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Inside the Sagrada Familia, Barcelona (Personal Photo) |
What did you do during winter break, Laura?
Have you visited Spain? It's a beautiful place.
Laura, how's Europe? Are you enjoying it?
I didn't expect a kind of Spanish Inquisition.
Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition!
The city I visited in Spain was Barcelona, Barcelona and Madrid... Madrid and Barcelona. The two cities I visited were Barcelona, Madrid... and Toledo. The three cities I visited were Barcelona, and Madrid, and Toledo and Sevilla. The four ... no... Amongst the cities... Amongst the cities I visited... are such cities as Barcelona... Let me try this post again.
Get on with it!
Barcelona:
A friend asked me,
“So, does the rain in Spain fall mainly in the plains?”
The answer is:
“No. The rain in Spain falls mainly in Barcelaine.”
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Arc de Triomphe, Barcelona (Personal Photo) |
But even though it
rained during my stay in Barcelona, I did not enjoy the city’s
charm any less. I did another free tour, which was nice, since the
historic centre of Barcelona is akin to a maze. The way our guide
described Catalonia and its own language (Catalan) and desire for
independence reminded me of Quebec’s efforts to separate from the
rest of Canada. On my own time I visited the Arc de Triomphe (in
brick) and the Sagrada Familia cathedral, which is as of yet
unfinished. The outside resembled melted stone, as though it were not
rock, but wax. In the pouring rain I ate some delicious,
hot-from-the-deep-fryer churros, which burnt my tongue but warmed my
insides. Mmm!
My hostel was not
only inexpensive, but nice (and came with free breakfast). Oh, what a
pleasure it is to stay at a nice one! My room even had a curtain that
I could use to block off my own space, and breakfast was more than
just cereal and bread. (The first time a hostel came with breakfast
was during my weekend getaway to Bologna. Needless to say, it hadn’t
impressed me.) I grabbed tapas with two of my roommates, Kim and
Jimin, and then we grabbed probably the least Spanish thing there
is—bubble tea.
Ok, Laura,
you’re probably saying. That’s all fine and dandy. Where’s
the action?
Patience you must have, my young Padawan.
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Basílica i Temple Expiatori de la Sagrada Família, Barcelona (Personal Photo) |
For Eurail users,
Spain is a pain—as far as I know, you can’t make your
reservations online; rather, you need to do it in person, or perhaps
over the phone, too. At this point, I had no trains booked at all,
unnerving for someone who likes to plan out everything! The train I
wanted left at 9am (there was another at 10am, but sooner = better).
I caught the metro at 8:25 and arrived at 8:45... and all the ticket
booths were closed. The place was a ghost town. At this point, I had
exactly ten minutes before the train left. So I ran to customer
service.
Figures I’d experience a train
strike. What else is new?
The customer
service agent rushed us a group of us through security (scanning your
bag in a conveyor belt) and onto the train, where we would pay for
our reservations (Eurail) or buy a ticket. They even held the train
for us and didn’t leave until we’d gotten on! This is why you
always rush, people—it often makes the difference! (Spoiler alert:
I didn’t have to pay the reservation fee—the individual who was
supposed to do that never came around.)
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Alfonso XII Monument, Parque del Retiro, Madrid (Personal Photo) |
Madrid:
Madrid didn’t
have the same “old” feel as Barcelona, but I did have a ball
taking photos of its architecture. I did my own self-guided walking
tour in two 2.5-hour strolls, doing first the east and then the west
ends of the city. I also bought a gorgeous scarf at one of the
Christmas markets. In Madrid, I booked the rest of my train tickets,
the only hiccough there being that I had to be in first class for the
Seville-Barcelona train (a five-hour journey, so at least I was comfy
for a long time). My hostel not only offered breakfast, but sangria
and paella (a Spanish rice dish with seafood) on Friday and Saturday,
which happened to coincide with the nights I was staying there!
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Royal Palace, Madrid (Personal Photo) |
I should mention
the beggars. I've seen a couple on the streets, but one woman was on
the subway, carrying a young girl in her arms and moaning in Spanish.
