Saturday, August 8, 2009
Friday, August 7, 2009
A light lunch
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David and Maplethorpe
I am at the Galleria dell 'Accafemia where they have an amazing exhibition of Maplethorpe and have placed some of his works around David to create a beautiful juxtaposition. I wish I could take a photo to share this. Spent most of the morning at the palace and final resting place for the Medici family. The residence is amazing, inside you forget you are at the center of a city.
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Thursday, August 6, 2009
Leaving Venice, Arriving in Milan for a few hours
Venice grew on me. When I first arrived, I saw only tourist shops, places selling the Carnival masks. You can tell they are tourists because the festival is in February! Still, the masks can be quite beautiful. The first day in Venice, I walked all day. I had arrived directly from Barcelona. Amazingly, I had the entire exit row to myself. It was not a full plane at all. I wish when it was like that, they would let you take your entire luggage onto the plane with you. It would make life so much easier. I never had a chance to stretch out and sleep, I just slept. I fell asleep some time during takeoff. I awoke as we were landing. That is great air travel, in my opinion. I always love in the future how when people travel by air, they are always knocked out. Generally in interspatial travel for the longer periods of time, sleep is induced. Why haven’t the airlines developed something that knocks us all out for the trip?
Back to Venice, I took the local bus in and hit the ground running. I had a backpack on, so it was more like a trot. I had searched some places on hostelworld while sitting on the bus, but wasn’t finding much. I decided to check the Sofitel, and it turns out they had a very affordable rate for a single person room. I humanized – showered, and put on deodorant – and headed out into the city. I walked, and walked. I didn’t do museums. I decided to start with the culture of today, and then look at the art through the eyes of today.
I headed towards the Rialto Bridge, which is the most famous in Venice. Then on to San Marco plaza which was full of tourists, literally full, like a liquid, filling the very shape of its holding vessel. On the way, I stopped to get another pair of linen pants. These needed to be finished on the cuffs, and after purchasing them I was told I needed to pay for the alteration, but couldn’t pay for it then. It would have to be in cash, at the time of delivery.
The salesman who arranged this and was going to drop them off also invited me to do a few different things, and get drinks, and then he asked for some of my personal information. I at first thought it was for the store records, basic email and phone. Now, I am not so sure. I have requested that all my records in the store database be removed from his access. I had the Sofitel call today to inquire about the normalcy of such a payment system, and got the manager on the line. He seemed confused, and the man who sold me the stuff, jumped on and starting talking very quickly, as if worried. I think I caught him trying to pull one over me, and he was protecting his job. I am deciding what to do now, how to best protect myself, while not accidentally screwing someone else because I am feeling anxious.
I meandered back to my hotel taking whatever street seemed nicer, or shadier, depending on my heat at the moment. I wouldn’t say that Venice is notably hot, although there is a noticeable difference between the sun and shade.
My second day I headed to the Fish Market, and the Vegetable Market. It was fun, but nothing really to get excited about. I then toured the Ducal Palace, and a few museums. I really enjoyed the Guggenheim, which I got in for free! They had some incredible paintings, and I wrote down the artists and ones that I liked so I can read up more about them. I will try to remember to post the list when my blackberry is charged up again.
Then I went to this incredible space that used to be the Customs house for Venice. It’s awesome. The space just makes the entire museum, and the individual artists use it really well, so that the art fits into the spaces, not just physically, but metaphorically as well. I really enjoyed that one.
On the way back I remembered a small gift I wanted to buy, and so I went back out in search. No luck. But, I found some tapas like places (except the morsels of food were awful) and cheap drinks with lots of people. It is still an orgy of language, with English and German and Spanish being the acts I know. Here it was mostly Italian, so I witnessed. I like speaking in German here, it is so unexpected by the native speakers, when someone who was conversing in English with an American accent turns and asks them to take a photo in German, and what of, as well. The bars were fun though to listen at because their guests spilled out onto the streets, and each mingled with members of other joints.
MILAN
I already have been to Milan, so I just stopped for a few photos and a walk around before my train to Firenze (Florence). I stopped in a place that looked ok, I was hoping for a cheap meal. They get you on the drinks, 5.50 Euro for a beer is insane. Bought a gift, and then left.
