The boy writes an update!
So I'm feeling exhausted again and furious with myself. I just made a huge mistake, wasted an entire day, and lost 70 euros on an overnight train that I was unable to make because of my mistake (a confusion of days, times and numbers). I want to tear my hair out. I had an extra day at San Fermin, but one was sufficient. I didn't want to be there. Turns out, I wasn't supposed to be. My train left without me and now I'm stuck for the night in Barcelona, exhausted and did I mention pissed off? It sucks when you don't have anyone else but yourself to blame for an unideal situation. But it's something that should be done, when that's the case. The first thing that happened in Pamplona was that I lost or somebody stole my European resident card, so now I look like an illegal holder of an interail pass (for EU residents only) and I'm about to head into France, that country famous for it's American sympathies. Okay, I should go take care of business instead of procrastinating by writing in the blog. Wish me luck.
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Sunday, July 6, 2008
Saturday, July 5, 2008
A thought.
An assertive action followed by a successful outcome leads to the a powerful sense of greatness and satisfaction. The first instance taught me that it's worth trying. I'm hoping with this next one under my belt and hopefully more to come, I'll become addicted.
As a side note, I think some might appreciate this list from McSweeney's that Alex just sent me. 4 simple steps to becoming more decisive:
1. Eeny
2. Meeny
3. Miney
4. Mo
Haha.
The prompt for this update was the following (p.s. don't get used to consistently frequent updates...knowing me, though I may be changing, that would still be delusional...) I've just decided to stay another night in Burgos, a truly fantastic city with a river running through it and fiesta running through its veins. I have organized my hostel stay for this fiesta night and a suicide mission fit only for a student traveling through Europe that will allow me to see the best part of the San Fermin festivals and get a direct train from Barcelona to Turin, passing through France and sleeping on the train, which will be the only sleep be able to get after about 36 of constant san fermin frenzy and train hopping. Omg. brrrrr.
That's a shiver of excitement folks. Wish me luck. Happy fourth of July to all. I hope it was a...blast.
As a side note, I think some might appreciate this list from McSweeney's that Alex just sent me. 4 simple steps to becoming more decisive:
1. Eeny
2. Meeny
3. Miney
4. Mo
Haha.
The prompt for this update was the following (p.s. don't get used to consistently frequent updates...knowing me, though I may be changing, that would still be delusional...) I've just decided to stay another night in Burgos, a truly fantastic city with a river running through it and fiesta running through its veins. I have organized my hostel stay for this fiesta night and a suicide mission fit only for a student traveling through Europe that will allow me to see the best part of the San Fermin festivals and get a direct train from Barcelona to Turin, passing through France and sleeping on the train, which will be the only sleep be able to get after about 36 of constant san fermin frenzy and train hopping. Omg. brrrrr.
That's a shiver of excitement folks. Wish me luck. Happy fourth of July to all. I hope it was a...blast.
Scenes from European Travels: Madrid to Toledo to Madrid to Burgos
July 2nd
10 to 2 p.m.
AVE to Madrid. Todo ya va a empezar. A ver lo que hay. I'm giddy with excitement. 'Would love to capture this moment of anticipation, positive tension but my words fail me, probably because I won't try. I catch myself thinking "some day [I will try to capture experiences with words]" and remember that it is exactly that attitude I'm trying to eliminate. I suppose I can pardon this incident. I only have two hours. Life of Pi instead. Good book.
It's around 10p.m. in Toledo and I'm utterly exhausted and feeling a little broken, very much like when I arrived in Sevilla. Everything seemed grim then ("What the hell are these palm trees doing here?!? What is this, a joke? The difference now though is that I know the feeling now and that it can be beaten. I'll give myself rest.
Note to the potential backpacker: Everything in Toledo is uphill.
