So, a fabulous weekend after a fabulous week … and yet today began just like last Monday. With me feeling like a total and utter moron!! WHY CAN'T I REMEMBER THESE VERBS????? It is my own fault, I spent very little of my weekend – five minutes, as I sheepishly admitted – studying. Because the weekend was far too good for studying! I had exploring to do, I had eating to do, I had piss ups to go to … and I had Pisa!
This weekend, I took a road trip (more accurately, rail trip) to Pisa with some mates I've made at school, where we took in the leaning tower for about twenty minutes before spending about three hours eating ridiculous amounts of pizza and chianti. Yum! I am happy to report that the leaning tower is still leaning, and that by the end of the day I was leaning myself!!! And I really need to leave my fricking credit card at home if I am going to drink, because I have somehow ended up with a new pair of shoes and another jacket. I have no idea how I will get them home, either – I doubt I’ll have enough ON my card at this rate to pay the bloody excess baggage. I think I will have to buy my suitcase its own seat, it will be cheaper!!!
My new year’s resolution was not to shop in 2011. Epic fail. EPIC!!!! AHHHHHHH!
But I have done many other things this weekend, too. I was sorely admonished by IDB for not having seen anything of Florence in first week. Basically, I’m getting into trouble at school when I don’t study, and then getting into trouble when I do at the expense of the Uffizi gallery! So, Saturday I took in the artwork of the 4 turtles at the Uffizi, climbed the Duomo for stunning city views, and slogged my way up to the Piazzale Di Michelangeo (between the two giving myself a minor heart attack, I think) for even better views of the Duomo. And I did all this on the coldest freaking day they have had this year. (Other resolution to stop swearing).
FA FREDDO!!!!!! Jesu!
But it was stunning, and worth it to be up so high even with the gale force winds that made my fingers so cold I nearly dropped my camera right over the side of the duomo – 414 steps up! (Which is far. I don’t know how far, but it is!) And, given my mini heart attack and all the pizza that is quickly making its way to my arse, I have today joined the gym!! I am in Florence, working out AND studying. Is a very strange turn of events!!!!
The other exiciting thing that happened this weekend was that I got lost – that’s just par for the course, really and not the exciting part – but then I asked for directions IN Italian, and I got directions IN Italian and I followed them ... and I got there. Amen.
Who cares? You might ask. Well, you won't all be asking that. Those that know me well also know that I CAN’T EVEN DO THAT IN ENGLISH!!!! I get lost inside an empty room! Are you proud friends, or do you not believe me? Yeah, thought not. Well, it is all true!
Anyway, back to school today with my new jacket and my new shoes and my new sense of incompetence. Dear Italy: why so many verb conjugations? Why not consolidate a little, so fuckwits like me can keep it together?
I need to find another gypsy!!!!!
Monday, January 24, 2011
Thursday, January 20, 2011
And the winner is ... Florence!
Ciao one and all! I am sorry to those of you who keep asking for more entries, but at the moment I am too busy doing two things:
- fawning over the Italian dreamboat in my hotel, who I am NEVER going to get
- learning to parlo Italiano
Greetings from Firenze. I arrived last Sunday and, though I realise this is starting to sound just a little hollow in its sincerity (after saying it about EVERYWHERE!), I absolutely, positively am over the moon about Florence, or Firenze. It is my favourite place in Europe, and has given me the best 4 days, of any I have had so far, hands down. Of course, this comes as very little surprise. I've been to Firenze before, and had anticipated spending two, maybe three weeks here.
I am now signed on for five!
In fact, I am basically spending the rest of my trip here - with weekends to the other cities of northern Italy - right here. And I wish I could spend the rest of the year! (A quick stop over in Britain is still on the cards too. Very quick!)
I haven't quite always felt this way. My first day at Italian language school was a fair disaster, in which I learned that Katie is not always as intelligent as she thinks she is. It was a fair punch to the ego - I don't have a lot of confidence in many of my abilities save my brain, so when it failed me too I just wanted to kiss my money good by and get the hell out of here! But then I went out and had dinner near the Duomo, some gelati, bought a pair of jeans (shopping IS very therapeutic, you know) followed by some drinks at a bar near the school. And then some more drinks with my class mates, and before I knew it, it was Thursday - it is Thursday! - and I was hooked.
And a tiny little bit smarter. Io posso parlare in Italiano perche faccio studiare.
I'm still learning prepositions and such, but that should pretty much translate! I had a great time yesterday texting people with their own private messages in Italian. I did fuck them up - va instead of fa, the wrong prepositions. But I can actually have little conversations in Italian now!!!
