I was originally going to retrospect on the decade past, but this really isn't the forum for that, is it?
Looking back on the last year, as some of you know is my tradition at the end of the year, I don't have much regrets. I would have enjoyed making more money, and I hope next year will answer that call. I would have enjoyed losing more weight, but I'm finding a way for it to stick this time around which might prove to be revolutionary. I certainly could've used more sleep at night, I need to develop a better method for tackling Monday to Friday, especially if I'm going to be adding more to my daily routine. I could've used less McDonald's, honestly Monopoly this year was a joke. And so on, and so forth. This year was pretty good, I can't complain too much about the events or lack thereof. Things happened, other things didn't. I'm starting to feel like the events aren't going to be very important for me for a little while. What I'm worried about is what I'm learning, and maybe what I'm not learning.
My only knock on 2009 is precisely what I loved about 2009: Action over words. On the one hand, I no longer feel like I am underground. I was a basement dweller manifest in thought and belief and somehow this year I felt as though I wasn't only promoted at work, I was promoted to stand on my own two feet, above ground, and start walking in the directions that I diligently planned out for the years prior. On the other hand, I'm a bit uncomfortable with the idea that this year I handed out a lot more answers than I did questions. I'm not scared to guide people, I just feel as though there is a pressing wall of confusion I still need to break through. Something that still separates me from getting it all. Sometimes I feel like I'm leading my friends and colleagues (big word for such a young guy) away from the bear trap but towards this invisible wall. I feel like I need to go back to to the lab, now, while the comet is still in orbit swirling above my head. Looking at it and showing people isn't giving me any answers. And so I have none for you.
So, 2010. Nobody's particularly excited this year in my circles, but I am. I have plans. Not just the type of plans that keep you busy (though they will). The kind of plans that I used to get excited about. The kind of plans that make you think, "Oh man, how is this going to turn out?" The kind of plans that take so much work, preparation, thought, time and effort that the crescendo actually happens prior to success, at the moment of anticipation. I don't even feel the New Year's pinch of "making the commitment, here and now, to get this done!" I would be silly not to do what I have planned for this year. I think this is maybe 1/100th the feeling a person has when he fees like he knows exactly what his whole life was meant for, but it's still very motivating.
I must forewarn, 2010 will involve a lot less words here in the Facebook note forum. I have so many words to say and not say out there in the world. I'll let you in on a few as we travel. But as I alluded to, I'm running low on answers, and so what you might tend to hear from me in bulk will be new questions. Between me and my friends, this will engender discussions of the higher order. For the rest of you just try to keep up.
Enjoy your New Year's Eve festivities, it's not ever year you get this many days to recover afterwards!
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Thursday, December 03, 2009
Toilet Thoughts
Tiger needs to share. 3 women? I can'lt even afford the clubs his wife smashed his car window in with. Need to accelerate life changes.
Does pimple juice evaporate? And what is it made of?
My head itches more now that I use that anti-dandruff shampoo from shoppers. And I only bought it because it was cheaper than regular. If you don't have dandruff does it give it to you?
If this toothpaste removes 3x as much bacteria, how much did the last tube remove? Isn't 99.9% x 3 impossible?
If your towel hangs within 3 feet of your toilet, does it make sense to towel dry after a shower?
Shaving has just become annoying.
Stainless steel is the easiest thing to stain. It stains with even mist. Granted every blemish can be cleaned and so it is still by definition stain-less, but does that matter if it's always dirty?
Why did I fart so much in wal-mart but now I just keep burping? Stage fright?
Can toilets be square?
Korean was a bad idea.
Hmmm, less than I thought.
Does pimple juice evaporate? And what is it made of?
My head itches more now that I use that anti-dandruff shampoo from shoppers. And I only bought it because it was cheaper than regular. If you don't have dandruff does it give it to you?
If this toothpaste removes 3x as much bacteria, how much did the last tube remove? Isn't 99.9% x 3 impossible?
If your towel hangs within 3 feet of your toilet, does it make sense to towel dry after a shower?
Shaving has just become annoying.
Stainless steel is the easiest thing to stain. It stains with even mist. Granted every blemish can be cleaned and so it is still by definition stain-less, but does that matter if it's always dirty?
Why did I fart so much in wal-mart but now I just keep burping? Stage fright?
Can toilets be square?
Korean was a bad idea.
Hmmm, less than I thought.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
My Eyes
It hurts to say brown, naturally you start to think normal
Normally wide, open, looking out to look in,
In the same way the master peers from his seat,
Seated above mountains, still looking higher up,
Up until he can't see any more, nothing left
Left wondering why you ever wanted them
They found you, you didn't even have to move,
Moved that you looked inwards and saw them there
There was a time they wanted to remain there, quiet
Quietly closing so yours could open
Open to the idea you propped and prodded,
Prodding at the lids that have kept you safe for so long
Longing for sunlight, a chance to know,
Know, not guess, at what the outside holds
Holding, however, to the warm darkness
Dark eyes, yours, this I should have seen
Seen them a hundred times but never looked
Looking for the shine of mine but never needing
Need, I have now, for a better word than novelty
Novels are written on these times
Time won't tell, it will only remember
Remember how they looked at you
You only wanted them too look, not see
See now that I can't let you have this
This is why I can't let you have my eyes.
Normally wide, open, looking out to look in,
In the same way the master peers from his seat,
Seated above mountains, still looking higher up,
Up until he can't see any more, nothing left
Left wondering why you ever wanted them
They found you, you didn't even have to move,
Moved that you looked inwards and saw them there
There was a time they wanted to remain there, quiet
Quietly closing so yours could open
Open to the idea you propped and prodded,
Prodding at the lids that have kept you safe for so long
Longing for sunlight, a chance to know,
Know, not guess, at what the outside holds
Holding, however, to the warm darkness
Dark eyes, yours, this I should have seen
Seen them a hundred times but never looked
Looking for the shine of mine but never needing
Need, I have now, for a better word than novelty
Novels are written on these times
Time won't tell, it will only remember
Remember how they looked at you
You only wanted them too look, not see
See now that I can't let you have this
This is why I can't let you have my eyes.
Friday, October 16, 2009
Gust or Guest
Gust:
Winds will roar
Hot front meets cold front
Hurricane hurts both
Guest:
Hungry Mangy Dog
Searches the world for his bone
Finds another's
Winds will roar
Hot front meets cold front
Hurricane hurts both
Guest:
Hungry Mangy Dog
Searches the world for his bone
Finds another's
It Ends, Still Bleeding
He said, she said.
You said, I said.
I want, you don't
You need, I can't
.
When will, never can
How about, no man
I just, don't matter
Let me, all chatter
Can't believe, find a way
Why leave, can't stay
When did, from the start
Why can't, better apart
Are we, friends don't fight
Then what, this bites
.
How have, I'm great
I've been, too late
Wondernig if, not a chance
Just once, let's not dance
It still hurts, not my fault
But you, it's in the vault
Did it ever, who's to say
I'm a fool, not today
I guess, all the best
Goodbye, again, yes.
You said, I said.
I want, you don't
You need, I can't
.
When will, never can
How about, no man
I just, don't matter
Let me, all chatter
Can't believe, find a way
Why leave, can't stay
When did, from the start
Why can't, better apart
Are we, friends don't fight
Then what, this bites
.
How have, I'm great
I've been, too late
Wondernig if, not a chance
Just once, let's not dance
It still hurts, not my fault
But you, it's in the vault
Did it ever, who's to say
I'm a fool, not today
I guess, all the best
Goodbye, again, yes.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Clandestine Poet
I wonder what you look like on the inside, because I know I look quite different. When I'm red on the outside it normally means I'm feeling blue. When I let my blues show, that probably means that I'm either green with envy, or something scary has got me just plain yellow. My art teacher taught me if you take all of those colours and mix them around together, around and around, for long enough you get a special shade of grey, which he calls chromatic grey, but I like to call it under the weather.
Yours I can't quite figure out yet. It takes a little fear and a little rage to make orange. You add some mystery to that and you get to brown. There's something more to it though, I can't quite put my finger on it but I know there's more to you than that. There's a shade of roses or royalty in you, it shows in your lips. Oh, how your lips fascinate me ever so. I wonder what other colours you're hiding. You are a clandestine poet, and I can offer you nothing else but my finest canvas.
