This post is intended to catch everyone up to date on our current travels.
When we last met, we were exploring Edinburgh. We left Edinburgh a bit worse for wear, but enthused by the USA's draw with England. Unfortunately, our luck was changing. Our flight to Malaga was many many hours late, and almost missed by one of our number. Once in Malaga, we were told we could no longer get to Granada that night and so a) had to cancel that reservation and b) had to find a place to stay in Malaga at 1 am. At one hostel, the old man working there said he would take us to his friend, who apparently had space. It was a sketchy few minutes but we were situated just fine. We spent the next morning in Malaga taking care of errands (a recurring theme) and then went to Marbella.
Marbella is a beach/resort town that is quite beautiful. It took us 1.5 hrs to find the tourist information, instead of twenty minutes. We walked around to find someplace to stay, which took a fair bit of time. By the time we hit the beach it was almost 4 pm. A bottle of wine and some chorizo, cheese, and baguette improved our mood dramatically. Later, we would watch Italy v Paraguay with two new friends, Anna (from Metuchen) and Jim (from the US Army).
We were off bright and early the next morning to Granada. By this time, we are quite fed up with travel everyday, but its an ambitious schedule. In Granada, we find the hostel easily, but then have to deal with the most pressing problem: laundry. We find a laundromat, only to learn that its 10 euros for 10 shirts or 5 pants. Yep, that means we are doing laundry in the sink.
Post-laundry, we start to walk toward La Alhambra to watch Ivory Coast v Portugal. We get to a place on time in Plaza Nueva, but Jonathan and I only spend a few minutes watching before we head to La Alhambra. We stop by an information desk only to be told that we will likely miss our reservation. Panicked, we run up the hill on which the palace is situated. We arrive at the top, sweating, only to be told that we were way early. Moral of the story (one that is evidenced elsewhere) – the spanish have no idea how to give good directions (“ to get there, go sort of left until you get to the church and ask there for more directions”). La Alhambra is huge and gorgeous. Enough said.
Post La Alhambra, we work hard to a) watch North Korea v Brazil and b) get all the free tapas we can. You see, the Granada deal is that beverages come with free tapas. We get our dinner that night (6.15) without ordering a single dish. Its a pretty fun process – you order a drink and out pops a random tapa. Exciting stuff.
The following morning we are on the move again – this time to Sevilla. Sevilla is absolutely gorgeous. We spend the first afternoon watching Spain v Switzerland in a bar by THE Cathedral. I have never seen so many people so sad about a single sporting event. National crisis.
We then tour the Real Alcazar for free with our CU Ids. It is an amazing palace in the same mold as La Alhambra. Real Alcazar is followed by laundry (solving this crisis created another one :( ), then dinner, and then to the hostel organized Flamenco. Really good stuff. We are taken to a small space on top of a bar nearby our dinner spot, and treated to a very strong four person performance. Guitarist and male dancer were especially amazing.
Following dinner, our tour guide (Dario) leads us on a “Night Tour” of the city life. Home late and off to bed.
The following morning (6.17) we splurge on 90 minutes in the Arab Baths. This is TERRIFIC. Aromatherapy + jacuzzi + three different temperature baths + salt bath. So well deserved. After the bath, we chow on a pre-fixe menu. Then its off to look at Jewish stuff, which the city has totally erased over the course of 500-700 years. Its really rather depressing how much the Jews once meant to the city and how little has been preserved. There used to be over 30 synagogues, but now not a single one is standing.
Tried to fit in a siesta, but Dario's free 5:30 pm tour rolled around too quickly. His tour is fun and includes a part of the city we have not yet seen as well as a lot of barely historical anecdotes. Dario can't help but over-share at times (eg: “I think Spanish people are still racist...”). All in good fun. Then to France v Mexico (pathetic France), dinner (starting at 1030 pm) and bed.
Andalucia was amazing, but we did it way too quickly. This area of the country really needs two weeks or more, not the 4 days we gave it. It was my first exposure to Spain, and I absolutely love it.
