Bialystock & Bloom

Let's rewind a month and pretend that it's July 12th...

Yes, I'm that far behind.

So much like the trip into London to see The Lion King, which was incidentally, right around the corner... we hopped on a bus sometime around 3:30 in the afternoon and headed into town to see The Producers.

I knew the basic premise of the play, but hadn't seen the recently released movie nor heard any of the music from the production. But Mel Brooks is almost legendary, and I'd heard good reviews, so I decided to go.

Once arriving we had time to eat dinner before the show. I wandered around with Jen and Addy for a little while before deciding to eat at the same restaurant where we had eaten dinner a few weeks earlier before seeing The Lion King. Put simply, we knew the food was good, and that it was decently priced, so it was a win-win situation.

After having a half roasted chicken a piece we made our way back to the theatre. I noticed the sign said Drury Lane, and was disappointed to find there were no shops or restaurants called "The Muffin Man." If I lived in London and were in the baking business, I would definitely want my shop to be "The Muffin Man" on Drury Lane. But enough with nursery rhymes.

This was another sign near the entrance that I thought was cool. Please forgive the obnoxious reflection of the plexiglass.

Show time was fast approaching so we made our way into the theatre and to our seats. Much like the Lyceum Theatre, the inside of the Theatre Royal was incredibly ornate.

And once again, much like when I went to see The Lion King, we had the cheap group seats on the balcony. Thankfully this time we were closer to the front of the balcony and not the very last row, but we were still significantly far away.

It was also rather warm where we were sitting, and when they passed out fans at intermission I don't think mine stopped waving for the rest of the show. But hey, free fan. Overall I enjoyed the show. I think there are a few instances where the humor just didn't quite click with me, but there were also other times when I and every one around me were laughing pretty hard. When Max Bialystock is in jail and sings Betrayed, there is a line about intermission and the cost of food at the theatre that was so funny and so well done I almost died.

On the way out I grabbed a program and we all headed towards the bus. Thankfully we didn't have to cross the street this time, because stopping traffic last time just wasn't fun. Within a few minutes we were on our way back to campus along what had become a very familiar route. I was gearing up to write my paper within the next week so I tried to read, but I'm pretty sure I slept the entire way home.

Madrid

Once leaving Pamplona, our journey continued southward to the capital city of Madrid. Much like on the bus ride to Pamplona, we took a half hour break or so at a rest stop in the middle of no where. Unlike the day before, this place was rather small, but it served its purpose.

As a side note, I heard lots of Celine Dion on the radio on the bus ride. Apparently she's big in Spain. And mullets. For you mullet fans, the mullet is alive and well in Spain. Funny how I grouped those two things together. Moving on.

It was mid afternoon when we made it to Madrid, and once inside the station we proceeded to the metro... which was really cheap... and then on to our hostel. We checked in, immediately dropped our bags and headed straight for the shower. We both took rather long showers, but it felt so good to be clean.

After drying off and getting settled I was hungry. Sarah had her heart set on paella, so we ventured forth in search of a decently priced restaurant. We stopped at a few shops, and noticed several post cards, statues, and other random collectibles of a statue of a bear eating out of a tree. As it turns out, El Oso is the symbol of Madrid, much like grapes are to Lodi. The bear must be the city seal because I saw it on pretty much everything. Man hole covers, public garbage cans, the tops of signs... everywhere. It started a whole day and a half of bear sightings.

I know it's nothing impressive, but I found it amusing.

Eventually we passed through Puerta del Sol, where incidentally, we came across El Oso y el Madroño. With how large the post cards made it look, we expected it to be bigger. But it's obviously very popular and I snapped quite a few shots.
And then around from the other side, over looking the Puerta. A few streets down in this sort of outdoor mall we found our restaurant and ate paella. It was good, but I prefer tappas.

