Luke, I am your Godfather

So I know I promised FABULOUS posts about Italy, but who has time? Every city has been incredible and I have been too busy enjoying and experiencing to get on here and talk about it.

From Rome, I went to Napoli and had AMZAING pizza with other fried things with tomatoes and sugar and nuttella. I am going to become a nuttella person when I get home and make crepes and do all other sorts of extraordinary cooking. Marry me now while you have the chance!

Mom leaving broke my heart, until I got to Napoli. The hostel was one of my all time favorites (La Cantrora, i believe). I watched the champion futball game with Leonard, a Hollander from the hostel. We went to a great little Italian bar in the student part of town and sat with Mario, Luigi, and Aldo. We all rooted for Barcelona and were not dissapointed! Sorry, Man U fans! The next day I met Dave and Danny from N. Carolina, though Dave is living in LA now. We went to Pompeii and took great pictures, playing gladiator and to see the casts of people who perished in the volcanic activity was incredible. Then we went out for that AMAZING pizza I told you about.

The next morning I headed to Sicily and forgot my tennis shoes in Napoli. Oh well. On the train, I sat with a woman who kept pressing food into my hands, chided me for picking at my face, and pulled my skirt over my knees when men walked by and scowled at them. She called herself Mamma Italia and I love her madly. The other companion in my car was Alexander, who walked me to my hostel when we got in 2 hours late, as Palermo is no place for a girl alone at night. Met Chris from Vancouver and we had a perfect day at the beach with watermalon and Magnum ice cream, then we went to the hostel and I cooked up swordfish we had picked up at the market. Went to a free "rock" concert with Catt from Melbourne, Aus and Sebastian from Columbia. Sebastian helped improve my spanish quite a bit and we worked on his English. The next morning, Chris went out and bought food for breakfast and I whipped it up. We finished it off with a cannoli and coffee. Perfecto. Then Catt, Seabastian, and I went on a trek to find the church with the tree in the middle (which we eventually did) and the catacombs with the preserved bodies of women, children, men, you name it. Eerie and unbelievable.

Caught the night train to roma, where I am now, about to catch another train to La Spezia and eventually Genoa, where I will sleep tonight and then on to Germany, via Switzerland. Italy has been amazing, but it has been enough. I am ready to go "home" to Deutschland.

Bravo, brava, bravi

I think "prego" is best translated as "at your pleasure." Italians use it for please, your welcome, and also for "go ahead." No one really told me this translation, but observation has clued me in. Or I could be way off.

IMPORTANT: The best ice cream I have had so far in Italy has been right by the vatican on Via Candia and the place is called Millenium. I ahve had at least one gelato a day since getting into Italy, so I am sort of an expert.

Went to an opera today, Pigliaccio (probably misspelt) and it was AMAZING. I promise a more comprhensive post of all my happenings in Italy, from food to sights to activities and anecdotes, but it has just been crazy. My mom catches a taxi to her flight in four hours so I am going to go cuddle up with her instead of wasting my time on a heartless computer.

Milano, Venezia, Firenze, and in between

Our last day in Barcelona, mom and I split up to view the city our own ways and ended up seeing all of the same things. After traveling by myself for so long and then suddenly having a partner, I needed a day of viewing by myself. We saw the dribbly cathedral, the squiggly house, and the Arc de Triomf (those suckers are everywhere). There is no denying, Barcelona is wicked cool.

Then we hopped on the night train (not as bad as the ones to Spain and Portugal, but not as nice as from Cannes to Paris, I miss French trains) and shared a cabin with who Canadian girls. There are more Canadians over here than there are Europeans.

We arrived in Milano and walked to the city center, through all the high end fashion shops, and ate an incredible margherita (cheese) pizza in front of the gorgeous catherdral (the fourth biggest in the world). Then we caught the metro back to the train station and caught the train to Venezia.