July 3rd
Leaving Toled on a bus with a busted front end. Before we've finished pulling out of our parking space, the bus driver, a man just past middle age with light-toned and thinning hair and a short sleeved button-up tucked tight around his belly into his pants, has brought the bus to two sudden halts (like, oops, didn't see that BUSslamonthebreaks), and he smiles. I look at the man sitting next to me and can see that he too is remembering the cracked windshield and fractured corner panel. But there's no more time to think of escape. With two unmeasured stomps on the accelerator, we're out of the block and rolling into the out. God save us.
Last night, in Toledo, I wanted to ask the Argentinian woman working at Bar Nicholas (in Toledo_ to come sit with me. I don't know why really. I just wanted someone to talk to I suppose and she was there, shuffling about, and so bent. But we merely exchanged the normal words, the words we always mutter when we're not really speaking, "Hola cómo estás. De donde eres? Cómo está la comida. etc..." and a few weary glances with half-forced smiles.
Later...
Bus to Madrid, tren to tren.
I recycled food in the Madrid train station. Somebody left perfectly good fries on the table, so I took advantage of the situation and squashed my hunger. It feels good being anonymous, liberating. All of the unimportant social rules (not to say that all rules are unimportant, but some, like keeping up appearances) suddenly slip away into meaninglessness when one is traveling with nothing but a bag and a notebook. It's liberating. My plans to get to Bilbao or San Sebastian were foiled by lack of available seats. I was dreading having to spend the night in the capital city, so I improvised. I would go north to Burgos o Vitoria. I feel much better than I did 30 minutes ago.
Reading Life of Pi I'm filled with both admiration, wonder, and envy. I am 20 years old and I want to be as good as or better than everyone. I know it's ridiculous. Perhaps I should stop worrying about my future and focus on being as happy and open to growth as I can be in the moment. And maybe working once in a while.
Later on the bus to Burgos/Vitoria...
I've finally met someone! A hip-looking chaval wearing thick glasses (slightly thinner than his ruler-like sideburns) and a black Ramones shirt sits down next to me on the train as we stop in Ávila, the highest point in Spain, which is also lays claim to one of the more beautiful countrysides I've seen so far, surrounded by mountains and patchwork plots of earth, rolling and melding together to form a perfect picture. Miguel teaches Spanish to English students who are, of all places, from Eastern Michigan University. ¡Que mundo más pequeño! The conversation started as I commented on the book, "High Fidelity" he had in his lap. Have you seen the movie? Sí, uno de mis favoritos. That's all it took. I had life of pi in my lap. Neither of us opened our books for the next 5 hours. Even better, he was going to Burgos and knew of a cheap hostel where I could stay. Score. Paulo Cohelo writes that when we really want something, the universe conspires to help us achieve our goal. This past year has led me to believe on countless occasions that this is true.
3 July 11:00 p.m. At Bar Miami's counter (I would stay in the hostel/pension above).
The first thing I saw upon arriving in Burgos was a wide old street flanked by two lanes of trees that formed a canopy of branches and leaves that looked like an arthritic woman's interlacing fingers. That and a giant crowd in uniform blue-shirt, white-pant dress (casi todos manchados) making brass sounds and shouting with smiles on their faces. The first thing that happened to me in Burgos was that one of these queerly dressed folk approached me with a funny-looking leather pouch, made a "tip back your head motion," and squeezed delicious red wine into my mouth. "Hola," he said as I swallowed that warmth and smiled. I immediately decided that I would like Burgos.
Later, I walked to my hostel. basically an apartment above the Bar Miami, and at 15 euros a night, not a bad deal at all. I came downstairs to the bar after leaving my stuff in my room. My shoulders jumped to life again, finally relieved of the burden of Tabitha. I wanted to find out the details about the fiesta. Miguel had told me there would be concerts. The bartender hadn't been very friendly when I arrived. ¿Me pones una cerveza, porfa? He pours me a beer from the tap. It's nice. Somebody orders a tinto. How much is the red wine, I ask. 1.30. Vale, ponme una copa cuando pueda. He pours me a glass of wine, and looks at me a bit differently. There were three other people next to me, standing. They were older, and one was a bit red in the face. I spoke with the woman briefly. She was friendly. The men were speaking, when suddenly, the one with redder face began singing. No humming, not whistling, but whistling. For those who do not know, it is not unusual for people drinking in a bar in Spain to break into song. But this was different. It wasn't a phrase or two. This man wanted to sing, and soon the other man was with him, and then the barkeeper, and then the woman next to me and they were there, in a bar on calle vitoria in Burgos, Spain, right next to me in 2008, singing neither sweetly nor beautifully but happily, and I too was happy. "This is what I love about Spain," I said. They laughed. Where are you from, you sound like an Andaluz. The States. They don't sing there? the woman asks. Sure they sing, but it's not quite like this. (details later, I hope...).
