On my third morning in Madrid, I packed away my things, said goodbye to my roommates, and walked down the street to Atocha train station. Traveling by train is so different from traveling by plane, which is what I'm more used to. With planes, you plan so far in advance and comparison shop to get the best price, and you arrive two hours early all prepared. But with trains, you just show up when you wanna leave, slap some amount of cash down on the counter, and say, the next train to Seville please. And then they give you preferred seating so they can charge you more because you're a foreigner and they know you won't be able to tell the difference. It's that easy!
But seriously though make sure you're getting the seat you want. I spent 2 hours and 45 minutes feeling like a complete dunce with my big comfy chair and all my unnecessary leg room, all the while resenting the attendant who kept offering me coffee. I don't want coffee, I want my 40€, dammit!!!
Anyhoo, I arrived at the Seville train station and for the life of me could not find the bus stop. If you're ever looking for it, it's across the street. Keep walking, you'll find it. Instead I caught a cab, and 9€ later I was at the beautiful plaza nueva.
There really isn't much to be said for my time in Seville, as it was mostly spent alone. Later in the evening, I was met by my australian friends Mel and Noni, two girls who studied at my university last semester on exchange. With them was their friend Alex.
The next day we headed to our intended destination: Cadiz. I somehow directed us to the wrong street (imagine that...me, getting lost), but luckily Cadiz is separated by the Old town and the New town, each on their own is very walkable. After checking into our hostel, the first order of business was to head to the beach. There are two beaches in Cadiz, one is much smaller and the other is very long. I didn't have the pleasure of visiting the former because I was ill for the last 2 1/2 days of our trip, but I hear good things.
The following day, we went on a free walking tour offered by the hostel. In the lobby we met our adorable little guide, Pepe. A Spanish hippie that spoke about as many words in English as I do in Chinese, he was really sweet and showed us a good place for cheap tapas, as well as where to get good ice cream. He showed us around old town, where our hostel was located, but the tapas were too good a distraction and we didn't make it to new town.
That night, we went on a pub crawl, hosted by a man who deliciously resembled Antonio Banderas, and joined by Pepe, who came along to take pictures. As far as pub crawls go, it was quite nice. At the second bar, Mel and I got to team up and destroy Alex and Noni at beer pong. It was a good pub crawl, yes, but I get the feeling night life isn't huge in Cadiz. Perhaps I didn't see enough of it because I only went out the one night, but I get the feeling it's very like a small city in Florida where grandparents retire and families go to have a beach vacation.
The day after the next, we went on an excursion sponsored by the hostel. We hired a driver (along with our roommate Glen, a new zealander) and he took us to Tarifa. Tarifa is the lowest point on peninsular Spain, and the closest point to Africa on all of continental Europe. I had no idea it was only 20km away! You could see it across the water, just right there, Africa! I've always wanted to go to morocco, and that's one thing I regret. There was an excursion you could go on through the hostel where you could hop on a ferry for a day trip to morocco, and how cool would that be? Ah well, next time I suppose.
Anyway, we spent some time at Tarifa, where you could swim in the Mediterranean OR the Atlantic. Either side had the most beautiful clear blue water I've ever seen. I could see my feet standing at the bottom, which is something I've never been able to do in any ocean I've been in before.
After Tarifa, we hopped back in the van and went to Bolonia, another beautiful beach in Spain, and a popular tourist spot not only for the equally beautiful clear water, but for the ancient roman ruins that are still preserved right off the beach! They used to preserve fish in these huge vats of salt, and you could still see where they kept them.
Unfortunately, as we were heading back to the van to begin the drive back to the hostel, I felt that pain in your throat that seems to mock you and say, "you're going to be sick and there's nothing you can do about it." I decided to skip the pub crawl that night and went to bed early.
The next day I stayed in bed. All day. Seriously.
The following day, I felt reasonably well enough to join the girls for breakfast and another day on the beach. At two, we met Pepe for lunch. He took us to a little fish market for fresh fried fish, including shark, which I'd never tried before.
After eating on a random spot by the sea, Pepe said he was going to take us to jump off of a bridge. Alex was so excited she couldn't contain it, I was perfectly willing, Mel seemed to be on the fence, and Noni refused to even put her swim suit on. As luck would have it, the tide was low and it wasn't possible to jump, but instead we went back to Pepe's apartment to meet his fat cat, which he'd told us about the day we first met him. He's a Ginger cat named Susanito, which comes from Susana, but in finding out that Susana was a boy, he became Susanito. And anyway, he wasn't that fat.
It was our last night, so we exchanged facebook information and hugged Pepe goodbye forever.
That night, our last in Cadiz, we went back to the tapas bar that Pepe showed us our first day. we popped open a bottle of white wine and I popped open my bottle of aleve because I was still feeling quite a bit of sinus pressure in my head from my sickness.
The next day, we caught our train to Seville quite early. And when I say quite, I mean like 9:30, so really just early by Spain's standards.
Back in Seville, we took a siesta at the hostel, then went out to walk around the city and have lunch. We picked a thoroughly Spanish restaurant, where I developed a miniature crush on our server. Not for any other reason other than he wasn't bad looking and he encouraged me to speak Spanish. When we first came in, I spoke a little bit to him asking for a table for four and to tell him that we were missing a seat. Then when he came to take our orders, everyone spoke to him in English, so when I began to do the same he said, "what?" and kept saying, "what? I don't understand you" (in Spanish, mind you) and I got the hint. It was really endearing and refreshing for someone to encourage me to speak Spanish rather than hearing that I'm a foreigner and responding to me in English. Anytime I thought about it for the following hour or so, I would feel flattered anew and my cheeks would grow pink.
After lunch, we went back to the hostel to do housekeeping type things like print boarding passes and book bus tickets.
At 6:00, we went to meet a group for a walking tour of the city. Our guide, not as cute as Pepe and not nearly as fun, showed us around for 2 hours.
They were so smart when designing the city. They made it a law that in a square the buildings had to be white so that it wouldn't be so hot. In the middle of the squares it's common to find a fountain, which also apparently cools the area down. Also, all the buildings stand really close to each other to maximize shade. There was one particularly narrow alley between two buildings, and it's called something like the kiss of death, because people allegedly would try to kiss each other through their windows leaning over the alley below. And I guess some people got injured and some died as a result.
Our guide also took us to the highest point in Seville, an excrutiatin climb up to the top in the heat, at a towering 10 meters above sea level.
At the end of the tour, he showed us a building that was only half finished. I'd been to Seville twice before this, and I'd never noticed it! Apparently there's a Spanish idiom that says, "Mañana, mañana," which means "tomorrow, tomorrow." I've often been told by spaniards that Americans live to work and Spanish people work to live. Basically what the saying means is that whatever it is, you can worry about it tomorrow. Not exactly true in this architect's case, as he put the project off for so long that he died before it was ever finished. And now it remains the "classic side" and the "simple side."
Lastly, he showed us that there's a little tunnel between plaza nueva and the one on the other side, and according to legend, if you walk through it, you'll be married within the next 7 years. And for those of you who are wondering, yes I walked through it. Oh, please let it be Antonio Banderas look-alike from the hostel pub crawl in Cadiz, please?? *crosses fingers*
That evening we found another cheap tapas bar and celebrated the last night with a mojito. And after we treated ourselves by going to a super nice and super expensive Italian restaurant for desert and coffee and political discussion.
