Espana

                Traveling on no sleep is starting to no longer faze me.  After an hour cat nap, Jenna and I met in the lobby to head to Spain.  We stopped at the hostel down the road to print off our boarding passes, and then began the slew of public transportation.  A London night bus to Baker Street, to catch another bus to Luton Airport where we were scheduled to fly to Spain.  Jenna was puking in the alley while waiting for bus number two, making the journey all the more fun. 

on the beach

                We arrived at the airport slightly frazzled, got our boarding passes stamped, walked through the airport, waiting in line for security, and they scanned out passes as we were about to continue, there was an odd beeping noise.  We were stopped. We had the wrong boarding passes. The ones in our hands were for the return trip from Spain to London.  Now panicked, we half ran half jogged back to the check in desk, where the representative told us she should have checked more carefully, and it would now cost us FORTY POUNDS (approx. 65 DOLLARS) to reprint our correct boarding passes.  Outraged, but left with no other choice, we were then directed to another line to pay.  

                With time ticking, we needed to pay this ridiculous fee, get out new boarding passes stamped from a different line, race through the airport, wait again at security, get through security, run to the correct terminal and make our plane.  Now, legitimately worried we might miss our flight, and be charged an additional 100 pound fee (165 dollars).  We begged people to let us cut them in line.  Now sprinting through the airport with the correct documents, we made it to security. 

                Of course, the gate we need to go to is the furthest from where we are.  We are now full out running through the airport when my backpack rips open and all of my belongings spill everywhere.  Sometimes people really give me hope.  With my stuff everywhere, and clearly in a hurry, people quickly helped me gather my things and I shoved them back into my backpack while running.  Now I’m carrying my backpack because it was packed so tightly I can’t re zip it without stopping.  We finally make it to our plane panting and sweating, but we are on our way to Spain!

the market

                Absolutely exhausted from our lovely run through the airport and going on about an hour of sleep, we are ready to sleep the whole way there. I put my headphones on, and get ready to sleep.  Unfortunately the group of ten, 30-45 year old men on some type of guy’s trip who are already drunk at eight o’clock in the morning are screaming to each other.  I can hear every word of their conversation with my headphones on. Awesome. We are sleep deprived, hungry, and cranky, and these guys aren’t helping.  Finally the girl next to us asks them politely to keep it down.  It works for about thirty seconds and the noise starts up again.  She asks again, and the men start cussing her out. Jenna and I back her up saying they are being rude, disrespectful, and inconsiderate.  The plane lands, and we still haven’t slept.

                Too excited to care about our lack of sleep, we are ecstatic to be in the warmth of the sun.  We buy our bus tickets to Barcelona, and an hour and a half later we depart. Ravenously hungry, but extremely content, I board with a smile.  We arrive in Barcelona, and walk through the city and make our way to a café for lunch.  After a good meal and learning a few new words in Spanish, we head to our hotel. 

our wonderful view

                Located right in the middle of La Rambla our room was like a Cinderella room.  Ridiculously tiny and when you opened the window you saw a creepy old back alley.  Still too excited to care, we unpacked and went out in our swimsuits and dresses.  We saw the ancient Roman defense walls throughout the city, and walked through this amazing market.  Everything you can imagine was there-fresh produce, meat, una banderia; it was hands down my favorite part of the entire city. 

                We bought some fresh pineapple and watermelon to eat on the walk to the beach.  We meandered past the beautiful sailboats, and the street performers dressed like statues.  I was craving a pina colada, and vowed to have one before I left Spain.  We laid out on the beach all day, and at five we made our way back to the hotel.  Showered, and freshened up, we walked around La Rambla, taking it all in.  There were these amazing breakdancers on the street who were not only incredibly well built, but phenomenal dancers.  We watched their routine two or three times before we moved on.  We settled on the Hard Rock Café for dinner mainly because we were extremely hungry, and didn’t want to wander around more trying to find a more local place for dinner. I ordered my pina colada, and settled on fajitas for dinner, which was excellent.