Yours I can't quite figure out yet. It takes a little fear and a little rage to make orange. You add some mystery to that and you get to brown. There's something more to it though, I can't quite put my finger on it but I know there's more to you than that. There's a shade of roses or royalty in you, it shows in your lips. Oh, how your lips fascinate me ever so. I wonder what other colours you're hiding. You are a clandestine poet, and I can offer you nothing else but my finest canvas.
Wednesday, September 09, 2009
Travel Journal 2 - El Sud De Espana
I guess I can call it tradition now. I kept up my vacation journal. I love smart phones, it allows me to be the best possible scribe for my thoughts and experiences. As always, this wasn't written for you. This was written for me 5 years from now when I can't quite remember the details to my trip to Spain. But if you're curious, here is the answer to the ever-repeating question: "Hey Jamil, how was your trip?"
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Intro
Day 0 - Toronto: Planes
There's nothing profound about Air Canada. When most people who have traveled hear the name, a certain sense of mistrust and perhaps even animosity resonates. But today I've noticed noticeable changes have been made for the better. Already this trip is proving to be filled with metaphor. I'm hoping for an impactful allegory.
Now on the plane, sitting in the middle section, aisle right, poking my nose across the shoulders of my new neighbours to steal the experience of a window seat I'm noticing our plane passing by Air Transat, Caribbean airlines, and other memorable vacations taken with my family. My dad confessed a few weeks ago that one of his goals as a father was to whet our appetite for travel, my brother and I, so that we could experience the joys of travel and other cultures. As Tanya and I soar upwards into the sunset for our 7:50pm flight to Munich, en route to our self-made tour of the regions of Andalucia and Catalunya, I realize that Dad can go to bed with another smile on his face tonight. It worked Dad, I'm excited.
Now, the million dollar question: In flight movie or reading first?
Theme Song:
-Lesson 1: Bienvenidos (In-Flight Spanish)
Word of the day: Embarque - boarding
--
Act 1: Full of Hope
Day 1 (I think) Barcelona: Good Start
A 4-hour cat nap on the first of 3 flights is not enough to make today feel like a new day. Regardless, it is 19:30 del jueves here and 1:30pm Thursday back at home so I guess by all accounts it is a new day.
Munich's airport provided free tea for the week (is it still a provision if I steal it from the free bin?) and a friendly reminder that brunettes want to be blondes, because blondes are hotter.
During our stop-over in Barcelona we decided to get a first taste of the country and break the travel ice. I started with a well-carried conversation with a bag carrier in Spanish which saved us some cash and directed us to the Metro to avoid the taxi life. Sigh of relief, my Spanish is permissible. As we stepped out of the subway and ascended to the stairs we were met warmly by the Gaudi Museum. And just like that we were really in Spain.
We shook off the getting lost bug as well. Tanya shows consistently that tact can be more effective than assessment. While I sized up citizens to see who might be warm enough to bear my broken Spanish, Tanya cut in and found the guy who gets paid to know English. 'Just ask' is quickly becoming this trip's theme.
We didn't really have a game plan for how to spend 5hrs between flights in Barcelona. So with the purpose and aim of a drunkard, we stumbled upon the idea of walking La Ramblas with all of our luggage. We packed light, but wheelies are annoying and make us targets in packed high-traffic areas. All was well in the end, we'll be back. Money will be spent in Barca; fear not onlookers, Barca is exactly as cosmopolitan as you may have heard.
We're in Seville now. Our Hotel attendant is interminably nice. I couldn't believe how incredibly understandable she was in Spanish, and her warmth has created in me a love for her that transcends age, logic, or the other barriers to us getting married. I am going to sop up Seville with a sponge.
Theme Song: Empire State of Mind - Jay Z f. Alicia Keys.
Word of the day: Proximo - next
--
Act 2: Andalucia - Southern Spain
Day 2: Claro! Soy el rey del Sevilla
So we've walked around Seville enough to say that we practically own the place. Apparently a 5 hour sleep in the bed is worth more than 4 on the bus. Today, we were tourists. Armed with a map, a lonely planet book, a scarce understanding of the bus system, cameras, money, passports, and purses. We acquainted (but not familiarize) ourselves with the local streets with an early morning walk to get the 3 day Tourist bus pass. I now know what an Estanco is (stand/giftshop), but I don't know where to find any when I need them, so we came home defeated but ready to pay the regular bus fare. Then, out of a thirst for popularity we shook hands with more avenidas, calles, pasados, plazas, and stumbled upon the beginning of our walking tour, La Catedral.
Yea, chances are you haven't seen a Cathedral like this. It's a gem of craftsmanship. On the other hand, Roman Catholic and Gothic architecture makes me yawn in much the same way microbiology does - vast importance for some, but not exactly a romantic novelty in my eyes. I suppose the irony of Seville is that walking through the Cathedral makes a man marvel and at man's craftsmanship, but walking everywhere else, where there might be Sevillean women about, makes a man marvel at God's craftsmanship. Well anyhow, I praised Him twice today.
After visiting Spanish solemnity, we quenched our thirst for blood under the hot sun at the Plaza del Toro. Bullfighting from our guide's description seems extremely vicious. I think to watch a real fight (or even our visit) supports a pastime that was created to overcome an severe cultural boredom. Eastern religions and sensible animal rights activists would join me in saying this tradition is one step above Gladiator warfare, but several steps below a quality Futbol match. All the same, Bullfighting is an excellent allegory for any coming of age story, personal or societal. The idea of a little Galitto practicing to stand, to really stand, in the face of a charging task that even wise and respected men dare not face, this is the never-ending story of human development - moral, physical, political.
Well, our bull was the Sun, and we ran. We joined the rest of the city in a siesta. Sevilla was playing Valencia that day anyway and the town was on pin-drop quiet. We showered/rested up for part 2. I wish the days at home were long enough to have 2 parts, I'll take that as an action item.
Next was Isla Magica. Sometimes flat honesty and exuberance is the right formula for success. Cracking a smile out of the ticket booth lady made for a helpful tip to save 9 euros each, and the most efficient theme park experience in history. The rides were scarce but all were fun. And we went late so we avoided the lines and the heat. The Jaguar humbled us both, as we were both quite dizzy after riding it. Towards the end we stumbled upon a scheduled (but for us impromptu) lakeside flamenco performance starring a belladonna, a man on a horse in old torridor fashion and a fluorescent fountain backdrop.
Spain is elegance. Only here have I seen a horse dance to the rhythm of Spanish classical, himself enchanted by la Senorita. Some things transcend language. Next was a white stallion showboating to Andalucian melodies. However, in typical European tradition, you couldn't ignore the underscore of cruelty that must have been perpetrated on the poor creature to get him to perform such a long routine in style. He drooled of extreme hunger through the entire performance. And with that we left.
Plaza de Espana was massive. Really another fine example of Catholic architecture. We happened to make our visit on a Friday night where all of the local kids decided to use the huge exhibit as their stomping ground for underaged drinking, drama, and lude acts. Right now I'm at on the patio of a streetside restaurant, so like the young man I saw just past the bridge in the Plaza, having a intimate moment with his girlfriend, I too am about to find out how the fish tastes in Seville!
Sangria done right is a beautiful thing. Tonight's Sangria is Sangria done okay. My first thoughts on Paella - ok, but someone needs to call Emril to kick it up a notch. We'll see if it's better in the motherland, Valencia. I found out the only reason I wish I was white (sorry Dad!) today. If I was white I could eat more salted meats, and boy does Europe have some tasty meat options. I think even Mahayana Buddhists would decree an official exception to abstinence from meat if they had more Serrano sandwiches in their lives.
These were my eating experiences today told backwards, tomorrow we move forward to Malaga. What to wear?
Song of the Day: Everyone Loves Marineland - Commercial
Word of the Day: Tienda - Shop
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Day 3 - Malaga: Un camino sin fresca
We said good bye to Seville with a Tapas run in the early morning. I said hello to my new idea on how to live life well. Tapas bars are essentially streetside (or plazaside) bars that serve drinks alongside small portions of a wide variety of foods. Each tapas plate can range from 1-5 euros and makes for the most exquisite way to share and compare food while enjoying the fact that the food is a mere pretext for tabletop conversation. The hungry can still be satisfied with the options of full servings or simply many tapas, but that would really defeat the point. Appetizers doesn't quite define what you get here, this isn't a pretext to a meal. A drink or coffee, a patio seat or high table, a tapas or two, is all you need to enjoy good or bad company. Tanya and I are well acquainted, so today was all about the food. I'll spare the food review.