The next day, I spent alone in Seville (the girls had to catch a flight much earlier than mine) until about 6 when I headed to the airport.
So that was the last time I was in Spain, and it pains me to say I don't know when I'll be back. If I'm to be in any other country, I would want it to be Spain. There's no other place I feel so at home when I'm not actually at home. So here's to Spain, and to hopefully going back someday. Maybe when they have some jobs.
El mundo es un libro y ellos que no viajan leen solo una pagina.
Saturday, July 14, 2012
Thursday, July 12, 2012
Que Viva España: Madrid!!
I arrived in Madrid a little after 8pm. I was a little nervous, because I had never truly traveled alone, at least not with someone to pick me up on the other side (really makes me appreciate my dad all those times). Once arrived at the airport, I was to take three different metro lines, which sounded quite daunting, and the Madrid metro is only slightly less of a maze than the Barcelona system, but guess what readers!! I had NO problems and I made it in one piece without getting lost. The worst that happened was that once I left the metro I started down the street going the wrong direction, but I quickly realized my mistake and turned around.
When I did successfully locate my hostel, it turned out that their system had crashed that day and my bed was given to someone else, so they upgraded me from a 10 bed dorm to a 4 bed dorm! It was fantastic! I went to my room and guess what, more good news: not only was my room right next to the toilet, but we had our own private shower right there in the room! That was really nice. I put my stuff down, grabbed my iPod, and went downstairs to use the Internet and socialize. Being alone, I was really trying to be in the common areas as much as possible so as to maximize the possibility of making friends. Hostels are perfect for that, by the way. I think they have a bad reputation for being dirty or dangerous, but as a young traveler I prefer them to hotels. Also, if you're going to be in Madrid, I really really recommend No Name City hostel, where I stayed. It's got a great location, free wifi and four computers you don't have to pay to use (amazing, right?) and it was super clean and they had air conditioning! That, my friends, is a rare find. I paid 50€ to stay there for three nights. So that's my informal travel tip.
Anyway, the common area closed at midnight before I could really meet people, but no matter. I went to bed and promised myself to be more outgoing the next day.
Though I was in a room with four beds, only two of them were booked. The other belonged to another lone traveler, a French Canadian girl (from "the french part," she said after I looked confused when she told me she was from Canada) who was staying Madrid for ten whole days. We got up around the same time the next morning, so we went to breakfast together. I really had no plans for the day other than to get a map and go to the first monument that seemed the slightest bit interesting, so when Julia (that was her name) said she was going to the Reina Sofia museum and that I could join her if I wanted, I thought it sounded like a great idea. It was also 10am on Sunday, and I saw online that entrance was free from 10:00 to 2:00 on Sundays ('nother informal travel tip).
It was a short walk from the hostel, and I think Julia might have gotten mixed up, because she led us to the Prado. But no matter-although the Prado does NOT offer free entrance from 10:00-2:00 on Sundays, they DO offer free entrance with valid student ID, so that was a nice surprise. As if Madrid wasn't already a classic tourist destination, another reason to go is that they love to offer student discounts.
The Prado's temporary exhibit was called La Última Raphael, which I guess you might translate as 'the last of Raphael'. It was quite a bit smaller than I would have hoped, but it was really interesting. It was about a radiography study of Raphael's paintings. With that they were able to see the whole process underneath the finished work. They could see the different "drafts," essentially. Gee I hope I'm explaining this well...You could see that he gave a man a beard, but later decided to paint over it and take it away, and also that he changed one woman's facial expression fifteen times. Also, they learned that he always painted his subjects naked first and then "dressed" them later on. Anyway, I thought it was interesting.
We walked through nearly the whole museum, but after two and a half hours, I was feeling pretty done with it. We walked around and found a nice tapas place to eat. After, we went to the botanical gardens (which also has a discount for students). It was so, so beautiful. So beautiful, in fact, that I wish I had the lexical skills necessary to describe it to you, because it just so happened that I didn't bring the right memory card for my camera. I did get one single picture, however, of the inside of the greenhouse, which made me feel like I was in the movie Jurassic Park.
After that we were both feeling quite tired, so we went back to the hostel for a siesta. A while later, we headed out to find a spot to watch the big fútbol game.
We found a good pedestrian street and encountered a great many people trying to get us to go to their bars, but really all places are going to show the game and offer the same beer. You pick a spot for its atmosphere. So we went into a loud place with lots of people and sat down.
If you didn't see the game, you probably live under a rock, but Spain was on fire. They were unstoppable and the people were loving it. 4-0 was the final score, certainly something to be proud of, though an Italian girl I met (what an awful time to be Italian in Madrid, huh?) said that no one really expected Italy to win. But in any case, the Spanish were celebrating and no one, no one knows how to celebrate like the Spanish. We didn't really know what to do after they won, so we headed down the street in search of a bar, but after a while we found ourselves following a large group of people dressed in red and yellow down a long street and into one of the main plazas.
Obviously people plan ahead for these kinds of things, knowing there's a possibility that they could win. However I had no idea they would plan for such a large celebration. There were police barriers blocking the street that led to the giant plaza where everyone was gathered, and street venders were already out with their coolers of cervezas and their giant Spanish flags or red and yellow scarves. They were ready, they were.
Anyway, the square was so filled with people you could hardly walk around. It was impossible not to enjoy yourself in that atmosphere, unless maybe you were Italian, but after just a short time I was ready to head back to the hostel. It was the sort of thing you can't really stay and enjoy if you're on your own. I would say that this Madrid night could have easily surpassed the Ibiza night in fun-levels had I only been with the same friends. Yes, it was that fun.
So, we headed back to the hostel fairly early. I woke up slightly earlier than my French Canadian roommate and went downstairs to use the Internet, where I met three Australians, a boy from Sydney and two girls from Perth. They're doing something I'd never heard of...and now I'm forgetting the name, but there are several buses running the same course. So there's a western tour that does several cities in France, all over Spain, and Portugal. Or something like that. Also a northern tour and an eastern one. Anyway, it sounds like a really good idea, because you can get off at any city you choose, spend as long as you want there, and get back on at any day you choose and go to the next place.
Anyway, I had no plans for the day so I happily accepted their invitation to go out with the three of them. The first stop was Puerta del Sol, which is a really big plaza right in the center of Madrid. If you're a lone traveler and don't really know what to do, Puerta del Sol is a good place to start. There are tons of good shops around and any street you go down, you will most certainly find a monument or church. A little informal travel tip, don't let Madrid's enormous map intimidate you. The city center is where most everything is, and it's actually very walkable. I walked with my new Aussie friends from one side of the city to the other and back easily without even realizing how far we'd gone. Also, don't be so quick to use the metros. I found this to be true with most cities, but the distances look so much longer than they feel while you're walking them in real life. Also you see so much more and you get your bearings better when you walk. And the euros you save, not to mention the extra calories from the cervezas and gelato you burn are added bonuses.
So yeah back to my day. We headed toward the Palacio Real, passing by the mayor's house and the Ayuntamiento de Madrid (city hall) in the process. Then after brief walk along the Parque del Campo del Moro, we ate lunch at a cafe, where I got to feel important and play translator for everyone.