Yesterday I woke with a cold, and buoyed on by successes in class - my teacher informed the whole class that I was far less inept than I had been. Thanks. Really not embarrassing at all - I decided to go into the Farmacia and tell the pharamcist what was wrong with me and what I needed in my pigeon Italian. It worked - he understood perfectly! Too well, perhaps: before I knew it, he was banging on in quick Italian about how to take the 'pseudoefadrina' and I didn't understand a scientific word, except that I could have two tablets four hourly.
Umm. Isn't that what he said? I really did think so! So, I had 4 in the six hours before bed. 8 hours later, it was time to get up, and I hadn't slept a wink!!! Oh my GOD! As wired as anything, I spent the entire night studying - more texts, emails; 'fun' studying! - and feeling pretty proud of myself because I thought I was going to blow everyone away after my outstanding night of practice.
When I almost fell asleep at the table, teacher was not happy. He thought, I could tell, I was a moron for taking four pseudoefadrina in six hours, and that I must have had brain damage. He was molto arrabbiatto.
And then I made a fool of myself at the hotel in front of Italian Dream Boat!
Shame. Our bilingual children would have been stunning, taking after him, and taking after me they would have been ... short!
But, in all seriousness, I find myself far more relaxed and at peace than I have been these past few weeks. Florence is just too beautiful, and I am having a great time: my palazzio is fantastically fifteenth century Italian, and the other students at my school are a lot of fun. And I am learning!!!! Slowly. Sort of. Yay!
By the by, I can actually read Italian better than I can hear it. So when I read the instructions of the packet of tablets just a few moments ago, it was, in fact, one tablet four hourly. How I got una and due mixed up, I'll never know. I'm just lucky I didn't hear otto or something!!
Next post: the elopement. Ha ha ha.
He might want a visa?
- fawning over the Italian dreamboat in my hotel, who I am NEVER going to get
- learning to parlo Italiano
Greetings from Firenze. I arrived last Sunday and, though I realise this is starting to sound just a little hollow in its sincerity (after saying it about EVERYWHERE!), I absolutely, positively am over the moon about Florence, or Firenze. It is my favourite place in Europe, and has given me the best 4 days, of any I have had so far, hands down. Of course, this comes as very little surprise. I've been to Firenze before, and had anticipated spending two, maybe three weeks here.
I am now signed on for five!
In fact, I am basically spending the rest of my trip here - with weekends to the other cities of northern Italy - right here. And I wish I could spend the rest of the year! (A quick stop over in Britain is still on the cards too. Very quick!)
I haven't quite always felt this way. My first day at Italian language school was a fair disaster, in which I learned that Katie is not always as intelligent as she thinks she is. It was a fair punch to the ego - I don't have a lot of confidence in many of my abilities save my brain, so when it failed me too I just wanted to kiss my money good by and get the hell out of here! But then I went out and had dinner near the Duomo, some gelati, bought a pair of jeans (shopping IS very therapeutic, you know) followed by some drinks at a bar near the school. And then some more drinks with my class mates, and before I knew it, it was Thursday - it is Thursday! - and I was hooked.
And a tiny little bit smarter. Io posso parlare in Italiano perche faccio studiare.
I'm still learning prepositions and such, but that should pretty much translate! I had a great time yesterday texting people with their own private messages in Italian. I did fuck them up - va instead of fa, the wrong prepositions. But I can actually have little conversations in Italian now!!!
Yesterday I woke with a cold, and buoyed on by successes in class - my teacher informed the whole class that I was far less inept than I had been. Thanks. Really not embarrassing at all - I decided to go into the Farmacia and tell the pharamcist what was wrong with me and what I needed in my pigeon Italian. It worked - he understood perfectly! Too well, perhaps: before I knew it, he was banging on in quick Italian about how to take the 'pseudoefadrina' and I didn't understand a scientific word, except that I could have two tablets four hourly.
Umm. Isn't that what he said? I really did think so! So, I had 4 in the six hours before bed. 8 hours later, it was time to get up, and I hadn't slept a wink!!! Oh my GOD! As wired as anything, I spent the entire night studying - more texts, emails; 'fun' studying! - and feeling pretty proud of myself because I thought I was going to blow everyone away after my outstanding night of practice.
When I almost fell asleep at the table, teacher was not happy. He thought, I could tell, I was a moron for taking four pseudoefadrina in six hours, and that I must have had brain damage. He was molto arrabbiatto.
And then I made a fool of myself at the hotel in front of Italian Dream Boat!