We got to Malaga 2 hours early because the bus company's earlier bus was at the station when we arrived at the platform.
Special thanks to Amrit for helping me book my inter-city departures in advance.
The two hours were well received because as we inched our way closer and closer to the hotel asking tourists along the way how to get there, we steadily realized that it was walkable. We hiked 4km with our luggage and backpacks from the bus station to the hotel, door to door. I'm getting to the point now where I'm getting bold about using my Spanish. I could live here.
Special thanks to Señora Christie for introducing me to the beauty of the Spanish tongue and Spanish women in general. I'm going to go to my old highschool this fall to see if she recognizes me.
Malaga is sex. Let me please set the tone: I know I talk very whimsically about my notions of sex and am not very careful when it comes to objectifying the female body. So I won't tell you in detail why the women here are the most beautiful I've ever seen. I just need you to understand that they are.
It's not like, maybe, if I think about it, yea, they are sexy. They are. This is the mecca of physical design. Everyone has put more than an hour's work into looking the way they did tonight, but when the clothes and makeup come off tonight (and I surmise they will, in rapid and passionate fashion) they will still be as precious as jewels. I want one. I want to take one home and look at it through a monocle to make sure it's real. I've never seen any like these before so I don't know how to appraise them any other way but to say priceless.
Smoking is quite common here, which for me is normally a turnoff, but to be honest, they have to let off some of that heat somehow! I'm writing this at about 2am from my hostel balcony terrace because it is so hot in this city (the sun is down, but the women are still outside radiating!). We've decided to include some mall shopping in this leg of our trip after the cultural tours, because honestly we thirst for air con, and we also both realize that there is an economy centred around making people look good in this city, so it's probably a good place to fill our bags.
What's weird is I don't even feel insecure or awkward around so much beauty, it's empowering. In fact I feel sexier now than I've felt in a couple years. As when I see the world through my sunglasses everything touched by light takes on a tint of purple, here everything takes on elegance. I hope I can take it with me.
In real life though, I can't sleep because it is so hot. Tomorrow is an even worse hike than today. Oy, paincation!
Song of the day: Amy Winehouse - F#ck me Pumps
Word of the Day: bolsa - bag
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Day 4 - Malaga: Calm Sunday
Tanya and I hardly slept last night. Eventually after jostling around in her bed, Tanya was finally pooped and she succumbed to the will of her subconscious. I, on the other hand couldn't close my eyes. Tossing me over from front to back as I would an omelette, the air in the room lay there over our minds and bodies for the rest of the night. A pulsating discomfort brought on by the fact that we were now in uncomfortable circumstances. We can get past this, we thought. It shouldn't be difficult, we reasoned. But as I typed away last night's trip log, glancing over at Tanya at times as she lay there, watching her struggle within, I realized the undeniable truth: We both want to go back to a clean hotel with air con to sleep comfortably! Oh man, was it hot!
Malaga fails on food, and fails on cultural sites. Not all of European history is impressive.
This morning we toured Malaga. If you ever come to Malaga, leave before Sunday, or go to the beach on Sunday. Traffic and buses are a relative mess Sunday mornings. By the dress of the drivers and passengers I would guess everyone wasn't on their way to Church. However, they sure weren't on their way to work because "New Malaga" absolutely shuts down in proper Catholic fashion on Sundays. As you know, we had a lot riding on going shopping today, so as I type this note there is an air of discontent that I wish to vent with soft words and Tanya is filtering through sleepmosis.
We toured Gibralfaro and Alcazaba, the Cathedral and the Picasso Museum. Each had its problems, and I can say this objectively because were were not yet aware that there would be no shopping to follow. They should call that fortress and theatre 'Gee-it's-far-o' and 'Al-Casa-botfly.' Both are located about a hundred and fifty metres above the city shoreline and the walking was intense. Steepness more than distance. Back sweat and flies in the face were the norm today. We got a load of cool landscape shots, but with the humidity and overcast, they weren't serene. But we made our choice the night before when we cursed the heat, less heat was well appreciated.
The cathedral here was closed to tourists - Sunday, obvie. Tanya was a bit deflated as she has a certain affinity for Roman architecture and was now only able to capture it from the outside. I was unphased as for me it meant less walking. Less walking meant less sweating. Less sweating meant I could enjoy my time at the Picasso museum.
-Here are my quick thoughts on Picasso.
-He wasn't always trying in his sketches.
-He loved women.
-His sculptures are weird.
-My first grade teacher should have appreciated the cubist impressions embedded in my playdoh sculptures, as they looked similar to that of Picasso.
-He adored women.
-Cubism is a really whimsical but serious take on the human form.
-He often expresses the vulgarity of genitalia explicitly.
-Do not be fooled, he had a steady and ready hand, each stroke in each oil based painting I saw had purpose and added meaning.
-He lived in Malaga, Barcelona and Paris, how could he not love women.
-The sketches where he did try are telling of his command of impressionism and realism.
-Sexism is a form of expression too.
-He painted forms from memory, wow.
-Hot wife, still.
We went back to the beach only to find it covered with litter, pop cans, and nudies who would cover their breasts for a minute while trying to re-fasten their tops making it quite awkward, only after flashing the general public long enough for an aspiring Picasso to have converted her form to cube, mentally. The sun came back out which was great for beach atmosphere, but my camera died after a few candid shots of strangers were taken. With that I felt a sudden sense of wakeful relaxation felt by an uneasy nap. For a moment I had that 'Yes, I am knee deep in vacation feeling.' But as I slept I had a distinct feeling Tanya was going to stab me in my sleep for prolonging our time in this heat. I woke up and we left the beach. The next time I wake up, we leave Malaga. Mentally, we already have. It's cooler today, we hope for a good sleep.
Song of the Day: Tonight's gonna be a good night - Black Eyed Peas
Word of the Day: molestar - bother
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Day 5 - Granada: Late and Great
For everyone who was jealous of our over-planning, for those who secretly harboured twisted wishes for something to go wrong, your wishes were answered. This morning we were scheduled to check out at 8am and take either bus 1 or C1 to the station to catch our bus to Granada. Clockwork, we woke up at 7am and got downstairs in the other building at 7:45 to be first in line to checkout...
The thing about weedheads is that they smoke a lot of weed. Weed makes people sleep and eat more than they should. Considering the prevalence of marijuana art in our hostel room, graffiti tags in the street, Rastafarian sentiment (and possibly genuine at that), punk teen dress, and finally tattoos and piercings on our hotel worker's body, I'm willing to believe weed played a small part in the reason he showed up at 9:15, only after he was called in by the building owner, scrambling against the trumpeted yells of the Bulgarian lady who doesn't accept 'sorry' as a suitable gesture. Nor do I. In the end we were compensated for the bus we missed, and refunded, for the 2nd night's stay. So we lost time but made a financial profit on the 60 euro payout. No doubt that kid is gonna pay for 5 rooms' compensation out of his own pocket. I won't judge him. The best part about being on vacation is, sleeping in is a victimless crime.
So then we bussed to Granada. Man, did I ever sleep. I drooled, later reports indicate that none of it landed on Tanya. I love how friends can still love you at your low points.
Then we got off the bus. I forgot to mention in yesterday's section that Tanya and I are no longer tourists. In Seville we were tourists. In Malaga, we were travelers, doing touristy things. Here, we are voyagers. Due to Malaga's small size I had the bright idea to walk from the bus station to the hotel with our luggage. 4.0km of heat and sun is not Tanya's idea of a vacation. I enjoyed the workout, and I love stopping random people who I don't know or trust and asking them for directions, only after having exhausted my intuition and the impression I get from the google map in hand. I enjoy this so much so that I swindled Tanya into doing it again.
In real life, I promise, Google maps' directions were only 3km. But roundabouts are complicated when there are no street names. So we were good for the first 3km, even though we were never on any of the streets we were supposed to be on, then we did circles, and ovals, and a triangle. Still I had a smile and a hop in my step. At around the 4.1km mark (I presume) Tanya bellowed 'The walk in Malaga is definitely shorter than this!' I hate how friends can hate you at your high points.
Tanya always gets a special place on my tolerance shelf, right beside my family and vegetables.
