Day Twenty Three (TR)

So I'm still flying solo. Barcelona has a lot to see, but first I try to call David Martinez, who I met in Scotland. A female voice answers


(In Spanish)
Voice: Hello?
TR: Hello, could I speak…
Voice: Hello?
TR: Hi, I am a friend of David’s…
Voice: Hello?
TR: Can you hear me…
Voice: Hello?
TR: (shouting) CAN YOU HEAR…
Voice: (mumbles)

Click

That exact exchange happened again half an hour later. So for now I have got to navigate an enjoy this city on my own. First stop: the Templo de la Sagrada Familia. I don’t quite know how to describe this thing. It is easily the most ridiculous basilica in the solar system. For the last hundred years or so the place has been a construction yard. They have completed two of three façades and eight of the eighteen spires that it will eventually have. Even unfinished, it is amazing. From far back it looks gothic, but as you get closer you can see that some of the stonework looks like shaving cream stalactites and that all of the statues and gargoyles are modern and abstract. It is a difficult place to describe, even for me to communicate its overwhelming size. I have no idea how they are funding it, because I only paid €3.50 to get in. Each of the spires is decorated on top with candy-colored tile mosaics. Basically I am saying that it is/was/will be amazing. I spent much longer than I intended here. They had a little museum in the basement and the Passion Façade was possibly my favorite part of the whole visit.

Wow, now I am hungry. There was a little sidewalk café with a cheap lunch special, so I sat down. The guy brings me paella, which was really good, and then some kinda pink fish and ham serrano. Also good. The whole time that I was eating he stood in front of the door to his café, blatantly looking up and down every woman that passed. I tried to imagine how he could be less subtle about it, and decided that the only way would be if he stepped in front of them.

Looking over my tourist map, there is a picture of some cool sculpture, and so I take the metro to it. It was easy to find, but then I realize that that’s all it is. I expected like a sculpture park or a museum but this was all. So I walk through the ordinary park and see some kids playing basketball, people playing tennis, and old men playing this weird game that I can only describe as a combination of horseshoes, bocce, and bowling. They had nine very tall and thin pins set up in a perfect square and would take turns throwing half-spheres at them. Strange. They didn’t seem to appreciate me watching them.

It was getting late now so I headed back to my hostel. Or tried to. I could not find it for like an hour. Finally I found a receipt in my pocket from the night before, and asked someone how to get there (thank goodness I was wearing recycled pants).

I sent some emails and talked to an Irishman. Eventually I went to bed, but I was in a different room this time. Since the beds were not labeled I chose one at random and went to sleep. This would last long, because a Europepean came in at about midnight and told me angrily that I was in his bed. I started getting up and he said to not bother. He got in the other bed, and finally all was right with the world. For about two hours. After that, a barely conscious drunken Canadian wandered into our room, started getting into an already occupied bed. Realizing his mistake, he stumbled across the room and collapsed onto the sleeping body of a now frightened Korean. The hostel staff came in and dragged him out. He didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he didn’t seem aware of anything at all.

During this episode, I resolve to change hostels.

Day Twenty Two (TR)

Wow, what a crazy day this was. An entire day spent on trains.

About 11:00 am the ticket check guy came into our chamber and sort of angrily told me to get off (I gathered) because there was an unscheduled transfer (you will recall from yesterday that I was still on the train from the night before. Dang Italian transportation; aparently it is not just Rome.

So I transfered and soon we were in France. eventually we stopped in Nice, and I mailed a letter and sent Cate an email.It was two o'clock by now, and I was supposed to have arrived in Nice an hour or so earlier. Another late Italian train. Talked to a info guy and he told me not to worry, I could transfer in Marseille and be in Montpellier in plenty of time for my train to Barcelona.

It seemed to go well until I got to Montpellier and the jerk on the train told me I could not get on because my reservation only got me as far as Nice, and that the train to Barcelona was already completely booked. I showed him my itinerary and my reservation. Unfortunately the latter said very clearly in huge letters: Roma Termini--->Nice. D'oh! Somehow Trenitalia was still hosing me after I had left Italy. Curses!

Went to try and buy a reservation and saw a frustrated-looking Canadian already in line (his shirt said "Canada.....EH!"). He was in the same boat as me, so we conspired to try and sneak onto the train, which left in seven minutes. Hey, come on now, it wasn't our fault the reservations were messed up.