Then we headed to Templo de Deblod (which, side note, sounds really hilarious when spoken in a Sydney accent), where there is a small museum situated in a park with a great view. It houses some ancient Egyptian gold or something. Unfortunately I never got to find out for sure because they'd closed for the day 10 minutes before we got there. So if you're ever in Madrid and the Templo de Deblod sounds like something that'll tickle your fancy, just FYI, it closes at 2:00 pm.
So we were on our way, back through Puerta del Sol, past the Paseo del Prado, and through Plaza Independencia and the Puerta de Alcalá, which im sure holds some sort of historical significance (hey I never said this was going to be a history lesson) and finally into the gigantic and famous Parque del Buen Retiro. Beautiful and buzzing with activity (and best of all-FREE), this should easily be at the top of your list of places to visit. There are always tons of people out and about on a sunny day, and there's a really pretty "estanque," or um, well I don't know what the translation is for that and I can't be bothered to look it up, but it's a little man made lake in front of an impressive monument to Alfonso XII. Then we took a leisurely stroll back to the hostel, passing by the Plaza de Cibeles, where we could see barricades at the ready and a stage set up all in preparation for the night's parade and celebration. From there we walked past the Fuente de Neptuno, which was especially fun because someone had jumped the fence, dove into the fountain, and climbed up the statue to tie a big Spanish flag round Neptune's neck as a cape. Brilliant. Just genius. I wish I'd thought of that.
After this we regrouped at the hostel, looking at things to do for that night. There was a flamenco show that sounded interesting, so we agreed to meet later on.
I went upstairs for a little siesta, and I found I had a new roommate. Another Australian (geez they're everywhere, aren't they?), her name was Marquita or something complicated like that. She was really sweet, so I feel bad not remembering her name. It's the least I could have done.
That night, a flamenco show didn't end up working out so I went out with my newest Aussie roommate to get dinner. We had a nice, culturally rich discussion in which she told me about all the places I should visit in Australia, and all about our respective travels and future travels, and all the differences between the united states and ausland.
After dinner she suggested, "Shall we go for a wandah?" (wandah is Australian for wander, by the way) So we headed down the street in the same direction I had gone the night before, only this time there were somehow, previously thought impossible, more people. Families, big groups of teenagers, old people; it seemed everyone in Madrid was there. It would have been impossible to get to the center, but they had set up large screens throughout so everyone could see what was going on.
I had been told earlier that day that the players were to come to Madrid the following day, riding in on a big roofless bus in a big parade, but it turns out, they came a day early! They must've heard that I was leaving the same day they were coming and decided to come a day early. Wasn't that sweet of them?
Again the energy was tangible. All of Madrid seemed to be there, and everyone was in a good mood. Good is an understatement. Fantastic. At one point I saw on the large screens a bird's eye view of the plaza and the neighboring streets, and it occurred to me that I was in there, that screaming sea of red and yellow, and this was probably THE biggest party on earth that night. I can't imagine that anywhere, there was a bigger group of people celebrating. Being a part of moments in history like this reminds me of why I travel.
Anyway, after a while we went back to the hostel. After the high wore off, we realized that we couldn't understand anything the MC was saying and that my Australian roommate was still fighting a cold, and me catching an early train the next day, we thought a good night's sleep was a good idea.
So I leave you not with a travel tip, but many small informal ones. If you've not been to Madrid, you absolutely must go. If you have been to Madrid, find a reason to go back. What was originally nothing more than a pit stop between being with B in Holland and meeting my friends on the beaches of Cádiz ended up being one of my favorite memories. To sum up, my time in Madrid was exhilarating and unforgettable, and most certainly better than the last time.
El mundo es un libro, y ellos que no viajan leen solo una pagina.
When I did successfully locate my hostel, it turned out that their system had crashed that day and my bed was given to someone else, so they upgraded me from a 10 bed dorm to a 4 bed dorm! It was fantastic! I went to my room and guess what, more good news: not only was my room right next to the toilet, but we had our own private shower right there in the room! That was really nice. I put my stuff down, grabbed my iPod, and went downstairs to use the Internet and socialize. Being alone, I was really trying to be in the common areas as much as possible so as to maximize the possibility of making friends. Hostels are perfect for that, by the way. I think they have a bad reputation for being dirty or dangerous, but as a young traveler I prefer them to hotels. Also, if you're going to be in Madrid, I really really recommend No Name City hostel, where I stayed. It's got a great location, free wifi and four computers you don't have to pay to use (amazing, right?) and it was super clean and they had air conditioning! That, my friends, is a rare find. I paid 50€ to stay there for three nights. So that's my informal travel tip.
Anyway, the common area closed at midnight before I could really meet people, but no matter. I went to bed and promised myself to be more outgoing the next day.
Though I was in a room with four beds, only two of them were booked. The other belonged to another lone traveler, a French Canadian girl (from "the french part," she said after I looked confused when she told me she was from Canada) who was staying Madrid for ten whole days. We got up around the same time the next morning, so we went to breakfast together. I really had no plans for the day other than to get a map and go to the first monument that seemed the slightest bit interesting, so when Julia (that was her name) said she was going to the Reina Sofia museum and that I could join her if I wanted, I thought it sounded like a great idea. It was also 10am on Sunday, and I saw online that entrance was free from 10:00 to 2:00 on Sundays ('nother informal travel tip).
It was a short walk from the hostel, and I think Julia might have gotten mixed up, because she led us to the Prado. But no matter-although the Prado does NOT offer free entrance from 10:00-2:00 on Sundays, they DO offer free entrance with valid student ID, so that was a nice surprise. As if Madrid wasn't already a classic tourist destination, another reason to go is that they love to offer student discounts.
The Prado's temporary exhibit was called La Última Raphael, which I guess you might translate as 'the last of Raphael'. It was quite a bit smaller than I would have hoped, but it was really interesting. It was about a radiography study of Raphael's paintings. With that they were able to see the whole process underneath the finished work. They could see the different "drafts," essentially. Gee I hope I'm explaining this well...You could see that he gave a man a beard, but later decided to paint over it and take it away, and also that he changed one woman's facial expression fifteen times. Also, they learned that he always painted his subjects naked first and then "dressed" them later on. Anyway, I thought it was interesting.
We walked through nearly the whole museum, but after two and a half hours, I was feeling pretty done with it. We walked around and found a nice tapas place to eat. After, we went to the botanical gardens (which also has a discount for students). It was so, so beautiful. So beautiful, in fact, that I wish I had the lexical skills necessary to describe it to you, because it just so happened that I didn't bring the right memory card for my camera. I did get one single picture, however, of the inside of the greenhouse, which made me feel like I was in the movie Jurassic Park.
After that we were both feeling quite tired, so we went back to the hostel for a siesta. A while later, we headed out to find a spot to watch the big fútbol game.
We found a good pedestrian street and encountered a great many people trying to get us to go to their bars, but really all places are going to show the game and offer the same beer. You pick a spot for its atmosphere. So we went into a loud place with lots of people and sat down.
If you didn't see the game, you probably live under a rock, but Spain was on fire. They were unstoppable and the people were loving it. 4-0 was the final score, certainly something to be proud of, though an Italian girl I met (what an awful time to be Italian in Madrid, huh?) said that no one really expected Italy to win. But in any case, the Spanish were celebrating and no one, no one knows how to celebrate like the Spanish. We didn't really know what to do after they won, so we headed down the street in search of a bar, but after a while we found ourselves following a large group of people dressed in red and yellow down a long street and into one of the main plazas.