Airport (written Monday August 3rd)
I never woke up this morning, because I never went to sleep. We arrived back from the club at around 6AM. The night before after purchasing tickets from the hotel, I had asked for a receipt, which I think is a reasonable request. In case there are problems, some proof of purchase would be nice I explained. The concierge got all defensive, as if I were accusing him of trying to screw us over. I wasn’t, I just wanted it written down somewhere this is how much we paid (the ticket to the club didn’t have anything numerical on it relating to cost).
The club was big. BIG. It has a few large dance rooms, and many additional smaller rooms, all staffed with their own DJ. Drinks are insanely priced as I discovered accidentally, a Vode-ka Redbull was 20 euros! Water was 7 euros!!! Talk about price gouging…
I heard from a few different sources that the numbers for the night were somewhere around 7,000. I think that is respectable for a club – it was as Shiva had explained full of energy. It’s funny because the music is just this pulsing beat, like a broken record with 8 beats playing over and over and over again. And yet, all the DJ needs to do is start to increase the volume, and the crowd goes wild. I wouldn’t say its music so much as a homogenizing voice. It linked everyone in the room, all of our heads were pounding at the same beat, we could feel our stomachs reverberating in time together. It was a site, and an experience that I am glad that we had.
But, we arrived back, and our hosts thought we should split up walking in. When I was there, he inquired about me, there is a problem he said. I came back that there is no problem, I was not staying, I did not sleep there, I just left a bag there. The front desk guy really needed a reality check. I even alerted them on my way out of a guy who didn’t look so hot sleeping in their hallway, who looked like he might need a hospital. At least I was set up in a room. I didn’t even shower.
Shiva and friends were exhausted, but I was raring to get out. I took off for the bus station, and headed to the airport to correct my ticket. An internal glitch it seems moved my ticket from today until tomorrow, which would be great, except for the two connecting flights I would miss. That would have been really bad. I was able to change one of my flights, cut out a leg of my trip, and work it all out for just a small change fee. Then, I headed to the port for a small island known for the beaches off the coast of Ibiza by three miles or so. I couldn’t find lockers, so I found a grocery store, and paid the guy who was there a few euros to leave two small bags of clothes in the back, then headed to the dock, bought a ticket, and a while later, landed on a small paradise.
The beaches were a lot nicer. But I had to get them. I decided that because of time constraints, I wanted faster transportation (it was a good choice, the island was a bit larger than I anticipated, and my blackberry ran out of batteries about when I was stepping off the boat). I chose a loud and polluting Moped. I felt environmentally awful, but gosh, was it fun!
I drove down the street, bought some lunch items, and lots of water, then went to a nautical store to complete my stupid purchase of the trip. Off I headed to a very long beach. The water was clearer than crystal. I swam about for a while, but there was nothing really to see there. I decided to take off for Caja Solana, which was a little cover on the other shore. This was paradise. It was mostly locals, a few bars up in the cliffs overlooking, and lots of stuff to look at under water. I snorkeled around for a while, and then some people on a yacht starting throwing some bread and things in the water. Fantastic! Swim came from everywhere, and I floated with the little fish as they jostled each other for a meal. Burned crispy at the end of the day, I returned to the port, returned my polluting magical machine that brings smiles, and boarded my boat back. On the way I faded in and out of consciousness, I think the older middle aged woman and I sitting across from each other at the table was bumping heads with me whenever the boat hit a wave. It was waking her up a lot more than it was me.
Back on Ibiza, I got my stuff back (it was all there, which was a pleasant surprise, it was a kind of sketchy situation) and headed to a local restaurant for some dinner. It was 2 for 1 happy hour on drinks, so I had two small Jara’s of sangria, and watched some local kids play some volleyball on the beach. They weren’t bad at all. As I was leaving, I gave them my unopened water that I had purchased in the morning since you can’t bring liquids through security.
Came through security, and everything rather fast. Now just charging my phone back up, and waiting to get on the plane, so I can land in Barcelona and find a nice quiet place to fall asleep for a couple of hours until my morning flight to Venice.