 

                Exhausted we walked back to the hotel and crashed.  We woke up still tired, but determined to do some sight seeing, we headed out.  We saw two different gothic cathedrals, and visited the market again for some fresh fruit.  Jenna already looked like a lobster so we bought some sunscreen too.  As we walked around we saw some really good musicians and live bands playing.  The rest of the afternoon was spent lying on the beach, soaking up the sun, and just loving life!

                The people watching was great too.  We saw a guy practicing his juggling skills on the beach.  There were a group of older ladies laying out topless who thought they were lookin good.  We were a little hungry and decided tapas would be a good choice for an evening snack.  I even tried the fish kind and liked them!

                Our big splurge for the trip was a dinner and a show to see the flamenco dancers.  It cost us a wooping forty five euros each, (65 dollars).  We got dressed up in the nicest clothes we brought with us, and headed across town. 

tuna salad

paella mariscos

  We arrived and were seated; upon arrival we were given a pitcher of sangria to share.  We chatted and enjoyed our drink, and the salad was served.  Covered in tuna. I hate tuna. Also most seafood. Tuna isn’t something you can just pick out either, the lettuce soaks up the juice and the taste is on everything. I tried picking at it, but gave up.  I pushed my salad to the side, comforting myself with the thought of authentic paella that was to come. 

                There are two different kinds of paella. Paella mariscos which is the seafood version, and paella vallencia, the type that has chicken in it.  Obviously, I like the kind with chicken.  On the advertisement we saw before we booked this night, it did not specify which type of paella would be served, so I (dumbly) assumed we would have an option.  We didn’t.  Paella mariscos was served with clams, lobster claws and all.  I had a few bites of rice.  The dancing aspect of the show was incredible. It reminded me of stepping only with latin influences.  

                Five thirty am comes awfully early, and so we fell asleep early to catch our bus to the airport.  We checked in and everything went smoothly. Thank God.

thank you

How do you thank someone for giving you more time with your wife? How about your mom? The simple answer is you can’t.  But I saw something the other day that really got me thinking.

 Extreme Makeover: Home Edition  has been a family favorite for several years now.  We watch together typically on Sundays, and all bask in the warm fuzzy feelings you get from watching people have their lives changed (even if it can be a little cheesy at times).  One episode in particular really touched me. 

A family with three children: twins age five, and a two-year old, were given tragic news.  Colon cancer. Their mother was going to die; it was just a matter of how long and the quality of life she had during it.  The mom was a school teacher, she taught third grade.  The father was constantly worried about his wife’s detriiating health, mounting medical bills, and that dreaded thought in the back of his mind-what happens when I become a single dad?  His wife’s strength through this all is beyond impressive.  She would go from the worst days, stuck in the bathroom vomiting constantly, to going to work-and hoping to leave a lasting impression among both her kids at school and her own children at home. 

Anyone who is familiar with the show knows that Ty Pennington and crew comes in and builds the family a new home in a week while the family goes on vacation.  That in and of itself is impressive, but on this particular episode CVS also donated $100,000 for her medical bills. 

The expressions on the parents faces were indescribable. The dad would no longer have to spend time up at night worrying about how they would pay for his wife’s medicines.  The little twin girls would get to build more memories with their mother-being soothed after skinning their knees, and lots of hugs to go around. 

There is no cure for cancer, and I guess maybe this post is a little cheesy, but their story touched me.  The mother’s choice of strength over fear.  Choosing how she would live her final days instead of worrying about what would happen after she was gone.  Making memories with her children.  It was inspiring.  The look of relief on her face when given that news was truly remarkable. 

Ready for Home

“If you go on vacation too long, it’s no longer fun, it’s no longer vacation,” these words of wisdom were told to me by my momma yesterday.  She hit the nail on the head. I have absolutely loved my experience here, but I am just ready to go home. 

I have felt bad the past few days as my other American friends here are dreading going home, wishing, hoping the volcanic ash from Iceland prevents us from getting home.  I can’t wait to get on that plane. I wish I could have gone home last week. My classes are finished and I have spent all my money while traveling in Europe. Broke and homesick, I’m ready to be in the comfort of my own country.

