G'day folks, and thanks for checking in. I can't think of anything funny to say because successive overnight bus trips have temporarily stolen my wit and ability to form coherent sentences. Don't worry, the post itself was written in chirpier times so it's as funny as you would have come to expect from me by now i.e. less funny than Chris Farley in a little coat but more funny than everything Wil Anderson has ever said. If you're a Wil Anderson fan stop reading now, there's nothing here for you. Everyone else, enjoy!
Granada was our next stop after Morocco, and I can tell you that we were pretty keen to drink some beer and eat some of the world's best jamón after two weeks off. The travel was of course long and tedious and we arrived in Granada exhausted and smelly. To make matters worse we struggled to find our Airbnb location and really needed to find somewhere with wifi so we could load our maps and messages properly. Once we were in the general area of the house we found a bunch of cafes, which we approached in turn asking 'tiene wifi?' to be met with 'no' after 'no'. Nobody in Granada has wifi guys, take note. Finally we found somewhere, sat down, ordered a lemonade each and got the password. Not two minutes later the waitress returns with a plate of these tuna rolls, explaining that tapas are FREE with every drink in Granada. I seriously could have kissed her. Well, long story short, we found the house, showered and set off to drink and eat our way across the city - for free! Free tapas does not mean poor quality tapas, as we ate some of the best food on our whole trip in Granada, our favourite being from (ahem) a super hipster record store/bar called Loop. You can take the couple out of Melbourne etc..
During the daytime we kept ourselves occupied with exploring the city, visiting Spain's oldest hamman (remarkably well preserved), wandering the streets of the old town Albaicín, checking out the local street art, drinking spring water from the fountains in the street and trying to keep cool, and for me, dealing with some unpleasant side effects of the ice (the frozen water, not the highly addictive drug) I had in my very last beverage in Morocco. Yes, two weeks of being super careful with our food and drink and then on the last day I forgot myself and accepted a drink with ice in it. Always a mistake.
The free walking tour we took in Granada was one of the better ones we've ever been on, our guide knew a shitload of interesting stories about the history of the city, and Granada certainly has a more interesting history than a lot of other cities. She also pointed out the best place to buy piononos, this amazing cake originally made for, and named after Pope Pius XI. It is a close second to pasteis de nata for our favourite cake SO FAR. Don't worry, we still have 14 more months of cake eating to do, I will keep you posted on all the developments in this very important contest.
Obviously no trip to Granada is complete without a visit to the Alhambra. We splurged on a guided tour AKA forgot to book our tickets in advance and only the expensive guided ones were still available. But, every cloud has a silver lining, and our silver lining was Alberto, the best tour guide you could ever want. He had fabulous hair, was rocking lime green pants, and he dropped a David Bowie reference on us in the first five minutes - does it get any better than that? Well, yes it does. He is probably the only person I have met who hates selfie sticks more than I do, and he was not backwards in making his feelings known to the people in our group yelling 'selfie time is over!' when he wanted us to move on to the next part of the tour. He also clearly loved the Alhambra. He was born and raised in Granada so he felt a great sense of pride in it. If you have ever seen pictures of the Alhambra I'm sure you would wonder why. I wondered why too when I first saw it. It's a pretty boring (dare I say ugly?) building. From the outside. See, this is the thing about Arab architecture, and something we also saw a lot of in Morocco. They never spend money making the facade of your house beautiful and luxurious. For them, beauty is something that you keep on the inside, for your family and your guests, not to have a very ostentatious outward appearance that shows off how much money you have, and could embarrass your neighbours. In Morocco you could not tell who was rich and who was poor until you saw inside their houses. Even the hostels and riads, which were gorgeous inside, have no outward facing windows. All the rooms are built around a central roofless courtyard, which lets in light and air. It is a really nice idea, and stunning from the inside. As was the Alhambra. My initial judgment was thrown out as we were led through beautifully landscaped gardens, into gorgeous courtyards, and amazing bedrooms, all the while with Alberto explaining the history of this fascinating building. Definitely a highlight of the trip so far. It also managed to rain while we were inside, for the first time in 69 days of travel. It was a very welcome sight, as we had been struggling with the constant dry heat for weeks. Evidently so had the streets of the European cities, with their complete lack of public sanitation. To quote Dave in Bordeaux 'the whole of Europe smells of piss'. I think it would need to rain consistently for a week to sort that out, but one afternoon of rain was a good start.
We had a small emergency in Granada, where there was a problem either with all the ATMs or with our bank cards and we could not withdraw any money for hours. We were down to our last €10 in cash, so we did what any sensible people would do - we went and spent it on beer. Thankfully, whatever the issue was was rectified and we were able to withdraw more cash and buy more beer. Phew.