I filmed most of this experience, thanks to my new investment, and while the audio quality is pretty splotchy and not equalized, it's pretty cool to have that moment, though I remember it quite vividly. They continued singing. I was starving. Moments after the hunger hit me, the woman who runs the rooms upstairs brought out two and a half sandwiches from behind the bar. Eat, she said. The barman poured me another glass of wine. Nobody goes thirsty here. The songs continued, and I sat and watched, unable to wipe the smile off my face. I had found my concert, good people, food, drink, and shelter. In those moments, Burgos became my second favorite Spanish city.
4 July 10:02 a.m. Cafeteria Elba. Round table, window.
Burgos is fantastic. It's fista here--patron saint, hence the revelry of last night. I had wanted to go out last night to see things, parades, and concerts, and I did, but not before I was enraptured by the crowd and bartender of Miami who gave me much more authentic and gratifying improvised renditions of Spanish songs--a real Spanish bar concert--and free sandwiches, tortilla española and red wine. God I love this place. I couldn't wipe the smile off my face. We talked, I filmed them, and will store this as a fond memory and consider it to be the real beginning of my European adventure. This is what I was dreaming of.
Sat. 1:04 p.m. in Buenas Noches Burgos.
Excellent tortilla and red wine. Today I've wandered around the city, taken a shower (finally), met and photographed an old beggar woman who called me peregrino, mago y guapo, watched an old hunched woman wage an uphill battle against ancient stairs with bags in her hands, cloudy blue sky above and soaring cathedral behind. I've climbed a castle, been to an impressive vagon and met with so many nice eyes and smiling faces that say, "Mira. Este tiene acento Andaluz." I worry that I'll be lonely when I leave Spain and become just another native language-dumb English speaker. But for now, I'm in a bar that plays classical American tunes and very much enjoying the moment. From here, if I can manage, I'll catch a train to San sebastian, or maybe I'll just stay and try to get to Pamplona to see the famous beginnings of San Fermin at noon on the 6th. A ver.
Later...
Today I watched fireworks burn the sky like musical torches. Bam ba ba ba BOOM. Ba!ba!ba!baDA! They flashed in the sky, brilliantly burning ferns and palm trees, very frondy, then a green tortoise, a magical ocean green blue creature swimming through the air, bathed in smoke and propelled by awe coming from below. I saw that when I left the bar. I sat on a castle, I watched love turn official and stately. I caught a young girl in a dress hurl a unicorn balloon up to the sky and men in ties whistle across a plaza with a fountain at bride passing beneath the cathedral. A cathedral that's seen centuries of life and death and war and strife and greedy hands and eyes and stolen riches. Seen more humanity than any human could bear. I climbed hills of tall grass and poppies. I spoke with a beggar woman on the steps of a cathedral and tried to capture her face, though I was embarrassed. I asked for permission, she asked for money. Both were given. She called me pilgrim, majo, guapo. I called her an image of beauty.
Now I go to Pamolona...
10 to 2 p.m.
AVE to Madrid. Todo ya va a empezar. A ver lo que hay. I'm giddy with excitement. 'Would love to capture this moment of anticipation, positive tension but my words fail me, probably because I won't try. I catch myself thinking "some day [I will try to capture experiences with words]" and remember that it is exactly that attitude I'm trying to eliminate. I suppose I can pardon this incident. I only have two hours. Life of Pi instead. Good book.