Next on the list was finding a place to watch the World Cup Final. We came across a place with a big screen TV, ordered a few cokes that came in these cute little glass bottles, and sat and watched the game. The crowd was pretty pro-Italian... I guess no one likes the French. I didn't care who won, I just wanted a good game. Sarah used to play, and then was a referee for a few years, so it was great to have her commentary. Especially since the television commentary was in Spanish. I don't know if you've ever listened to soccer commentary, but it's pretty quick, at least this side of the Atlantic. And then put it in a foreign language. I tried to keep up, but really... it wasn't happening.

After the game we headed back to our hostel, and saw a few people in the streets celebrating Italy's victory. I'm loving the painted face.
Once back at our hostel we basically went straight to bed. Not sleeping the night before in Pamplona had taken its toll, and any sleep we'd gotten on the bus wasn't the most restful. The next morning we checked out and then tried to decide where to go first. I never really had time to research Madrid, and we were basically playing it by ear. All we knew was when we had to be to the airport and how to get there. And so we started walking, luggage and all.

Just so I don’t confuse you, I’ve thrown in a map for good measure. Keep in mind that this is significantly cropped and probably only covers about 1/8th of the city. Yep, Madrid is big.
We walked through Puerta del Sol and down to the Plaza de Cánovas del Castillo.
Here is Neptune, or King Triton as Sarah so eloquently called him. We're the UCSD Tritons, so I guess we should have some school pride. We crossed 8 lanes of traffic to get pictures, and were basically walking in flower beds around it to stay off the street. Hey kids, don't try this at home. We saw several fountains... they like fountains in Madrid. Basically at major or even minor intersections they create a plaza and a round about, around a fountain. Or a statue... but usually a fountain.

Sometime after Neptune we made a left and walked by el Museo del Prado, that currently has a Picasso exhibit on. Due to time constraints, we didn't go in. I know, I know, I'm horrible and I missed out on some amazing art and culture. Forgive me for wanting to see more of Madrid.
And just in case you miss those large orange signs, we have...We then saw a Church under construction that I believe was la Iglesia de los Jeronimos. The inside of the Church was nice, but it was nothing compared to the tower outside. Of course, the tower was covered in scaffolding. Next was el Museo de Ejercito and la Plaza de la Lealtad.

Following the fountains we walked down el Paseo del Prado and saw the Robert Indiana outdoor exhibit. The sad part was that someone decided to tag the pieces, so most of them had at least some graffiti.
Once again, although it's obvious I didn't take this... my apologies for the over exposure. The sad thing is that this is under exposed. I guess it's just bright every where in Spain. Among other things we passed the Plaza de Cibeles with the Palacio de Comunicaciones as well as a fountain of Cibeles in a chariot. Cibeles herself...And then Cibeles with el Palacio de Comunicaciones as the back drop. Impressive building isn't it?

Are all the Plaza's confusing you yet? Thought so. Don't worry, there's more. In this Plaza there is also el Banco de España and the headquarters of the Spanish Army. For the record, they wear very funny plastic looking hats. Think black Devo beehives with a flat brim in the back. It was something straight out of lego land.

We then continued down Paseo de Recoletos which is a tiled pedestrian walkway in the middle of several lanes of traffic. It's also flanked by more fountains and trees.

Next came la Plaza de Colón, where there were, not surprisingly, more fountains and a statue of Christopher Columbus. There was also a large Spanish flag, and we spent forever trying to get a shot of it unfurled in the wind. It took quite a few takes I must say.I know the flag isn't blowing in the wind here, but I wanted to give you an over all feeling for la Plaza from across the street. The statue of Columbus is to the right, with the fountains in front. Beneath la Plaza is the Centro Cultural de la Villa, hence the sign. But oh look... flag.

There were also interesting modern block sculptures behind the statue of Columbus with some great quotes carved into the stone. Thanks to Wikipedia, I know that these were designed by Joaquín Vaquero Turcios.
It was also ridiculously hot. When we finally made it to a subway for food, I finished the large drink so quickly I wondered where it had gone. Think 32 ounces in about 5 minutes.