Shame. Our bilingual children would have been stunning, taking after him, and taking after me they would have been ... short!
But, in all seriousness, I find myself far more relaxed and at peace than I have been these past few weeks. Florence is just too beautiful, and I am having a great time: my palazzio is fantastically fifteenth century Italian, and the other students at my school are a lot of fun. And I am learning!!!! Slowly. Sort of. Yay!
By the by, I can actually read Italian better than I can hear it. So when I read the instructions of the packet of tablets just a few moments ago, it was, in fact, one tablet four hourly. How I got una and due mixed up, I'll never know. I'm just lucky I didn't hear otto or something!!
Next post: the elopement. Ha ha ha.
He might want a visa?
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Rome, if you want to!
Great; now I'm going to have that stupid song in my head all day!
So, I am in Roma, and have been for two days after a very comfortable sleeper train bought me here from Paris. I have no idea why anyone would ever take a train sitting down, when they can lie there, and wake up just as the train is pulling in to the station. I will never do so again!
I've had a very pleasant few days, beginning in Paris and meeting Bridget, where we did all the things one is supposed to do when in Paris: the Louvre, Versaille, the Eiffel Tower, the Champs Dy Lysee, eating cheese baguettes, eating chocolate croissants, and absolutely stuffing yourself rotten with creme brulee and a nice Bordeaux. The highlight of day one was being lasciviously perved at the whole time we were eating, by the old-man waiter, who then politely informed me that 'I had nice woman'. Shudder. I wish it were actually permissable to be like Grace Kelly and slap people across the face; that would have been grouse!
Versailles, by the way, is just fantastic. It's so decadently gorgeous, it made the many long, wrong turns we took to get there very worth it. More gold in each room that I've seen in one jewellery shop! Bridget and I have each reserved wings for ourselves, and encourage everyone to come and visit, for it will be our summer residence! (Our winter residence in the Louvre).
Arriving in Rome, I also did what any good tourist must do (after majorly cracking the shits and bursting into tears because, though I was AT the hotel, I couldn't figure out how to get inside it. There was no door. I guess sleeper trains don't actually provide you with a great nights' rest, for I should never have been so emotional otherwise - and the nine serves of dairy that made me vomit in the middle of Paris. That didn't help either!) Anyway, I did what any good tourist would do: I jumped on a hop on/hop off bus - HELLO! What else was I going to do?! There are Manolos at stake here! - for a tour of grand old Rome. Then I got over it, and walked. And ate the weirdest assortment of food ever, including pizza with apple, mushrooms and gorgonzola (yes, it was vile) and these delightful pork and spanish olive meatballs that will haunt my dreams forever. I'm salivating right now! Followed by more dairy in the way of vanilla gelati - though I'm limiting my dairy intake to one serve now, lest I vomit in the middle of Rome too.
Why does dairy hate me so? When all I want to do is marry it and have its children: chocolate, cheese and creme brulee children? That I will then eat. Sick.
Anyway, today I roamed the Colisseum (sic. How the hell do you spell it?) which was very cool; strolled the forum, which for my mind has always been even cooler, and ate some more pizza. I have decided that for the next three weeks in which I make Florence my home, I am not allowed to eat pizza every day, or I will come back as doughy as one myself. It's amazing I haven't turned into an Oompa Lumpa yet - must be all the walking.
Anyway, to Florence I go! To learn to speak me some Italiano!
Ciao!
So, I am in Roma, and have been for two days after a very comfortable sleeper train bought me here from Paris. I have no idea why anyone would ever take a train sitting down, when they can lie there, and wake up just as the train is pulling in to the station. I will never do so again!
I've had a very pleasant few days, beginning in Paris and meeting Bridget, where we did all the things one is supposed to do when in Paris: the Louvre, Versaille, the Eiffel Tower, the Champs Dy Lysee, eating cheese baguettes, eating chocolate croissants, and absolutely stuffing yourself rotten with creme brulee and a nice Bordeaux. The highlight of day one was being lasciviously perved at the whole time we were eating, by the old-man waiter, who then politely informed me that 'I had nice woman'. Shudder. I wish it were actually permissable to be like Grace Kelly and slap people across the face; that would have been grouse!
Versailles, by the way, is just fantastic. It's so decadently gorgeous, it made the many long, wrong turns we took to get there very worth it. More gold in each room that I've seen in one jewellery shop! Bridget and I have each reserved wings for ourselves, and encourage everyone to come and visit, for it will be our summer residence! (Our winter residence in the Louvre).