Our next Spanish stop was Valencia. We arrived late on Sunday evening, after travelling on a bus all day, and our (super awesome) host Nini had told us to meet him at his work. His workplace turned out to be a bar with Fosters (!) on tap, and when we arrived he was drinking beer and chatting with people. This 'work' it turned out, is actually his hobby - a language exchange program connecting people of different backgrounds to help develop their English, Spanish, German, French or whatever it is they want to learn. We grabbed a beer (Estrella, in case you're wondering. We did not touch the Fosters.) and joined in the fun. We did try to sharpen up our Spanish skills, but mostly we just used it as a great way to meet interesting people. Everybody was happy to have a chat and meet the 'Aussies' (Nini had made us like mini celebrities in Valencia. He himself is a celebrity in Valencia and the fame by association was good for us). We made friends with Americans, Spaniards, Brits, and a whole bunch of others and they were all so lovely. Except for one guy. This guy was obsessed with the crocodile hunter, and once he found out we were Australian it was all he wanted to talk about. I'm not joking, he gave me a blow by blow of how Steve Irwin died, as if I was not aware. He also wanted to discuss with me how sad Steve's widow Terri must still be every time she thinks about it. I say 'me' because by this stage Dave had slowly moved his chair away from the table until he was far enough away to be completely out of the conversation and just abandoned me as I listened to tales of Steve Irwin for 15 minutes. He's a great bloke that Dave.
Language Exchange took up three of the four nights we spent in Valencia so on our last night we thought it was high time to take ourselves out for a traditional paella. Paella actually comes from Valencia and in their traditional version meat and seafood are never mixed together. The Valencian paella we ordered contained chicken and rabbit and it was really delicious. But I still reckon, traditional or not, you can't go wrong with a bit of chorizo and some prawns. Yes, I prefer the bastardised Aussie paella over the authentic one. I never said I was a paragon of culture!
You might recall that we have swam a couple of times in the ocean and found the water just a little bit too nippy, and we were keenly awaiting arriving at and swimming in the Mediterranean. Well we got our chance in Valencia, trotting off to the beach on a typically hot day. We ran into the water, and holy shit, it was like being in a giant salty bath. I'm not kidding, that water was so warm it was not even remotely refreshing. We stayed in for 10 awkward minutes before agreeing that it was just too weird. And yes, I understand we are never happy, but dammit I'm Goldilocks and I just want to swim at a beach where the water is 'just right'.
Barcelona was the next port of call, and we were keen to make up for our trip here in 2011 where we pretty much only saw the inside of the train station and the beach (don't ask). We were staying with Pablo in a great location, only problem was we couldn't find it - this is becoming a familiar tale. We hit up KFC AKA The Dirty Bird for some free wifi and 10 minutes later Pablo was there to show us the way. We were located just off Placa Reial which is a very busy and noisy square, not a place to stay if you really want to sleep, but it was a lot of fun. Especially staying with Pablo. He bought us beer and 5 litres of water to welcome us, and proceeded to give us a very graphic demonstration of how sick we would be if we were not careful with our food hygiene in Turkey. Very fun guy.
Day one was dedicated to seeing the one thing that we were devastated to miss out on last time - Sagrada Familia. Definitely worth the wait, it is an absolute work of art, inside and out. It rivals Palace of Versailles as the most beautiful man-made thing we have ever seen and no matter what your religious beliefs you cannot help but be amazed by the story Gaudi is trying to tell with this building. The thing that impressed me the most was that this was a project he undertook with 100% certainty that he would never see it finished, yet with 100% faith that the works would continue after his death and would be faithful to the original concept he designed.
After Sagrada Familia we decided to chase down some more Gaudi masterpieces, and followed the trail of them back to La Rambla. It was very interesting to see the casas he designed, but also to see how much the surrounding architecture had been obviously inspired by his legacy. There are some gorgeous buildings in Barcelona, with windows to die for. If I win tattslotto I know exactly where I'm buying my holiday home.