Venezia was fantastic. The small ally-sized streets, the romantic canals, it was unbelieveable. We bought a day pass on the bus (which is a boat, there are no cars in Venezia), and saw the islands of Lido, Burano (where they specialize in point-lace), Mezzorbo (which has nothing really, but a nice park and cemetary), Murano (the glass-blowing island), and another which I don't remember but was full of parked cars. But no one was driving. Very funny. On Steve's advice, we went to the Museum de'll Academia (that's not the correct name, but it is close) and it was interesting. The use of gold in the paint is incredible and even though I am not much for religious art (I find it too condemning, I prefer Italian lover's art), I found one piece that made the trip well worth it. Not that I didn't enjoy everything else, but it was a banner of God's wrath after the Jews proved impatient and untrusting. It had snakes attacking everyone and people were marble with death, a babe scking at his cold mother's teet. Very powerful.

Then we came to Firenze, where the markets are the best I have seen so far. Massive and cheap. And the architecture is amazing. We went to Pisa, which was very cute and surprisingly cheap food and clothes. Took pictures at the tower. Today we are going to see some of Michealangelo's sculptures then head to Rome!!!

Ramblin

Sorry Marcelo and Philip! I am bad at remembering names, let alone spelling them!

Yesterday we switched hotels, to a seedier one in the middle of the action. I love it. We walked Las Ramblas, the big street geared toward tourists in Barcelona. Saw the harbor, ate at a GREAT Brazilian place that Leo (the Brazilian we met in Madrid) suggested. Just like his grandma makes it apparently. I should meet his grandma. Then we went to the Olympic grounds which were amazing. To see an Olympic games is something I have on my to-do-before-I-die list. It keeps getting longer.

Then we went to a great fruit market, tucked away right by our hotel. Then to the Gothic quarter which is also by our hotel. The buildings were beautiful, but as always, Europe is under construction, so I had to peer around scaffolds and cranes.

After that we walked up the Ramblas to a flamenco show. It was vibrant and interesting. My whole trip I have noticed that Spain is a place of beauty and violence. The bull fight, the intensity of the flamenco dancers, and even the danger on the beautiful streets.

Last day in Spain, then a night train to Milano.

Mom's Blog

http://debratake.blogspot.com/

The spa was all booked up, so we were lucky to get 30 minutes, 15 minutes for a head massage for me and a partial back massage for mom. Which is too bad because my feet NEED a pedicure. I have some strange going-ons down there. Mom thinks it's athlete's foot. So glad I broadcast that to the world, now I will never find love. Oh well.

Spain has the worst food in Europe so far. But I have to get used to it. After Italy, I won't be in the countries known for their wild amazing dishes. Oh Belgium, I miss you.

Today we really just relaxed. It was great, I needed it. Tomorrow I will be fully recooped and ready to truly explore Barcelona.

Ma did Madrid

We ended up not taking a siesta and went to the rail station but the ticket window was closed. But the trip wasn't fruitless because mom bought a couple oranges on the way back. (Pause for laughter.)

She decided to stay in and read and I went out with Aaron. On the train, my mom and I had met an adoarble little blond girl from Austin who was in Aaron's group, but he had lost her somewhere in Sevilla. Oops. We went to a bar and had a couple free shots and I had a free glass of Sangria (yay for being a girl) and then we went to Bhudda, this three story club with hookah on the bottom, a bar in the middle, and a discoteca on the top, with a terrace full of caravans with more hookah. Basically, it was awesome. I danced with Aaron and other Texas Tech students (so long as they aren't Aggies, I don't care) till 3:30am when Aaron escorted me back. He's a good bloke.

The next morning, mom and I went to the station to buy our tickets from Madrid to Barcelona and caught an earlier train to Madrid. We blew off the hostel and got a hotel more centrally located. Mom is over the hostel situation, so from here on out it is going to be hotels. We got our bullfight tickets first thing and then went out to see what was going on for the Saints holiday. All we saw was a medieval festival, but who doesn't like Spanish wenches?

