Barcelona Part Three: When Life Gives You Lemons, Make Hobo Sangria

My mom's coworker has a son, Jeb, who we discovered would be traveling through Barcelona at the same time I was. Jeb and I contacted eachother and discussed how cool it would be for us to meet in Barcelona! We could take pictures together for our mommies to see. It would be great!
Friday night Jeb and I had plans to meet. After a pleasant nap, Gillian and I got ready to go out to Jeb's hotel then take him out for a good time in Barcelona. We invited our roomate, Kautchr, to come along. Kautchr is from Morracco. She was bored and hoping to find a dance club for us to go go. On our way out of the hostel we grabbed six meal voutchers for the Travel Bar nearby where we could get cheap meals with our drinks. When we met Jeb at his hotel he had two friends with him. Perfect! Six people total. At the Travel Bar we talked over dinner and learned of mutual friends we had in Iowa. After we ate and drank two jugs of sangria Jeb's friends decided to go back to their hotel. The 6 of us walked back to their hotel and then were on our way to show Jeb the awesome Picasso and Hemminway bar. With our cold hands in our coat pockets, Jeb and I were walking a few paces in front of Gillian and Kautchr. I was telling Jeb about my brother's concert we had seen the previous night and had started talking about Knox College Choir and how much I loved.....
Suddenly a group of a half dozen young men merged into us speaking a language we didn't understand. Thinking they were trying to offer us drugs or asking for money, Jeb put his hands up and said, "No thanks". One of the men separated Jeb and I. In a blink I went from feeling annoyed to feeling very nervous. A man in front of me said something quickly. When I didn't respond he grabbed my shoulder bag with both hands and ripped it off my body. "F***!" I exclaimed as I realized what was happening. The man ran with my bag up the street to the right and my first instinct was to run after him. I was chasing him up the street. He was 10 paces ahead of me. I saw him turn into an alley and by the time I got to it he was turning another corner. I turned around and saw Jeb, Gillian, and Kautchr arguing with some of the other men. I walked quickly toward the group and when I was close enough for them to hear my I said, "I need to go cancel my debit card right now!" Every important thing I had in my bag was racing through my brain. My debit card, my drivers liscence, my digital camera including MANY pictures I had not yet saved. The bag itself was a gift from a friend. It also withheld 70 Euros and two perfectly good tubes of chapstick. DAMN.
As we walked back toward our hostel to get online we discussed each of our perspectives on what had just happened. At the same time that my bag was stolen, Jeb was grabbed, tripped, and his camera was swiped from his coat pocket. Kautcha had been speaking to the men in Arabic, and the men seemed regretful for what their friends had done. Kautchr and Gillian went back to the scene to discuss the possibility of getting our things back while Jeb and I went to the hostel to contact my bank. Thank God my BFF David was online at the time. He called my mom and she immediately called the bank to cancel my debit card. (Thanks Dave! Thanks Mom!) Jeb and I were surprisingly calm and good humored about the incident. We were sad that our things were gone, but they are of course only material things. We were extremely thankful to have not been physically harmed in the incident. When Gillian and Kautchr returned they told us the men they spoke to were very helpful, yet skeptical about Gillian's presence. The only reason they were helpful was because Kautchr spoke to them in Arabic and told them she and Gillian had been friends for a long time. Our inference is that we were targeted to be mugged because we had been talking to eachother in English.
On Saturday morning over breakfast Gillian and I discussed our lack of enthusiasm about our last day in Barcelona. We decided to pack up, call a cab, and spend the day at the airport. We made hobo sangria (Fanta and cheap wine), played card games, read, napped, ate, and talked. We were at the airport from 11am to 8pm and had a great time. We could not wait to be back in London. PEACE OUT BARCELONA.

(I wish I had photos to share with you for the Barcelona series.)

p.s. I am now safely back in London, looking for a new camera, and figured out how to get cash with my credit card. Every little thing is gonna be alright.

Barcelona Part Two: Mi Familia!