We got to the hotel and had some alone time. Me in the shower trying to figure out how to work the damn thing. Tanya in her bed, just happy not to see me. She doesn't know this yet, but we are going to taxi it to our hotels in Valencia and Barcelona. I always make good on my transgressions.
Then, more walking. One map in pocket and an innate feeling of the city. I was on a roll today. I found places I've never seen before using streets that were not on our map, which for the most part remained closed in my pocket. We got to it all, we found little niche arabesque markets, and tapas plazas, a Zara Home store (who knew?) and some big photo opps.
I'll leave it at that for now. I bought stuff for people back home so I won't ruin the personal touch with public descriptions. Tomorrow we visit the Alhambra. It was written.
Song of the Day: Anjulie - Crazy that Way
Word of the Day: Cada - Each
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Day 6 - Granada: Active Pension
I used to look at landscapes or sunsets or starlit skies and just gaze. They would each tell me a stories about myself that they heard in their galaxy millions of years ago. Much of each story would be fuzzy (probably because of the distance) but I would get the gist. Stars would get one good point across, sunsets would reveal to me a couple truths about myself, and landscapes would offer me a lot of ready-to-use clarity. I really liked the stories they had to offer.
Now, landscapes all give me the same advice: Don't gaze when it's time to act, and don't act when it's time to gaze. Today it was the time for both, so I toppled back and forth between taking photos and letting the moments sink it. I got a lot of both. The Alhambra is a true marvel of nature and architecture in harmony. Inside it, I felt a certain sense of peace.
In truth, there's not much more for me to say about Granada. We spent the time looking at things that were stunning. The pictures will elucidate better discussions than my memories. I would say that with a 12mp camera, a picture is greater than or equal to 1000 words - that's my new formula.
Song of the Day: The Hills are Alive - Sound of Music
Word of the Day: Alma - Soul
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Act 3: The Autonomous Region of Valencia and Catalunya - Last Stretch
Day 7 - Valencia: Do it Again
I haven't had the time to keep up with the journal. The details of my trip herefrom are all memories, written from the lens of someone who has already returned. Forgive me if my brevity lacks detail, but I promise you that this was (from a literary standpoint) an excellent point to begin speeding through the journal because by Valencia, both Tanya and myself were fatigued of this trip, and so all that we did from this point on was pretty straightforward.
We arrived in Valencia just after 7am, after a 7hr overnight bus ride. Our hotel, standing a mere 50 metres from the City of Arts & Sciences exhibit was booked so we checked our bags and got right into it. We took pictures of the wonderful architecture of CAS at daybreak, had a croissant and cafe con leche breakfast, and then took some more photos until the exhibit opened.
After 2hrs of information overload, we decided our minds deserved a break and we went shopping. Back and forth between El Corte Ingles and the mall beside it, we splurged a little and judged a lot. Shopping is always better with an old friend, because they've seen you wear a lot of things, they know what works for you and doesn't. Man, did I shop. The pace was fierce, no time could be wasted. McDonald's was consumed for lunch so as not to waste time. For the late afternoon we went back to the exhibit to see the Oceanografico, Europe's largest aquamarine exhibit. I remember when I was a kid I saw a Dolphin show, but I don't remember it being as exciting as this one. I'm still on the fence about whether Dolphins are actually smarter than humans, I think intelligence would have to be strictly defined to convince me; but I can tell you this with certainty - Dolphins are a lot better with hoola hoops than I am.
The show ended, we've now been up and walking for 14 hours, time to eat. After a pit-stop at our very very chic hotel, we bussed to the beach (or near the beach) for the ever famous Paella. Valencia's a city I would love to see again. If I went to Valencia I would experience the city centre, and I would also try to appreciate the things we stormed past as we hunted down our hotel staff's suggestion on where to get the best Paella in Valencia - specifically, the beachside markets, the beach itself, the downtown core, countless little cafes and little stores. What I likely won't do is get too excited over Paella. It was alright. Actually, I liked it, but in much the same way that I like bread. Good bread is a beautiful thing. But without some meat and cheese or something more, I won't lose any sleep over it. Paella, to me and my immature palette, needs something more. While we were in Valencia I was given a recipe CD with my purchases at El Corte Ingles, so maybe I'll investigate further to tell you what that something more should be. Until then...
Song of the Day: Make it Rain - Fat Joe and Lil Wayne
Word of the Day: Pagar - To Pay
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Day 8 - Barcelona: New Life at Camp Nou
I'm a bit lazy, and there's not much that I want to say in words about visiting Camp Nou. Anecdotally, I made it rain in the gift shop. I bought a lot of FC Barcelona paraphernalia, some of which I'll use often, some of which I'll use not so often, and a certain glass mug I will never use because it broke while I was rejoicing at lunch. Beyond that, look at the pictures. I'm a fan and it was great to visit the place I've seen on television oh so many times. And to see the UEFA Champion's League Trophy up close and personal, well, it is a dream come true for the little kid who used to wake up early on Saturday mornings to watch TSN Soccer Saturday starring Graham Leggat, after cartoons of course!
Special thanks to Tanya for documenting my experiences there with my camera.
Song of the Day: Blanco - Pitbull
Word of the Day: Gafre - Waffle
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Day 9 - Barcelona: Where did Forever Go?
Gaudi exhibits are another experience I think is best explained through pictures. I must say that I didn't read up much on Gaudi before going to Spain, but now I am a fan. Something I struggle with in life is that there is a lot of art that I feel I just don't get. I even half-read a ridiculous little novel on art history that was supposed to awaken me to the secrets of understanding and appreciating art. It might be working, I should read the rest of the book. Because I must say that I do appreciate the detail, the themes, and the implications of Gaudi's architectural marvels. And to do this while walking around a quarter of Barcelona from exhibit to exhibit, shows that I must have really liked it. In any case, the short version of the story is, that's how half our day was spent in Barcelona. We really soaked it in, and I'm happy we did.
We were going to take a scooter tour to see all the exhibits, but I'm interminably happy we walked it. Emily, my friend who suggested we take the scooter tour even mentioned to me something that stuck in my mind for the entire trip. She warned against going on a trip just to chance someone else's experiences, because you'll never quite find it. I was guilty here, Tanya too. With Paella in Valencia for instance, and maybe with a few other things. Expectations were set and either met, exceeded or missed, but these expectations weren't all our own. In truth, I kind of thought Paella would be not much more than classy Rice-a-Roni, but even I expected more, just because of all that I have heard. In the end, I'm yet to experience everyone else's Paella. But Barcelona, well, Barcelona I experienced, and I hope anyone else who goes to Barcelona chases my experience or something like it. The city is alive and filled with art, and I think if you can do only one thing while you're there it's to try to notice just that. But in Barcelona, there is actually much much more that can be done. One major thing that must be done in Barcelona is to shop! So after a morning of art, and a meal that only a poet should try to describe, we set off to the mall to join the world's elite in a shopping pilgrimage.
Vacation Tip: Always check to see if there are any upcoming holidays or festivities happening in your vacation destination. If you do this, you, for example, won't have your hearts crushed when you walk into an almost empty mega mall, only to find out by a food court staff that it is a Catalunyan holiday, and this is why all of the major shops are closed. The malls were closed, and for us, so was our trip.
Song of the Day: Water Runs Dry - Boys II Men
Word of the Day: Ielo - Ice
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Day 10 - Everywhere: Planes
There's not much to say here except Lufthansa is a remarkably good airline company. Their planes could use some structural work, because they are not built for the weak at heart. I tried to ease the fears of a the couple beside us (who were actually on a flight with Lufthansa that suffered an engine failure while flying) to let them know that the loud noises before takeoff are actually quite common. But beyond that, custom movie selections, good/great meals, and they held our connecting flight on the ground until we got there because our first flight left 20 minutes later than scheduled. Service like that deserves a nod. But the best part of the flight was still touching down in Toronto. It's good to be home. I feel like the trip was just long enough for me to feel like I gathered up a lot of Spain to take with me, but I'm not sad to part ways. I'm pretty sure I'll see her again.
Song of the Day: Welcome Back - Mase
Word of the Day: Intiendo - I get it/I understand
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Intro
Day 0 - Toronto: Planes
There's nothing profound about Air Canada. When most people who have traveled hear the name, a certain sense of mistrust and perhaps even animosity resonates. But today I've noticed noticeable changes have been made for the better. Already this trip is proving to be filled with metaphor. I'm hoping for an impactful allegory.