The bullfight was wild. At first, they had six mini matadors taunt the bull and he chased them around, then two men on horses came out and stuck the bull with a lance, the bull overturned a horse and I thought it was gored straight through, but later found out they had padding. Mom and I were aghast. Then the main matador comes out, "dances" with the bull and sticks a sword in the top of his back, through some organs, and then dances some more, then the bull falls and a mini matador sticks a knife in it's neck, the bull dies and is dragged off by a pack of mules. This was repeated six times and only the first really made me flinch. I think it was because the horse fell and seemed upset. Horses are my animal. I love them. But after the first bout, none of the other horses seemed to care that a bull was thrusting his horns into them, and I picked up on the nonchalance. Another thing that deadened my heart after the first bout was realizing how stupid the bulls are. They just chased anything that moved and if the object of their malice disappeared behind a wall, the bull seemed to think that they ceased to exist. I have a low tolerance for stupidity.

Three novices, and then a hero. When this matador came in, I discovered what bullfighting was about. It seemed choreographed. Whatever he wanted the bull to do, it obliged. And when it came time to plunge the sword, it went in completely and the bull fell only when the matador was ready. Gasps of "Muy bien" flitted around the arena and when it was over, people stood and cheered and waved white hankerchiefs. He walked the arena picking up flowers the ladies threw and tossing men back the hats they had thrown. I wanted him to catch my eye, tell me I was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen and ask me to marry him right there. We would have had the most wonderful life of tight sequinced pants and rocky mountain oysters.

The next matador came out with an attitude and performed miserably. When the bull finally died, he sulked out of the stage to no applause. Then, the hero came back for another try and he didn't impress again. I was kind of glad that the marriage fell through.

Mom and I stopped in a cafe for coffee, bailey's, and ameretto to wait out the crowd and then we went out looking for a party. First we found McDonalds. I had been fighting a hankering since Paris and finally gave in. Delicious. Then we found a cool bar with beds and Pedro and Leonardo from Brazil and Philippe from London. Pedro left early, but Leo and Phil stayed up and talked with us until about 3am. We tried for a jazz club, but had just missed the music and the only good discoteca was across town, so mom and I opted for bed instead. I really hope I run across Leo again one day because we both have that travellers mentality and we talked of politics, religion, and tattoos. Brazil is definitely on my list of places to visit.

This morning mom and I left some unnecesarily heavy clothing at the hotel, then headed for the train station. Found out that our night train to Milano only goes every other day, so we will be an extra day in Barcelona at the expense of one in Venice, but ces't la vie. After much walking and poor directions, we found our fancy hotel in Barcelona and set about planning our stay here. Looks like massages and pedicures tomorrow, after a month and a half of backpacking, mom is trying to turn me back into a woman.

Even though it is Saturday in Barcelona, I think we are going to bed early. Though there is a bar made completely out of ice that is whispering my name.

Seeing Sevilla

As I mentioned yesterday, my mom and I had financial difficulties. Her card would work one place, then wouldn't at the next. Luckily we were able to pay for our hostel, a sexy new bikini for me, reservations for our night train to Italy, and a couple bites to eat. But the reservations for Sevilla (which were a pain in my butt because one lady said there was no availability and the next guy said oh yeah, no problem) and the bullfight did not accept her card. We found out today that both her cards had been put on hold because she used them over here, even though she had called before hand to make sure they knew.

Also, she had issues with her phone service over here, but with Fluff's help we got it all sorted.

We still managed to have a lovely and productive day in Madrid.

Today we got into Sevilla and my friend from Paris, Aaron, met us. He lead us to our hostel, and then to a restaurant where we ate pallea, a rice dish with either seafood or meat. Mom got the meat and it was much better, except that they left the bones in so you had to either chew carefully and spit the remains out, or use your hands.