One thing to note: the siesta is nice for locals and tourists alike, but when you need something done (eg help from a bank) it is the worst thing ever.
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Friday, June 11, 2010
IMPORTANT: USA v ENGLAND
For your convenience, Jonathan, Juan and I have written/co-opted these chants/songs/etc for the USA game. We share them with you here because, well, we assume you need a bit of help figuring out how to correctly cheer for the USA TOMORROW.
USA clap clap clap (and repeat)
1776 clap clap clap (and repeat)
We got Yorktown clap clap clap (and repeat)
To the tune of Yellow Submarine: "Sorry England, you'll never win the cup, never win the cup"
Hey England we know you, Washington whooped your ass too!
If England is tied or losing: sing "You Can't Always Get What You Want"
AND THE BEST
After an English mistake: slow clap BP, BP, BP, BP (... and then...) explosion noise
Let's kick some ass. Goodnight, and good luck.
Adrian
USA clap clap clap (and repeat)
1776 clap clap clap (and repeat)
We got Yorktown clap clap clap (and repeat)
To the tune of Yellow Submarine: "Sorry England, you'll never win the cup, never win the cup"
Hey England we know you, Washington whooped your ass too!
If England is tied or losing: sing "You Can't Always Get What You Want"
AND THE BEST
After an English mistake: slow clap BP, BP, BP, BP (... and then...) explosion noise
Let's kick some ass. Goodnight, and good luck.
Adrian
Mexico v. South Africa
The morning (6/11) started a bit late: 10. Rough night.
With leftover banana bread and baguette, we hit up the Castle Rock and ended up scaling the back wall (sort of). At the same time we now have decisive proof as to why castles are a good way to keep bad guys out.
We went up to the castle, but at 15 pounds pp, it seemed too much. Instead we bought some delish local cheese, and a baguette + chorizo + cadbury fingers at a supermarket for consumption after our climb up Arthur's Seat. The walk was PHENOM and the views from the top really splendid. We had our well-earned lunch there and loafed about until 2 pm when it was time to get to a bar to watch... THE WORLD CUP.
THE WORLD CUP.
THE WORLD CUP.
This turned out to be more of a challenge than anticipated, as many Scot bars have those little tv's that belong in dorm rooms. While Jonathan is unfazed, Juan and I begin to swear that we would rather be in Florida and NJ (respectively) than Europe if it meant we could watch the game. Eventually, the situation goes downhill and Juan and I end up running up the Royal Mountain and down under the North Bridge to a sports bar called Sportsters. It did the trick. Accompanied by a U-19 soccer team from someplace in Scotland I have never heard of, two Israelis, a French/Italian identity-crisis victim, and a whole bunch of people who will be rooting for England tomorrow instead of the USA, we watched a limp Mexican team draw the gritty South Africans.
Soccer. World Cup. Did this sentence make you cry a bit?
It didn't matter that the bar had no local beers (unless Guinness counts, which it doesn't). It just matters that four years have passed and the World Cup is back.
With leftover banana bread and baguette, we hit up the Castle Rock and ended up scaling the back wall (sort of). At the same time we now have decisive proof as to why castles are a good way to keep bad guys out.
We went up to the castle, but at 15 pounds pp, it seemed too much. Instead we bought some delish local cheese, and a baguette + chorizo + cadbury fingers at a supermarket for consumption after our climb up Arthur's Seat. The walk was PHENOM and the views from the top really splendid. We had our well-earned lunch there and loafed about until 2 pm when it was time to get to a bar to watch... THE WORLD CUP.
THE WORLD CUP.
THE WORLD CUP.