5AM Tuesday:
Ticket booths finally opened, and I could drop my bag and head through security. Wasn’t very exciting, in retrospect, I should have just stayed in this part of the airport, and gotten my bag from the lockers in the morning. Slept on the ground, it was freezing cold, and very hard. Not ideal at all. I woke up shivering, they must really have the air conditioning blasting down there.
Bag check was simple, but security seemed to have only one person doing everything. It was taking forever. Finally I made it through security, and just walked for a bit to get some blood flowing and warm up my legs. There is a line around the corner for bad coffee now and I can’t get on their wi-fi, which is really unfortunate, so posting this will be a bit longer in the making, probably post touching down in Venice. Still need accommodations.
Florence!
I am now in Florence! Found hotel, waiting for dinner at the moment.
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Wednesday, August 5, 2009
The beauty of individual travel
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The Plan
Just stepped into a supermarket for a second while writing this, they are playing clubbing music. Very odd indeed.
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Morning in Venice
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Tuesday, August 4, 2009
A very nice lady
Finally boarding to Venice.
I went up to the desk and asked about a postal box before leaving the country, the woman at the desk smiled and offered to mail it for me. Then she switched me to an exit seat.
I remembered the spare barcelona metro tickets, and gave them to her, which she really appreciated. At that point the line had grown exceedingly long. So she slipped me in to the front to board the bus to the plane.
Her few small acts of kindness brightened my morning after sleeping in the airport last night, not an entirely positive experience. Hopefully I have a similar experience as my first flight - I fell asleep during oxygen mask, seatbelt routine and awoke as everyone was bustling to get off. I had no idea where I was for a moment, and I needed to confirm what airport we were at.
The stewardess had let me move once the doors closed for takeoff, so I was in the front seat, and thus first off the plane, always very satisfying.
It's like that one time when my luggage came out in the very first spot on the carousel! Another time I was first, and last, which was far less fun.
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I went up to the desk and asked about a postal box before leaving the country, the woman at the desk smiled and offered to mail it for me. Then she switched me to an exit seat.
I remembered the spare barcelona metro tickets, and gave them to her, which she really appreciated. At that point the line had grown exceedingly long. So she slipped me in to the front to board the bus to the plane.
Her few small acts of kindness brightened my morning after sleeping in the airport last night, not an entirely positive experience. Hopefully I have a similar experience as my first flight - I fell asleep during oxygen mask, seatbelt routine and awoke as everyone was bustling to get off. I had no idea where I was for a moment, and I needed to confirm what airport we were at.
The stewardess had let me move once the doors closed for takeoff, so I was in the front seat, and thus first off the plane, always very satisfying.
It's like that one time when my luggage came out in the very first spot on the carousel! Another time I was first, and last, which was far less fun.
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Sunday, August 2, 2009
We named it: the flying coffin
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Donde Esta La Pinsa?
We played this game with the Monitor(a)s and other RA's and staff using a clothes pin, the idea was not to have it at a certain point in the night, or else, you had to do something the next day. You could move La Pinsa on to another, so long as they weren't aware you had given it to them. Collars are stiff and a good place to put it, as are the bottom of pants and skirts. You would sit down next to someone, suavely place it on their persons, maybe slip it into their pocket, and then excuse yourself before they were aware. Sometimes, it was placed so well, they wouldn't even know, and it would go into a laundry basket for a few days. Other times, it moved many times within the hour, jumping from candidate to candidate.
It's one aspect of CTY I miss, not La Pinsa specifically, but the fun staff that I was working with. I am in the airport waiting for my flight. It finally posted to the board just now, but I will wait a little longer. For a few euros, I was able to get into the lounge, and have WIFI access, as well as access to some basic food and drink (they have spanish tortilla!)
I charged my phone, computer, ipod etc. As I was doing this, I started to wonder if there was an elimination, what I would hold onto the longest. If I washed up with just a small bag, what would I really want in that bag. How about no bag, just pockets. How about with nothing. Could I survive, make it back home? I think so, it's all memorized - but let's not test that theory.