Obviously people plan ahead for these kinds of things, knowing there's a possibility that they could win. However I had no idea they would plan for such a large celebration. There were police barriers blocking the street that led to the giant plaza where everyone was gathered, and street venders were already out with their coolers of cervezas and their giant Spanish flags or red and yellow scarves. They were ready, they were.
Anyway, the square was so filled with people you could hardly walk around. It was impossible not to enjoy yourself in that atmosphere, unless maybe you were Italian, but after just a short time I was ready to head back to the hostel. It was the sort of thing you can't really stay and enjoy if you're on your own. I would say that this Madrid night could have easily surpassed the Ibiza night in fun-levels had I only been with the same friends. Yes, it was that fun.
So, we headed back to the hostel fairly early. I woke up slightly earlier than my French Canadian roommate and went downstairs to use the Internet, where I met three Australians, a boy from Sydney and two girls from Perth. They're doing something I'd never heard of...and now I'm forgetting the name, but there are several buses running the same course. So there's a western tour that does several cities in France, all over Spain, and Portugal. Or something like that. Also a northern tour and an eastern one. Anyway, it sounds like a really good idea, because you can get off at any city you choose, spend as long as you want there, and get back on at any day you choose and go to the next place.
Anyway, I had no plans for the day so I happily accepted their invitation to go out with the three of them. The first stop was Puerta del Sol, which is a really big plaza right in the center of Madrid. If you're a lone traveler and don't really know what to do, Puerta del Sol is a good place to start. There are tons of good shops around and any street you go down, you will most certainly find a monument or church. A little informal travel tip, don't let Madrid's enormous map intimidate you. The city center is where most everything is, and it's actually very walkable. I walked with my new Aussie friends from one side of the city to the other and back easily without even realizing how far we'd gone. Also, don't be so quick to use the metros. I found this to be true with most cities, but the distances look so much longer than they feel while you're walking them in real life. Also you see so much more and you get your bearings better when you walk. And the euros you save, not to mention the extra calories from the cervezas and gelato you burn are added bonuses.
So yeah back to my day. We headed toward the Palacio Real, passing by the mayor's house and the Ayuntamiento de Madrid (city hall) in the process. Then after brief walk along the Parque del Campo del Moro, we ate lunch at a cafe, where I got to feel important and play translator for everyone.
Then we headed to Templo de Deblod (which, side note, sounds really hilarious when spoken in a Sydney accent), where there is a small museum situated in a park with a great view. It houses some ancient Egyptian gold or something. Unfortunately I never got to find out for sure because they'd closed for the day 10 minutes before we got there. So if you're ever in Madrid and the Templo de Deblod sounds like something that'll tickle your fancy, just FYI, it closes at 2:00 pm.
So we were on our way, back through Puerta del Sol, past the Paseo del Prado, and through Plaza Independencia and the Puerta de Alcalá, which im sure holds some sort of historical significance (hey I never said this was going to be a history lesson) and finally into the gigantic and famous Parque del Buen Retiro. Beautiful and buzzing with activity (and best of all-FREE), this should easily be at the top of your list of places to visit. There are always tons of people out and about on a sunny day, and there's a really pretty "estanque," or um, well I don't know what the translation is for that and I can't be bothered to look it up, but it's a little man made lake in front of an impressive monument to Alfonso XII. Then we took a leisurely stroll back to the hostel, passing by the Plaza de Cibeles, where we could see barricades at the ready and a stage set up all in preparation for the night's parade and celebration. From there we walked past the Fuente de Neptuno, which was especially fun because someone had jumped the fence, dove into the fountain, and climbed up the statue to tie a big Spanish flag round Neptune's neck as a cape. Brilliant. Just genius. I wish I'd thought of that.
After this we regrouped at the hostel, looking at things to do for that night. There was a flamenco show that sounded interesting, so we agreed to meet later on.
I went upstairs for a little siesta, and I found I had a new roommate. Another Australian (geez they're everywhere, aren't they?), her name was Marquita or something complicated like that. She was really sweet, so I feel bad not remembering her name. It's the least I could have done.
That night, a flamenco show didn't end up working out so I went out with my newest Aussie roommate to get dinner. We had a nice, culturally rich discussion in which she told me about all the places I should visit in Australia, and all about our respective travels and future travels, and all the differences between the united states and ausland.
After dinner she suggested, "Shall we go for a wandah?" (wandah is Australian for wander, by the way) So we headed down the street in the same direction I had gone the night before, only this time there were somehow, previously thought impossible, more people. Families, big groups of teenagers, old people; it seemed everyone in Madrid was there. It would have been impossible to get to the center, but they had set up large screens throughout so everyone could see what was going on.
I had been told earlier that day that the players were to come to Madrid the following day, riding in on a big roofless bus in a big parade, but it turns out, they came a day early! They must've heard that I was leaving the same day they were coming and decided to come a day early. Wasn't that sweet of them?
Again the energy was tangible. All of Madrid seemed to be there, and everyone was in a good mood. Good is an understatement. Fantastic. At one point I saw on the large screens a bird's eye view of the plaza and the neighboring streets, and it occurred to me that I was in there, that screaming sea of red and yellow, and this was probably THE biggest party on earth that night. I can't imagine that anywhere, there was a bigger group of people celebrating. Being a part of moments in history like this reminds me of why I travel.
Anyway, after a while we went back to the hostel. After the high wore off, we realized that we couldn't understand anything the MC was saying and that my Australian roommate was still fighting a cold, and me catching an early train the next day, we thought a good night's sleep was a good idea.
So I leave you not with a travel tip, but many small informal ones. If you've not been to Madrid, you absolutely must go. If you have been to Madrid, find a reason to go back. What was originally nothing more than a pit stop between being with B in Holland and meeting my friends on the beaches of Cádiz ended up being one of my favorite memories. To sum up, my time in Madrid was exhilarating and unforgettable, and most certainly better than the last time.
El mundo es un libro, y ellos que no viajan leen solo una pagina.
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
Four Cities in Four Days Part 2: Amsterdam and Leeuwarden
Part two. So where did we leave off? B and I got back to our hostel at the end of our day in Antwerp.
I didn't realize this before I came, having never spent a summer in Europe, but the sun goes down so late. Not until about 11:00 at night does it get really dark. It made going to bed before dark feel really, really strange. But it had to be done. We were exhausted and we also had an early train to catch.
We were up by 7am and headed to the station around 8. Everything seemed in order, and yet somehow, we ended up on the wrong train. Thanks to B and her ability to speak Dutch, we caught the problem early on and were able to nip it in the bud. We got off the train at the first stop and waited for one to come in the opposite direction to take us back to the station.
A woman came by while we were waiting and asked me a question in Dutch, so I looked inquisitively over at B, as if to say, "I understand your question but unfortunately I don't have an answer for you, but perhaps my friend here..." They chatted for a minute and judging by the giggles and shrugs, I gathered that B had told the woman about our mistake. She smiled reassuringly and spoke to me again in Dutch. And then B said something again, in which I picked out a word that sounded suspiciously like "American," and the woman sweetly looked at me and said, "It will be alright." Aw, thank you, kind stranger.