Now on the plane, sitting in the middle section, aisle right, poking my nose across the shoulders of my new neighbours to steal the experience of a window seat I'm noticing our plane passing by Air Transat, Caribbean airlines, and other memorable vacations taken with my family. My dad confessed a few weeks ago that one of his goals as a father was to whet our appetite for travel, my brother and I, so that we could experience the joys of travel and other cultures. As Tanya and I soar upwards into the sunset for our 7:50pm flight to Munich, en route to our self-made tour of the regions of Andalucia and Catalunya, I realize that Dad can go to bed with another smile on his face tonight. It worked Dad, I'm excited.
Now, the million dollar question: In flight movie or reading first?
Theme Song:
-Lesson 1: Bienvenidos (In-Flight Spanish)
Word of the day: Embarque - boarding
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Act 1: Full of Hope
Day 1 (I think) Barcelona: Good Start
A 4-hour cat nap on the first of 3 flights is not enough to make today feel like a new day. Regardless, it is 19:30 del jueves here and 1:30pm Thursday back at home so I guess by all accounts it is a new day.
Munich's airport provided free tea for the week (is it still a provision if I steal it from the free bin?) and a friendly reminder that brunettes want to be blondes, because blondes are hotter.
During our stop-over in Barcelona we decided to get a first taste of the country and break the travel ice. I started with a well-carried conversation with a bag carrier in Spanish which saved us some cash and directed us to the Metro to avoid the taxi life. Sigh of relief, my Spanish is permissible. As we stepped out of the subway and ascended to the stairs we were met warmly by the Gaudi Museum. And just like that we were really in Spain.
We shook off the getting lost bug as well. Tanya shows consistently that tact can be more effective than assessment. While I sized up citizens to see who might be warm enough to bear my broken Spanish, Tanya cut in and found the guy who gets paid to know English. 'Just ask' is quickly becoming this trip's theme.
We didn't really have a game plan for how to spend 5hrs between flights in Barcelona. So with the purpose and aim of a drunkard, we stumbled upon the idea of walking La Ramblas with all of our luggage. We packed light, but wheelies are annoying and make us targets in packed high-traffic areas. All was well in the end, we'll be back. Money will be spent in Barca; fear not onlookers, Barca is exactly as cosmopolitan as you may have heard.
We're in Seville now. Our Hotel attendant is interminably nice. I couldn't believe how incredibly understandable she was in Spanish, and her warmth has created in me a love for her that transcends age, logic, or the other barriers to us getting married. I am going to sop up Seville with a sponge.
Theme Song: Empire State of Mind - Jay Z f. Alicia Keys.
Word of the day: Proximo - next
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Act 2: Andalucia - Southern Spain
Day 2: Claro! Soy el rey del Sevilla
So we've walked around Seville enough to say that we practically own the place. Apparently a 5 hour sleep in the bed is worth more than 4 on the bus. Today, we were tourists. Armed with a map, a lonely planet book, a scarce understanding of the bus system, cameras, money, passports, and purses. We acquainted (but not familiarize) ourselves with the local streets with an early morning walk to get the 3 day Tourist bus pass. I now know what an Estanco is (stand/giftshop), but I don't know where to find any when I need them, so we came home defeated but ready to pay the regular bus fare. Then, out of a thirst for popularity we shook hands with more avenidas, calles, pasados, plazas, and stumbled upon the beginning of our walking tour, La Catedral.
Yea, chances are you haven't seen a Cathedral like this. It's a gem of craftsmanship. On the other hand, Roman Catholic and Gothic architecture makes me yawn in much the same way microbiology does - vast importance for some, but not exactly a romantic novelty in my eyes. I suppose the irony of Seville is that walking through the Cathedral makes a man marvel and at man's craftsmanship, but walking everywhere else, where there might be Sevillean women about, makes a man marvel at God's craftsmanship. Well anyhow, I praised Him twice today.
After visiting Spanish solemnity, we quenched our thirst for blood under the hot sun at the Plaza del Toro. Bullfighting from our guide's description seems extremely vicious. I think to watch a real fight (or even our visit) supports a pastime that was created to overcome an severe cultural boredom. Eastern religions and sensible animal rights activists would join me in saying this tradition is one step above Gladiator warfare, but several steps below a quality Futbol match. All the same, Bullfighting is an excellent allegory for any coming of age story, personal or societal. The idea of a little Galitto practicing to stand, to really stand, in the face of a charging task that even wise and respected men dare not face, this is the never-ending story of human development - moral, physical, political.
Well, our bull was the Sun, and we ran. We joined the rest of the city in a siesta. Sevilla was playing Valencia that day anyway and the town was on pin-drop quiet. We showered/rested up for part 2. I wish the days at home were long enough to have 2 parts, I'll take that as an action item.
Next was Isla Magica. Sometimes flat honesty and exuberance is the right formula for success. Cracking a smile out of the ticket booth lady made for a helpful tip to save 9 euros each, and the most efficient theme park experience in history. The rides were scarce but all were fun. And we went late so we avoided the lines and the heat. The Jaguar humbled us both, as we were both quite dizzy after riding it. Towards the end we stumbled upon a scheduled (but for us impromptu) lakeside flamenco performance starring a belladonna, a man on a horse in old torridor fashion and a fluorescent fountain backdrop.
Spain is elegance. Only here have I seen a horse dance to the rhythm of Spanish classical, himself enchanted by la Senorita. Some things transcend language. Next was a white stallion showboating to Andalucian melodies. However, in typical European tradition, you couldn't ignore the underscore of cruelty that must have been perpetrated on the poor creature to get him to perform such a long routine in style. He drooled of extreme hunger through the entire performance. And with that we left.
Plaza de Espana was massive. Really another fine example of Catholic architecture. We happened to make our visit on a Friday night where all of the local kids decided to use the huge exhibit as their stomping ground for underaged drinking, drama, and lude acts. Right now I'm at on the patio of a streetside restaurant, so like the young man I saw just past the bridge in the Plaza, having a intimate moment with his girlfriend, I too am about to find out how the fish tastes in Seville!
Sangria done right is a beautiful thing. Tonight's Sangria is Sangria done okay. My first thoughts on Paella - ok, but someone needs to call Emril to kick it up a notch. We'll see if it's better in the motherland, Valencia. I found out the only reason I wish I was white (sorry Dad!) today. If I was white I could eat more salted meats, and boy does Europe have some tasty meat options. I think even Mahayana Buddhists would decree an official exception to abstinence from meat if they had more Serrano sandwiches in their lives.
These were my eating experiences today told backwards, tomorrow we move forward to Malaga. What to wear?
Song of the Day: Everyone Loves Marineland - Commercial
Word of the Day: Tienda - Shop
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Day 3 - Malaga: Un camino sin fresca
We said good bye to Seville with a Tapas run in the early morning. I said hello to my new idea on how to live life well. Tapas bars are essentially streetside (or plazaside) bars that serve drinks alongside small portions of a wide variety of foods. Each tapas plate can range from 1-5 euros and makes for the most exquisite way to share and compare food while enjoying the fact that the food is a mere pretext for tabletop conversation. The hungry can still be satisfied with the options of full servings or simply many tapas, but that would really defeat the point. Appetizers doesn't quite define what you get here, this isn't a pretext to a meal. A drink or coffee, a patio seat or high table, a tapas or two, is all you need to enjoy good or bad company. Tanya and I are well acquainted, so today was all about the food. I'll spare the food review.
We got to Malaga 2 hours early because the bus company's earlier bus was at the station when we arrived at the platform.
Special thanks to Amrit for helping me book my inter-city departures in advance.
The two hours were well received because as we inched our way closer and closer to the hotel asking tourists along the way how to get there, we steadily realized that it was walkable. We hiked 4km with our luggage and backpacks from the bus station to the hotel, door to door. I'm getting to the point now where I'm getting bold about using my Spanish. I could live here.
Special thanks to Señora Christie for introducing me to the beauty of the Spanish tongue and Spanish women in general. I'm going to go to my old highschool this fall to see if she recognizes me.
Malaga is sex. Let me please set the tone: I know I talk very whimsically about my notions of sex and am not very careful when it comes to objectifying the female body. So I won't tell you in detail why the women here are the most beautiful I've ever seen. I just need you to understand that they are.