I realize now that after tomorrow, I will be traveling alone with no prospects of traveling companion. It is a daunting horizon, and I imagine that my trip will change character dramatically. The days will start earlier, and end earlier. Clubbing along is not particularly interesting I have discovered. Meals also tend to be shorter, unless I come across a fellow lonely traveler, there is not much to discuss by oneself.
I will have to enjoy my last hours with Shiva, and friends while here in Europe. Tuesday will be a whole new world.
In the airport lounge enjoying my vode-ka y fanta limon and catching up on blogging
Valldemossa
Valldemossa
It’s a small town with history, Chopin and George Sands both spent a winter here, during which Sands wrote the book A Winter in Majorca, and Chopin suffered bad pianos and composed some famous pieces. I posted them in my blog earlier. All that aside, it’s rather touristy, and I had trouble getting food for a reasonable price. So be it. The convenient aspect of the tourist nature is that there are shops and I could finally replace my shorts which started to rip at CTY, and purchase a pair of white linen pants as well, which I have been searching for since arriving here. Pedro, the man in the store, was very helpful in listening to what I was looking for, and saving me time by pulling together a few options that fit my wants and needs.
Touristy also means that everything here is printed in English, usually with a plethora of funny grammatical or diction mistakes – can you use diction in this sense? – and German, which helps when I don’t know what the English section is trying to tell me. Castellano is spoken and of course, Catalan.
What I did learn is very interesting, these stores can mostly all do American Express, but will often tell you that they can’t. It’s only a matter of explaining that it is your only card, and suddenly it magically works. I can’t imagine that is in their contract. I also learned that as a foreigner, I am entitled to a tax form, and should request at customs. The shops that offer “tax free” forms work with companies that take a huge cut of the tax, almost 50%, and merely for processing forms.
I think it’s obscene. I was wondering about this last year when I purchased my shoes in Italy, I will have to make sure that I am careful this time about receiving my full refund and not lose a chunk to a company accidentally.
Pau, the photographer from the ice cream shop, emailed me about Ibiza. He said stay on Ibiza for the parties, if that is what you are interested in. But, if you are planning on spending time on the beach, skip it, hop on a ferry to Formentera, about 3 miles off the coast of Ibiza, where the beaches are incredible. It’s a small enough island that renting a bicycle is the best way to see it. He said it will be one of the most amazing experiences of my life, sounds like a must to me.
The first Ferry – provided it’s not obscenely expensive, leaves at 7:30 in the morning Monday. I think I will come back from the club with Shiva, and head to the port, hop on a boat, spend the day at the beach, come back, get my stuff, and hop on my plane back here – Barcelona - Venice. I should definitely be able to sleep on the plane after that experience. I am hoping to do some snorkeling while in Ibiza or on the island close to it; that would be incredible. Just borrowing gear for a few minutes has left me yearning to spend more time under water (Deia).
At the moment, I am waiting for the bus. I have been writing this from the bench, but think I will go search for a café to upload my last few posts and look into some accommodation options for Venice. I am excited to throw myself into a new place where I have no ability with the language. What adventures await?
Deia to Soller, walking
When I asked about walking in the Hostal, I was told it would be impossible to even walk to the water. When I asked about walking to Soller, via the water, I was simply given directions at La Residencia. We could discuss further the implications of this, and socio economic impacts on health, and what not, but we will let that rest.
The walk was amazing. When I did the hike in Peru near Huaraz, it was incredible. Someone told me it is considered the number two hike in the world, followed by a trek in New Zealand. These two better watch out! The path(s) meandered along the Mediterranean sometimes dropping down to sea level, other times high above on cliffs with sheer drops. I saw mountain goats and sheep, walked under olive trees, and had more vistas than I can count. I dropped down to sea level a few times, and dive into the crystal clear water to cool off. Once, I stumbled on a group, and some people were covering themselves in mud, a sort of spa like treatment that I once saw on the shores of the Dead Sea a few years ago. They invited me to join them, and I did, lathering my entire body in dark thick mud, then letting it dry before washing it off. My skin felt like butter, perfectly smooth to the touch (then I burned it all walking for the rest of the afternoon in the sun). I continued on, stopping for lunch in the late afternoon. My sparkling water was fizzy from the bouncing around in my pack, the cheese ready to eat, and the chorizo tasty. I still haven’t dived into the olives yet, but they beckon even now from my bag.