This turned out to be more of a challenge than anticipated, as many Scot bars have those little tv's that belong in dorm rooms. While Jonathan is unfazed, Juan and I begin to swear that we would rather be in Florida and NJ (respectively) than Europe if it meant we could watch the game. Eventually, the situation goes downhill and Juan and I end up running up the Royal Mountain and down under the North Bridge to a sports bar called Sportsters. It did the trick. Accompanied by a U-19 soccer team from someplace in Scotland I have never heard of, two Israelis, a French/Italian identity-crisis victim, and a whole bunch of people who will be rooting for England tomorrow instead of the USA, we watched a limp Mexican team draw the gritty South Africans.
Soccer. World Cup. Did this sentence make you cry a bit?
It didn't matter that the bar had no local beers (unless Guinness counts, which it doesn't). It just matters that four years have passed and the World Cup is back.
Edinburgh T-1
Upon arriving in Edinburgh on 6/10, Jonathan and I first found our hostel (with impressive ease, I must add). Though my primary source of information for this leg was the very biased Allie M., Edinburgh was at least as beautiful as promised. Between the train station and our hostel by the Edinburgh Castle we were able to walk through the much famed Royal Mile (like measuring distances?). We dumped our bags at the Castle Rock Hostel (A for effort!) and took the bread and cheese purchased in Penrith, England down to Meadow Park for chow time!
We were very hungry boys, but I could not help but notice four semi-inept foreign folks playing soccer on the beautifully kept lawn near us. After devouring the now familiar cheese and bread combo, Jonathan gave me explicit permission to go play with them, so I did.
Adrian + two Brazilians versus two Spanish. I'd like to modify the record of this game to mention that one Brazilian was fat and the other could not play soccer well because he was obsessed with doing these little handstands. Very strange. The game highlight was a nutmeg I pulled off on the Spaniard with the one foot rat-tail haircut. It made him grumpy and me happy.
Jonathan and I then trekked through three of our tourbook's walking tours - the old Edinburgh University campus (now the law school), the Surgeons Museum, the Museum of Scotland (someone didn't feel like playing me in a life-size game of chess!), the Royal Mile, and Parliament. A solid speed tour.
We then returned to the hostel, intending to meet one Juan Lamata. The kid was a no show. We should have known. After a fair bit of conferencing, we decided to forget about him and go for dinner and a drink. At the hostel's recommendation, we went down to The Last Drop, a pub in the square where the last Scottish public execution went down. I had bangers and mash and Jonathan the "minced and tatties". Mediocrity exemplified. More disturbing still, the beer was on the same scale as the English (ABV UK = 1/2 ABV USA). A couple drinks and the sad dinner (you'd think we'd stop eating pub food by now!) and we were off to explore more of town. We navigated to the newer part of the city and ascended Colton Hill where we got a simply marvelous view of the old area of the city across a narrow valley (home of the train station).
Colton Hill is a funny little thing. There are very old looking monuments that have been constructed relatively recently to celebrate Scottish achievements. My favorite is a Parthenon looking structure that is for Scottish soldiers who died fighting Napoleon. You can't argue with the sentiment, but the actual structure is a rather strange choice, no?
As we sat down for a sip of scotch at Deacon Brodie's, we get a call from Juan saying that he made it! Relief all around. Deacon Brodie's leads to a weird rock pub with a drummer who looks like Shaun White. Shockingly, most bars seem to close around midnight. Ummm, whats going on here? I'll tell you what: bed (only after watching Juan jam with some Swede named Anders).
Sleep was less than easy. Our room is for eight, and though we hit the sheets around two, the marching band (or something like it) arrived at 4. Dreadful. There was also a mega-snore person. Fingers crossed for this being a one-time gig!
Conclusion: Edinburgh is awesome. Juan and Jonathan are awesome. Scotch can be awesome.
We were very hungry boys, but I could not help but notice four semi-inept foreign folks playing soccer on the beautifully kept lawn near us. After devouring the now familiar cheese and bread combo, Jonathan gave me explicit permission to go play with them, so I did.
Adrian + two Brazilians versus two Spanish. I'd like to modify the record of this game to mention that one Brazilian was fat and the other could not play soccer well because he was obsessed with doing these little handstands. Very strange. The game highlight was a nutmeg I pulled off on the Spaniard with the one foot rat-tail haircut. It made him grumpy and me happy.