It's the perfect language in which to wail, “Por favooor,
Senoooor...” Later I saw a scrawny man running to people and
saying, “Mama, Papi, where are you?” to random strangers. I also
saw a man who started playing “The Saints Come Marching
In” on a trumpet.
Toledo:
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Toledo (Personal Photo) |
Rather than doing
a second day in Madrid, I opted to do a day-trip to Toledo, a
medieval town situated an hour away by bus and known as the city of
three religions.
Toledo was
stunning. The cobblestone streets were a maze of twisty little
passages, all alike, and the whole historic city made me feel like I
had been transported into a different era. It was here that I bought
and sent my first postcard to my friend Brittany, who had been
begging me for one for a while. I also caved and bought some jewelry,
a black and gold cross with coordinating earrings. Toledo was
definitely a highlight of my trip, and I am glad I went there instead
of spending more time in Madrid. I am sure there was much more to see
in Madrid, but there was something magical about Toledo.
Sevilla:
I had an insider guide to Sevilla,
compliments of Alex, one of the girls I bumped into in Rome. She
recommended some excellent sights, such as the Plaza de Espana, as well
as a fantastic place to get tapas. It was surprisingly warm, and I
paraded around in my t-shirt and laughed at those wearing sweaters
and scarves. It was a beautiful city, and I wished I could have stayed longer.
Laura,
you’re thinking, I’m more. More juicy details, please.
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View from the library, Toledo (Personal Photo) |
Fine.
I’ll indulge you. I got hit on (I think) by a persistent
Spanish guy while I was chilling in the common room of my hostel. He
spoke with his mouth completely full of food, so I could barely
understand him, and it was absolutely disgusting. He also gave of
“creepy vibes,” so I was glad I wasn’t alone in the room with
him. His Spanish lesson began normally, with words for good evening
and such, but then I’m pretty sure (again, difficult to tell when
his mouth was full) he was asking me if I went to the bars or drank
coffee. I said no. Then he pointed to himself, then me, and then make
walking motions with his fingers and said, “To the bar? Or for
coffee?”
At that point I gave a much firmer no, said I had to
leave, and retreated to my room. I also said that it was hard to
understand him when he was eating. Goodness! Obviously, if I’m
travelling alone, that means I’m single and interested, right?
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Plaza de España, Sevilla (Personal Photo) |
Except, as it turned out, he was
sleeping in the same room. When he spoke to me I gave clipped answers
and didn't look a him (partially because he was changing.. right in
the middle of the room, even though we had a nice private bathroom).
On my way out the door I saw him grab silver clothes from the luggage
room. He was also wearing silver facepaint. Then I understood his
earlier comment about being an artist—he was a living statue.
However, he didn’t bother me again for the rest of my stay.
Satisfied with the amount of drama?
Good.
I grabbed chocolate con churros while
waiting for a tapas restaurant to open its kitchen. Los Coloniales.
Fantastic place—I’d highly recommend it. You have to put your
name on a waiting list to get a table, though, and arrive before the
kitchen opens at 8:30pm, as it’s incredibly popular. I ordered a
Spanish omelet and some pork in a garlic and whiskey sauce, and
together it was only 5 euros (plus the cost for the bread basket,
which you pay for regardless of whether you eat it or not).
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Sevilla (Personal Photo) |
On my last day in Sevilla, I did a
walking tour with a local. He talked about Sevilla’s more recent
history, including its former dictator, Franco (“the little
motherf*****”as he called him—apparently it's taboo to talk
about him). At the end of the tour I had to powerwalk to my hostel
and then to the bus stop. I caught the bus with a minute to spare and
made the train, although with less of my safety margin left than I
had hoped (but that's why we have safety margins, right?). Then
train ride was uneventful save for a constantly screaming baby and a
toddler who ran up and down the aisle for most of the ride.
I flew back to Nice the next morning,
but not before bumping into a girl named Juli, a fellow Canadian from
Ontario. During
happy hour we each got a 750ml glass of sangria (2 for 1). Let me
tell you, speaking with a fellow Ontarian was refreshing! We had a
great time and talked until 2am, when our bladders told us it was
time to return to our rooms.
Good
times in Spain!