After lunch we back tracked down the Paseo de Recoletos to the Plaza de Cibeles before turning onto the Calle de Alcalá which incidentally runs into the Puerta de Alcalá. Hey, at least it makes sense right? We then entered el Parque del Buen Retiro, our final destination for the day. Inside the park is the Estanque del Retiro, a large man made lake complete with cat fish, koi, and a statue of Alfonso XII. Who is he? I don't really know.

But according to whoever cast this statue, he looks like the guy on horseback...I had a package of cookies in my bag, and the ducks looked to be pretty hungry, so we decided to feed them. The problem was that the cookies had chocolate between them and had already significantly melted. We didn’t think chocolate was good for birds, so we took out the cookies, licked off the chocolate, and then threw the cookies in the water. I think one made it in chocolate and all, but the ducks didn’t seem to mind. Neither did the fish. It was good fun for about 5 minutes or so.
Next came el Palacio de Cristal, this gorgeous building that I guess was inspired by the once standing Crystal Palace in London.
For obvious reasons, I absolutely loved this building. And the refraction up close was simply beautiful. To be honest, I don't know why the sky is purple. I think I confused my camera.

Even the floor is reflective, and for some reason they had this really cool idea to let people inside. You walk up the front steps and this lady hands you a pair of socks for free, so that you can walk around inside. Unfortunately, you're not supposed to take pictures. Supposed to being the key phrase.

Of course, the only one I could sneak was while hiding behind a pillar and you can't see any of the reflected or refracted light... but it really was beautiful inside.

This is going to sound horribly non-descriptive, but from that point on we really just saw more statues, gardens, and fountains. The only two notable items would be El Angel Caído which I guess is the only statue in the world to honor Lucifer the fallen angel, and the rose garden towards the exit.

I'm glad we saw the rose garden. I think it's safe to say that it is the largest I have seen while here so far, and it was adorable. I have quite a few pictures because it was so darn cute, but I'll limit it to two because I know some of you really have no interest in seeing more flowers.
Eventually it was time to hop the metro to the airport in order to catch our flight home for some much needed rest.
This shot would be perfect if it weren't for the guys head. Anyway...

To be honest, I think if I'd done a little more research I might have enjoyed Madrid more. I liked what we saw, but I think the city had more to offer that we didn't get to see. The time constraint certainly took its toll. But even if we'd been there longer, I don't think I could have loved it near as much as I did Barcelona.

Not even close...

Pamplona

I think it's best that I preface this post by saying that I'm going to try to give Pamplona the benefit of the doubt, and acknowledge the fact that I was so excited to be going to la Fiesta de San Fermin that I set myself up to be disappointed, and quite honestly, disgusted.

Before boarding our bus, which was late, we ended up talking to a few of the people in the crowd looking for information. There was confusion about which bus was ours and eventually, why our bus hadn't arrived. One of the guys who knew what was going on had lived in Barcelona all his life, and had been to Pamplona a few times for the festival. He told us with a sort of smirk on his face that Pamplona was much different than Barcelona, especially now. I expected difference, and so I thought nothing of it.

After about 4 hours on the bus, we stopped at a large gas station, that I would equate with a truck stop. Coaches were parked pretty much every where. There was a decent sized diner with bathrooms, and more vending machines than you could shake a stick at. On the road to Pamplona, this seems to be the place to stop. I noticed that many of the people there were either dressed in white, or wearing a red scarf. Like a little kid I pointed them out to Sarah because I knew they had come back from the festival. We were getting closer, and I was anxious to be there.

While waiting to leave I ended up sitting by a group of people that were clearly on their way back. I started up a conversation and asked them how the festival was. To my surprise I got shoulder shrugs and non-enthusiastic replies. "It's all right" would basically sum it up. I wanted to know why, but instead we started talking about where we were all from and shortly thereafter I had to board my bus.