The train arrived some minutes later, and B and I picked a spot right by the door, praying to god that no one came by to check our tickets, as ours were for a different train. We were almost so unlucky. I saw a man approach the woman who told me it would be alright. He was asking her to buy a ticket. The train ride was only 6 minutes back to the station, but he was right beside us and it made me nervous. But get this! The woman, ever so coyly, went through her gigantic purse, looking for her wallet and stopping to make a comment about how she should really clean out all the trash inside and to offer the man a piece of gum and to finally insist that she had exact change in there somewhere. It took her exactly the same amount of time to busy the man as it did for us to get back to the station and for B and I to make a clean getaway. What a pleasant surprise! I didn't know random acts of kindness existed in Europe!
Okay so after our little delay, we arrived in Amsterdam a little late. We dropped our bags in a locker at the station and went on our way.
We first tried the Ann frank house, but tickets were 9€ and B said it was pretty underwhelming inside. Apparently there isn't even access to the attic in which her family hid, which kind of seems like the whole point. Not to mention the line, which would take over an hour.
Travel Tip #7
If you're going to the Ann frank house, book online first. Link here:
So we decided to skip that. We went to the Rijksmuseum, which is famous for the giant red and white "I Amsterdam" letters, but it was under construction and wasn't complete. You could still visit it, but it was still full price at 14€, which just seemed silly. So we had a visit to the famous letters, a popular tourist photo opp, and took pictures.
We took a stroll through the flower market, which was interesting to see. For those of you who think pot and red light district when you think Amsterdam, they're also famous for their tulip fields, windmills, and canals. Oh, and bikes. You know what the most frequent crime in Amsterdam is? Bike theft.
On our way to a flea market down the road, we spotted an ice bar. So we went in.
The thing about ice bars is, they seem like such a great idea when you're going in, and the next thing you know, you're shivering like an idiot holding your tiny ice cup of your 10€ drink, wishing you could feel your toes and wondering if you might have to amputate them after all this. So um, don't go to ice bars. The coolest part would be the pictures you get from it, and that's usually not even allowed (they want to take their own pictures so they can charge you 13.95€ for them later), so just take a picture from outside and lie and say you went in. Your friends will believe you.
After, we warmed up with some award winning Belgian fries (although at this point we were in Holland) and took a walk to see the monuments. Then we embraced our inner tourists and went on a canal tour. Another thing I didn't know about Amsterdam is how much of a canal city it is. Really it's just a step down from Venice. The city also has a famous shortage on housing, so houseboats are a really big thing. There's even a houseboat museum, if you can believe that.
On the tour, they told us that they put rails up lining the canals because cars kept driving into the river. It worked for a while, and they averaged only 1 car per week. But I guess people got over confident, because currently they average THREE cars per week driving into the canal. Just a little fun fact.
After our canal tour, feeling thoroughly exhausted, we caught a train back to B's hometown of Leeuwarden. Her mom graciously picked us up from the train station. B warned me that her mom didn't speak fluent English, but I thought she did quite well. B's house was really nice, but I hardly had the energy to be impressed. We went to bed pretty soon after getting home and slept until a glorious 11am.
We first went food shopping for ourselves. A small(ish) market was just around the corner from B's house, across the street from a bakery. The sun was shining and kids on bikes rode past housewives walking their dogs and the whole thing created the image of a perfect suburb. After eating a sandwich and watching an episode of CSI with Dutch subtitles at B's house, we hit the town.
First to see was Leeuwarden's own leaning tower. Halfway through construction of the Oldehove, they realized that the tower was leaning because the soil it was built on was too soft. But master builder Jacob van Aken decided to continue, trying to compensate for the tilt by building more on the other side. Eventually they realized they couldn't continue construction and it remains unfinished, leaning, and crooked.
From the top we could see all the important buildings of Leeuwarden, the tallest building to a bank in the shape of a sphere.
After the panoramic view, we went to get some ice cream and B gave me a short walking tour of her city. She showed me where she we to high school, where she graduated, where her and her friends would hang out if the weather was nice, and where she had her first job. This was the most interesting part because everything else is a cool part of history, but this little tour was endearing.
We walked along Leeuwarden's canal, where tons of people sit out in the sun or go boating. After a while of walking, we went back to her house, where her mom cooked us all an amazing dinner (I know at this point of eating almost literally whatever I can get, I am very easily impressed, but I assure you a hot home-cooked meal was very, very appreciated) and we sat around, watched TV and chatted.
It was off to bed fairly early, as we were still quite tired from walking for hours and hours for the previous four days. So that is my tale of Brussels, Antwerp, Amsterdam, and Leeuwarden. Two countries, four cities, four days. My story continues, of course, but this is where the title becomes no longer applicable.
The next day was B's birthday! We slept in yet again, waking up in our own time. First thing was to go to the store and buy a cake. They're more what I would call "pie," but who's to say, really?
Then it was back to her house to eat it, of course, and to open presents. She received her much-anticipated new smart phone, and it was back into town to get her a fancy cover for it. We walked through town a bit more, and then decided to take a canal tour, which was kind of fun because B was being a tourist in her own town.
The tour was in Dutch, but I had B to translate the interesting stuff for me. We saw what's left of the oldest building in Leeuwarden, what used to be a big brothel, and a railing that was put up to line the canal, because a member of the royal family drank too much and they worried that he might fall in.
After the tour we went to the train station to meet B's childhood friend Daphne. Or maybe Dafne. I didn't ask. That night we went to a fancy restaurant for B's birthday, where we had a meal of several courses and even though there was a lot of Dutch talk, I had a great time surrounded by a family atmosphere.
The next day, I had to catch my flight back to Spain at 5, but having to get to the airport around 3 and that it was about an hour and a half drive away meant we didn't have a whole lot of time that morning. I said my goodbyes and thanked them for everything and was on my way.
If you're a regular tourist, you might find Leeuwarden a little dull if you don't have a friend there, but it is quite the charming little town. It seems like a really nice place to live. Holland in general was really enjoyable, so don't pass it up if you get the chance. Belgium was great to visit as well, though the people take some getting used to. I may be partial to Holland because of B and her family's hospitality. All in all, an exhausting, wonderful week.
And remember:
El mundo es un libro y ellos que no viajan leen solo una pagina.
I didn't realize this before I came, having never spent a summer in Europe, but the sun goes down so late. Not until about 11:00 at night does it get really dark. It made going to bed before dark feel really, really strange. But it had to be done. We were exhausted and we also had an early train to catch.
We were up by 7am and headed to the station around 8. Everything seemed in order, and yet somehow, we ended up on the wrong train. Thanks to B and her ability to speak Dutch, we caught the problem early on and were able to nip it in the bud. We got off the train at the first stop and waited for one to come in the opposite direction to take us back to the station.
A woman came by while we were waiting and asked me a question in Dutch, so I looked inquisitively over at B, as if to say, "I understand your question but unfortunately I don't have an answer for you, but perhaps my friend here..." They chatted for a minute and judging by the giggles and shrugs, I gathered that B had told the woman about our mistake. She smiled reassuringly and spoke to me again in Dutch. And then B said something again, in which I picked out a word that sounded suspiciously like "American," and the woman sweetly looked at me and said, "It will be alright." Aw, thank you, kind stranger.