Arriving in Rome, I also did what any good tourist must do (after majorly cracking the shits and bursting into tears because, though I was AT the hotel, I couldn't figure out how to get inside it. There was no door. I guess sleeper trains don't actually provide you with a great nights' rest, for I should never have been so emotional otherwise - and the nine serves of dairy that made me vomit in the middle of Paris. That didn't help either!) Anyway, I did what any good tourist would do: I jumped on a hop on/hop off bus - HELLO! What else was I going to do?! There are Manolos at stake here! - for a tour of grand old Rome. Then I got over it, and walked. And ate the weirdest assortment of food ever, including pizza with apple, mushrooms and gorgonzola (yes, it was vile) and these delightful pork and spanish olive meatballs that will haunt my dreams forever. I'm salivating right now! Followed by more dairy in the way of vanilla gelati - though I'm limiting my dairy intake to one serve now, lest I vomit in the middle of Rome too.
Why does dairy hate me so? When all I want to do is marry it and have its children: chocolate, cheese and creme brulee children? That I will then eat. Sick.
Anyway, today I roamed the Colisseum (sic. How the hell do you spell it?) which was very cool; strolled the forum, which for my mind has always been even cooler, and ate some more pizza. I have decided that for the next three weeks in which I make Florence my home, I am not allowed to eat pizza every day, or I will come back as doughy as one myself. It's amazing I haven't turned into an Oompa Lumpa yet - must be all the walking.
Anyway, to Florence I go! To learn to speak me some Italiano!
Ciao!
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
I an no longer fortunes foe - apart from the fact I cant find the apostrophe!
So I am back in the bright lights and excitement of gay Paree after quite a red faced adventure almost saw me stranded in San Sebastian - and as much as I have waxed lyrical about the delights of Spain, I have no such sentiments about San Seb; it was cold, it was wet, it was severly storm damaged - so many of the beachfront walks and activities I was interested in were closed. It was shit. But it also followed Barcelona, so I guess you cant be too hard on a place following a sibling like that. Must be how my sisters feel :-) hee hee hee xo
But back to my being a red-faced idiot. Who knew that when you book an easy jet flight from San Seb to Paris, it might leave from somewhere else? Like, say, an airport NOT in San Sebastion? For the record, I feel slightly vindicated because I do kinda expect the airport to be IN the city I an leaving from, but in San Seb, you catch the shuttle bus to FRANCE from the airport at San Sebastian, and from FRANCE you fly to Paris. I was told with a great deal of condescention by the woman at the airport.
Is anyone else confused?! I wanted to fly into France, not fly FROM there (an argument I unfortunately made, so as to look like even more of a tool).
San Sebastian is stupid. Amen.
I, however, am not fortunes foe! Expected in Paris, I was determined to get there. Making tracks to THREE different train stations (for shits sake, San Sebastion, CONSOLIDATE!!!) I excitedly announced to the ticket clerk that I was so ready to leave Spain (I said it nicely - I liked Spain) that I would take the first train to ANYWHERE.
Lucky me - the first train to anywhere was to Paris, leaving in an hour, with a delightfully comfy sleeper train and, in not having to pay the excess baggage Easy Jet would have slugged me, I am scarcely ten euros the loser.
I have been reading a lot of Jane Austen too.
Upon my timely arrival, I discovered that my ultra comfy hotel had stuffed up, and I now have a triple suit! 2011 might just be my year!
Now, universe, would it be too much to ask for a couple of grand so I can stay a little longer? I shall await your reply! And if anyone else can recommend where I should go next, my itinerary is open and I am quite at leisure!
Yeah. A LOT of Jane Austen. Au Revoir!
But back to my being a red-faced idiot. Who knew that when you book an easy jet flight from San Seb to Paris, it might leave from somewhere else? Like, say, an airport NOT in San Sebastion? For the record, I feel slightly vindicated because I do kinda expect the airport to be IN the city I an leaving from, but in San Seb, you catch the shuttle bus to FRANCE from the airport at San Sebastian, and from FRANCE you fly to Paris. I was told with a great deal of condescention by the woman at the airport.
Is anyone else confused?! I wanted to fly into France, not fly FROM there (an argument I unfortunately made, so as to look like even more of a tool).
San Sebastian is stupid. Amen.
I, however, am not fortunes foe! Expected in Paris, I was determined to get there. Making tracks to THREE different train stations (for shits sake, San Sebastion, CONSOLIDATE!!!) I excitedly announced to the ticket clerk that I was so ready to leave Spain (I said it nicely - I liked Spain) that I would take the first train to ANYWHERE.