The flight to Barcelona was short and smooth. Gillian and I passed through customs and got our passports stamped. No problems. In the main lobby of the airport we found a tourist information desk where we asked an employee for maps and directions to our hostel. Why did we expect our day to get any easier? I don't know. But when we were on the train "to our hostel" we discovered that we had again gone too far. We talked to a Spaniard on the train who spoke English and told us to get off at the next stop and turn around. "We're on our way out of Barcelona now" he said.
So we got off at that station and turned around. (sound familiar?) Since we really didn't understand how to use the metro line to get to our hostel, Gillian and I hailed a cab to drive us there. Our hostel was cozy and friendly. We walked to our room and I opened the door. The lights were off but the window shone some natural light into the room. "I think we're the only ones here" I said to Gillian. Then I heard someone snore. We walked quietly into the room to not disturb the three strange men sleeping at the other end of the room. Gillian and I cleaned ourselves up in the bathroom and decided to head toward my brother's concert early. We called a cab to take us to the street we knew we needed, but the concert hall was unknown to us. The fates like to play with Gillian and I because I was walking around the area thinking we were never going to find the right building to go into, given our track record that day. Then Gillian leads us into a building and I see a poster for KNOX COLLEGE CHOIR. Halleluja! Quinn's face was on the poster! Just then Laura Lane, the choir director, came into the building lobby. I had met Laura on numerous occasions and it was such a relief to see a familiar face. "Laura!!" I almost cried. She hugged me and led me by the hand to the church next door where the choir was about to rehearse and where the concert would begin in an hour. There he was. My brother. Mi familia! "Quinn!!" I almost cried again. BIG HUG
While the choir rehearsed Gillian and I found a nearby restaurant to grab some grub and some well deserved glasses of wine. We made it back to the church just in time for the choir to enter as we took the front-most seats which everyone else was avoiding. Subconsciously I sat directly in front of where I knew Quinn would be singing. I had seen many Knox concerts before and in recent years always sat in this location. After their opening song I looked at my brother while I applauded. I picked my jaw up off the floor in time to mouth the word "WOW" before he had to look back at Laura for the second song. When this song started I closed my eyes. It is easier to use all of my senses to listen when my eyes are closed and I am not distracted by light or movement or color. The music makes light, movement, and color on its own. Another of the songs later in the concert caused me to breathe with the music. It was like the music itself was actually providing life to my lungs.
After the concert Gillian and I joined the choir for dinner and bar hopping. One of the bars we went to used to be a favorite of Picasso and Hemingway. Walking into the bar was like stepping back in time 100 years. The whole wall on one side was a large, smokey mirror. The other walls were lined with shelves of dust-blanketed bottles. This was a fun night. I wish I could remember why.
On Friday morning Gillian and I woke up too late for the free breakfast at the hostel but we found a wonderful patisserie down the street. We learned an easy way to get to La Sagrada Familia via the metro. (I accidentally inserted a British pound into the ticket dispenser and it got stuck, but don't tell anyone!) La Sagrada Familia is a famous work of architecture by Gaudi which I really enjoyed seeing although it was under construction and surrounded by many tourists. I took pictures of the hidden bits of art on the building, the parts that perhaps go unnoticed if you're not looking closely enough. While walking through a park I paused to take a picture of two boys playing ping-pong. As we continued walking a group of young men was passing us and the last boy in the group jumped out in front of me. With threatening, wide eyes he hissed loudly at me then continued walking by. I stood frozen for a moment then asked Gillian if she still had her purse. We had been told by previous Barcelona travelers that the city is notorious for pickpocketing. We heard that they work in groups to make a distraction. Then as quickly as they came, they leave with all your stuff. We were both safe, but stressed. Ice cream helped to calm our nerves, followed by some deliciously cheesy Paella. We thought about finding the famous Gaudi park up the street but our feet were tired and the day was moving more quickly than we liked. We hailed another cab to take us to a different park nearer to or hostel. After exploring this park and taking many pictures of its magnificant fountain, we walked to the Pablo Picasso Museum.
The Picasso Museum led us through Pablo's artistic life. It was fascinating to see how his style transitioned. I loved being up close and personal with his work, close enough to see every stroke of his brush. After exploring the museum Gillian and I were tired and in need of a nap so we started back to our hostel. The street we took was packed with interesting shops and patisseries corner to corner. I could not wait to go back the next day to do some shopping. Shopping! I needed cash! Gillian and I both stopped to withdraw cash from an ATM before retiring to our beds for a rest.