Jonathan and I then trekked through three of our tourbook's walking tours - the old Edinburgh University campus (now the law school), the Surgeons Museum, the Museum of Scotland (someone didn't feel like playing me in a life-size game of chess!), the Royal Mile, and Parliament. A solid speed tour.
We then returned to the hostel, intending to meet one Juan Lamata. The kid was a no show. We should have known. After a fair bit of conferencing, we decided to forget about him and go for dinner and a drink. At the hostel's recommendation, we went down to The Last Drop, a pub in the square where the last Scottish public execution went down. I had bangers and mash and Jonathan the "minced and tatties". Mediocrity exemplified. More disturbing still, the beer was on the same scale as the English (ABV UK = 1/2 ABV USA). A couple drinks and the sad dinner (you'd think we'd stop eating pub food by now!) and we were off to explore more of town. We navigated to the newer part of the city and ascended Colton Hill where we got a simply marvelous view of the old area of the city across a narrow valley (home of the train station).
Colton Hill is a funny little thing. There are very old looking monuments that have been constructed relatively recently to celebrate Scottish achievements. My favorite is a Parthenon looking structure that is for Scottish soldiers who died fighting Napoleon. You can't argue with the sentiment, but the actual structure is a rather strange choice, no?
As we sat down for a sip of scotch at Deacon Brodie's, we get a call from Juan saying that he made it! Relief all around. Deacon Brodie's leads to a weird rock pub with a drummer who looks like Shaun White. Shockingly, most bars seem to close around midnight. Ummm, whats going on here? I'll tell you what: bed (only after watching Juan jam with some Swede named Anders).
Sleep was less than easy. Our room is for eight, and though we hit the sheets around two, the marching band (or something like it) arrived at 4. Dreadful. There was also a mega-snore person. Fingers crossed for this being a one-time gig!
Conclusion: Edinburgh is awesome. Juan and Jonathan are awesome. Scotch can be awesome.
JBax's Lake District Recap
Having comfortably situated ourselves in Edinburgh, the land where market capitalism acquired its ideological hue, Adrian and Juan are striving to contain their bladders in anticipation of the World Cup (which starts today), while I struggle to hold as many soccer facts in my head as possible so I can amuse them by pretending that I am a seasoned fanatic. Meanwhile, we are all eager to begin in earnest our exploration of Edinburgh.
Before recounting our adventures in Scotland, I thought it necessary to sum up the Lake District leg of Adrian and my journey.
Adrian and I met up in Windermere, a gateway city to the Lake District on June 10. The night before leaving Galway, where I spent two days on my own, Adrian sent me instructions to get to the hostel in Windermere, which informed me that I would be making a three mile trek to reach the hostel. After climbing a rather steep incline, I reached the Windermere hostel sweaty, but excited to meet up with Adrian. We proceeded to ask one of the two employees of the hostel for a recommendation for a good pub, encountering a major theme for our time in the UK: the British hate being asked for recommendations. It's a totally foreign concept. The usual response for a recommendation is to be presented with a long list of options that one could do. To receive a direct response to the question, one has to ask an Brit what their favorite bar is or what food they would eat in order to get a straightforward response. Ill-prepared to navigate this British recommendation rite, we selected one pub from the hostel employee's list, and headed out on a 1.5 hour walk to the pub. We each ordered the "leg" of lamb, figuring we couldn't go wrong, despite the British reputation for bad food; we guessed wrong. The "leg" was thin slabs of meat with a mint "jelly" that was more like a gravy. We also discovered the second major theme of the Lake District Segment: British beers are weak. Whereas a typical IPA in the U.S. may have an ABV of 8%, the British cask ales, which are superb when bottled and sold in the U.S., had an ABV in Britain of 3.9% or 4%. As Adrian put it, "Where is the rest of my beer?"