The train arrived some minutes later, and B and I picked a spot right by the door, praying to god that no one came by to check our tickets, as ours were for a different train. We were almost so unlucky. I saw a man approach the woman who told me it would be alright. He was asking her to buy a ticket. The train ride was only 6 minutes back to the station, but he was right beside us and it made me nervous. But get this! The woman, ever so coyly, went through her gigantic purse, looking for her wallet and stopping to make a comment about how she should really clean out all the trash inside and to offer the man a piece of gum and to finally insist that she had exact change in there somewhere. It took her exactly the same amount of time to busy the man as it did for us to get back to the station and for B and I to make a clean getaway. What a pleasant surprise! I didn't know random acts of kindness existed in Europe!
Okay so after our little delay, we arrived in Amsterdam a little late. We dropped our bags in a locker at the station and went on our way.
We first tried the Ann frank house, but tickets were 9€ and B said it was pretty underwhelming inside. Apparently there isn't even access to the attic in which her family hid, which kind of seems like the whole point. Not to mention the line, which would take over an hour.
Travel Tip #7
If you're going to the Ann frank house, book online first. Link here:
So we decided to skip that. We went to the Rijksmuseum, which is famous for the giant red and white "I Amsterdam" letters, but it was under construction and wasn't complete. You could still visit it, but it was still full price at 14€, which just seemed silly. So we had a visit to the famous letters, a popular tourist photo opp, and took pictures.
We took a stroll through the flower market, which was interesting to see. For those of you who think pot and red light district when you think Amsterdam, they're also famous for their tulip fields, windmills, and canals. Oh, and bikes. You know what the most frequent crime in Amsterdam is? Bike theft.
On our way to a flea market down the road, we spotted an ice bar. So we went in.
The thing about ice bars is, they seem like such a great idea when you're going in, and the next thing you know, you're shivering like an idiot holding your tiny ice cup of your 10€ drink, wishing you could feel your toes and wondering if you might have to amputate them after all this. So um, don't go to ice bars. The coolest part would be the pictures you get from it, and that's usually not even allowed (they want to take their own pictures so they can charge you 13.95€ for them later), so just take a picture from outside and lie and say you went in. Your friends will believe you.
After, we warmed up with some award winning Belgian fries (although at this point we were in Holland) and took a walk to see the monuments. Then we embraced our inner tourists and went on a canal tour. Another thing I didn't know about Amsterdam is how much of a canal city it is. Really it's just a step down from Venice. The city also has a famous shortage on housing, so houseboats are a really big thing. There's even a houseboat museum, if you can believe that.
On the tour, they told us that they put rails up lining the canals because cars kept driving into the river. It worked for a while, and they averaged only 1 car per week. But I guess people got over confident, because currently they average THREE cars per week driving into the canal. Just a little fun fact.
After our canal tour, feeling thoroughly exhausted, we caught a train back to B's hometown of Leeuwarden. Her mom graciously picked us up from the train station. B warned me that her mom didn't speak fluent English, but I thought she did quite well. B's house was really nice, but I hardly had the energy to be impressed. We went to bed pretty soon after getting home and slept until a glorious 11am.
We first went food shopping for ourselves. A small(ish) market was just around the corner from B's house, across the street from a bakery. The sun was shining and kids on bikes rode past housewives walking their dogs and the whole thing created the image of a perfect suburb. After eating a sandwich and watching an episode of CSI with Dutch subtitles at B's house, we hit the town.
First to see was Leeuwarden's own leaning tower. Halfway through construction of the Oldehove, they realized that the tower was leaning because the soil it was built on was too soft. But master builder Jacob van Aken decided to continue, trying to compensate for the tilt by building more on the other side. Eventually they realized they couldn't continue construction and it remains unfinished, leaning, and crooked.
From the top we could see all the important buildings of Leeuwarden, the tallest building to a bank in the shape of a sphere.
After the panoramic view, we went to get some ice cream and B gave me a short walking tour of her city. She showed me where she we to high school, where she graduated, where her and her friends would hang out if the weather was nice, and where she had her first job. This was the most interesting part because everything else is a cool part of history, but this little tour was endearing.
We walked along Leeuwarden's canal, where tons of people sit out in the sun or go boating. After a while of walking, we went back to her house, where her mom cooked us all an amazing dinner (I know at this point of eating almost literally whatever I can get, I am very easily impressed, but I assure you a hot home-cooked meal was very, very appreciated) and we sat around, watched TV and chatted.
It was off to bed fairly early, as we were still quite tired from walking for hours and hours for the previous four days. So that is my tale of Brussels, Antwerp, Amsterdam, and Leeuwarden. Two countries, four cities, four days. My story continues, of course, but this is where the title becomes no longer applicable.
The next day was B's birthday! We slept in yet again, waking up in our own time. First thing was to go to the store and buy a cake. They're more what I would call "pie," but who's to say, really?
Then it was back to her house to eat it, of course, and to open presents. She received her much-anticipated new smart phone, and it was back into town to get her a fancy cover for it. We walked through town a bit more, and then decided to take a canal tour, which was kind of fun because B was being a tourist in her own town.
The tour was in Dutch, but I had B to translate the interesting stuff for me. We saw what's left of the oldest building in Leeuwarden, what used to be a big brothel, and a railing that was put up to line the canal, because a member of the royal family drank too much and they worried that he might fall in.
After the tour we went to the train station to meet B's childhood friend Daphne. Or maybe Dafne. I didn't ask. That night we went to a fancy restaurant for B's birthday, where we had a meal of several courses and even though there was a lot of Dutch talk, I had a great time surrounded by a family atmosphere.
The next day, I had to catch my flight back to Spain at 5, but having to get to the airport around 3 and that it was about an hour and a half drive away meant we didn't have a whole lot of time that morning. I said my goodbyes and thanked them for everything and was on my way.
If you're a regular tourist, you might find Leeuwarden a little dull if you don't have a friend there, but it is quite the charming little town. It seems like a really nice place to live. Holland in general was really enjoyable, so don't pass it up if you get the chance. Belgium was great to visit as well, though the people take some getting used to. I may be partial to Holland because of B and her family's hospitality. All in all, an exhausting, wonderful week.
And remember:
El mundo es un libro y ellos que no viajan leen solo una pagina.
Four Cities in Four Days Part 1: Brussels and Antwerp
On Sunday the 24th, I said a tearful goodbye to Valencia and hopped on a flight to the capital of Europe. And even before I get this story started, I must establish the following:
Travel Tip #3
Do NOT leave important things to be done on Sunday. Unlike the states, not many places are open on Sundays.
Also...
Travel Tip #4
When flying into Brussels through Ryanair, just an FYI, it's a 13€ and 45 minute bus ride before you actually get to Brussels.
So yes, the capital of Europe. An exciting place for a young student of business like myself. But as soon as the plane touched down, I realized I was certainly not in Kansas anymore. It's been a while since I've experienced proper culture shock, so maybe I was overdue. Firstly because I noticed the ominous grey clouds outside and looked around the plane at my fellow passengers to see people wrapping themselves in sweaters and scarves while I sat like a fool in my skirt and sandals. Secondly getting off the plane and getting smacked in the face with French and Dutch. That was quite a shock for me-not that I wasn't expecting to be greeted with a different language, but because I didn't realize how long it had been since I'd been in a place where I didn't speak or understand the language. I guess I'd forgotten what that was like. Suddenly I very deeply empathized with my friends who went to Spain and didn't speak Spanish.