You will not believe what happened next... (to be continued)

Barcelona Part One: Rollercoaster

At 5 am last Thursday morning I woke up packed for Barcelona. I walked to East Finchley to meet Gillian with a spring in my step. By noon I would be in Barcelona getting ready to spend the evening with my brother. Our problems started at the St. Pancras train station. The employee at the platforms told us to get on the train at platform 3. Five mintues into our ride our tickets were checked by the man who worked on the train and he told us we should have gotten on platform 2 to get to the airport. He told us we would have to get off the train at the first stop and turn around. "What time is your flight?" he asked. 10:25 and our gate closes at 9:55. "You're not going to make it". When we got off the wrong train and were waiting for the one that would take us back to the airport I called one of our AIFS supervisors. She told me not to worry because the gate doesn't actually close. Phwew. Already my day had me on a rollercoaster of stress levels, and it was only 8:30 in the morning. From the London Luton train station we had to get a shuttle bus to the airport which was said to only be about a 5 minute ride. I would have felt much more relaxed about this if we hadnt been waiting ON the bus for 10 mintues while our gate closing time came and went. By the time we got to the airport it was 10:00. Gillian and I ran up to security and paced around at the end of the line for about a minute until I couldn't wait any longer. I walked up the line and asked everyone if it was okay for us to pass since our plane was to take off in 20 minutes. Thankfully everyone was okay to let us by. Security was smooth. The next frustration was the gate. Our boarding passes didn't say what gate we were to board at. Gillian and I stood at the departures board with our jackets and toiletries baggies clutched to our chests looking dumbfounded. We couldnt find our flight number on the departures board. Gillian waved over an airport employee to help us. We told him our flight number and he looked at the board and said "Hmm Gate 17, final boarding call. You better run." I dont remember if either of us thanked the man because we bolted. I dropped my baggie of toiletries as I ran and the travel-sized bottle of dove body wash flew out in front of me. I used my Jedi mind powers to get it back in my hands and continued to run. When we finally saw the sign for Gate 17 it had an arrow pointing down. WHAT?! Oh.. down those stairs around the corner. Hearts racing, we arrived at the bottom of the stairs at the end of a line 20 people deep. "Is this the line for the flight to Barcelona?" I asked the man in front of me. YES. It was. Gillian and I collapsed on the stairs and heaved sighs of relief. We were going to make it to Barcelona on time!!!

More entertainment for you

This is a story I wrote for creative writing class. It is not a true story, but it very well could be.

My gloveless,  frozen fingers reached out to push the garage door button. The door closed loudly as I walked inside my cozy house. I had been dreaming of this moment since I left the house before dawn this morning. The moment that Lucy, my Goldendoodle, would greet me at the door. She never fails to make me feel loved  upon my homecoming. Today, however, was a different story. There was no tail waving valiantly like a flag attached to a shaggy animal bounding toward me. There was no sticky, wet sensation of her warm tongue against my cold cheek. No. Only silence. A silence that let me to believe that something was terribly wrong. Before I turned on the light I noticed a peculiar smell was dominating my senses. I braced myself., closed my eyes tightly, and switched the light on. I opened my eyes one at a time. Oh no. Just before me on the floor was a large Pappa John’s pizza box that had been completely ripped to shreds. I looked on and saw the foil tin from a microwave lasagna dinner that I had crumpled up and thrown away was now in its original form and licked clean. Nearby, a used coffee filter lay. It looked innocent compared to slimy brown smears that now defaced my once flawless white kitchen tile. Chocolate pudding would make for a delightful finger painting project. Lucy’s paintings were not delightful, however, because a chocolate paw print is not cute when it is made of rotten pudding and coffee grounds. Now I needed to get across the kitchen without ruining a work of art. I began to tip-toe across the tile as if I expected to step on a land mine. One small step to avoid a banana peel, one giant leap to dodge the disturbed garbage can. From here I can see large, fudgy prints leading me to where I would find Lucy. Before I pursued her, I turned back to have another look at the damage. Where I used to see my glitteringly clean kitchen I now saw a disaster zone. “Deep breath” the angel on my shoulder tells me. “Kill her!” the devil on the opposite says. I follow the trail into my bedroom. I took the angel’s advise and breathed a sigh of relief. Lucy had not destroyed anything but the carpet. There on the floor she laid on her back, feet in the air, and sound asleep. Oblivious to the fact that I was present. I could have stomped toward her, picked her up by her fur and thrown her outside. But there was something about the way  she snored and wagged her tail as she dreamed that calmed the storm of anger inside of me. As I turned to go clean up her mess, I thought, “I’ll get the pizza crust out of her mouth later.”