Since I have been slacking in a major way concerning blogging, I have a goal (well one of many) for the summer-to blog about every place I went to.  I have been avid in my journaling even though my blogging has been lacking.  So I wil review my journal and my pictures and blog about every place I went to these past few months.

 

The prospect of packing and cleaning my room awaits me; the packing I don’t mind, but the cleaning is worth procrastinating.  Trying to figure out what to bring home and what to trash goes against my Polish nature. I want to save everything, probably because I’m poor and know how much it costs to replace, but having an overweight bag is a fee I don’t care to pay.

I have a countdown on a scrap of paper next to my computer, everyday I scratch out the last number and excitedly write down what today’s number is. Today is SIX! Six more days! 

Well I have check out paperwork to fill out and print; plus, that awesome chore of cleaning is awaiting me.  (Trying to clean the floor without a broom or mop is going to be my least favorite job) God Bless 

Ireland

March 3-6, 2011

                 Racing to a bus, suitcases dragging along behind us, Jenna and I half ran, half walked to the unmarked bus stop on the way to the Stanstead Airport.  We made it with a few minutes to spare, and boarded.  I am not one to get motion sickness pretty much ever.  I grew up boating, and roller coasters give me a rush; however, I have rarely felt more nauseous as I did on that bus ride.  A miserable ninety minutes later we arrived and checked into Ryan Air and waited to board. 

                We took off for Dublin, and after a short flight and a pleasant conversation with the Irishman next to us, we were in the land of Guinness.  We had yet another ninety minutes to wait until the bus came to pick us up to bring us to the hostel.  After staring at some cute Rugby men, we took off to find our bus stop.  We boarded yet again, and took off through the city.  On our way through the city, we saw a 20-something year old get the crap kicked out of him by what looked like a boy no older than 12.  His face was a bloody mess, and the kid was chasing him down the street.  “Welcome to Dublin,” our tourguide announced.  Wow. This is going to be interesting. 

                By nine o’clock we were hungry and tired from a day of traveling, and per the recommendation of our bus driver, we walked up the street to O’Sheas, a traditional Irish pub.  I ordered the fish and chips, and a Coors Light.  I know, I know, I’m in Ireland, but I couldn’t help it.  It was the first time I had seen Coors Light on tap since I got to Europe, and it was the only non-Guinness beer I had all weekend.  As we were finishing our meal, we heard music in the other room.  Curiousity got the best of us, and we went over to the other side of the pub.  There was older couples (I’d guess around 45-65) doing something I can only describe as traditional Irish couples dancing.  It was amazing!

                Two different older men took me up to the makeshift stage to dance, it was probably the coolest experience I had in Dublin!  Around 12:30 am we headed back to the hostel, with the older couples still dancing away.  We set our alarms and passed out, exhausted from our day of travels.

                We woke in the morning and mapped out our day of sightseeing adventures and set out.  Trinity College was first up on our list; we walked around taking pictures, and thrilled by the sight of large areas of grass which are hard to find in London.   The infamous St. Patrick’s Cathedral was next up, and it was very pretty.  I’m finding out that the vast amounts of churches in Europe are starting to blur together.  Don’t get me wrong, Natre Dame will always stand out, but some of them are just starting to run together.  St. Patrick’s exterior was intimidating looking, like it should be in a horror movie.  There was just a foreboding sense to it, until you walked inside. 

                St. Stephen’s Green was absolutely incredible to walk through.  Jenna and I spent a long time wandering through the park, taking picture after picture, and just taking in the nature that surrounded us.  It was stunning.

                For lunch we stumbled into a mall, and got some sandwiches.  We rested our legs and then headed to our next stop.  Christ Church and the Dublin Castle we walked through, and saw some ancient remains in the basement.  There was a cool, eerie feeling in the air as we examined the old ruins. 