I tried to figure out why all those people hadn't been ecstatic, or at least somewhat thrilled. It didn't make any sense to me, and so I dismissed it, thinking something must have gone wrong for them, or that they just hadn't understood what was happening.

I on the other hand had done my research. I knew where we could leave our luggage for the night, I'd read up on the customs and history, and I understood more about the festival than most tourists who show up every year. I'd read Hemingway and a book written more recently by an American who has run in several encierros. I liked the more modern perspective that was full of information, and I thought I had a more realistic picture of what to expect when I arrived.

When our bus finally pulled into town we passed a carnival in the park that was crawling with people. Really, everything was crawling with people. The streets were awash in red and white, and we were only on the outskirts of the festival.

Sarah and I found ourselves a map and made it to Plaza San Francisco where we could check in our luggage. Not wanting to feel left out, we changed into our traditional white skirts and shirts, and were ready to go. Music was everywhere, and we had already been passed by a few of las Peñas waving their banners and singing the songs that only they know.
We hadn't been free of our bags for long when two guys started talking to us. They seemed nice enough at first, but when they asked if we wanted to follow them around, I'd had enough. We left them in la Plaza San Francisco to go buy our red. Neck ties are the most popular, but both Sarah and I wanted scarves, and we found ones we liked for a decent price. I thought I might buy a neck tie later, but never really found one I liked. A few hours later, we got a picture of the two of us all decked out.. Sarah and I in our white and red, standing in the main plaza.

We wandered the streets, past street vendors and performers, and eventually began to look for a place to eat. As easy as this sounds, it wasn't. Think of what would happen if you crammed the entire population of Lodi into downtown. Got the visual? There were so many people that it was impossible to walk, a feat made even more difficult by the streets. They were, putting it nicely, repugnant. There are no garbage cans, so people throw all their garbage on the streets. In addition, I've never seen so many people so drunk and still walking. They would spill their drinks all over the place, and public urination was not uncommon. We were effectively walking in grime and filth... in flip flops and good white skirts. Worst idea ever.

Unfortunately we ran into the same two men we'd seen before, and when they offered to show us a place to eat, Sarah accepted. They made me uncomfortable, and I avoided them as much as possible. I had no interest in associating with them period, let alone following them around town or dancing with them which was their suggestion after we ate. As soon as I saw my chance to get away, I took off into the crowd so that Sarah would follow me and we could escape. That stretch of an hour seemed like much longer, and I was glad to be free of them. And honestly, with the thousands of people there, the odds of us running into the second time were so slim I don't even know how we managed.

We spent some time in the main square, and saw part of the concert that was on for the night. These were the decorations above the main Plaza. Those angel looking characters represent San Fermin, the patron saint of the city and the whole reason for the celebration.

This shot would be infinitely cooler if the dolphin balloon weren't blocking the guitarist's head. But I still like the lights...

After a while we found a clean, dry bench to sit on towards the back of the Plaza, and ended up talking with a few pretty cool people. I met this guy named Alex, who went to the University of Granada but is originally from Argentina. Between his English and my Spanish we managed to have a pretty good conversation, and I was glad to have met him.

We then wandered the streets for a while, trying our best to stay clean. It's safe to say that I carried my skirt the entire night. We avoided the main square, and tried to avoid the busy streets. This was a mostly futile attempt, but sometimes we managed.

We came across some pretty interesting people, and sometimes, some pretty funny things. This guy decided to climb whatever statue this was, and was soon leading the accumulating crowd in a chant. The chant became a song, but it was interrupted by...People bowling! I don't know where they found the shopping cart, but they'd push it down hill, through the crowd, right into the wall with a very loud smash. It was funny at the time, but I'm sure it hurt in the morning. And it wasn't just one person, it continued for a while with different people taking turns. Crazy...

The night felt pretty long, and at about 4:30 am I picked the spot where I wanted to be for the run. I'd decided to set up towards the beginning of the run, where the bulls have to make a sharp right hand turn onto Calle Estefata. The bulls usually slip and run into the fence. It's also a common place for pile ups as the street narrows, and I figured that I was only going to do this once so I'd better pick a good place.

