls to go on without me (since I really needed to talk to mom) and that they could call me to meet up when they finished. Well, once the girls entered the museum, I realized outside that I hadn't lost the signal, but that there was no more credit on my phone to make calls and since I was outside Italy, I needed credit to even receive calls. So, after a minor "I'm in a foreign city all alone" type panic, I tried to just get over it and find a store to buy a vodafone recharge card. I found one, paid 15 euro, and after trying to make it work, realized that vodafone espana and vodafone italia are not compatible. So, I got really frustrated and sat down on the edge of the Picasso Museum and cried...and an older Spanish couple stopped and asked me in Spanish if I needed help and if it was a problem of love or money...I tried to explain the situation in my Spanish/English/Italian mix but told them I was ok and so they reluctantly left me behind. I, of course, was worried for no good reason, because about an hour later I saw the girls and everything was fine. Later on we found another cute restaurant on Las Ramblas and had paella con pollo (a rice dish) and sangria (wine with fruit).

Saturday: We woke up early again and hit the market we had found Friday for fruit and pastries before more sightseeing. We took the metro out to Park Guell, a massive park on the outskirts of Barcelona where Gaudi orginally intended to build 60 mansions (about 3 were actually built and serve as museums). It was quite a hike from the metro to the park and around the park, but it was definitely worth it...we got such amazing views of the city and the structures in the park itself were just unbelievable (see picture #2 for one of many, many examples). We went into one of the few houses that was actually completed...it's since been turned into a museum of sorts with pieces Gaudi made for other familes and some of his own possessions, which was interesting. We then hiked back to the metro and found Casa Mia, which is a huge, ice cream-esque apartment building Gaudi build in Barcelona. The top floor is set up as an apartment in the 20s would have been set up, and after looking through that, we went up to the attic, which had a lot of informational type exhibits...then we hit the terrace for more great skyline views of the city. We then found lunch and headed towards La Sagrada Familia, which is Europe's largest church. Gaudi had started the church but died in a tragic accident before the completion of construction and since he left no detailed plans, construction continues to this day as architechts and builders try to finish the huge church as Gaudi would have wanted it finished. We took the lift up to the top and I was fine until we had to start the decent...275 stairs. Spiral. Cement. No handrails. Very narrow. Needless to say I (and my legs) were shaking by the bottom. But the views were 100% worth it, and I'm proud that I went through with it. We then headed back to the room to rest, went out for more paella and sangria, then met up with Luke, a high school friend of Allie's. Luke's studying in Barcelona, so we met some of his roommates and friends, then he took us to a bar that is called "the Black Sheep" where we stayed until they closed at 3...

Sunday: We slept from 3 to 10, then reluctantly dragged ourselves out of bed to shower, pack, get some breakfast/see the last bits of the city, then check ot. We then rode the metro to the bus station, caught the Barcelona bus back to Girona, flew from Girona to Treviso, and took the bus to Piazzale Roma. We dropped our stuff in the house, then dashed back to San Travaso to get some dinner (I had only had a pastry up to this point).

Barcelona was definitely an edgy, loud city that I wasn't used to at all, but I can appreciate it for what it was and know that I could never live there, but that I liked visiting it. I was forewarned about how late everything happens in the city (dinner, going out, sleep, etc), but it was still a hard adjustment to make. It was also hard to know where to eat and go out since we were only visiting for the weekend, so we spent a lot of time trying to figure that type of thing out. Nevertheless, it was a successful first travel experience all said and done, but we definitely learned (from RyanAir to Hotel Barbara) that you get what you pay for!