It's not like, maybe, if I think about it, yea, they are sexy. They are. This is the mecca of physical design. Everyone has put more than an hour's work into looking the way they did tonight, but when the clothes and makeup come off tonight (and I surmise they will, in rapid and passionate fashion) they will still be as precious as jewels. I want one. I want to take one home and look at it through a monocle to make sure it's real. I've never seen any like these before so I don't know how to appraise them any other way but to say priceless.
Smoking is quite common here, which for me is normally a turnoff, but to be honest, they have to let off some of that heat somehow! I'm writing this at about 2am from my hostel balcony terrace because it is so hot in this city (the sun is down, but the women are still outside radiating!). We've decided to include some mall shopping in this leg of our trip after the cultural tours, because honestly we thirst for air con, and we also both realize that there is an economy centred around making people look good in this city, so it's probably a good place to fill our bags.
What's weird is I don't even feel insecure or awkward around so much beauty, it's empowering. In fact I feel sexier now than I've felt in a couple years. As when I see the world through my sunglasses everything touched by light takes on a tint of purple, here everything takes on elegance. I hope I can take it with me.
In real life though, I can't sleep because it is so hot. Tomorrow is an even worse hike than today. Oy, paincation!
Song of the day: Amy Winehouse - F#ck me Pumps
Word of the Day: bolsa - bag
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Day 4 - Malaga: Calm Sunday
Tanya and I hardly slept last night. Eventually after jostling around in her bed, Tanya was finally pooped and she succumbed to the will of her subconscious. I, on the other hand couldn't close my eyes. Tossing me over from front to back as I would an omelette, the air in the room lay there over our minds and bodies for the rest of the night. A pulsating discomfort brought on by the fact that we were now in uncomfortable circumstances. We can get past this, we thought. It shouldn't be difficult, we reasoned. But as I typed away last night's trip log, glancing over at Tanya at times as she lay there, watching her struggle within, I realized the undeniable truth: We both want to go back to a clean hotel with air con to sleep comfortably! Oh man, was it hot!
Malaga fails on food, and fails on cultural sites. Not all of European history is impressive.
This morning we toured Malaga. If you ever come to Malaga, leave before Sunday, or go to the beach on Sunday. Traffic and buses are a relative mess Sunday mornings. By the dress of the drivers and passengers I would guess everyone wasn't on their way to Church. However, they sure weren't on their way to work because "New Malaga" absolutely shuts down in proper Catholic fashion on Sundays. As you know, we had a lot riding on going shopping today, so as I type this note there is an air of discontent that I wish to vent with soft words and Tanya is filtering through sleepmosis.
We toured Gibralfaro and Alcazaba, the Cathedral and the Picasso Museum. Each had its problems, and I can say this objectively because were were not yet aware that there would be no shopping to follow. They should call that fortress and theatre 'Gee-it's-far-o' and 'Al-Casa-botfly.' Both are located about a hundred and fifty metres above the city shoreline and the walking was intense. Steepness more than distance. Back sweat and flies in the face were the norm today. We got a load of cool landscape shots, but with the humidity and overcast, they weren't serene. But we made our choice the night before when we cursed the heat, less heat was well appreciated.
The cathedral here was closed to tourists - Sunday, obvie. Tanya was a bit deflated as she has a certain affinity for Roman architecture and was now only able to capture it from the outside. I was unphased as for me it meant less walking. Less walking meant less sweating. Less sweating meant I could enjoy my time at the Picasso museum.
-Here are my quick thoughts on Picasso.
-He wasn't always trying in his sketches.
-He loved women.
-His sculptures are weird.
-My first grade teacher should have appreciated the cubist impressions embedded in my playdoh sculptures, as they looked similar to that of Picasso.
-He adored women.
-Cubism is a really whimsical but serious take on the human form.
-He often expresses the vulgarity of genitalia explicitly.
-Do not be fooled, he had a steady and ready hand, each stroke in each oil based painting I saw had purpose and added meaning.
-He lived in Malaga, Barcelona and Paris, how could he not love women.
-The sketches where he did try are telling of his command of impressionism and realism.
-Sexism is a form of expression too.
-He painted forms from memory, wow.
-Hot wife, still.
We went back to the beach only to find it covered with litter, pop cans, and nudies who would cover their breasts for a minute while trying to re-fasten their tops making it quite awkward, only after flashing the general public long enough for an aspiring Picasso to have converted her form to cube, mentally. The sun came back out which was great for beach atmosphere, but my camera died after a few candid shots of strangers were taken. With that I felt a sudden sense of wakeful relaxation felt by an uneasy nap. For a moment I had that 'Yes, I am knee deep in vacation feeling.' But as I slept I had a distinct feeling Tanya was going to stab me in my sleep for prolonging our time in this heat. I woke up and we left the beach. The next time I wake up, we leave Malaga. Mentally, we already have. It's cooler today, we hope for a good sleep.
Song of the Day: Tonight's gonna be a good night - Black Eyed Peas
Word of the Day: molestar - bother
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Day 5 - Granada: Late and Great
For everyone who was jealous of our over-planning, for those who secretly harboured twisted wishes for something to go wrong, your wishes were answered. This morning we were scheduled to check out at 8am and take either bus 1 or C1 to the station to catch our bus to Granada. Clockwork, we woke up at 7am and got downstairs in the other building at 7:45 to be first in line to checkout...
The thing about weedheads is that they smoke a lot of weed. Weed makes people sleep and eat more than they should. Considering the prevalence of marijuana art in our hostel room, graffiti tags in the street, Rastafarian sentiment (and possibly genuine at that), punk teen dress, and finally tattoos and piercings on our hotel worker's body, I'm willing to believe weed played a small part in the reason he showed up at 9:15, only after he was called in by the building owner, scrambling against the trumpeted yells of the Bulgarian lady who doesn't accept 'sorry' as a suitable gesture. Nor do I. In the end we were compensated for the bus we missed, and refunded, for the 2nd night's stay. So we lost time but made a financial profit on the 60 euro payout. No doubt that kid is gonna pay for 5 rooms' compensation out of his own pocket. I won't judge him. The best part about being on vacation is, sleeping in is a victimless crime.
So then we bussed to Granada. Man, did I ever sleep. I drooled, later reports indicate that none of it landed on Tanya. I love how friends can still love you at your low points.
Then we got off the bus. I forgot to mention in yesterday's section that Tanya and I are no longer tourists. In Seville we were tourists. In Malaga, we were travelers, doing touristy things. Here, we are voyagers. Due to Malaga's small size I had the bright idea to walk from the bus station to the hotel with our luggage. 4.0km of heat and sun is not Tanya's idea of a vacation. I enjoyed the workout, and I love stopping random people who I don't know or trust and asking them for directions, only after having exhausted my intuition and the impression I get from the google map in hand. I enjoy this so much so that I swindled Tanya into doing it again.
In real life, I promise, Google maps' directions were only 3km. But roundabouts are complicated when there are no street names. So we were good for the first 3km, even though we were never on any of the streets we were supposed to be on, then we did circles, and ovals, and a triangle. Still I had a smile and a hop in my step. At around the 4.1km mark (I presume) Tanya bellowed 'The walk in Malaga is definitely shorter than this!' I hate how friends can hate you at your high points.
Tanya always gets a special place on my tolerance shelf, right beside my family and vegetables.
We got to the hotel and had some alone time. Me in the shower trying to figure out how to work the damn thing. Tanya in her bed, just happy not to see me. She doesn't know this yet, but we are going to taxi it to our hotels in Valencia and Barcelona. I always make good on my transgressions.
Then, more walking. One map in pocket and an innate feeling of the city. I was on a roll today. I found places I've never seen before using streets that were not on our map, which for the most part remained closed in my pocket. We got to it all, we found little niche arabesque markets, and tapas plazas, a Zara Home store (who knew?) and some big photo opps.
I'll leave it at that for now. I bought stuff for people back home so I won't ruin the personal touch with public descriptions. Tomorrow we visit the Alhambra. It was written.