Standing in one spot doesn't seem to be the best idea, because more people that you don't want to talk to, stop and strike up conversation. Sarah and I had more than one group of guys decide we were easy prey, and they would introduce themselves briefly before asking us where our boyfriends were. Sarah and I may be single, but we both had boyfriends that night. I even moved one of my rings over to my left hand in hopes of deterring future inquiries.

Around 5:30 a truck pulled up and the crowd went insane. They rocked the truck so hard I thought they were going to knock it over. I'm not sure why they decided to stop, but eventually several workers began to construct the barrier for the running. They started with the outside barrier, and then moved to the inside barrier. I'd read about this, and unlike most everyone else, I knew that the outside barrier was for spectators.

I felt pretty bad for the men who had to put the fences up, and it seemed obvious that they were tired of dealing with drunk people. I was tired of dealing with drunk people and I'd only been there a few hours. They also constructed a tower to be used to overlook the run. We thought it was a media tower, but none of the photographers used it, and I don't think the television news crews could even get a camera up there.

As the fence started to take shape, people started to get pushy. I wanted a spot on the fence, but wasn't sure if I was going to get it. There was a group of guys that had been there since around the same time, and I figured they would take it all. But as the last plank went up, one of them tapped the fence in front of me and told me it was mine. I was pretty happy, but as everyone climbed up and sat down there wasn't enough room for me to get my legs over in my skirt. Like I said... worst idea ever. I was pretty mad at myself for wearing it from that point on.

Sarah left around 6am to get to the bus station in order to buy our tickets out. She'd had enough of the people, and really just wanted to leave. I couldn't blame her, but we couldn't get out of the city until about 10am.

Around 6:3o or so it got ugly. In order to clean the filth off the streets for the run, they flood them. That's right, flood. And water of course runs down hill. My luck being what it was, I was standing down hill. I clutched the fence while holding my skirt as best possible for a good half an hour. I bruised my forearms, but managed to stay clean... until someone decided to kick water everywhere and someone spilled beer all over me. It later took me a good half hour to get the stains out of my skirt.

As the sun came up the excitement began to build. I met a few girls who had been there since the beginning of the festival. One of them lived in Pamplona, and the other was from Florida, but they'd known each other since they were kids. They had some food with them that they were kind enough to share. We ate our modest breakfast and watched the people gather on the balconies above. A little after 7 the police showed up and began to clear out the space between the inside and outside barriers. The inside barrier is reserved for the runners when they have to escape, as well as for the police, medics, and media. The police are pushy, and as people begin to realize that they've lost their fabulous view, they want yours. Someone actually grabbed me around the waste and tried to pull me off the fence. He got kicked. They also rocked the fence and many of the people sitting on top almost fell. The guy to my right had been sitting on the post between the fence and the gate since 4:30am and he deserved to be there. As I found out, all the guys to my left were his friends, and they were all holding onto each other trying to keep their balance. I steadied the guy to my right and his friend on my left, until the crowd calmed down.

I managed to keep my spot on the fence, but couldn't climb up because there was no room. As a reward for helping them all out, the guy to my left grabbed my bag and he and his friend pulled me up. The police wouldn't let us sit, so we stood, with our shoulders leaning over the fence in the best hamstring stretch of your life.

My feet and the feet of the guy next to me on the fence. Notice just how dirty we are, and the ring on my left hand. Told ya...

We watched them clean up the rest of the garbage before all the photographers showed up. I learned that they guy to my right had lived close to Pamplona all his life but that this was his first fiesta. Mmm... garbage and dirty icky streets.

Every once in a while, someone in the crowd would decide that they wanted to be on the fence, and much like a concert, would start pushing. All of us on the fence would steady each other, and wait for the wave to subside. We'd make sure everyone was all right, and the waiting would continue. I have to say that the few hours I spent on or around the barrier were my favorite in Pamplona, simply because we built a sort of camaraderiee around not only our shared experience, but our desire to see the run.