Then Aaron took us around Sevilla. It is gorgeous and just so SPANISH. Love it. And the weather was beautiful. We talked of everything Texas and had a delightful time. Aaron dropped us at the hostel and we will take a siesta until meeting him to go out tonight. Siesta then fiesta!

Also, I made my mother her own section in my blog. It's called Debra's Take. I will have her update it later.

My shower is bipolar. It's so hot and cold.

Tip for Europe: Bring a VISA. Bring a DEBIT CARD. The easiest way is the wa I ahve been doing it, withdrawing money with your visa debit card at banks, a little at a time. Hardly anywhere takes American Express. Most places take Visa or Mastercard, but because it is international, some places can't run an American one.

So my mom and I had to exhaust our cash paying for train reservations.

So my mom and I missed the bullfight.

So I am running late for a train.

Hasta luego.

Madrid

The train ride to Madrid was eventful. My crazy Canadian guys did not go to sleep, as they swore up and down they were planning to do, but rather bought lots of booze and were so loud that people bought couchettes and migrated to other cars to get away from them. I didn't get a lot of sleep, but the ride went pretty quickly, thanks to Gilbert from Miami. He had a lot of questions about backpacking and was supposed to e-mail him so I could get together with him and his mom for a bullfight here, but I have misplaced his e-mail.
As soon as I got to Madrid, I set off for the airport. I had decided last minute that it was better for me to collect my mother there than have her hail a sketchy cab and try to find her own way to the hostel. After walking most of the sirport, thanks to some poor direcions, I finally found her. She braved the metro like a champ, even though it was packed to the gills, and we found our hostel no problem. It is right in the center and newly renovated, so to me it is a palace. She is not so easily impressed, but is still very gung-ho.
We walked around and tried some shopping, but couldn't find an acceptable swimsuit or skirt for me, but mom eyed the Spanish shawls and I am in love with a bag, so we will go back today probably.
When our room was ready, we had a monster of a nap and then headed to the grocery store, picking up her first European pasteries on the way. We bought a few, but the thing we ate first was a roll with custard in it. Oragsmic! We finally made it to the grocery store (mom is an even worse wanderer than I) and we scooped up juice, fruit, and just as mom was drooling over cheap wines, she got harrassed by an employee. Apparently we aren't allowed to bring in bags from other stores (the pastry place), we have to spend a euro and put it in a locker up front. So we paid for what we had and left.
Dumped our stuff at the hostel and went to find the chicken place which Aaron had said was his favorite dish while being in Europe, but it was closed. We settled for a place close by and mom ordered a Spanish omlette which was like an egg pie with potatoes, greenbeans, and who knows what else in there. I had an omlette with prawns and mushrooms and we shared a ham and tomatoe canape because we didn't know what it was. Mom's omlette was amazing, mine was good, and the canape was not for us.
Then we went home and she put me to bed because she thinks I am running a fever. I am sick, I blame the Canadians. They were sick, too, and they had me up all night for like 3 nights. Oh well. Juice and fruit should cure me, stat.

Lisboa Constrictor

The night train to Lisboa was rough without a couchette, but just as comfortable as a long flight. I was in a compartment with cushiony leather benches and I ended up taking two spots (neither of which were assigned to me) so I could lay down. I found that if I pretended to sleep, then people would take other seats and allow me to take up all the room. A bitch move, but it worked. No one in my compartment spoke English and I was really lonely. That homesickness kicked in and I just wanted to get Lisboa over so I could meet my mom in Madrid.

When I got off the train and into sunny, warm Lisboa, those feelings dissolved. I found that I slept better than Clara and Raewyn, two Canadian girls who had also been on my night train from Paris to San Sebastian. They had a couchette, but Spainish trains don't have very good ones. I immediately felt better about not spending the extra 20 euros. I used my Spanish to help them book a night train to Madrid, one night after mine, and was feeling very cool and bilingual until later when I was told that Portugese people hate it when people speak to them in Spanish. It's an identity thing.