Lucky me - the first train to anywhere was to Paris, leaving in an hour, with a delightfully comfy sleeper train and, in not having to pay the excess baggage Easy Jet would have slugged me, I am scarcely ten euros the loser.
I have been reading a lot of Jane Austen too.
Upon my timely arrival, I discovered that my ultra comfy hotel had stuffed up, and I now have a triple suit! 2011 might just be my year!
Now, universe, would it be too much to ask for a couple of grand so I can stay a little longer? I shall await your reply! And if anyone else can recommend where I should go next, my itinerary is open and I am quite at leisure!
Yeah. A LOT of Jane Austen. Au Revoir!
Monday, January 10, 2011
BARCELONA!!!!
Hmm. How to start this blog post; how to put into words how excited I have been this past few days? Has it been the realisation of a stupid, yet very real dream? Have I reverted back, at some points, to being 14 years old - which it seems was a very pleasant age to be? Have I almost had to subscribe to Tena???
I think so!
I am in Barcelona, and in being here, I have fulfilled an eighteen year dream. To visit the Olympic village and pay hommage to my ancestors! lol. (I made such a fuss of the Olympics in 1992, you´d think they were my ancestors). They are not; I was just a stupid 14 year old with a dream. A dream to come to Barcelona and get caught up in the Olympic spirit. And here I am. After a thirteen hour train ride from Granada, I could barely open my eyes by the time we pulled in, but as soon as I saw that sign for Barcelona, I was wide awake and ready to roll. The Spirit was on!!
Of course, I couldn´t give a shit about the Olympics these days, but as a tribute to my younger self, the first place I went on day one was the Olympic museum which was also in the former stadium. And though it was completely devoid of any real Olympic memorabilia - even the rings - I felt like a teenager again! I felt like Christmas morning! I´ve literally not been so excited on this trip!!! There was barely anything to see, apart from a stadium and a replica of the torch tower. But it was a dream fulfilled. Those things are important!!
From there, since then, I have just walked. Apart from the obligatory hop-on/ho-off bus ride, of course. I´ve walked past Gaudi´s famous works; walked through the markets (where, once again I had the best tapas); walked past wankers pretending to be cops who´ve felt me up in a vain attempt to rob me (left everything in my hotel arseholes - I´m not stupid!); walked the gothic district, the contemporary district, Montjuic, and even part of the way up Monsserrat (not all 1000 steps though, it was getting dark!!!) It´s been such a great city to stroll around in, losing myself in beautiful little streets and gorgeous little boutiques - it´s fair to say that this is the city I have spent my money in, also!!! The shopping is phenomenal, and I´ve stocked up on some of Spain´s finest leather products :-) With the weather being closer to 20 degrees than zero, I´ve loved soaking up some sun with a glass of sangria, and then another glass of sangria (delicious!) before setting off to Barcelona´s next monument or famous Gaudi-an house. Spain, I take my hat off to you - every city has been better than the last. But this one was always going to be amazing. I´d set myself up for it 18 years ago, and I was never going to be disappointed, I think.
But now, on to San Sebastian, where I am sure I shall get great tapas and some more beach rays. It sure will have a tough act to follow, though.
Adios Barcelona - next time I decide I desperately want to come here, I will not wait 18 years!!
I think so!
I am in Barcelona, and in being here, I have fulfilled an eighteen year dream. To visit the Olympic village and pay hommage to my ancestors! lol. (I made such a fuss of the Olympics in 1992, you´d think they were my ancestors). They are not; I was just a stupid 14 year old with a dream. A dream to come to Barcelona and get caught up in the Olympic spirit. And here I am. After a thirteen hour train ride from Granada, I could barely open my eyes by the time we pulled in, but as soon as I saw that sign for Barcelona, I was wide awake and ready to roll. The Spirit was on!!
Of course, I couldn´t give a shit about the Olympics these days, but as a tribute to my younger self, the first place I went on day one was the Olympic museum which was also in the former stadium. And though it was completely devoid of any real Olympic memorabilia - even the rings - I felt like a teenager again! I felt like Christmas morning! I´ve literally not been so excited on this trip!!! There was barely anything to see, apart from a stadium and a replica of the torch tower. But it was a dream fulfilled. Those things are important!!