A funny story to tie you over until the next real blog:

I was on my way to see Mama Mia! at Leister square and it had been a long day. There is a widely known rule here about escalator etiquitte. If you're going to stand and ride the escalator, you stand on the right side so the people who prefer to walk up can pass on the left. Although I was exhausted, I opted to walk up the escalator at Leister Square Station. Have you ever tripped up the stairs before? Of course, we all have. You know how sometimes it takes two or three extra trips to recover from the first one? Well, that's what happened. I tripped up one of the steps and as I was tripping to try to get back up, some guy standing behind me was obviously feeling my pain. "Ooh Whoah!" he exclaimed. Then when I continued walking up the steps he yelled, "Nice recovery!". I was too embarassed to turn back and thank him for the compliment.

The Fountain of Youth

On Thursday, March 4th at 3pm I was part of a group of 29 AIFS students gathered at Kings Cross Station with suitcases and backpacks. We made our way through the station (no, we did not see platform 9 3/4) and got on the train. After only a few minutes of settling into our seats I looked around at all the other people who were looking around and asking "Are we moving?". I saw the train next to us out the window and I said, "no I think that train is moving" but I was wrong. We had begun to pull out of the station. It felt awkward because our section of seats were facing the back of the train. The train ride was fairly smooth but it took some time to adjust to the backwards-ness. The sun set somewhere between London and Edinburgh but I didn't notice because Gillian and I were enthralled in our games of Go Fish and Garbage. Upon arrival in Edinburgh (pronounced kind of like Ed-In-Bra) we had to climb the stairs out of the train station and then climb a steep pathway up toward our hostel. My night in Edinburgh was spent celebrating Levi's 20th birthday and Gillian showing me around her favorite places because she had been there before.

In the morning we gathered our belongings and waiting outside our hostel was a fluorescent yellow bus that said, "Haggis Adventures: WILD AND SEXY". Yes, this bus was to be our home for the next three days as our WILD AND SEXY tour guide, Dan, drove us around Scotland. On Friday we saw the Doune Castle, The William Wallace Memorial, and we toured the Ben Nivis whiskey distillery. The Doune Castle was featured in the ever-popular and hilarious Monty Python and the Holy Grail. I climbed up part of the William Wallace Memorial because.. I do things like that. The whiskey distillery smelled like a burning wheat field, and the whiskey tasted the same. We spent that night in a hostel called Morag's which is located at the southern tip of Loch Ness. We learned how to tie a Scottish Tartan (kilt) and we tried them on and had a tartan party. (if you see pictures of this event, I will stress to you that I was NOT DRUNK. I was just having a good time.)

On Saturday we drove up into the Isle of Skye and walked around the Eilean Donan Castle. This is "the sexiest castle in Scotland" according to Sexy Dan. Other than being sexy, it was also featured in the movie Made of Honor. (yes Ladies, I walked the same ground as McDreamy) Also on Saturday we stopped at a mysterious bridge and Dan told us that we needed to become completely committed to him at that moment. He took us down to the stream below the bridge and we heard a legend told by the bus driver of the other Haggis bus we were touring with. According to legend, the most beautiful princess was on her way to the church on her wedding day when her face was severely injured by her horse. She was dumped at the alter because she was no longer beautiful. She sat alone at that bridge crying until a fairy told her that this stream would restore her beauty ten fold and her beauty would last forever if she stuck her face in the water for seven seconds. She did and her beauty was restored. Later on the prince who she was supposed to marry asked again for her hand, and she said no. Supposedly she lives today, 800 years old and still quite sexy. The tour guides told us that we were not allowed back on the bus until we were all thoroughly sexy. Seven seconds with my face under the freezing cold stream was SO WORTH IT! Later that day we stopped at a good hiking point. From this high point in Skye we could see the mainland of Scotland. I had to pause for a good few minutes to take in the scenery. It was probably the most beautiful sight I had ever seen. I had a hard time coming down from the hike because I knew I would probably never see it again. Cest La Vie.

We stayed the night in the Isle of Skye at a hostel called Saucy Mary's. And boy did we get sauced! (details not necessary) I recovered well enough to be out of my room by 7am Sunday morning to catch the sunrise. It was a very cold, windy morning and of course the wind was coming from the east. I stood on the dock facing the wind for a half hour. Tears rolling down my cheeks from the breeze, I finally saw the sun peek through the mountains and show his reflection on the water. It was worth the wait.

All day long I felt connected to the sun in a way I never have before. I felt like I had learned one of God's secret recipes. We visited Loch Ness and heard marvelous legends about Nessie. ( I really do believe in Loch Ness monsters.. yes, there are more than one) The sun was bright and warm over the Loch. We made our way back to Edinburgh to get on the train back to London. Down in the station I paused to take a picture of the sun setting through one of the station entrances. It was a bittersweet goodbye.