At one inlet, I asked a group of Germans to borrow their mask, and did some swimming. It was beautiful, and I immediately wished I had brought my license with me to rent dive gear. Perhaps they can search for my credentials online.
I arrived after many hours in Porto del Soller, where I meandered, and eventually caught a small bumpy train to Soller. I just missed the bus, and decided to stay and have some dinner (Paella, some wine, and albondigas – meatballs!) I also ran into some familiar faces from my trek on the Deia side. After, I meandered down to the cab station, which I never found. I asked a person about directions to the street, and a few minutes later they pulled up and offered me a ride to halfway to Deia, from there it would be only 2km. I figured I could walk the rest, and better the 20 euros in my pocket then a taxi drivers. I hopped in the back, and we talked as we drove to his house. When we arrived there was a silent discussion between him and his wife. Back in the car. He dropped me in front of La Residencia. Very nice man, he is a doctor in Palma. Also teaches at a local college. Just back, time to shower and maybe go out for a bit to the local tavern. On the way, I stumbled into a private house accidentally that I thought was a bar. They were very nice about it, and thus I arrived back at Hostal Villaverde.
Palma to Deia
Music Joke: How do you know there is a choral group at your doorstep?
Answer: They don’t know when to come in.
I was traveling with an entire chorus… of singing babies, most of them very much out of tune. I think the kids on the plane outnumbered the adults. Arrived safe and well in Mallorca, and didn’t see any additional security measures, as I was expecting to see. Did they catch the bombers already?
I caught the number 1 bus into Palma, transferred to the L210. I am really hoping that this is the more scenic route up the coast line towards Deia. I chose a seat with southern exposure so that I could see the water, and hopefully catch some photos.
My ice cream photographer wrote back, letting me know he appreciated our willingness to be photographed. We should be in next week’s local Barcelona paper – I wonder if it is online. I imagine they will choose a photo of someone who looks a bit younger and cuter. The Indian guy and the Jewish Indian combo may not be the demographic they are targeting, I am thinking more along the lines of young parents with young kids, then again, I have no idea what the article is about. But he did say he needs to do some quick retouches and then he will email me some copies, which is really exciting. I’ll post those as soon as they appear!
Palma, from what I have seen, doesn’t seem very special. When I landed and turned on my blackberry, a welcome message came up from an application I use to keep track of my flights. It said welcome to Palma Majorca, the temperature here is 81 degrees Fahrenheit. I did a week forecast, 81 and without a cloud the whole week. Now that is something I could really get used to.
Driving through the city at the moment, lots of outdoor cafes, like any Spanish city I have seen so far, lots of construction as well. Everyone tells me every city has certain factors, a main plaza, public drinking water fountains, etc. I just reply that every Spanish city also has a crane on the horizon.
The end of Barcelona
Yesterday was my last full day in Barcelona. We spent the afternoon at the Park Guell, which is absolutely amazing. Gaudi’s house is there, in addition to a beautiful park with lots of live music going on. After a few concerts during which Shiva and I picnicked, we gave up on finding some green to do Yoga, and instead started to head back. We only took the metro a single stop, before remembering our host’s recommendation on stopping at Calle Verdi. It was a nice little street, but first we stopped in for ice cream where we were photographed from hundreds of different angles for the local newspaper. I think they preferred shooting the little kid who was getting ice cream all over her face, but we were a bit more responsive, and didn’t try to hide. I had this amazing yogurt, and Shiva had a slushy type drink.
Down Calle Verdi we meandered, and back onto the Metro back to our apartment. I should stop to mention that our host is not only a very very very cool person, she is also a painter. You can find Karenina’s work here, http://www.kareninafabrizzi.com/. And, she made me the strongest coffee I have tasted in my entire life. One cup per year and I could completely eliminate sleep. It made espresso look like milk. Worse, celery, it actually takes more energy to consume than it gives you.