Song of the Day: Anjulie - Crazy that Way
Word of the Day: Cada - Each
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Day 6 - Granada: Active Pension
I used to look at landscapes or sunsets or starlit skies and just gaze. They would each tell me a stories about myself that they heard in their galaxy millions of years ago. Much of each story would be fuzzy (probably because of the distance) but I would get the gist. Stars would get one good point across, sunsets would reveal to me a couple truths about myself, and landscapes would offer me a lot of ready-to-use clarity. I really liked the stories they had to offer.
Now, landscapes all give me the same advice: Don't gaze when it's time to act, and don't act when it's time to gaze. Today it was the time for both, so I toppled back and forth between taking photos and letting the moments sink it. I got a lot of both. The Alhambra is a true marvel of nature and architecture in harmony. Inside it, I felt a certain sense of peace.
In truth, there's not much more for me to say about Granada. We spent the time looking at things that were stunning. The pictures will elucidate better discussions than my memories. I would say that with a 12mp camera, a picture is greater than or equal to 1000 words - that's my new formula.
Song of the Day: The Hills are Alive - Sound of Music
Word of the Day: Alma - Soul
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Act 3: The Autonomous Region of Valencia and Catalunya - Last Stretch
Day 7 - Valencia: Do it Again
I haven't had the time to keep up with the journal. The details of my trip herefrom are all memories, written from the lens of someone who has already returned. Forgive me if my brevity lacks detail, but I promise you that this was (from a literary standpoint) an excellent point to begin speeding through the journal because by Valencia, both Tanya and myself were fatigued of this trip, and so all that we did from this point on was pretty straightforward.
We arrived in Valencia just after 7am, after a 7hr overnight bus ride. Our hotel, standing a mere 50 metres from the City of Arts & Sciences exhibit was booked so we checked our bags and got right into it. We took pictures of the wonderful architecture of CAS at daybreak, had a croissant and cafe con leche breakfast, and then took some more photos until the exhibit opened.
After 2hrs of information overload, we decided our minds deserved a break and we went shopping. Back and forth between El Corte Ingles and the mall beside it, we splurged a little and judged a lot. Shopping is always better with an old friend, because they've seen you wear a lot of things, they know what works for you and doesn't. Man, did I shop. The pace was fierce, no time could be wasted. McDonald's was consumed for lunch so as not to waste time. For the late afternoon we went back to the exhibit to see the Oceanografico, Europe's largest aquamarine exhibit. I remember when I was a kid I saw a Dolphin show, but I don't remember it being as exciting as this one. I'm still on the fence about whether Dolphins are actually smarter than humans, I think intelligence would have to be strictly defined to convince me; but I can tell you this with certainty - Dolphins are a lot better with hoola hoops than I am.
The show ended, we've now been up and walking for 14 hours, time to eat. After a pit-stop at our very very chic hotel, we bussed to the beach (or near the beach) for the ever famous Paella. Valencia's a city I would love to see again. If I went to Valencia I would experience the city centre, and I would also try to appreciate the things we stormed past as we hunted down our hotel staff's suggestion on where to get the best Paella in Valencia - specifically, the beachside markets, the beach itself, the downtown core, countless little cafes and little stores. What I likely won't do is get too excited over Paella. It was alright. Actually, I liked it, but in much the same way that I like bread. Good bread is a beautiful thing. But without some meat and cheese or something more, I won't lose any sleep over it. Paella, to me and my immature palette, needs something more. While we were in Valencia I was given a recipe CD with my purchases at El Corte Ingles, so maybe I'll investigate further to tell you what that something more should be. Until then...
Song of the Day: Make it Rain - Fat Joe and Lil Wayne
Word of the Day: Pagar - To Pay
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Day 8 - Barcelona: New Life at Camp Nou
I'm a bit lazy, and there's not much that I want to say in words about visiting Camp Nou. Anecdotally, I made it rain in the gift shop. I bought a lot of FC Barcelona paraphernalia, some of which I'll use often, some of which I'll use not so often, and a certain glass mug I will never use because it broke while I was rejoicing at lunch. Beyond that, look at the pictures. I'm a fan and it was great to visit the place I've seen on television oh so many times. And to see the UEFA Champion's League Trophy up close and personal, well, it is a dream come true for the little kid who used to wake up early on Saturday mornings to watch TSN Soccer Saturday starring Graham Leggat, after cartoons of course!
Special thanks to Tanya for documenting my experiences there with my camera.
Song of the Day: Blanco - Pitbull
Word of the Day: Gafre - Waffle
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Day 9 - Barcelona: Where did Forever Go?
Gaudi exhibits are another experience I think is best explained through pictures. I must say that I didn't read up much on Gaudi before going to Spain, but now I am a fan. Something I struggle with in life is that there is a lot of art that I feel I just don't get. I even half-read a ridiculous little novel on art history that was supposed to awaken me to the secrets of understanding and appreciating art. It might be working, I should read the rest of the book. Because I must say that I do appreciate the detail, the themes, and the implications of Gaudi's architectural marvels. And to do this while walking around a quarter of Barcelona from exhibit to exhibit, shows that I must have really liked it. In any case, the short version of the story is, that's how half our day was spent in Barcelona. We really soaked it in, and I'm happy we did.
We were going to take a scooter tour to see all the exhibits, but I'm interminably happy we walked it. Emily, my friend who suggested we take the scooter tour even mentioned to me something that stuck in my mind for the entire trip. She warned against going on a trip just to chance someone else's experiences, because you'll never quite find it. I was guilty here, Tanya too. With Paella in Valencia for instance, and maybe with a few other things. Expectations were set and either met, exceeded or missed, but these expectations weren't all our own. In truth, I kind of thought Paella would be not much more than classy Rice-a-Roni, but even I expected more, just because of all that I have heard. In the end, I'm yet to experience everyone else's Paella. But Barcelona, well, Barcelona I experienced, and I hope anyone else who goes to Barcelona chases my experience or something like it. The city is alive and filled with art, and I think if you can do only one thing while you're there it's to try to notice just that. But in Barcelona, there is actually much much more that can be done. One major thing that must be done in Barcelona is to shop! So after a morning of art, and a meal that only a poet should try to describe, we set off to the mall to join the world's elite in a shopping pilgrimage.
Vacation Tip: Always check to see if there are any upcoming holidays or festivities happening in your vacation destination. If you do this, you, for example, won't have your hearts crushed when you walk into an almost empty mega mall, only to find out by a food court staff that it is a Catalunyan holiday, and this is why all of the major shops are closed. The malls were closed, and for us, so was our trip.
Song of the Day: Water Runs Dry - Boys II Men
Word of the Day: Ielo - Ice
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Day 10 - Everywhere: Planes
There's not much to say here except Lufthansa is a remarkably good airline company. Their planes could use some structural work, because they are not built for the weak at heart. I tried to ease the fears of a the couple beside us (who were actually on a flight with Lufthansa that suffered an engine failure while flying) to let them know that the loud noises before takeoff are actually quite common. But beyond that, custom movie selections, good/great meals, and they held our connecting flight on the ground until we got there because our first flight left 20 minutes later than scheduled. Service like that deserves a nod. But the best part of the flight was still touching down in Toronto. It's good to be home. I feel like the trip was just long enough for me to feel like I gathered up a lot of Spain to take with me, but I'm not sad to part ways. I'm pretty sure I'll see her again.
Song of the Day: Welcome Back - Mase
Word of the Day: Intiendo - I get it/I understand
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Night Sky
Such a star-lit sky. There were so many, I couldn't even count them all. Enough stars to keep me busy for my whole life, which is all that really matters in the end. So many stars, it'll be a shame to see them all go. I'm really quite scared for the day they all dwindle and fade. I'm already starting to see the black sky where a few of your stars were shining so brightly. Even the ones you told me I could hang on to for a little while. I can't seem to find them anymore. You never promised they'd be around forever, but I'll miss them. I really will miss them...
...But I hear the Sunrise here is beautiful.
...But I hear the Sunrise here is beautiful.
Friday, June 26, 2009
My Michael Jackson - June 26, 2009
Neil Armstrong did it first... but it took a real soul brother to walk the moon right!
Thriller!
He wasn't the best. He is the best. He's still the best. He died the best. We have all of his albums, but the records are his to keep! The body is gone, but I think people have been saying that for years. Regardless, the Legend is born and the Legend will likely continue to touch more people than the body ever did (allegations included).
You know he's Bad!
Everyone knows what has happened. Everyone always knows what happened to MJ, right?
