Since I am really behind on the blog, and I am going to have a couple of exciting weeks in Morocco, I should catch you up with my weekend in the west about a month ago before I forget about all the details-the highs and the lows...
So as everyone back in the US is enjoying a week of fall break this semester, I only had a few days, and luckily my only Friday professor even extended our vacation since the class is full of Americans who just want to travel. Anyway, for Eid (which is a Muslim holiday that a lot of people explained to me as similar to American thanksgiving, except with sheep-not turkies), some friends and I decided we wanted to go to Spain, specifically Barcelona, mainly because that was the easiest, cheapest flight to our neighbors to the north here in Morocco that didn't require a connection. Plus, sangria....We made our way to Fez early on Friday morning, sitting in the airport for quite a bit of time, but my inner-control freak didn't mind being early versus late. Typical airport activities ensued-coffee for breakfast (because we were planning on our first AMERICAN meal since leaving the states at the Hard Rock Cafe once we got to Barcelona), security, passport control, etc. (AKA stuff that has gotten monotonous after travelling so much). BUT we got on our Veuling flight for Barcelona, which I was expecting to be much worse than what it was because it's budget. It just really goes to prove how easy and cheap transportation is when you're outside of the US. I had the pprivilegeof being responsible for everyone on the plane in case of an emergency, something I was thrilled about, but I'm sure if the rest of the passengers were better acquainted with me, they would be mortally terrified. But, hey, I'm still here writing this for your entertainment and my memories, so apparently everything went fine.
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| 'Dat leg room... |
I finally realized that I was going back to the west when I saw a cruise ship in the Mediterranean out of the window. The European tourist expeditions finally weren't playing into orientalist, exotic wanderlusts.
It was a new world when I finally got off the plane. We actually had a little bridge thingy leading to the airport rather than walking straight out onto the runway, because that happens even if you aren't the President of Secretary of State in other parts of the world-shocker to me when I had initially landed in Casablanca back in August. We hailed a cab, which was much easier than I thought it would be-of course, probably because I have been doing it in Morocco for so long, where you have to negotiate prices and try communicating in three broken languages. Luckily, these driver knew enough English and had a GPS to get us as close to our apartment as possible.
We had rented an apartment in the Gothic Quarter of Barcelona from a quaint little service called AirBnB, which I would suggest to anyone planning on traveling. We were suppose to meet the guy's friend, Gina, who we had to wait for and call Juan-Pablo (the dude with the apartment). But when we finally got in, it seemed like the perfect place to stay in Barcelona. There was only a slight problem with working the lock once, but besides that, perfect. It was tucked back in some back streets, and had balconies throughout the apartment, giving a modern day view of life set in old world architecture. Literally, my natural habitat. I know, my natural habitat is actually SWVA, but let's not be too technical here, perhaps in a past life...I also apologize in advance for the pictures. I am a complete spaz sometimes, and was looking forward to such a wonderful weekend that I completely forgot to pack my normal camera lens and SD card, so I was forced to resort to my iPhone for pictures...
Anyway, we eventually left for the Hard Rock, and I had the best meal of my life. It was great to finally be back in the west. It may have been so good because all I had since the night before was my cup of qahwa at the airport, and I was starving. After having my first bacon in over a month and three very strong mini margaritas (to support breast cancer research, of course), we made our way to the H&M on Las Ramblas because my motto is that it is impossible to go to Europe without going to at least one. If you have, it doesn't really count.
Continuing down the street, we came across La Bouqeria, the oldest open air market in Barcelona, and one of the oldest in Europe. Since it was kind of late, there wasn't much left, plus I had just gorged myself at Hard Rock. I really don't think anyone can beat that little bit of western indulgence after being out of the US for a month-if you're ever feeling homesick abroad, just hit one up. You'll feel like a tourist, but overly satisfied afterward. We decided to go back the next morning, and cut over onto a side street, planning just to explore on the way back to Juan-Pablo's. However, we ended up in a cute little square, which was filled with old Europeans on holiday. We saw a line for a flamenco show that we decided to go to, but the show we could get into wouldn't be for another hour, so we swung back around the corner and got gelato because we were out of Ifrane, off of AUI, and needed to indulge our food poisoned systems. Then, we sat down at a sidewalk cafe and ordered our first Spanish sangrias, where my friend got an extra, free shot of vermouth in her churros con chocolate. How can you hate a place that just throws some free alcohol into your cup of melted chocolate?
The flamenco was cool, but definitely a tourist trap. I was pretty sure that at a couple of points, the performers weren't even saying words, just mumbling. But the dancer was amazing. The show couldn't have lasted more than 30 or 45 minutes, but I was definitely glad that I got to experience it.