Clara and Raewyn settled in their hostel and I found mine. It was much improved from the last one. First of all, there was actual backpackers there. And it wasn't some sketchy apartment. I met back up with the girls and we wandered around until it started drizzling and we decided to turn in for siestas before going out that night. Spain and Portugal are known for their night life. Around midnight locals head to a bar or a friend's house for chill pre-party drinks, then around 3am they go to a dance club and around 7am they go to after hour places where they party till about noon. This happens on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday. I had forgotten and told the girls I would meet them at 8pm.

Luckily at the hostel I met a group of Candaian guys, Darren, Dave, Angelo, Fabio, and Nick, who had been out the night before and a Canadian girl traveling by herself, Lea. So we all went out together and it didn't matter that no where was hopping yet because we were a party all on our own. We wandered looking for a place for about an hour or so, climbing a thousand stairs and about six hills, until we ended up at the bar the guys had been to the night before. We danced, watched Fab try to pick up Portugese school girls, and just had a good time until about 5am when we hailed a cab (they are cheap in Spain) and climbed into bed. At least I did, the guys stayed up even later. Crazies.

The next morning it was cloudy and chilly and I slept in. I ended up going out with the guys to find Castelo de Sao Jorge aound 5pm. The ruins were really cool and provided tons of picture opportunities. On the way tere, we had to circumvent a religious parade that was going on in honor of the saints. It was very cool to just randomly stumble upon.

We stayed in, because Sundays the clubs aren't really going and I struck up conversation with a guy from Brazil. I keep forgetting that they speak Portugese in Brazil. But apparently it is difficult for Brazilians to understand Portugal portugese. Talking to him I ralized how much I enjoyed non-nothern Americans. On one hand it is awesome to be able to speak to someone with no language barriers, but talking to this guy I learned so much more than I had in my two days with the Canadians.

So today I branched out, hanging with this group of guys was starting to become a safety net. I took off on my own and didn't wait for them to get ready. It was great, I found real Portugal today. In the peeling buildings and hanging clothes and savory smells and brick stairs that lead you no where but you don't know that until it is too late. I found gardens and the harbor and small shops with cheap clothes. I also found that there are book stands everywhere. In the city center there was a huge book fair, in the metro station there was a book market, and in the middle of a garden there was a book stand. So they love to party all night and read all day.

Now I am waiting at the hostel, back with the guys, until our night train to Madrid. I cannot wait to see my mom in the morning. I am so excited, I could pee and throw up everywhere. Which makes me really attractive right now. I have all our hostels booked, plans to see a bullfight and a recommended restaurant in Madrid, have Aaron show us around and take us out in Sevilla, and amazing seats booked for an opera in Rome. But tomorrow she will be jet lagged and I will be exhausted from stying up every night in Lisboa and taking a night train so we will spend the day cuddling and napping. I am way ready for that.

My mommy is coming, my mommy is coming, my mommy is coming!

Yes, Mom

I was not suprised to find a message in my inbox this morning from my mother berating me for my "immature" behavior last night and I would like to take the time to address what my intent was in posting. Because a lot of people who read my blog are thinking of doing a similar trip, it is important that they understand the kind of situations you can get in.

I thought I was being smart last night by going out with people I could trust (the employee of my hostel who could be held responsible for my dissapearance) and attaching myself to a group of friends who speak my language. But those safety nets fell apart, and I got stuck in a predicament that could have ended badly if I didn't have my wits about me because I am consious of the amount of alcohol I consume. Unlike the other American girls last night, but they can afford to do that because they have friends who babysit them.

Should you just stay in every night if you are a girl travelling alone? No. But you should always be aware of your surroundings and know your way home via streets that are big and usually populated. And if things do go badly, do not lose your cool. Just get out of the situation as quickly as possible. And when it is over, think of things you could have done differently (there was really nothing, other than remembering my money was in my shoe, but even then I had taken the precaution of only bringing just enough for the evening).