Anyway, a 45 minute bus ride later, I made my way to Brussels Central Station, where I was to meet an old sister of mine, Birgit (who shall be called B from now on, as it's much easier on my English speaking brain). B is from Holland, and studied abroad at UNCW for a year, where she became a sister of Alpha Xi Delta, which is how we came to be friends. When I contacted her via facebook to let her know I was in Europe, she very enthusiastically responded with an exciting trip through Belgium, to Holland with a stop in Amsterdam before going back to her hometown of Leeuwarden.
So there I was, lugging my 9kg duffle (sorry I don't have access to a converter right now, but 9kg is in the neighborhood of 16lbs), frazzled after about an hour more of travel than I had expected, and I hadn't been in Brussels Central Station for longer than 2 minutes when a suspicious looking man approached me and asked how much it would cost for a week of sex. At this point I think this may be appropriate:
Travel Tip #5
If a strange man approaches to tell you he thinks you are beautiful, he is not being nice. He is trying to purchase you.
So I very quickly fled that scene, and it wasn't long before I saw B. We took an expensive bus ride (2.50€!!!!) to the Van Gogh Youth Hostel, where we settled in. Then we left to find a cheap place to eat. Along the way, as if to excuse myself while squeezing past a gentleman on a particularly narrow sidewalk, I gave him a half smile and walked on. To which he began to cat call me in French! Luckily I don't understand French or I might've been offended. I know I've already said it, but it bears repeating: It's difficult for people like me, products of southern united states, where we very often greet complete strangers we pass on the street, but unfortunately this may carry mixed signals. I don't want to make sweeping generalizations, but if you're a young woman and you smile at a European man, you will almost certainly be propositioned.
Okay, I'm obviously joking, and I certainly don't mean to ascertain that all my observations are 100% accurate across all of Europe, but I'm simply sharing said observations. It seemed much less likely to be approached by a man in Spain than it did here. If you made eye contact or-god forbid-smiled at a man in Spain, you might, perhaps, maybe get a playful "Hola, guapa," but it was always with the air that he didn't expect any further response. In stark contrast, the men in Brussels, it seemed to me, go beyond simply trying to talk to you or "hit on you," and just try to buy you. Just...you know, a warning.
Okay, enough about the creepy men in Brussels. In our first morning, we first went to a Brussels-wide famous restaurant for none other than Belgian waffles. It was in a structure that I think either used to be a train station or was built to look like one (good thing I did my research first before writing this blog, right?). Then we walked around the whole day, neither of us being particularly skilled with a map. We found ourselves in the museum area, where everything was, woefully, closed. Here we go again...
Travel Tip #6
Most stores and museums in Brussels are closed on Mondays. If you're going to spend a day in Brussels, make sure it's not on a Monday.
We did find things to do and see, however. We made our way to a lambic brewery that was on the other side of the city, stopping along the way to see various monuments and important buildings. Lambic is a kind of Belgian beer that uses what's called spontaneous fermentation, which I couldn't explain if I tried, but I'm sure wikipedia could be helpful for the curious. Anyway, at the end we got to try some, and boy is it awful. It's really sour, and usually about twice as alcoholic as normal beer. Also all the bubbles have gone during this "spontaneous fermentation" process, so it's not fizzy and there's no foam. All these things kind of make it taste like 1 part flat beer, 1 part white wine. For some of you, that may seem like your jam, but I was happy to have tried it once (for the cultural aspect only) and never again.
We walked back toward the center and stopped to get Belgian fries, which are kind of like American fries, or Spanish fries, or any other kind of fries, really, but with mayonnaise. They were delicious.
We returned to the hostel for a break, and to set a plan for the following day. For dinner we went to a place recommended to us by a map that's part of a series called Use-It Europe. It's a budding company that uses volunteers to make maps for tourists, so all the maps are made by locals and have tips and suggestions. It's pretty cool, and I would suggest them (they're free and usually available at hostels or info centers) if you're ever in Antwerp, Bruges, Brussels, Ghent, Leuven, or Mechelen. Just don't use them as your bible though; they tend to leave out a lot of the bigger tourist attractions (probably because the writers assume you already know about them).
Anyway, the locals' suggestion was good, but pricey. The service was quite slow, but it's okay because B assures me it's not like that in Holland.
After dinner, we went to Delirium.
Yes, I made it to the bar that everyone had been urging me to go to, what was once a tiny bar on a tiny street is now a whole street of bars boasting a wide selection. We picked one that was particularly "poppin" as the kids say, but we were overwhelmed by the number of choices and neither of us had the slightest idea of what to pick. So I closed my eyes, pointed to the menu, and ordered. I can't remember the name of it, something with "gold" in the title. Anyway it was pretty vile, as most Belgian beers are, but I was about a third of the way through it when I saw on the label that it was 10%. That's dangerous for a young sprout like myself. Anyway, after that we decided to go to one more bar to try one more drink. We picked a tequila bar and guess what we had our shots with!! Orange slices and cinnamon!! These crazy Europeans, lemme tell ya.
After tequila, we went back to the hostel to get in bed relatively early because we were catching an early train to Antwerp in the morning.
We arrived at the Antwerp Central Station, 4th place winner of Newsweek's most beautiful train station award. Actually I don't think it was an award so much as just a rating. Anyway, it's pretty. We walked to our hostel, which had a really creepy atmosphere, like you were in a dark and creaky attic no matter which floor you're on. We checked in and grabbed a map and headed for our first destination: to get food.
After that we walked through the city from one side to the other, and circled back around. On the way we saw the Olv Kathedraal, which is a really old and impressive cathedral. We didn't go in because you start to get cathedraled-out, and it didn't seem worth it at 5€.
We walked on and saw the Stadhuis, which is the city hall. It's also really impressive and also marks the tourist classic Grote Markt, which, um, I'm not really sure what it translates to. After that we walked to the riverside, where stands a fortress called 'T Steen. A for real fortress! After, it functioned as a prison, and until 2008, it was a museum. Since then, it's been a "pop up party spot." I'm not exactly sure what that means, but I think I can infer.
Anyway, then we walked on to our intended destination: the 360 view museum. It's only a euro to enter if you're under 26, and the exhibits were decent, but the coolest part was the terrace on the roof. It was a great view of the city and it's harbor-the second biggest in Europe.
Our next stop was Spoor Nord, which is a former-wasteland-turned-park. There are two big fountains and all the girls come to sun bathe, the boys come and play soccer in the nearby field or skate in the neighboring skate park, and all the kids come to play in the water. There's also the Cargo Zomerbar, an old abandoned train station that's been turned into a restaurant and sometimes a concert hall. It was bright and sunny at this point, and it gave the feel of a neighborhood block party.
After eating, we took a leisurely stroll back to the hostel, but not before stopping to look at the somewhat famous "graffiti forest." This is the underpass of a bridge where there is some truly impressive graffiti. Pictures on facebook (in a month)!
Travel Tip #3
Do NOT leave important things to be done on Sunday. Unlike the states, not many places are open on Sundays.
Also...
Travel Tip #4
When flying into Brussels through Ryanair, just an FYI, it's a 13€ and 45 minute bus ride before you actually get to Brussels.