The "run" started about 10 minutes early. Basically, so many people want to participate that they let the less serious runners, or the runners who want to join the run towards the chute and the bull ring to walk ahead and find their spots. Those that are deemed unfit to run are pulled out by the police.

One guy was dumb enough to try and run in sandals, and was pulled out by an officer in front of me. When he tried to lead the guy towards the fence to exit, the guy resisted. He didn't speak a word of Spanish, and the cop didn't speak English. The cop got pushy, and I tried to explain to the guy that he couldn't run in the shoes he was wearing. He didn't hear me, and the cop kept pushing. He eventually shoved the man to the ground and rolled him under the fence. In the states, it would have been classified as police brutality.

Eventually the rocket went off to signal that the bulls were out of their pens. I watched as the runners began to pick up their speed, and as the bulls got closer, the runners that came around the corner were sprinting for dear life. Unfortunately, I picked such a good spot that the barrier in front of me was filled by photographers and I hardly saw a thing. If I had been on the other side of the turn, my view would have been completely clear as there were no photographers, medics, or police to fill the viewing gaps in the fence.

As the bulls passed, they closed a gate along the route so that the bulls couldn't turn around. About a minute later I heard another rocket signalingg that the bulls were inside the ring, and then the final rocket indicating that the bulls were inside their pens.

At this point I began to walk towards la Plaza San Francisco, where I was supposed to pick up my luggage and meet Sarah. Someone had been hurt along the run, and streets were still closed. It took me quite a while to make it back to the Plaza, but I was amazed at how quickly the streets emptied. Most people go to sleep after the run, and wake up in time for the bull fight to do it all over again. I found Sarah in plenty of time and we made our way back to the bus station. We were both glad to be leaving the city, and I understood why the people I'd met could only shrug their shoulders. I think it would have been a better experience if I'd been there with at least one guy, just because it would have prevented situations that I would have much preferred to avoid. I also would have been happier if I weren't worried about my skirt the whole night. If you ever go, don't wear good clothes. And tennis shoes are a good idea... a very good idea.

But even if those two things had been different, I still think I would have felt disappointed. Between Hemingwayy and Gray I had a more romanticisizedd version of the festival. I read that sometimes the parties spilled out into the streets. What I experienced wasn't spillage, it was ridiculous. I couldn't get anywhere near Hemingway's favorite restaurant, and never even made it to the bull ring. The history and culture seemed mostly lost to me, and it upset me. I believe that Pamplona is a beautiful city, and I would like to see it again, but not during the festival. I'm glad I went, but the only way I'll ever go back is if I'm a photographer and don't have to deal with the people.

Barcelona - Part 2

Last I left you, Sarah and I had boarded our bus down the hill from the Park, and were on our way.

As a side note, I don't think I'm going to include as many pictures because it seems that you can't click on them and see the larger version when the post is so image heavy. I'm sure it matters to no one but me, but hey... it matters to me. That, and the last entry took me forever and a day to complete. Anyway, back to the commentary.

Since we couldn't stop, I did some drive by shooting. I know, I know... bad joke. One such shot can be seen to the right.

Unfortunately we didn't stop at Palau Reial, and although we planned on heading back to see it before the day was through, it didn't happen.

At a certain point we transferred from the North Line back to the South Line and headed to Estació del Sants to buy our bus tickets to Pamplona. Funny thing... the station is huge, but if you want to buy a bus ticket, you actually have to go to these portable buildings across the street. And do you think there are signs? Of course not, that would be too easy.

Next we went to Plaça d' Espanya that was built for 1929 International Exhibition and used again for the 1992 Olympic Games. This place was huge, and I wish we could have spent more than 5 minutes there. There was also an amazing statue in the middle of about 8 lanes of traffic that I wanted a shot of, but I didn't have time to dodge speeding vehicles. Again, consider this something for a return trip. And I will cross traffic for this. Trust me.