My last night in Barcelona, we decided it was finally time. We went to Champagneria. I mentioned in an earlier post about a place called Quimet y Quimet, as one of the great places I have been to. It’s small, all standing, and you just have to get in the rhythm and call out your order in the right moment. Imagine Zen counting with 150 other eager diners, all of whom really want to say “1” and if they miss one, there are 149 left who want to say “2” and so forth. In addition, there are some who said “1” and want to say “8” as well. It’s chaos. It’s wonderful.
Champagneria is a place where you can only order one drink: champagne. And you can only order bottles until 5pm. The Champagne is only served with tapas. These are not your typical tapas, certainly nothing like the elegance of Quimet y Quimet. These are full on sandwiches: Lomo y Serrano, Hambuergesa con bacon y todos. The bocadillos (sandwiches) were outstanding, the champagne flowing and we were having a wonderful time. I have been in some very crowded clubs, where you feel like breathing is hard if you want your chest to arrive at all. This place made that seem like open air, open spaces. Shiva kept telling me, “another person just went to second base with me.” I had a distinct advantage in that with my height at least I was drinking and eating above most people. To be short here was not good. However, after some jokes and conversation, I was on a first name basis with the camarero (waiter) and we were getting our food and drink served pronto.
Then we met the Italian couple. She was actually from Australia, working in fashion in Florence, he worked in Rome. They were lots of fun, and as we closed out the Champagneria, which for some silly reason, closes at 10PM, the four of us headed out to find a place for some Sangria together before continuing the night.
We eventually came across a place, ordered sangria and pints of cerveza, and stood out in the cool night air sharing stories, and talking until it was finally close to 1, I think, and they decided to head home. I got their email address, and hopefully will be able to get some ideas for Florence and Rome.
We decided that it was early, and to head to a club. But, before we could move on, we went into Chupito’s Chupito’s, where they have the famous Monica Lewinsky shot. We were herded out with a pub crawl accidentally, but decided to try and join. We were not welcome at all as we attempted to finagle our way into the situation. We ended up just looking for another club (most pub crawls end in a club of some sort), and came across Jamboree. It had two floors, loud music, and on the whole was not bad, but not great in my opinion. I am not sure if I really do the whole clubbing thing – I certainly lack the dancing skills. I am hoping that Ibiza is going to be very different from anything I have ever experienced before. After a while we found ourselves at Apollo. We were trying to talk to the entry person about getting in, but security threw us out, it was very strange.
It felt like the night was over, and so we headed home, just around 3AM. On the way back, we did however witness three or four plain clothes police officers escorting a group of prostitutes from the street to our apartment. We wanted to see what happened next, but after a moment, decided not to follow, instead just returning to the apartment. Drank some pineapple juice and went to bed after doing some work on the computer. Everything was fine, except in the other room there was a random guy just sitting on the bed at 4AM. I knocked and said hello, but he didn’t respond at all. This morning he was sleeping with the door partially open diagonally across the bed, still fully clothed, not having used the sheets or anything. It was a little strange, and disconcerting – the lack of response. I hope all is well back in the apartment.
Getting to the airport was very easy. Train to Passaig de Gracia, and then another train here. Put my bag in storage, just taking my smaller bag. I will get it back before going to Italy. The only unfortunate part is that I forgot to grab my book from my larger backpack. I looked in the shop here, but nothing interesting in the limited English section. I don’t think I would enjoy struggling through a Spanish book at the moment or German for that matter.
I am writing this post while I wait to board Vueling 8707 to Palma Mallorca. I asked at the counter, and they seemed to concur with my quick research this morning that the airports have reopened for planes to arrive and depart, as the search for the bombers of the police station continues. After the flight, there is just a short bus ride, and I should be in Deia, soaking up the sun, the fresh air, all of the beauty (mountains, pools of blue water, etc.) and enjoying a change of pace from Barcelona. I definitely need to find a book to read.
I thought I was trying a chocolate piece, not hot chocolate
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Winter of 1838-1839
However, on it he composed the Prelude: the drop of water.
However, he soon received the Pleyel piano on which he composed numerous works including:
Preludes Op. 28
Ballad Op. 38
Polonaise Op. 40
Scherzo Op. 39
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The palace of king Sancho
And I quote, "He [Godoy] was attended with a lot of love and charity by the monks, until he was translated to Bellver Castle..."
Google translate?
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