Down to the platform. Bottom-rung ticket check employee looks at our rail passes, begins saying something in French, sees that we don't understand, and then waves us through, looking very annoyed. Stage one completed. Same Jerk From Before is still on platform. We walk right past and get on the train. Stage two completed. So the next few minutes were spent sitting in seats, having people tell me that I am in their seats (reservations), and finally me sitting on the floor in that little space between cars with the Canadian. Anyway we discussed all manner of things, including how we hoped that Same Jerk From Before wouldn't come give us fines for riding without reservations. He walked right past us several times and never even checked our tickets. Stage Three completed. Woohoo!

Alright, now I am in Barcelona. I wander my way down to the Gothic quarter, experiencing a strange new sensation: I can understqnd the signs and, for the most part, the directions people are giving me, huzzah! I was afraid everything would be closed and dead, but as I got onto Las Ramblas, a street near the gothic quarter, the streets were packed, and it was eleven pm. Crazy.

Anyway thus began another night of wandering from hostel to hostel, since plan A was full (plus the guy running it was SCUM) and plan B, well, there was no plan B. FINALLY I found one and it was time for bed. The gothic quarter was kind of dirty, but cool.

Day Twenty One (TR)

Alright, well Rob took care of most of the day for us, but here is my solo half:

From the Fontana di Trevi, I started walk-running back to the bus stop we had gotten off at. I thought I might have trouble finding it, but it was easy because all I had to do was follow the trail of sites we had seen on the way to the fountain. Basilici, the Pantheon, the French embassy, a restaurant where I dropped my pizza bianca on the floor and they gave me a new one (nice of them).

So I found the stop and waited. And waited. And waited......till thirty minutes had passed. Very frustrating. Deciding that my bus was not coming, I made the decision to get on whatever bus came next. I know this isprobably a bad idea, but it worked! a few minutes later I was back in the Vatican, then on my way to the hostel. Grabbed my bags and got on the bus going toward the stazione (train station). I sat on the bus for twenty minutes before it left its stop. Grrr! That's alright, I've still an hour before the last train leaves to Citavecchia, where there's a ferry to Barcelona. It took AN HOUR AND TWENTY MINUTES TO GO THE BLOODY STATION! The metro, which was on strike today, takes only fifteen minutes.

Curse you Rome, curse you and your baffling and inefficient public transit system! So the ferry is gone. Alright, maybe there'sa night train. There is, but it doesn't leave for five hours. I went to a Catholic mass, which was kind of cool, then wasted a couple of hours in cyberspace, then napped in the station near my platform. No way was I going to spend another night in this punctuality-forsaken city. Got on the night train, climbed into my bunk, and fell asleep despite the shouting of school children who were on some sort of field trip.

It was during the metro/bus/train fiasco that I wished I hadn't thrown a 5 euro cent coin over my shoulder into the Fontana di Trevi this time.

Day Twenty

To the Vatican Museum! The line was longer than the Space Mountain line, but it moved much faster. There were street musicians, guys selling purses and sunglasses, people handing out fliers, and very dramatic beggars. I think the Vatican auditions beggars to get rid of all the indifferent ones. One woman unwrapped her head scarf to show everyone a massive sore on her head.

But the line wasn't really to get into the museum. It was a line to get to the other line, which was to get into another line, which was to get into the museum, which was a huge building full of lines. It was worth it though, because the artwork in this place was amazing. I will leave out most of what we saw for time's sake, but the Sistine Chapel was cool. Also a stuffy British tour guide refused to continue his tour until we stopped listening to him. "Soarry, um, this is private tour." Whatever. Jerk.

Yes well the museum thoroughly wore us out, and I fell asleep on the floor in the hallway leading out of the museum while Rob sat and watched people make fun of me as they passed. I am sorry that I missed it. When we finally left we realized that the line was almost nothing by early afternoon, and it probably would have been better to go then.

Next up, St. Peter's Basilica, a church of behemoth proportions. I think you could easily have a doubles tennis tournament inside. It is the traditional resting place of Peter the Apostle and boasts the largest collection of dead popes in the galaxy.