So, Windermere offered an inauspicious introduction to the Lake District. But our travels in Ambleside and Keswick made the whole segment worthwhile. To get to Ambleside, Adrian and I decided to hike across a ridge to the north of Windermere, eastward to Ambleside. Hiking in the Lake District is unlike any other hiking because the public footpaths go through pastures with grazing sheep, lambs, and cattle. One must enter and exit "kissing gates" that swing in between wooden posts, making it impossible for animals to mistakenly escape. This feature of the hikes, as Adrian described it, seemed, "like a petting zoo, but even better." Constant rain that dogged us the entire four days in the Lake District picked up in earnest during our hike, forcing us to reevaluate the degree to which we had wrapped our belongings in plastic bags. As we reached the top of the ridge, we were rewarded with stunning views, even on a foggy, overcast day, of the banks of Lake Windermere in the distance, which the somber, yet stately, grey and black pointed roofs of Ambleside stretched out before us as the land descended to the banks of the lake. Adrian and I were both heartened to arrive in Ambleside and find it a veritable metropolis compared to the sleepy drudgery of Windermere. There were pubs aplenty, including one we were eager to sample--the Golden Rule--a cozy establishment with cast iron stools, a tiny bar, and only English patrons (aside from us). Despite our continuing disenchantment with the beer situation, our spirits picked up by enjoying a venue that looked much the same, we imagine, as it did a couple hundred years ago.
Keswick was even more metropolitan than Ambleside, with a pedestrian town center and bustling activity--at least until nightfall. The hostel, we found, was located conveniently close to the heart of town, unlike our other two experiences, and was clean and beautifully positioned on the bank of a river running through the town. We decided to extend our stay in Keswick for a second day. This gave us the opportunity to do our most serious hike--a climb to the top of Catbells, a 1400 ft. peak with stunning views of Derwentwater Lake and of pastures as far as the eye could see, with thousands of fluffy white and black dots punctuating the otherwise lushly green landscape. We also frequented the Dog and the Gun, another classic English pub, which got especially busy around 7:30 because of its excellent food, even by non-English standards. Adrian and I were so enamoured of the institution's famous Hungarian goulash that we ordered it both nights while in town. The goulash was really a very hearty chili with steak chunks rather than ground chuck, made "Hungarian" only by the generous amount of paprika included in the dish. We were hungry, so we forgave its questionable Hungarianness and devoured the large and tasty dish with startling speed. To top off the Dog and the Gun experience, I had a single shot--straight up of course--of Talisker's single malt whisky, an incredibly flavorful and sweet scotch.
The Lake District was a great component of the trip. We stayed there for just enough time and were ready by the end to get to Edinburgh and enjoy city life again.
Before recounting our adventures in Scotland, I thought it necessary to sum up the Lake District leg of Adrian and my journey.
Adrian and I met up in Windermere, a gateway city to the Lake District on June 10. The night before leaving Galway, where I spent two days on my own, Adrian sent me instructions to get to the hostel in Windermere, which informed me that I would be making a three mile trek to reach the hostel. After climbing a rather steep incline, I reached the Windermere hostel sweaty, but excited to meet up with Adrian. We proceeded to ask one of the two employees of the hostel for a recommendation for a good pub, encountering a major theme for our time in the UK: the British hate being asked for recommendations. It's a totally foreign concept. The usual response for a recommendation is to be presented with a long list of options that one could do. To receive a direct response to the question, one has to ask an Brit what their favorite bar is or what food they would eat in order to get a straightforward response. Ill-prepared to navigate this British recommendation rite, we selected one pub from the hostel employee's list, and headed out on a 1.5 hour walk to the pub. We each ordered the "leg" of lamb, figuring we couldn't go wrong, despite the British reputation for bad food; we guessed wrong. The "leg" was thin slabs of meat with a mint "jelly" that was more like a gravy. We also discovered the second major theme of the Lake District Segment: British beers are weak. Whereas a typical IPA in the U.S. may have an ABV of 8%, the British cask ales, which are superb when bottled and sold in the U.S., had an ABV in Britain of 3.9% or 4%. As Adrian put it, "Where is the rest of my beer?"