                That night we went on a pub crawl, and I ended up feeling kind of ripped off.  We were promised free shots at every bar we went to, and special discounted drinks at each bar as well.  Well we only got 2 free shots and the only special drink prices we received was whatever was already on special at the bar.  At this point, I’m starting to get used to ridiculously overpriced drinks, ad we went from pub to pub to end up at a club.  We entered feeling under dressed, and dumped our coats in a pile making a circle around them.  We were trying to dance have a good time but the unfamiliar music and overall feeling of not quite fiting in made us wary.  Then the beyond intoxicated, obnoxious men began to creep in the background.  Slowly at first, but making their way around us, hands groping, we quickly made it clear we were not interested.  The pattern began; they would saunter away only to return within the next song, stumbling and groping.  After about three cycles of this behavior, I got fed up and found a bouncer. 

                “I don’t know what type of behaviour is considered acceptable here, but when men grope women multiple times after their advances have clearly been declined, we consider that beyond inappropriate,” I told the bouncer.  He immediately knew what group of men I was referring to, and promised to take care of the situation.  The whole ordeal left us all feeling uncomfortable so we opted to leave earlier than planned.  Jenna and I made our way back to the hostel and crashed. 

                We slept in on Saturday, and decided to live it up while we were in Ireland.  We headed to the Guinness factory to tour the facility and drink some of that famous Irish beer straight from the tap.  Jenna learned how to pour that perfect pint, and we both got to try the beer.  I have to admit, the Guinness in Ireland in general did taste different than the stuff from home.  I was told this is because Guinness’ taste is affected by how often the flow of beer goes through the lines of the keg.  Apparently they waste something like three pints every morning bleeding off the lines to get the taste right.  After our tour, I tried the Guinness Foreign Stout, a flavor not available in America. 

                From there we walked to the Jameson Distillery with a little bit of a buzz.  Here there was a guided tour complete with videos demonstrating the various processes.  I had a little bit of insider information from someone we met the night before, and was told to immediately volunteer at the begingin of the tour.  I did so, and was selected to do a taste test of three different whiskeys at the end of the tour.  We went through all the phases of the distilling process, and made it to the end.  I was able to try Johnnie Walker Black, a Scotish whiskey, Jameson’s, and Jack Daniel’s.  Now Jack is only distilled once, wheras Jammeson’s is distilled three times for a smoother flavor.  I found the smokey, woodsy tast of Johnnie Walker Black unpleasant, and although Jammeson’s was fantastic, I still love my Jack. 

                By this time, Jenna and I were beyond hungry, and we made our way to one of the pubs we were at the night before for dinner.  We had seen a group of guys with wings, and decided we had to try them.  We ordered our first plate with some beers, and devoured them.  We sat there for a little while, and then decided we wanted anther plate.  The wings were not like the ones from home, the chickens definitely weren’t on the usual steriods because the wings were rather small, and although they weren’t quite hot enough for my liking, I give my approval for them on an overall basis. 

                Now stuffed, we headed back to the hostel to drop off our souvenirs from the day.  We freshened up for the night and pre-gamed with a bottle of wine.  Looking as cute as we could with the clothes we brought, we headed out to a bar our waitress told us about.  We again felt completely underdressed, and were afraid we wouldn’t get in.  The bouncers were kind to us, and we made it in.  The interior was filled with beautiful women in dresses and heels, but there was a patio outside that had a football (translation soccer) match on where the people were more casual.  There was a group of guys we chatted with for about two hours, and then we decided to go to Temple Bar.

                Temple Bar is the hip area to be in apparently.  We went to a pub, had an overpriced drink, and hung out for a little bit.  Around 2:30 am we went back to the hostel, for about two hours of sleep before we had to get up to catch our flight back to London.  Little sleep and being hungover was not a good combination for an airport, and unfortunately the ariport in Dublin was nothing like the airports at home.  There was one little deli style shop with nothing I care to eat in it.  I was joking with Jenna and was rambling off all the things I would do for Taco Bell.  We finally were able to board our flight after hours of waiting, and went back to London, exhausted but exhilarated.