Imagine to the right of this another pillar, identical to this. I wanted them both in the shot, but they had this hideously colored sign hanging between the two of them that I really just didn't like. And that large building in the background... MNAC.

We then passed the Olympic Village, which was closed. It was about 7pm at this point, so all we could do was take pictures of the torch through the fence. We also got a few shots of the side of MNAC, the Museu Nacional d' Art de Catalunya, which you see above from Plaça d' Espanya. I would have loved to go in, but it was also closed, and our bus stopped running at 8pm.

Here's the torch scuplture from the Olympic Village. I know the horizon isn't straight, but it honestly was down hill and right now I'm just too lazy to fix it. I know... collective gasp.

After getting back on the bus at the Olympic Village and MNAC, we went down past the World Trade Center, the Maritime Museum, and Port Vell, before coming away from the coast and back into the center of the city.

We walked into our hostel just in time for them to tell us about the dinner and flamenco show that had been put together. I needed to find an adapter so that I could charge my camera batteries, and wanted a chance to at least wash my face after such a busy day.

We decided to join them for the flamenco show in about an hour and a half, and asked for a restaurant recommendation. The guy at the front desk suggested tapas, the traditional Barcelonan food, and said we should go to Nicasso’s down the street. All I have to say is he got it right. The place was small, but the owner was incredibly friendly and took good care of us. He was also an amazing cook. I should have taken picture of my dinner, but it arrived plate by plate. Tapas are small servings of a certain dish, and our dinner was three different plates that were brought out to us as soon as they were ready. I had pork, although I have no idea how it was cooked, a potato cake of some sort, and tuna. The pork was my favorite, and it disappeared rather quickly.

We left the restaurant just in time to make it to the flamenco show at Tarantos, and although it wasn’t what I expected, it was still amazing to see. The show started with just the guitarist, and eventually the guy sitting on the drum to the left joined him. Next was the singer who certainly had a set of pipes, and a guy who for a while just sat and kept rhythm.

He turned out to be the dancer, and after about 10 minutes it was obvious that he puts tap dancers to shame. With the amount of tapping, stomping, and movement involved, this guy must have thighs of steel.

I'm not even going to try to explain the poor quality of this shot. I have no excuse.

After the show we talked to some of the people staying in our hostel, and met two girls from Australia, as well as a large group of girls from France. Getting to meet these girls made the entire hostel experience worth it.

The next morning we checked out, and said goodbye to the girls we’d talked with the night before.

We didn’t have much time before we had to catch our bus to Pamplona, and didn’t want to traipse all over the city with our luggage, so we didn’t see much of Barcelona before heading to the bus station. Once again we also managed to miss breakfast, so we stopped at an indoor market on the way for some fruit.
The crazy tile roof... yeah, that's the roof to the market. I'd have loved to see it from above.

And the inside. There were several little counters, selling everything from fruit to meat, to nifty little food saver type things. It was interesting.

For the record, Spanish watermelon is good. Very good. The last stop before the bus station was the Arc d’ Triomphe. I thought it was only a French thing, but apparently the Spanish have one as well.
My luggage is missing, but only because Sarah has it. That's right, we had our luggage with us. What fun. I'm being obnoxious, it really wasn't that bad at all.

I meant to do that!

They also have odd light fixtures… quick, make like a street lamp! Sounding familiar?

So after making only slight fools of ourselves, we walked to the bus station, grabbed some lunch, and eventually boarded our bus to Pamplona. As excited as I was about La Fiesta de San Fermin, and getting to see the running of the bulls, I was still really sad to leave Barcelona. It’s safe to say that I fell in love with the city, and I’ve been told my eyes light up the second I even start to talk about it. I know it sounds cliché, but I don’t doubt it. The city is so alive and vibrant that it’s almost intoxicating. I can’t wait to go back, and I’d like to spend at least a week there.

I’m thinking next summer.