It's around 10p.m. in Toledo and I'm utterly exhausted and feeling a little broken, very much like when I arrived in Sevilla. Everything seemed grim then ("What the hell are these palm trees doing here?!? What is this, a joke? The difference now though is that I know the feeling now and that it can be beaten. I'll give myself rest.
Note to the potential backpacker: Everything in Toledo is uphill.
July 3rd
Leaving Toled on a bus with a busted front end. Before we've finished pulling out of our parking space, the bus driver, a man just past middle age with light-toned and thinning hair and a short sleeved button-up tucked tight around his belly into his pants, has brought the bus to two sudden halts (like, oops, didn't see that BUSslamonthebreaks), and he smiles. I look at the man sitting next to me and can see that he too is remembering the cracked windshield and fractured corner panel. But there's no more time to think of escape. With two unmeasured stomps on the accelerator, we're out of the block and rolling into the out. God save us.
Last night, in Toledo, I wanted to ask the Argentinian woman working at Bar Nicholas (in Toledo_ to come sit with me. I don't know why really. I just wanted someone to talk to I suppose and she was there, shuffling about, and so bent. But we merely exchanged the normal words, the words we always mutter when we're not really speaking, "Hola cómo estás. De donde eres? Cómo está la comida. etc..." and a few weary glances with half-forced smiles.
Later...
Bus to Madrid, tren to tren.
I recycled food in the Madrid train station. Somebody left perfectly good fries on the table, so I took advantage of the situation and squashed my hunger. It feels good being anonymous, liberating. All of the unimportant social rules (not to say that all rules are unimportant, but some, like keeping up appearances) suddenly slip away into meaninglessness when one is traveling with nothing but a bag and a notebook. It's liberating. My plans to get to Bilbao or San Sebastian were foiled by lack of available seats. I was dreading having to spend the night in the capital city, so I improvised. I would go north to Burgos o Vitoria. I feel much better than I did 30 minutes ago.
Reading Life of Pi I'm filled with both admiration, wonder, and envy. I am 20 years old and I want to be as good as or better than everyone. I know it's ridiculous. Perhaps I should stop worrying about my future and focus on being as happy and open to growth as I can be in the moment. And maybe working once in a while.
Later on the bus to Burgos/Vitoria...
I've finally met someone! A hip-looking chaval wearing thick glasses (slightly thinner than his ruler-like sideburns) and a black Ramones shirt sits down next to me on the train as we stop in Ávila, the highest point in Spain, which is also lays claim to one of the more beautiful countrysides I've seen so far, surrounded by mountains and patchwork plots of earth, rolling and melding together to form a perfect picture. Miguel teaches Spanish to English students who are, of all places, from Eastern Michigan University. ¡Que mundo más pequeño! The conversation started as I commented on the book, "High Fidelity" he had in his lap. Have you seen the movie? Sí, uno de mis favoritos. That's all it took. I had life of pi in my lap. Neither of us opened our books for the next 5 hours. Even better, he was going to Burgos and knew of a cheap hostel where I could stay. Score. Paulo Cohelo writes that when we really want something, the universe conspires to help us achieve our goal. This past year has led me to believe on countless occasions that this is true.
3 July 11:00 p.m. At Bar Miami's counter (I would stay in the hostel/pension above).
The first thing I saw upon arriving in Burgos was a wide old street flanked by two lanes of trees that formed a canopy of branches and leaves that looked like an arthritic woman's interlacing fingers. That and a giant crowd in uniform blue-shirt, white-pant dress (casi todos manchados) making brass sounds and shouting with smiles on their faces. The first thing that happened to me in Burgos was that one of these queerly dressed folk approached me with a funny-looking leather pouch, made a "tip back your head motion," and squeezed delicious red wine into my mouth. "Hola," he said as I swallowed that warmth and smiled. I immediately decided that I would like Burgos.