From there, since then, I have just walked. Apart from the obligatory hop-on/ho-off bus ride, of course. I´ve walked past Gaudi´s famous works; walked through the markets (where, once again I had the best tapas); walked past wankers pretending to be cops who´ve felt me up in a vain attempt to rob me (left everything in my hotel arseholes - I´m not stupid!); walked the gothic district, the contemporary district, Montjuic, and even part of the way up Monsserrat (not all 1000 steps though, it was getting dark!!!) It´s been such a great city to stroll around in, losing myself in beautiful little streets and gorgeous little boutiques - it´s fair to say that this is the city I have spent my money in, also!!! The shopping is phenomenal, and I´ve stocked up on some of Spain´s finest leather products :-) With the weather being closer to 20 degrees than zero, I´ve loved soaking up some sun with a glass of sangria, and then another glass of sangria (delicious!) before setting off to Barcelona´s next monument or famous Gaudi-an house. Spain, I take my hat off to you - every city has been better than the last. But this one was always going to be amazing. I´d set myself up for it 18 years ago, and I was never going to be disappointed, I think.
But now, on to San Sebastian, where I am sure I shall get great tapas and some more beach rays. It sure will have a tough act to follow, though.
Adios Barcelona - next time I decide I desperately want to come here, I will not wait 18 years!!
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Go Granada! Great, Grand ... grouse!
Greetings from Granada! (For real – I am one hundred percent in the city of Granada as we speak).
And I LOVE IT!!
To say I didn´t give Granada a fair go, in the beginning, is an understatement. After the gloriousness that was Seville, and the intrigues of Toledo, and the spector of Madrid, I think I was primed to hate it. I went to bed on the first night pissed off to even be here, and wondering just how long it would take me to run through the Alhambrah so I could leave. The gypsies were annoying me (a whole other story!), the food was crap, and I just couldn´t see what was so good about the place (sorry to those who recommended it. You will be vindicated!!).
Waking up on day two, the air had cleared a little. I was looking forward to spending my five minutes at the Alhambrah, and had good intentions of looking around the city a little more too. But then I was going to make tracks! I can´t fully explain what happened – what went right. It might have been the six full hours I spent at the Alhambrah, walking around palaces that date all the way back to the eighth century, enraptured by the history – cos that was pretty cool. It might have been the churros – best I´ve had in Spain so far. It might even have been the best bed/hotel room I´ve had in three weeks – spacious, and I no longer hit my head on the wall when I lean over to rummage through my suitcase (it happens. All the time). Whatever it was, I was converted! I signed up for two more nights in Granada, and if I wasn´t champing at the bit to get to BARCELONA, I would stay two more!
Perhaps it was the gypsy blessing!
I´ve had a lot to say about gypsies these past few days. And I´m sorry if I offend anyone – I don´t mean anything racist by it; it´s what they are. And it´s what they do that really gets my goat: manhandling tourists (yes, physically pushed and shoved) until we are persuaded to pay exhorbitant fees for twigs. That´s right, ten euro for a twig. Rosemary, thyme, I don´t know what it was and I don´t care; don´t touch me, I don´t want your twig!
But there is a back story here. Ten years ago, a young girl backpacking around Eurpoe, I spurned a gypsy twig and as a consequence, she spat on the ground and cursed my love and happiness for all time.
Bitch.
At the time I thought nothing of it, but coming out of the annus horribilus of 2010, when I saw the first gyspy woman and her twig in Granada, I was reminded to think twice. I´m not superstitious usually, but damn – something´s going wrong! So, paying two euro (still a lot considering it´s a souvenir I can´t bring through customs – but it´s my happiness at stake!) I was provided with my gypsy blessing to break the curse. I should be rich and married by lunch time, I reckon! Hooray!
It´s a crock though (shut up!) For that one blessing, I´ve since been cursed about fifteen bloody times because I can´t afford to by twigs off every crone in town! But I´m hanging on to that one blessing, the rest can get lost. Heathens! Lol.
But if one more of them grabs my arm … Jesus!
Other things I have done in Granada: strolled up to San Nicholas, the highest point, for which my thighs are still hurting – but awesome views! Then sat in the plaza there watching spontaneous flamenco dancing. I have spent countless hours looking for post offices that would seem to be like Narnia – it doesn´t matter how many directions I get, I can´t find them. They don´t exist. (Oops. That would imply that Narnia doesn´t exist. It does, it does!!) And I have been lost in some fabulous, quirky streets. I have eaten copious amounts of churros, shopped, and – best day EVER! - today I went skiing in the Sierra Nevada. Totally, awesomely, grouse!!! No superlatives will do the job, so I revert to the words of my ten year old self, because I was as excited as a ten year old on Christmas day. Best snow, best runs, best lack of injuries I have ever experienced! Wicked. Loved it. Amen! I have never been so tired, though, after just four hours of skiing. It´s a tough ask – Mt Buller has nothing on it! But I was laughing out loud the whole way down the slopes – especially when I got powdered in the face! Long time since I´ve done that (powdered, or laughed out loud!!)