That was about it for the night besides scoping out more of the city's side streets on the way back to the apartment. Just about half an afternoon and one night in, and I had already fallen in love with Barcelona. It reminded me of so many different European cities I have been to, and would for the next couple of days. Too bad I don't speak Spanish or Catalan... However, I did get to experience just a little bit of what I'm sure will come full force in December when I go back to America for a few weeks before heading back to Europe: reverse culture shock. I've already been warned by Roanoke as well as ISEP to expect this upon going back home, but I really didn't expect it. I guess it's because when I have been abroad before, it has only been for 3 weeks at a time, and in largely westernized areas, even Central Europe. But I was shocked by the old world, gothic style of the city, the people, the free-flowing alcohol, couples on the corner making out, etc. Things that I hadn't been accustomed to for about a month. Not that I am upset or don't like Morocco, I really love it, and know I will miss it, but it was nice to experience the west for just a weekend. Anyway, my sappy sentiments will be saved for another blog closer to Thanksgiving or leaving Morocco...
The next morning, the plan was to have some more western indulgence, and hit up a Starbucks. Sadly, there weren't any PSLs (Pumpkin Spice Lattes for anyone who has been living under a huge pile of fallen leaves in America for the last few autumns), but I GOT A BAGEL. It was magical, and I don't want to relive it because it will make me sad in bagel-lacking Ifrane... But here's a picture because I am basic and Instagram my #Starbs.
Afterwards, we did some shopping in the square where we were hanging out before the flamenco the night before. I indulfed on some headbands, because that's what Emily does. Then, we went back to the apartment for lunch before heading out to see the major sites of the city. First on the stop after conquering the metro system was Parc Guell, the park designed by the famous Gaudi, where after ascending to heaven, and a couple stops in purgatory on the way, we got to take in the whole city, overlooking the Mediterranean, obviously reminding me of Sacre Couer in Paris after winding the streets to get to the entrance transported me back to Vienna this summer.
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| Rooney enjoyed the view too |
I also learned that barcelona is pretty annoying with tickets and time slots, and we couldn't get in to see the mosaics at the park for another two hours, so we decided to go back the next day bright and early to take in Gaudi's unique taste in architecture, although we still got to see some pretty amazing aspects of the park without forking over some euros.
Next, we went to La Sagrada Familia, but once again, we were going to have to wait in line for awhile to get tickets, and then be rushed through the church, so we decided to get tickets for the next day. Afterwards, we really didn't have any plans besides paella for dinner and obviously, sangria. So, we just walked around the neighborhood and came across the Passeig de Gracia, where another one of Gaudi's projects is located, the Batllo House. unfortunately, the outside was being reconstructed, but they had the awesome, fake outside covers up to give the illussion we were actually looking at it. Since there really weren't any other plans for the day, we decided to go in, a pricy tour of twenty euros, but it was definitely worth it just for the view at the top. Since it was late in the day, we had a gorgeous view of the sunset splashed behind the urban city rooftops. I could have spent the rest of the time up on the roof looking over the city until I got kicked out, but I am glad I went downstairs to see the rest of the home, as I felt like I had stepped back in time. Of course everything is atypical to the era because it's Gaudi, but I felt like I should be sipping martinis with the Crawleys during the 1920s. 
Since it was dark by the time we got out of the house, we decided it was time for dinner, so we took a metro over to the Mediterranean and found one of the many restaurants promising authentic Spanish food to tourists. After devouring some paella and tapas, which were too good to apparently take a picture of, we decided to check out a carnival on the boardwalk. Despite Ellen's valiant attempts to get us to go on a ride, which I would've been game for in the US, we settled on a Ferris wheel that gave its riders views of the city like we had at Parc Guell, but at night. When I looked behind me over the Mediterranean, there were a few yachts docked in the bay-something not particularly exciting, but definitely not something you can see everyday.
When we returned back to stable Spanish ground, we made our way over to the beach, where there were numerous juveniles hanging out being stupid teenagers and clouds of smoke from the weed. There was also some kind of rap concert going on, but I needed to stick my feet in the sea, so it was all ignored. Although it was completely dark, and I'm sure much more beautiful during the daylight, it was definitely a moment I'll never forget. After the sand of our feet for one last time, my friends and I went to wait by the restrooms for another friend when we were obviously approached for rolling papers. Why else would a bunch of American girls be at the beach at ten o'clock? Finally, our friend came back, and we made our way to the apartment to get ready to go out for the night. However, the day had taken a lot out of us, so we only stopped by one bar, but the discussion was nonetheless special. On the way home, we stopped at an Asian restaurant and got a late night meal, kind of like a Chipotle style carry-out, called Walk to Wok. My second day in Barcelona was just as wonderful as the evening before, and I was super excited for the next day. I was going to see more of the city, visit perhaps the most photographed spot in Barcelona, and visit a unique European cathedral (I have been to way too many churches in Europe...) It was going to be perfect.