Later, I walked to my hostel. basically an apartment above the Bar Miami, and at 15 euros a night, not a bad deal at all. I came downstairs to the bar after leaving my stuff in my room. My shoulders jumped to life again, finally relieved of the burden of Tabitha. I wanted to find out the details about the fiesta. Miguel had told me there would be concerts. The bartender hadn't been very friendly when I arrived. ¿Me pones una cerveza, porfa? He pours me a beer from the tap. It's nice. Somebody orders a tinto. How much is the red wine, I ask. 1.30. Vale, ponme una copa cuando pueda. He pours me a glass of wine, and looks at me a bit differently. There were three other people next to me, standing. They were older, and one was a bit red in the face. I spoke with the woman briefly. She was friendly. The men were speaking, when suddenly, the one with redder face began singing. No humming, not whistling, but whistling. For those who do not know, it is not unusual for people drinking in a bar in Spain to break into song. But this was different. It wasn't a phrase or two. This man wanted to sing, and soon the other man was with him, and then the barkeeper, and then the woman next to me and they were there, in a bar on calle vitoria in Burgos, Spain, right next to me in 2008, singing neither sweetly nor beautifully but happily, and I too was happy. "This is what I love about Spain," I said. They laughed. Where are you from, you sound like an Andaluz. The States. They don't sing there? the woman asks. Sure they sing, but it's not quite like this. (details later, I hope...).
I filmed most of this experience, thanks to my new investment, and while the audio quality is pretty splotchy and not equalized, it's pretty cool to have that moment, though I remember it quite vividly. They continued singing. I was starving. Moments after the hunger hit me, the woman who runs the rooms upstairs brought out two and a half sandwiches from behind the bar. Eat, she said. The barman poured me another glass of wine. Nobody goes thirsty here. The songs continued, and I sat and watched, unable to wipe the smile off my face. I had found my concert, good people, food, drink, and shelter. In those moments, Burgos became my second favorite Spanish city.
4 July 10:02 a.m. Cafeteria Elba. Round table, window.
Burgos is fantastic. It's fista here--patron saint, hence the revelry of last night. I had wanted to go out last night to see things, parades, and concerts, and I did, but not before I was enraptured by the crowd and bartender of Miami who gave me much more authentic and gratifying improvised renditions of Spanish songs--a real Spanish bar concert--and free sandwiches, tortilla española and red wine. God I love this place. I couldn't wipe the smile off my face. We talked, I filmed them, and will store this as a fond memory and consider it to be the real beginning of my European adventure. This is what I was dreaming of.
Sat. 1:04 p.m. in Buenas Noches Burgos.
Excellent tortilla and red wine. Today I've wandered around the city, taken a shower (finally), met and photographed an old beggar woman who called me peregrino, mago y guapo, watched an old hunched woman wage an uphill battle against ancient stairs with bags in her hands, cloudy blue sky above and soaring cathedral behind. I've climbed a castle, been to an impressive vagon and met with so many nice eyes and smiling faces that say, "Mira. Este tiene acento Andaluz." I worry that I'll be lonely when I leave Spain and become just another native language-dumb English speaker. But for now, I'm in a bar that plays classical American tunes and very much enjoying the moment. From here, if I can manage, I'll catch a train to San sebastian, or maybe I'll just stay and try to get to Pamplona to see the famous beginnings of San Fermin at noon on the 6th. A ver.
Later...
Today I watched fireworks burn the sky like musical torches. Bam ba ba ba BOOM. Ba!ba!ba!baDA! They flashed in the sky, brilliantly burning ferns and palm trees, very frondy, then a green tortoise, a magical ocean green blue creature swimming through the air, bathed in smoke and propelled by awe coming from below. I saw that when I left the bar. I sat on a castle, I watched love turn official and stately. I caught a young girl in a dress hurl a unicorn balloon up to the sky and men in ties whistle across a plaza with a fountain at bride passing beneath the cathedral. A cathedral that's seen centuries of life and death and war and strife and greedy hands and eyes and stolen riches. Seen more humanity than any human could bear. I climbed hills of tall grass and poppies. I spoke with a beggar woman on the steps of a cathedral and tried to capture her face, though I was embarrassed. I asked for permission, she asked for money. Both were given. She called me pilgrim, majo, guapo. I called her an image of beauty.