Anway, tomorrow is another chapter – BARCELONA! Those who´ve known me long enough will realise what a dream come true this is! I am going to be in heaven, in Barcelona. Amigos Para Simepre, my friends. Hmm. That may just be a tortology.
So, on a ski-driven, Barcelona inspired high. This country just gets better and better. Love it!
And I LOVE IT!!
To say I didn´t give Granada a fair go, in the beginning, is an understatement. After the gloriousness that was Seville, and the intrigues of Toledo, and the spector of Madrid, I think I was primed to hate it. I went to bed on the first night pissed off to even be here, and wondering just how long it would take me to run through the Alhambrah so I could leave. The gypsies were annoying me (a whole other story!), the food was crap, and I just couldn´t see what was so good about the place (sorry to those who recommended it. You will be vindicated!!).
Waking up on day two, the air had cleared a little. I was looking forward to spending my five minutes at the Alhambrah, and had good intentions of looking around the city a little more too. But then I was going to make tracks! I can´t fully explain what happened – what went right. It might have been the six full hours I spent at the Alhambrah, walking around palaces that date all the way back to the eighth century, enraptured by the history – cos that was pretty cool. It might have been the churros – best I´ve had in Spain so far. It might even have been the best bed/hotel room I´ve had in three weeks – spacious, and I no longer hit my head on the wall when I lean over to rummage through my suitcase (it happens. All the time). Whatever it was, I was converted! I signed up for two more nights in Granada, and if I wasn´t champing at the bit to get to BARCELONA, I would stay two more!
Perhaps it was the gypsy blessing!
I´ve had a lot to say about gypsies these past few days. And I´m sorry if I offend anyone – I don´t mean anything racist by it; it´s what they are. And it´s what they do that really gets my goat: manhandling tourists (yes, physically pushed and shoved) until we are persuaded to pay exhorbitant fees for twigs. That´s right, ten euro for a twig. Rosemary, thyme, I don´t know what it was and I don´t care; don´t touch me, I don´t want your twig!
But there is a back story here. Ten years ago, a young girl backpacking around Eurpoe, I spurned a gypsy twig and as a consequence, she spat on the ground and cursed my love and happiness for all time.
Bitch.
At the time I thought nothing of it, but coming out of the annus horribilus of 2010, when I saw the first gyspy woman and her twig in Granada, I was reminded to think twice. I´m not superstitious usually, but damn – something´s going wrong! So, paying two euro (still a lot considering it´s a souvenir I can´t bring through customs – but it´s my happiness at stake!) I was provided with my gypsy blessing to break the curse. I should be rich and married by lunch time, I reckon! Hooray!
It´s a crock though (shut up!) For that one blessing, I´ve since been cursed about fifteen bloody times because I can´t afford to by twigs off every crone in town! But I´m hanging on to that one blessing, the rest can get lost. Heathens! Lol.
But if one more of them grabs my arm … Jesus!
Other things I have done in Granada: strolled up to San Nicholas, the highest point, for which my thighs are still hurting – but awesome views! Then sat in the plaza there watching spontaneous flamenco dancing. I have spent countless hours looking for post offices that would seem to be like Narnia – it doesn´t matter how many directions I get, I can´t find them. They don´t exist. (Oops. That would imply that Narnia doesn´t exist. It does, it does!!) And I have been lost in some fabulous, quirky streets. I have eaten copious amounts of churros, shopped, and – best day EVER! - today I went skiing in the Sierra Nevada. Totally, awesomely, grouse!!! No superlatives will do the job, so I revert to the words of my ten year old self, because I was as excited as a ten year old on Christmas day. Best snow, best runs, best lack of injuries I have ever experienced! Wicked. Loved it. Amen! I have never been so tired, though, after just four hours of skiing. It´s a tough ask – Mt Buller has nothing on it! But I was laughing out loud the whole way down the slopes – especially when I got powdered in the face! Long time since I´ve done that (powdered, or laughed out loud!!)
Anway, tomorrow is another chapter – BARCELONA! Those who´ve known me long enough will realise what a dream come true this is! I am going to be in heaven, in Barcelona. Amigos Para Simepre, my friends. Hmm. That may just be a tortology.