So, Windermere offered an inauspicious introduction to the Lake District. But our travels in Ambleside and Keswick made the whole segment worthwhile. To get to Ambleside, Adrian and I decided to hike across a ridge to the north of Windermere, eastward to Ambleside. Hiking in the Lake District is unlike any other hiking because the public footpaths go through pastures with grazing sheep, lambs, and cattle. One must enter and exit "kissing gates" that swing in between wooden posts, making it impossible for animals to mistakenly escape. This feature of the hikes, as Adrian described it, seemed, "like a petting zoo, but even better." Constant rain that dogged us the entire four days in the Lake District picked up in earnest during our hike, forcing us to reevaluate the degree to which we had wrapped our belongings in plastic bags. As we reached the top of the ridge, we were rewarded with stunning views, even on a foggy, overcast day, of the banks of Lake Windermere in the distance, which the somber, yet stately, grey and black pointed roofs of Ambleside stretched out before us as the land descended to the banks of the lake. Adrian and I were both heartened to arrive in Ambleside and find it a veritable metropolis compared to the sleepy drudgery of Windermere. There were pubs aplenty, including one we were eager to sample--the Golden Rule--a cozy establishment with cast iron stools, a tiny bar, and only English patrons (aside from us). Despite our continuing disenchantment with the beer situation, our spirits picked up by enjoying a venue that looked much the same, we imagine, as it did a couple hundred years ago.
Keswick was even more metropolitan than Ambleside, with a pedestrian town center and bustling activity--at least until nightfall. The hostel, we found, was located conveniently close to the heart of town, unlike our other two experiences, and was clean and beautifully positioned on the bank of a river running through the town. We decided to extend our stay in Keswick for a second day. This gave us the opportunity to do our most serious hike--a climb to the top of Catbells, a 1400 ft. peak with stunning views of Derwentwater Lake and of pastures as far as the eye could see, with thousands of fluffy white and black dots punctuating the otherwise lushly green landscape. We also frequented the Dog and the Gun, another classic English pub, which got especially busy around 7:30 because of its excellent food, even by non-English standards. Adrian and I were so enamoured of the institution's famous Hungarian goulash that we ordered it both nights while in town. The goulash was really a very hearty chili with steak chunks rather than ground chuck, made "Hungarian" only by the generous amount of paprika included in the dish. We were hungry, so we forgave its questionable Hungarianness and devoured the large and tasty dish with startling speed. To top off the Dog and the Gun experience, I had a single shot--straight up of course--of Talisker's single malt whisky, an incredibly flavorful and sweet scotch.
The Lake District was a great component of the trip. We stayed there for just enough time and were ready by the end to get to Edinburgh and enjoy city life again.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Edinburgh
Hi all,
Just arrived in Edinburgh where (hopefully) the internet will be easier. Travel from Keswick began at 755 am and was really smooth. We ended up taking a later train from Penrith (a "hub") and it saved us some twenty odd pounds. Terrific!
For now, we are going to be cruising around Edinburgh and waiting for the third of our dynamic trio (Juan) to show up!
Cheers!
Adrian and Jonathan
Ps. Upon arrival to Edinburgh we saw our first glimpse of sunshine in some 48 hours... praised be Mother Nature
Just arrived in Edinburgh where (hopefully) the internet will be easier. Travel from Keswick began at 755 am and was really smooth. We ended up taking a later train from Penrith (a "hub") and it saved us some twenty odd pounds. Terrific!
For now, we are going to be cruising around Edinburgh and waiting for the third of our dynamic trio (Juan) to show up!
Cheers!
Adrian and Jonathan
Ps. Upon arrival to Edinburgh we saw our first glimpse of sunshine in some 48 hours... praised be Mother Nature
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Friday, June 4, 2010
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