If you were offended by my blog or worried about my well-being or now think I am irresponsible, I am sorry. But the point is, everything has a risk. This trip is rife with them. All I can do is decide which risks are worth taking and never let myself be oblivious to what is going on. And although I adopt a cavalier additude about dangerous situations after they happen, I am very shrewd and serious when they are happening.

But now back to my trip:
Even though San Sebastian was dreary and cold again today, I ventured out. The second mountain was covered in a rain cloud, so I scratched my plan to climb to the castle-thing and instead got lost in San Sebastian, because I had not done that yet. Then I made my way down to the beach and watched the waves crash against the seawalls and sometimes even come up over them. There were holes drilled in the ground and as the waves came and went it sounded like San Sebastian was breathing. Incredible.

Now I am waiting in the hostel for my night train to come and take me to Lisbon. Only 4 days until my mom meets me in Madrid. We have looked up bullfighting and reserved tickets for the Opera in Rome. I cannot wait. As long as she keeps the lecturing down and the fun pumped up. :) Which she will. She out parties me anyday, which makes the e-mail I recieved today less threatening.

San Sebastian es muy loco!

I spent my first day in San Sebastian sun bathing topless and buying gorceries so I would have plenty to eat until my mom came to Madrid. My girls are sunburnt. Not gonna lie. Then the only other backpacker in my hostel, a small little Asain guy (29 years old, looked 16), invited me to climb the mountain with him after dinner. So I did. He was weezing and I was just trotting along. It made me feel good. Then when we were working our way down, he started patting me on the head and trying to get romantic. (Apparently in Japan, they are synonymous. Didn't know that.) I sad no, only friends and he said, yes, after tonight only friends and if he lived in Florida he would want to be my girlfriend. So I had to be really sharp with him, but I am glad I didn't have to use force. I could have knocked him out cold, no matter what martial arts he knew, I was sure my "kick him in the nuts and run" kung fu was stronger. He ended up leaving me so I could watch the sunset in peace, the way I knew my arents would if they were here.

I didn't go out that night because of the same girl-alone-in-a-strange-place issue. And to be honest, I am getting really tired of guys. In Euope, it's just excessive. And if you've met me, you know I love attention so me being tired of it means a lot. Or maybe I am just growing as a person. Today I slept in, and stayed in when I realized it was chilly and cloudy. I just read and ate. Fabulous.

When I was getting ready for bed a hostel employee, Fabio, and his friend, Fernardo, asked me to go out dancing with them. Friends from back home had been giving me grief for not going out much, so I went. At the first bar I saw a group of girls that were clearly American. They were blonde and drunk. Turns out they were from Texas. I invited them to the next bar we were going to. A discoteque (dance club) on the beach.

The club was hot and crowded and the drinks were making me feel light and you didn't know whose sweaty hand was where and you didnt care, you just followed the music. Just like you would expect in Spain. I kept cockblocking the Spainards because my American friends didn't have their wits about them. Somewhere along the way, Fabio left without alerting me. Then the American girls started getting ready to leave because one, Bren, was puking in the bathroom and another thought she was in love with some Spainish guy (a fact her fiancee would not be enthused about), and another was no where to be found.

I realized that in my tipsy happiness I had taken off my shoes and stockings, forgetting that is where I kept my 10 euro, which I hadn't had to spend because people were graciously buying me drinks and entrance to the clubs. So my money was gone. Oh well, only 10 euro. More importantly, my keys were gone. I looked and couldn't find them so Fernardo said he would walk me back to the hostel and let me in.