Happy Sundae

Last Monday we had a lecture by our British Life and Culture instructor, the infamous Bob Craig. He is number one on everyone's list of 60 year old, sexy Englishmen. We all hang on his every word for each lecture and tour he provides for us. This lecture was especially intriguing because it was about London at war. Most of my lecture notes are lists of dates and events which are quite boring to go over and review although I am glad to have learned them. The bits of my notes that draw my attention are where I wrote down some of the stories Bob told us of how people such as his own parents lived during WWII. Bob himself was a young boy when they were still using ration books in London after the war. He told us about how his sister would use his ration books for extra candy.

We learned about "Doodlebugs" which were the German V1 flying bombs that targeted London in 1944. 2300 of them fell in London and killed over 6000 people. These bombs were terrifying to Londoners because they could hear if a Doodlebug was coming, and they would pray it would keep flying passed them. Bob Craig told us that according to his mother, if you could hear the motor cut out you had about ten seconds to say goodbye to life because the bomb was on its way down. She also said, however, that during the Blitz (Sep. 1940-May1941) she lived every day on adrenaline and life was more exciting. Certainly the colors were brighter because every moment was lived as if it could be the last.

Dr. Hubbard gave us a miniature scavenger hunt for the Imperial War Museum to be completed by Friday morning. I knew that I wanted to spend a lot of time at the museum to soak things in but the week wasn't going to provide me with that kind of freedom. I went with Mindy to the museum for about an hour on Thursday afternoon just to get the thing done which got me excited to go back for a more intimate exploration. Gillian and I went together on Sunday and discovered a lot of wonderful things. One area of the museum was dedicated to the children of war. I had some emotional thoughts here because I am so passionate about children and their need for security.It was heart-wrenching for me to hear about the evacuation of children during the war. I pictured them having to leave London and be shipped out to some unknown destination. They didn't know if they would ever see their parents again. I work with children and I have family members with young children so it broke my heart to imagine any of them having to experience that. There was also a life-sized model of a WWI trench that we walked through. The only light in the "trench" came from some lanterns that were hung along the trench walls. The ceiling of the room was painted black and it made the experience seem like being in a trench at night. There were wax soldiers around talking war strategies with each other. I could really place myself there and feel the anxiety. We also walked through a model house made to represent a WWII era house in Europe. Near this model was an example of an Anderson Shelter which was commonly set up in the back gardens of these houses. (see picture above) Bob had told us in the lecture that these shelters were strong enough to protect someone inside from anything but a direct hit. Gill and I walked toward the shelter behind a mother and her two children and I heard the woman say, "we used to have one of these in our backyard." Her comment caused me to rewind and update my perspective on everything. This museum documents the history of her own life and family. The very ground they have walked on their whole lives was once in complete ruin. Their parents and grandparents lived daily in fear and surely she grew up hearing of their first-hand experiences with war.

I would love to be able to describe for you my intimate walk through the Holocaust museum, but I can't. I could make it my challenge to walk through that exhibit for a third time and try to figure out how I can express to all of you how it makes me feel, but I wont. I will tell you one thing I learned about Hitler that rocked my world. Hitler formulated WWII to be a distraction from his ultimate plan. He had the world so focused on the stage that no one thought to check out what was going on behind the curtain.

I spent my evening in solitude, even while enjoying the company of my friends at O'Neills. Generally Sundays are the days of the week when I feel refreshed, recharged, and ready to take on the week ahead. The Holocaust museum exhausted me. Thank God for the late night O'Neills ice cream Sundae that turned my attitude around and reminded me that life goes on.

Nutella and Pinot Grigio

Oh my how the time does fly. A whole week since my last blog update and it feels like yesterday. Now I am a bit overwhelmed with important and unimportant things that I feel I should share about the last seven days. Here are a few bullet points of the less important things:
- I tried Hot Cross Buns for the first time. I am not a fan, as they taste like Christmas-scented candles.
- I found Nutella at the store and became quite obsessed. Hazelnut and chocolate were a match made in heaven.
- I was having some chill time last week while listening to my iPod's "chill time" playlist. For whatever reason I began to think about my previous travels and when my mind traveled back to Hawaii the song changed to "Somewhere Over The Rainbow". The Israel Kamakawiwo'ole version. Great timing!
- I purchased airline tickets and hostel reservations for traveling to Barcelona and Ireland. :D
-Gillian and I shared two bottles of wine one night and had some wonderfully open conversations.

The picture that goes with this blog is what I am looking at right now.