Man, we were tired by now so we went back to the hostel for naptime. Ahh, naptime. We had a new roommate by now, an Italian named Marco who preferred to wear clothes around the hostel as opposed to just briefs. A welcome change from the other roommates. It was dark by the time we woke up from naptime, but Marco came with us to the internet café and then took us on a VIP tour of central Rome.On the way, we saw a stout Roman trying to murder a kid who had just picked his pocket. The man had a hold of the kid's shirt, but the kid slipped out of it and ran away. Exciting. We saw the royal palace, some ruins, and, of course, the coloseum. Cheers, Marco.

And bed.

Day Seventeen

Rob´s nausea is gone but the stomach acid made his throat so sore that he still can't really eat. D'oh. But what a trooper! "Let's move on", he says.

The scenery on th train ride out of Switzerland was amazing. Picture the most amzing thing ever and multiply it by one thousand. No, wait...that's too much. It was nice though. Postcard nice.

But man was it hot when we got to Venice. Gelato sales must have skyrocketed. My shirt stuck to me and I was sweating like Michael Moore in a spinning class on Venus. Rob was really tired from the trip and not eating, so he sat down in a piazza with our bags while I looked for a hostel.

And thus began a long, sweaty, scenic, frustrating evening. There are way too many details to mention, but just know that I made a series of bad decisions which got me lost for several hours in the beautiful Venice or, as I now call it, The Labyrinth of Death.

I found him again well after dark and without having found us a place to stay. It was the weekend, so everything was full. We went to the train station to go to Mestre or Padova where we might find a hostel, hotel, or quiet corner of a public park. I don't know how Rob felt, but I was nauseated with fatigue.

While waiting for the train we had an inconsequential converation with some daddy's girls from the midwest.

We skipped Mestre and went straight to Padova, where a cabbie who spoke no english and a little Spanish drove us around to about ten hotels to help us find a place. We finally found one that was about twice what we have been paying at hostels, but it was much nicer. It was a nice break from sharing a room with drunkards. We went to bed at like 1:30 am. Not that late, but it felt late considering we had been looking for a place to stay since about 7:00 at night.

Day Sixteen

More 'Sploring!

I went for a run along the Aare River. Guess which of the following things I saw on my run (five points per correct guess):

·One of those brown mountain goats.
·pelican
·heron
·covered bridge
·waterpark
·boar
·buffalo
·marmot
·small airport

Yes! I saw all of them. I ran past this zoo type thing. It was great. And if that wasn't enough, there was another legendary swiss breakfast waiting for me when I got back. So was Rob, looking still very sick. It had been two days since he had eaten now, so he tried to put down a little bit of yogurt.

I, on the other hand, had yogurt, museli, toast, orange juice, and some corn flakes. Anonymous Source, you were right about the swiss breakfasts.

So then Rob and I went to the bear pit. Depressed-looking bears in a pit. Tourists throwing expensive apple slices at them. Sad.

We watched the "Bern Show", which seemed like a tourist-recruitment propaganda short made by the same people as "Great Moments with Mr. Lincoln" because of all of the animatronics, etc. Scary.

Then was the walkabout. While Rob slept in the hostel, I went looking for the university. A local gave me some crappy directions so I ended up in Crack Town, where I actually saw some people shooting up.

Holy Crap, it was hot today. I went back to that grassy park to jump in the river, which was inconceivably cold. So I started "Speaker for the Dead" by Orson Scott Card. While reading it, I realized what a dumb book "Angels and Demons" is. Sorry to all fans out there. Man, my legs were sore from the run at pilatus and the one this morning.

Woohoo, I am getting back my chaco tan!

Day Fifteen

Whoa, this Rob is unstoppable. Despite feeling even worse today, he suggests we move on, to Bern this time.

By the time we arrive he feels like Death itself, as was my understanding from how he looked. He wanted to go to a REAL Swiss hospital this time, not that 24 hour snake oil peddling train station clinic that we went to earlier. Two hours, about four nurses, and a bag of saline solution later Rob is on his way with a perscription for antibiotics and acid reflux medicine, and feeling only slightly better.

So I had to ditch Rob at the Hostel so he could sleep. And I borrowed his book which I had been reading this whole time, "Angels and Demons" by that DaVinci Code guy. Don't make fun of me, it was an exciting book, alright? I went to the riverfront park where lots of Europeans were sunbathing and finished the book.

Not an exciting day for you to read about, is it?