A good plan, until he and his friend Miguel got into a brawl with a bunch of midgets. No lie. Fernardo was confident and cocky, until he got cornered by like 12 of them. I followed and saw Miguel lying in the street, being kicked by like three of them so I turned around and went back in the club. Someone had turned in my keys so I walked back to my hostel. Wary and cold. Then my key wouldn't work so I had to pound on the door for about 15 minutes until someone decided to wake up (it was like 6am). I yelled at Fabio for abandoning me and told him about Fernardo, who strolled in about 30 minutes later, bruised but smiling. He then tried to let him sleep with me (I assume, because he only speaks Spanish) and I thought you abandoned me, just fought midgets, and you LOST. In what way is that supposed to woo me?

So wow, my friends got attacked by midgets.

Donde es el bano?

I did switch hostels and on the way I sang and bopped around to my iPod, fitting in with all the other crazies in Paris. I met two friends (which was appropriate because it was called the Friends hostel and I would have sued them for false advertisement if I ended up lonely). Amir from Iran and Aaron from Austin, TX. I also met a cool Aussie chick named Kylie, but that is where her story ends. Amir, Aaron, and I went to Versailles and it was gorgeous. Perfect weather. We rented a boat and had a terrible time trying to steer. By terrible I mean fantastically fun but with little success.

Then we had crepes (banana and nutella for the win) and headed to the Moulin Rouge. I had a coffee and attempted the out of tune, broken down piano in the Moulin Rouge. We kicked a girl out of there room when we got to the hostel so we could have a sleep over. Then the next morning, we went our seperate ways with plans of meeting Aaron in Seville with my mom so he could get us free drinks. And of him helping me move in to Austin and me putting him up on the beach in Destin for a weekend. A very important contact, that one.

Also, a couple days ago I decided to start going by my middle name, Healy (pronounced Hae-lee). It is something I had been planning on doing when I moved to Austin, but I figured why not start here. So I keep confusing myself and everyone I meet by introducing myself as one person and then referring to myself as another.

Yesterday I tried to get a train to San Sebastian, but they were booked up so I ended up on the night train. During the day I went to Pere-Lachaise, the huge cemetary where Jim Morrison was born, and met a lawyer who studied in Virgina but lives in Paris named Glen. He became my personal tour guide.

Then I went to the Bastille, too early for any of the artists to be set up along the river. Then I went to Sacre Coeur and saw Paris from above, which was something that needed to be done. Then I went to the Saint Ouen disctrict in hopes of wandering in the huge flea market, but everything was closed and I ended up in a sketchy ghost town. On my way back into Paris I saw a bunch of old men playing a game like horseshoes, but with balls. They threw a small rubber ball and then tried to toss their 700 gram metals balls as close to the rubber one as possible. I cannot explain this without it seeming like one big double entendre. They caught me looking and tried to explain the game in French and ended up having me feeling the weight of their balls (oh, be an adult, would you? hardee har har) and they posed for a group picture.

Then I went to a supermarket and bought all the boxes of sweets they had for under a euro. I am in a period of eating and my bank account can't handle that. Best idea of my life.

Caught the night train to San Sebastian, befriending a quartet of Canadian girls along the way. This time I did not reserve a couchette, but slept in a seat as penience for all the money I spent in Paris. I was very excited because it looked like my parter was not going to show up, but at the last minute he boarded the train. A creepy middle age man. Super. The car was hot and smelled like people stew. I went to go to the bathroom, but someone explained to me that the conductor had not unlocked them yet. I headed back to my seat and heard a guy inquiring about the bathroom and decided to share my wealth of knowledge. Turns out the voice belonged to Jordy, a guy from Texas who I had met in Danielle's new hostel in Amsterdam and had talked for about 15 minutes and we had become facebook friends. He and his friend Will (who I had also met in Amsterdam) were sitting in an area full of open seats! So I bid the Canadians adeiu and curled up with my Texas boys. (They play American football, but in Salzburg, Austria) How cool is that?