Now I go to Pamolona...
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Immigration in Europe
Notice the points that mention things like healthcare even for illegal immigrants and the logic that it is actually beneficial to allow individuals currently residing in your country to be included as normal, valued citizens. It's amazing what a little bit of understanding and a little less racism and fear can do. What the hell is wrong with us? Did you read the article about the hundreds of working Mexicans who were deported this week after RAIDS? What ARE we doing? Is deporting working individuals really a matter of top concern in the land of the free and the home of the brave; the land that is, more than anything else, a land of immigrants? I just don't understand it.
Anyway, this is a good article, because it's about Spain. It would be interesting to read an article that addressed the social issues (like how people in Spain really feel about immigrants.) It's actually not all that different in that there is a very wide range of opinions and passionate beliefs. Fortunately, they have a responsible government that is willing to give the individual, and not fear, the benefit of the doubt. Here's the article
Anyway, this is a good article, because it's about Spain. It would be interesting to read an article that addressed the social issues (like how people in Spain really feel about immigrants.) It's actually not all that different in that there is a very wide range of opinions and passionate beliefs. Fortunately, they have a responsible government that is willing to give the individual, and not fear, the benefit of the doubt. Here's the article
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Johnny Cash
I just heard this song on my room mate's computer, and I'm a fan. It's called, "A Satisfied Mind," by Johhny Cash, someone whose music I've been wanting to look into for a while now.
How many times have
You heard someone say
If I had his money
I could do things my way
But little they know
That it's so hard to find
One rich man in ten
With a satisfied mind
Once I was waitin'
In fortune and fame
Everything that I dreamed for
To get a start in life's game
Then suddenly it happened
I lost every dime
But I'm richer by far
With a satisfied mind
Money can't buy back
Your youth when you're old
Or a friend when you're lonely
Or a love that's grown cold
The wealthiest person
Is a pauper at times
Compared to the man
With a satisfied mind
When my life has ended
And my time has run out
My friends and my loved ones
I'll leave there's no doubt
But one thing's for certain
When it comes my time
I'll leave this old world
With a satisfied mind
How many times have
You heard someone say
If I had his money
I could do things my way
But little they know
That it's so hard to find
One rich man in ten
With a satisfied mind
How many times have
You heard someone say
If I had his money
I could do things my way
But little they know
That it's so hard to find
One rich man in ten
With a satisfied mind
Once I was waitin'
In fortune and fame
Everything that I dreamed for
To get a start in life's game
Then suddenly it happened
I lost every dime
But I'm richer by far
With a satisfied mind
Money can't buy back
Your youth when you're old
Or a friend when you're lonely
Or a love that's grown cold
The wealthiest person
Is a pauper at times
Compared to the man
With a satisfied mind
When my life has ended
And my time has run out
My friends and my loved ones
I'll leave there's no doubt
But one thing's for certain
When it comes my time
I'll leave this old world
With a satisfied mind
How many times have
You heard someone say
If I had his money
I could do things my way
But little they know
That it's so hard to find
One rich man in ten
With a satisfied mind
NYT Articles of Interest
Perhaps this is Old Testament God coming back. Or, perhaps we've just horribly abused and violated our earth for the last two hundred years and are now paying the consequences lump-sum. In either case, it is clear to me that serious change is in order and that waiting simply isn't an option. If anybody is aware of movements or has contact with people fighting for emissions control and responsible business and agriculture practices, please feel free to post in the comments.
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/05/31/opinion/31blow.html
Interesting article in the times on bullfighting. I'd say it more or less captures the essence and ambiguity of bullfighting in Spain. Long, but worth at least reading the first 2 or 3 pages.
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/05/31/opinion/31blow.html
Interesting article in the times on bullfighting. I'd say it more or less captures the essence and ambiguity of bullfighting in Spain. Long, but worth at least reading the first 2 or 3 pages.
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