One fantastic thing that we did in Barcelona, and that I encourage everybody to do if it's available in a city you're travelling to was Eat With. Eat With is another creation of the new 'sharing economy' we find ourselves in, like Blablacar and Airbnb. The concept is simple, you go to somebody's house and they cook dinner for you. There's a bit more to it than that, the 'chefs' go through a pretty rigorous screening process to ensure that the diners are going to get an experience worthy of what they have paid, but essentially it's a delicious meal cooked by strangers. We were lucky enough to book in for a Saturday night dinner at Alberto and Ella's house in the next neighbourhood. Alberto is Italian and Ella is from Melbourne and they met and fell in love at an Eat With dinner a few years ago and now they host guests together in their apartment. Seriously, stop it. It's like the best rom-com plot ever. This was actually one of our favourite nights of the whole trip. The food was incredible - we would have paid much more for the same quality in a restaurant. Alberto and Ella were lovely, and we also met a whole bunch of great people. There were 12 guests that night, and we all sat together, chatted, ate our four courses, and drank Spanish wine. We spent a lot of time talking with a couple from Britain who were travelling with their four children, and a young couple from Melbourne who are now living in Rotterdam. It was just a great way to spend a night and so much more enjoyable than going to a restaurant and getting a table for two (no offence to Dave, but we have eaten a LOT of meals just the two of us in the last few months). I loved it, and if you ever get the chance to do it you definitely should.
Alberto and Ella also gave us the inside tip that we needed to hit up Festival de Gracia which was happening at exactly the time we were in Barcelona. This is a super fun street party, mainly for residents but they very kindly allow tourists to join in the festivities. So the very next night we decided to see what it was all about. It was amazing. Entire streets are closed off for days and decorated in a theme (Flinstones, Japan, anti Nuclear power, children's birthday party [this street somehow ALWAYS smelt like lollies, it was the best]), stages are set up in various squares, EVERYWHERE is selling cheap beer, and the people are all in high spirits. We took it all in and then camped out at the folk stage, where a fabulous six-piece Spanish folk bank absolutely owned the night. The band included my favourite instrument, the double bass, and I drunkenly proclaimed that I was going to learn it when I get home. Watch this space. Don't watch it actually, I can't handle that sort of pressure. But if you see me in 5 years busking with my double bass in Bourke Street Mall PLEASE throw me a gold coin or higher.
Guell Park was another highlight, another Gaudi masterpiece (and clearly Tim Burton's inspiration for a whole bunch a movies) that we happily viewed in the rain. Oh yeah, it rained again you guys. Actually, Barcelona's weather was the BEST! Consistently under 30 degrees, I even had cause to wear pants one day. PANTS! I had been seriously considering ditching them as they had been collecting dust in my backpack for 8 weeks. I had forgotten what it was like to walk 100 metres without sweating profusely, to sleep under a sheet (spoiler alert: in the future I sleep under a DOONA again), to dry myself after a shower and remain dry for more than 5 minutes, and to actively choose to sit somewhere that isn't located in full shade. In short, I really appreciated the weather in Barcelona.
Of course, a city like Barcelona always throws up good times. Like the rival €1 tapas bars we found across the street from each other and ate at both of them just to encourage competition. Or the American guy on a shocking comedown who announced to his (completely unaware) girlfriend in the queue for felafels that he had decided he was never leaving and was going to live in Barcelona. Or a lazy Sunday lunch spent at Le Quinze Nits watching the shenanigans of Placa Reial unfold. Or heading to the local Irish pub to watch Barcelona get thumped in the soccer (they call it football over there, weird huh?) and then seeing everyone still wearing their Barcelona jerseys the next day, proud as ever.
One not so good time I have to include is the Magic Fountain of Barcelona. Apparently this fountain display is fucking amazing. You have to see it to believe it. I say apparently because we missed it. Twice. Friday night we rolled in at 12:20am ready to be delighted by it, only to hear that it gets turned off at 12am. No worries, we have three more nights here we think, let's find a rooftop bar instead and check it out another night. Saturday we are at our Eat With dinner. Sunday we are at Festival de Gracia. Monday we roll in for the 9pm display, the first of the evening because we want to watch the soccer afterwards. No 9pm show takes place. It's cool we say, they mustn't have thought it was dark enough. We wait for the 9:30pm show. It doesn't happen either. We really have to leave now, we have a date with sport and beer. On our way out we notice a sign saying that the show occurs from Thursday to Sunday. It doesn't even fucking happen on Monday. We have wasted 40 minutes watching a completely still fountain, fending off beer sellers and selfie stick toters for nothing! I did get to pat a dog though, so it wasn't a complete waste of time. Not just any random dog either, he was carrying his own lead in his mouth. Actually what am I saying? Patting that dog has gotta be a top 5 highlight of all of Barcelona. Ignore the previous paragraph. I patted a really well trained dog. It was awesome.
Oh wait, can someone please confirm wether or not Joe Hockey picked up a cake and threw it at a woman in parliament? I'm pretty sure Dave just dreamed it, but stranger things have happened! Love to everyone, be good. xox
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