I arrived in San Sebastian and got to my hostel, which is someone's house that they are charging people to stay with them in. It's strange, but I think I like it. They don't speak English, so it is an adventure. I ahve my hostek booked for Lisbon but not for anywhere else. Tomorrow I will set up the hostels for my mom and I and then I will be staying with Jared in Naples, Jenn's uncle Stephan in Germany, and I am trying to hint heavily that Robert should ask his mom if I can sleep on their floor for a couple nights, but he doesn't seem to be picking up on it. What gives, Robert? ;-P

So now I have slept half the day away in Spain and I will head out for groceries and bikibi shopping and seeing the gorgeous landscape. Expect sunset pictures!

Look at that S car go!

My journey to Paris went off without a hitch and when I arrived I had some worries about a place to stay, but my hostel had a glitch that made it think I was SUPPOSED to check in Friday. So I was golden.

My first thought was to visit the Musee d Orsay or Louvre because Friday afternoons are free to students. But I got caught up in a sea of Parisians who had taken to the street. Being Mayday, I was not sure if this was a celebration or a protest so as much as I wanted to join the mass and scream "Viva la revolution!" I did not. Apparently it was a protest of the president. If it had been gay rights, I would have been all over it.

So then I wandered into a restaurant. Since it was my one month anniversary with Europe, I decided to have a nice, undeniably French dinner. Escargot for course one, lamb and frites (fries) for course two, and chocolate mousse to finish. Hit the spot!

Then I wandered back to my hostel and read myself to sleep. I wanted to go out and party, it was Friday night in PARIS! And a national holiday! But I am a girl alone and my hostel here is not good for meeting people.

The next morning I took the Metro to le Grande Arche (though I meant to go to the Arc de Triomphe, oops), walked to the Arc de Triomphe, then the Place de la Conchorde and on the way I stopped at the original Sephora and prettified myself and Ladurees Cafe for some macaroons. Then on to Rue Cler, which is a pedestrian street mentioned in both my travel book (Rick Steves Europe through the Backdoor) and Almost French, which I had read a couple days earlier. I bought a bagette, two croissants, an apple tart, a rasberry tart, some chocolate wonder, a taster of cheeses, and ham. And a pickle. I then wandered to the Eiffel Tower and had a delightful picnic. But I have to say, the Eiffel Tower during the day is UGLY. Seriously. All day I had been joking to myself (becquse I have no friends, how sad :D) that if I had a cool accent I would pronounce it the Awful Tower and after seeing it in the daylight, I almost decided to start calling it that for keeps.

Went back to my hostel for a nap. For the record, do not stay at Hostel Blue Planet. 25 euro a night and it is clean enough, but my toilette is outside of the bedroom, which has only one key. So in the middle of the night if I have to pee, I have to knock on the door and wake someone up to get in. Or try propping open the door. Internet is 6 euro an hour. Like $9. There really isnt a good kitchen. They claim to serve breakfast but really they give you special coins for a vending machine in the morning and the common area is stuffy, so you dont meet a lot of people. Somehow, I managed to make a friend. Ursula from Peru. She likes Betty Boop. Shes cool. We went to go see the Eiffel Tower at night and it was incredible.

Sometimes when I am walking around, it hits me. !?! Im in PARIS!!! Its an incredible feeling. There is something in the air, this city is just potent with romance.

This morning Ursula and I went to the Louvre and then I broke off and went to the Musee dOrsay. The Louvre was incredible, my favorite part was the Italian paintings. They are so vibrant! In the Musee dOrsay I was most taken by the works of Van Gogh, which surprised me. If I were to make an art museum, I would organize the rooms according to the emotions the pieces evoke instead of the styles they are. Battle scenes just seem out of place on top of lovers embracing and a child suckling his mothers teet.

Men here definitely are different than in the states. Much more forward. Ursula and others say that maybe I seem too available and friendly because I smile and make eye contact with people, but Ive been approached by men I didnt even notice were there. I dont remember if I was smiling.

I think I may go to Versailles tomorrow, but if I do I am changing hostels. I found a place that is 10 euro less a night.