So yes, the capital of Europe. An exciting place for a young student of business like myself. But as soon as the plane touched down, I realized I was certainly not in Kansas anymore. It's been a while since I've experienced proper culture shock, so maybe I was overdue. Firstly because I noticed the ominous grey clouds outside and looked around the plane at my fellow passengers to see people wrapping themselves in sweaters and scarves while I sat like a fool in my skirt and sandals. Secondly getting off the plane and getting smacked in the face with French and Dutch. That was quite a shock for me-not that I wasn't expecting to be greeted with a different language, but because I didn't realize how long it had been since I'd been in a place where I didn't speak or understand the language. I guess I'd forgotten what that was like. Suddenly I very deeply empathized with my friends who went to Spain and didn't speak Spanish.
Anyway, a 45 minute bus ride later, I made my way to Brussels Central Station, where I was to meet an old sister of mine, Birgit (who shall be called B from now on, as it's much easier on my English speaking brain). B is from Holland, and studied abroad at UNCW for a year, where she became a sister of Alpha Xi Delta, which is how we came to be friends. When I contacted her via facebook to let her know I was in Europe, she very enthusiastically responded with an exciting trip through Belgium, to Holland with a stop in Amsterdam before going back to her hometown of Leeuwarden.
So there I was, lugging my 9kg duffle (sorry I don't have access to a converter right now, but 9kg is in the neighborhood of 16lbs), frazzled after about an hour more of travel than I had expected, and I hadn't been in Brussels Central Station for longer than 2 minutes when a suspicious looking man approached me and asked how much it would cost for a week of sex. At this point I think this may be appropriate:
Travel Tip #5
If a strange man approaches to tell you he thinks you are beautiful, he is not being nice. He is trying to purchase you.
So I very quickly fled that scene, and it wasn't long before I saw B. We took an expensive bus ride (2.50€!!!!) to the Van Gogh Youth Hostel, where we settled in. Then we left to find a cheap place to eat. Along the way, as if to excuse myself while squeezing past a gentleman on a particularly narrow sidewalk, I gave him a half smile and walked on. To which he began to cat call me in French! Luckily I don't understand French or I might've been offended. I know I've already said it, but it bears repeating: It's difficult for people like me, products of southern united states, where we very often greet complete strangers we pass on the street, but unfortunately this may carry mixed signals. I don't want to make sweeping generalizations, but if you're a young woman and you smile at a European man, you will almost certainly be propositioned.
Okay, I'm obviously joking, and I certainly don't mean to ascertain that all my observations are 100% accurate across all of Europe, but I'm simply sharing said observations. It seemed much less likely to be approached by a man in Spain than it did here. If you made eye contact or-god forbid-smiled at a man in Spain, you might, perhaps, maybe get a playful "Hola, guapa," but it was always with the air that he didn't expect any further response. In stark contrast, the men in Brussels, it seemed to me, go beyond simply trying to talk to you or "hit on you," and just try to buy you. Just...you know, a warning.
Okay, enough about the creepy men in Brussels. In our first morning, we first went to a Brussels-wide famous restaurant for none other than Belgian waffles. It was in a structure that I think either used to be a train station or was built to look like one (good thing I did my research first before writing this blog, right?). Then we walked around the whole day, neither of us being particularly skilled with a map. We found ourselves in the museum area, where everything was, woefully, closed. Here we go again...
Travel Tip #6
Most stores and museums in Brussels are closed on Mondays. If you're going to spend a day in Brussels, make sure it's not on a Monday.
We did find things to do and see, however. We made our way to a lambic brewery that was on the other side of the city, stopping along the way to see various monuments and important buildings. Lambic is a kind of Belgian beer that uses what's called spontaneous fermentation, which I couldn't explain if I tried, but I'm sure wikipedia could be helpful for the curious. Anyway, at the end we got to try some, and boy is it awful. It's really sour, and usually about twice as alcoholic as normal beer. Also all the bubbles have gone during this "spontaneous fermentation" process, so it's not fizzy and there's no foam. All these things kind of make it taste like 1 part flat beer, 1 part white wine. For some of you, that may seem like your jam, but I was happy to have tried it once (for the cultural aspect only) and never again.
We walked back toward the center and stopped to get Belgian fries, which are kind of like American fries, or Spanish fries, or any other kind of fries, really, but with mayonnaise. They were delicious.
We returned to the hostel for a break, and to set a plan for the following day. For dinner we went to a place recommended to us by a map that's part of a series called Use-It Europe. It's a budding company that uses volunteers to make maps for tourists, so all the maps are made by locals and have tips and suggestions. It's pretty cool, and I would suggest them (they're free and usually available at hostels or info centers) if you're ever in Antwerp, Bruges, Brussels, Ghent, Leuven, or Mechelen. Just don't use them as your bible though; they tend to leave out a lot of the bigger tourist attractions (probably because the writers assume you already know about them).
Anyway, the locals' suggestion was good, but pricey. The service was quite slow, but it's okay because B assures me it's not like that in Holland.
After dinner, we went to Delirium.
Yes, I made it to the bar that everyone had been urging me to go to, what was once a tiny bar on a tiny street is now a whole street of bars boasting a wide selection. We picked one that was particularly "poppin" as the kids say, but we were overwhelmed by the number of choices and neither of us had the slightest idea of what to pick. So I closed my eyes, pointed to the menu, and ordered. I can't remember the name of it, something with "gold" in the title. Anyway it was pretty vile, as most Belgian beers are, but I was about a third of the way through it when I saw on the label that it was 10%. That's dangerous for a young sprout like myself. Anyway, after that we decided to go to one more bar to try one more drink. We picked a tequila bar and guess what we had our shots with!! Orange slices and cinnamon!! These crazy Europeans, lemme tell ya.
After tequila, we went back to the hostel to get in bed relatively early because we were catching an early train to Antwerp in the morning.
We arrived at the Antwerp Central Station, 4th place winner of Newsweek's most beautiful train station award. Actually I don't think it was an award so much as just a rating. Anyway, it's pretty. We walked to our hostel, which had a really creepy atmosphere, like you were in a dark and creaky attic no matter which floor you're on. We checked in and grabbed a map and headed for our first destination: to get food.
After that we walked through the city from one side to the other, and circled back around. On the way we saw the Olv Kathedraal, which is a really old and impressive cathedral. We didn't go in because you start to get cathedraled-out, and it didn't seem worth it at 5€.
We walked on and saw the Stadhuis, which is the city hall. It's also really impressive and also marks the tourist classic Grote Markt, which, um, I'm not really sure what it translates to. After that we walked to the riverside, where stands a fortress called 'T Steen. A for real fortress! After, it functioned as a prison, and until 2008, it was a museum. Since then, it's been a "pop up party spot." I'm not exactly sure what that means, but I think I can infer.
Anyway, then we walked on to our intended destination: the 360 view museum. It's only a euro to enter if you're under 26, and the exhibits were decent, but the coolest part was the terrace on the roof. It was a great view of the city and it's harbor-the second biggest in Europe.
Our next stop was Spoor Nord, which is a former-wasteland-turned-park. There are two big fountains and all the girls come to sun bathe, the boys come and play soccer in the nearby field or skate in the neighboring skate park, and all the kids come to play in the water. There's also the Cargo Zomerbar, an old abandoned train station that's been turned into a restaurant and sometimes a concert hall. It was bright and sunny at this point, and it gave the feel of a neighborhood block party.
After eating, we took a leisurely stroll back to the hostel, but not before stopping to look at the somewhat famous "graffiti forest." This is the underpass of a bridge where there is some truly impressive graffiti. Pictures on facebook (in a month)!
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