So, on a ski-driven, Barcelona inspired high. This country just gets better and better. Love it!
Sunday, January 2, 2011
Splenour in Seville
First, the ironies of my travels:
Number one: That the Spanish chocolate fondant donut is actually the donut that doesnt have fondant inside. (Yes, I wept a little).
Number two: All the breakfast menus I have seen so far serve Valencia orange juice, when there are enough orange trees in the Seville plaza alone to fix scurvy all the way back to the fifteenth century. (I wonder how many tourists are killed each year by falling oranges? Must be hundreds).
Number three: I havent seen ONE barber. Not one. (Though I have heard the music from that Bugs Bunny cartoon on every bloody corner). Which is a shame because I would REALLY like to get my hair done!
Greetings and Happy New Year from Seville, where it is a sunny fifteen degrees (almost hot, really!) and, in a word, if I can only have one, simply breathtaking. As with many of Spainś cities, upon approach Seville didnt look like much at all. As with most Spanish cities, you have to get within a kilometre of the estacion for the magic to start. And I do not think I will ever find a place as magical as Seville. Photos to follow on FB, eventually.
I have spent two days just wondering. Even on New Yearś eve, as I waited for the big finale to the shittest year in the history of my life, I could not help but leave the plaza where I had set myself up for a drink, and wonder. There are just too many beautiful buildings. Itś almost criminal that most of mankind doesnt get to live here. I think itś even better than all my other favourite places in Europe!
Itś lucky I was so happy to wonder; over the New Yearś break, from about four oćlock on NYE, Seville simply shut down – and you couldnt to anything anyway! It was almost three oćlock before I ate on the first day of 2011; thatś how hard it was to find anyone selling food. And then, miraculously, as six oćlock loomed and the drinking hour, tapas bars aplenty threw their doors open, and I was saved from certain starvation.
Happy New Year Everyone! I apologise for the poor punctuation – I have to google the át' symbol – I have no knowledge of how to make apostrophes in particular work. Yay for foreign keyboards! And yay for foreign food! On my way to Granada shortly, which I have heard is amazing – bet it wont beat Seville!
p.s. This was written from Granada as I waited an hour for my taxi. As such, havent seen enough of Granada yet to say anything except that they should get more taxis. And obviously I lied about being in Seville when I wrote it - though everything is true and you will get over it. You have NO idea where I write your postcards from. lol. Amen.
Number one: That the Spanish chocolate fondant donut is actually the donut that doesnt have fondant inside. (Yes, I wept a little).
Number two: All the breakfast menus I have seen so far serve Valencia orange juice, when there are enough orange trees in the Seville plaza alone to fix scurvy all the way back to the fifteenth century. (I wonder how many tourists are killed each year by falling oranges? Must be hundreds).
Number three: I havent seen ONE barber. Not one. (Though I have heard the music from that Bugs Bunny cartoon on every bloody corner). Which is a shame because I would REALLY like to get my hair done!
Greetings and Happy New Year from Seville, where it is a sunny fifteen degrees (almost hot, really!) and, in a word, if I can only have one, simply breathtaking. As with many of Spainś cities, upon approach Seville didnt look like much at all. As with most Spanish cities, you have to get within a kilometre of the estacion for the magic to start. And I do not think I will ever find a place as magical as Seville. Photos to follow on FB, eventually.
I have spent two days just wondering. Even on New Yearś eve, as I waited for the big finale to the shittest year in the history of my life, I could not help but leave the plaza where I had set myself up for a drink, and wonder. There are just too many beautiful buildings. Itś almost criminal that most of mankind doesnt get to live here. I think itś even better than all my other favourite places in Europe!
Itś lucky I was so happy to wonder; over the New Yearś break, from about four oćlock on NYE, Seville simply shut down – and you couldnt to anything anyway! It was almost three oćlock before I ate on the first day of 2011; thatś how hard it was to find anyone selling food. And then, miraculously, as six oćlock loomed and the drinking hour, tapas bars aplenty threw their doors open, and I was saved from certain starvation.
Happy New Year Everyone! I apologise for the poor punctuation – I have to google the át' symbol – I have no knowledge of how to make apostrophes in particular work. Yay for foreign keyboards! And yay for foreign food! On my way to Granada shortly, which I have heard is amazing – bet it wont beat Seville!
p.s. This was written from Granada as I waited an hour for my taxi. As such, havent seen enough of Granada yet to say anything except that they should get more taxis. And obviously I lied about being in Seville when I wrote it - though everything is true and you will get over it. You have NO idea where I write your postcards from. lol. Amen.
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