**WARNING: EMILY RELIVES A REALLY TRAUMATIZING EXPERIENCE**
SO... I wake up the next day with a minor headache and my stomach a little bit upset. Just thinking it is side effects still from Friday's Hard Rock or even from my last meal at AUI. As it's no secret that I've been having the usual food poisoning that comes with living in a new area (or for that matter just eating at AUI) for about a month at this point, I didn't think anything about it, as mostly everyone has been sick, especially at this time. I get ready, and we leave as planned. As much as I wanted to join in on conversation all the way to our metro stop, my heart just wasn't in it, and I remained quiet. We got on our bus to Parc Guell to go see the mosaics more closely. What I can remember is that the bus was really crowded and I was getting warm. Before we could even get to the first stop, I felt that dreaded slosh in my stomach and immediately covered my mouth, sending fear into my friend, Ellen's face (poor thing was standing face to face with me, and remember the bus is crowded). Somehow, I made it out of the bus before vomming everywhere. Literally, puking is my least favorite thing ever. I hate it. I hate myself when I'm doing it. I will let you puke your guts out in order to avoid it at all costs. AND I"M IN BARCELONA!
After it happened, I was obviously embarrassed, but accepted it happened, and felt better, so we caught another bus up to Parc Guell to see the mosaics. I was good for awhile, even took a couple of pictures, but I was feeling much like I had earlier in the morning when I just couldn't bring myself to converse with everyone, so I sat on the bench a lot. Isn't that what you're suppose to do at Park Guell anyway?
We left the mosaic terrace and made our way down to the forest of pillars, where my body caught up to my personality, and I had to sit down. As I was sitting there, I started crying because I was so frustrated that I was feeling horrible in such a beautiful city, and it was just ruining the day. Of course, I was being kind of ridiculous, but I just wanted to enjoy the day, and my archenemy, vomming, was ruining it for me. As I was sitting there, my wonderful friends decided to take pictures of me, which I'm glad they did to help me remember the beautiful, glamorous moment I was in. Ellen, the nurse, also came and sat with me. She's actually a saint and can deal with puke (as well as moody Emily pissed off about not being able to be a tourist) a lot more than I could ever hope to. She told me basically to suck it up, but in a much nicer way, and as I was feeling better about my situation, we were going to get up to go see the rest of the park. |
| "The faces of theater" She actually punched me really hard and told me unicorns don't exist. |
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| I'm obviously such a happy individual |
But, my body became immobile, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't move and told her I could not stand up. Accepting this, she sat back down, and about a minute later the horrible slosh came back. Luckily, I could just lean over the side and vomm, since I was already off to the side. I still bet I am in countless photo albums on coffee tables and several tweets... But hey, can you say that you vommed all over Barf-elona? I'm sure Gaudi wasn't planning on that...
I was even more frustrated with myself, and Allison and Ellen had already told me it would be a good idea to go home instead of going to La Sagrada Familia. BUT I REALLY WANTED TO SEE IT!! I was so mad at myself, but of course, thankful for such caring friends. Since the metro was kind of far, and the first bus didn't end so well, Allison decided to take a taxi with me to the metro station while the others walked. I was confident that I could hold myself together for the cathedral, but when we got to the metro and walked over to some benches, it took all I had to keep whatever was left in me down. After some deep soul searching and talks with myself, I decided it would be best for me to go back and sleep so I wouldn't get more sick and dehydrated, and I wouldn't hold everyone else back. Allison said she would take me home, which she and Ellen did although I was worried about keeping it together on the metro. Somehow, we got back to the apartment, I can't really remember, but my wonderful friends set me up in my bed with fans blowing on me, opened the doors, ran to the store to get the only thing that makes me feel better in that situation: peppermint tea, and gave me their iPad passwords in case I got bored. Of course, I didn't and slept for who knows how long. I'm still really upset that I missed the cathedral, but now I have a reason to go back to Barcelona!
When everyone got back, we went our separate ways again. Allison, Ellen, and I tried to go to the Picasso Museum, but it closed while we were waiting in line. As they went to get churros, I was feeling sick again,so they were the wonderful caretakers they were before, and took me home, leaving me on the couch, where they would find me later.
When everyone got back, I was feeling slightly better, and we wanted to try a cute restaurant Allison and Ellen found. Of course since I was having a rather difficult day, I wanted to feel better, so I went to work on my appearance, probably a little bit too much for the occasion, but I wanted to go out with a bang for our last night in Barcelona. We went to the restaurant, which looked like an old wine cellar and had delicious food that made me never want to leave Spain (especially not to go back to AUI food). Even feeling iff-y all day, I still finished all of my spinach ravioli and sangria.
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| It has a flower. How can it not be good? |
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| The last dinner was perfect to finish the trip with, and I'm so glad I felt a little better |
"You will never be completely at home again, because part of your heart will always be elsewhere, That is the price you pay for the richness of loving and knowing people in more than one place."
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