When Michael Jackson was a young kid he entertained the world. For as long has he can probably remember he was on stage, for us. I know this the same way most people know this, I heard about on TV. I watched old videos, the Michael Jackson biopics, the commercials before his aired concerts. I was his greatest fan. We all were. In real life though, I only knew Micheal Jackson from what I saw on TV. We all did.
Billy Jean was not his Lover!
The difference between me and the MJ haters is, I had the compassion to remember that he was still a person, not made just for us. A lot of people along the way forgot this. They thought they knew him. They thought they knew what happened with those boys in the bed, and why he dangled his baby, and why he owned a ranch. I've had my own theories too. But now, just as then, those theories don't really matter anymore. It's sad that some people can sing Billy Jean at night, then wake up the next morning to crucify him from their sofa. But that doesn't matter anymore. You can't catch him now, he's gone. I breathe a little bit of fresh air knowing that the end happened at home, away from the cameras that followed him his whole life. I'm very sad he didn't get to have his farewell tour. In truth I think he knew his time was coming. For the last few years, I don't think many people would have said he looks healthy. But that doesn't matter anymore.
Heal The World!
Now I think we should all reflect on all the good he has done for this world. Even if you already were his greatest fan, you owe him that. From the beginning to the end he put on his face and told us, "I love you all." Even in the last days, he told the people he was okay.
Man in the mirror!
Let's understand something, whether he wanted to or not, Michael Jackson didn't have to live by our standards, or rules, or norms. We told him he did. He was scared to let us down with diseased skin, so he changed it all, over and over again. He spent most of his formative years trying not to let us down. But that's not enough for everyone. I just watched a CNN anchor take one last poke at the 'disturbed nature' of his 'other' persona. I don't think he was disturbed, I think he woke up one morning and remembered he was free. Free to do whatever he wanted. He was rich, powerful, a citizen of the world, famous, loved, hated, a true iconoclast. Some people thought he was weird, but a lot of people just hated that he could afford to be! Let's be honest, (in fact, let's hope!) if the world had more multi-billionaires, the world would have more Never Never Lands. Mine would've had a soccer field, though.
Thanks, Michael! For the music and the love. I won't be sad that you're gone, I know it's human nature. To me it never mattered if you were black or white. They both rocked my world.
Thriller!
He wasn't the best. He is the best. He's still the best. He died the best. We have all of his albums, but the records are his to keep! The body is gone, but I think people have been saying that for years. Regardless, the Legend is born and the Legend will likely continue to touch more people than the body ever did (allegations included).
You know he's Bad!
Everyone knows what has happened. Everyone always knows what happened to MJ, right?
When Michael Jackson was a young kid he entertained the world. For as long has he can probably remember he was on stage, for us. I know this the same way most people know this, I heard about on TV. I watched old videos, the Michael Jackson biopics, the commercials before his aired concerts. I was his greatest fan. We all were. In real life though, I only knew Micheal Jackson from what I saw on TV. We all did.
Billy Jean was not his Lover!
The difference between me and the MJ haters is, I had the compassion to remember that he was still a person, not made just for us. A lot of people along the way forgot this. They thought they knew him. They thought they knew what happened with those boys in the bed, and why he dangled his baby, and why he owned a ranch. I've had my own theories too. But now, just as then, those theories don't really matter anymore. It's sad that some people can sing Billy Jean at night, then wake up the next morning to crucify him from their sofa. But that doesn't matter anymore. You can't catch him now, he's gone. I breathe a little bit of fresh air knowing that the end happened at home, away from the cameras that followed him his whole life. I'm very sad he didn't get to have his farewell tour. In truth I think he knew his time was coming. For the last few years, I don't think many people would have said he looks healthy. But that doesn't matter anymore.
Heal The World!
Now I think we should all reflect on all the good he has done for this world. Even if you already were his greatest fan, you owe him that. From the beginning to the end he put on his face and told us, "I love you all." Even in the last days, he told the people he was okay.
Man in the mirror!
Let's understand something, whether he wanted to or not, Michael Jackson didn't have to live by our standards, or rules, or norms. We told him he did. He was scared to let us down with diseased skin, so he changed it all, over and over again. He spent most of his formative years trying not to let us down. But that's not enough for everyone. I just watched a CNN anchor take one last poke at the 'disturbed nature' of his 'other' persona. I don't think he was disturbed, I think he woke up one morning and remembered he was free. Free to do whatever he wanted. He was rich, powerful, a citizen of the world, famous, loved, hated, a true iconoclast. Some people thought he was weird, but a lot of people just hated that he could afford to be! Let's be honest, (in fact, let's hope!) if the world had more multi-billionaires, the world would have more Never Never Lands. Mine would've had a soccer field, though.
Thanks, Michael! For the music and the love. I won't be sad that you're gone, I know it's human nature. To me it never mattered if you were black or white. They both rocked my world.
Sunday, April 05, 2009
Star Crossed
The first time I felt your energy out there I was asleep. You woke up everything inside of me but kept my eyelids shut. I thought maybe you were in the room so I kept them shut for you. I didn't want to ruin the secret. I was so happy that you were finally back. I spent well over 10 years waiting. Everyone I had met so far in this life told me that you were here somewhere, but only I would recognize you. Finally, that night you came to me and gave me a kiss from the inside out and I felt so happy.
You know, I still remember in our last lives when we were both bugs. We didn't feel like bugs but I guess that's what we were after all huh? Remember when that big caterpillar jerk walked all over your pit and sealed you in, so I jumped over and fluttered about to scare him down the other side? I don't think I even scared him to be honest, he kind of just kept walking in that direction. Anyway, I couldn't show you back then when I helped unpack the sand he trampled over you but I was actually so frightened. I didn't think I could do it, but I scared him off! I just knew I had to though, like I was supposed to. When you came to the surface and looked at me I think that was the first time a ladybug never fluttered her wings about to scare me off. They would always try to scare or excite me with their spots. But you, you just looked at me and didn't react at all, and that was enough for me to know that I did the right thing, that you would appreciate me and what I've done for you.
I don't remember much after that. Just a bright light, some time in the middle and then here I was, a baby.
Well I've been looking for you to give me the same kind of signal here. Why didn't you let me open my eyes that night? I just want to know what you look like so I can stop bugging all the other girls. Everytime I try to help them out or look into their eyes to see if they look familiar they pretty much do the same thing as the ladybugs. Fluttering around and flaunting their pretty spots. Scaring me or exciting me just to see if I'll budge. If I budge, then they laugh because they know I'm frightened, or excited. What they don't know is that I'm not scared of them or what they can do at all - they're just spots. I'm just scared I'll never find you. So I walk away from them with the same pace that I used to track them down, a little bit slower each time.
I thought I saw you a few times in those other girls. Their eyes were so...inviting. They even lay down their shells and were kind of relaxed around me, for awhile. They let me examine their spots and I shared with them some delightful conversations. I assured them that they wouldn't need their spots anymore if I was around. I would keep the predators at bay, just like I did with that caterpillar. But eventually, every time, I would go see them and lo and behold the spots were back. They fluttered them around with a hoot and a holler, and so I left.
I'm so disappointed. I don't know where to look anymore. Maybe I'm looking for the wrong sign. Maybe I shouldn't be looking for the calming connection we had last time. After all, we've changed a great deal since then. Well I have, I hope you're not still a ladybug. Anyway, I do have some work to do in this life, being a human really is harder than being a bug, less guidance. I think what I'm going to try to do is close my eyes at night the way I used to. I'll keep them shut real tight and I promise I won't open them. Just pay me a visit one night and give me another kiss from the inside out so that I know I didn't miss you this time around.
You know, I still remember in our last lives when we were both bugs. We didn't feel like bugs but I guess that's what we were after all huh? Remember when that big caterpillar jerk walked all over your pit and sealed you in, so I jumped over and fluttered about to scare him down the other side? I don't think I even scared him to be honest, he kind of just kept walking in that direction. Anyway, I couldn't show you back then when I helped unpack the sand he trampled over you but I was actually so frightened. I didn't think I could do it, but I scared him off! I just knew I had to though, like I was supposed to. When you came to the surface and looked at me I think that was the first time a ladybug never fluttered her wings about to scare me off. They would always try to scare or excite me with their spots. But you, you just looked at me and didn't react at all, and that was enough for me to know that I did the right thing, that you would appreciate me and what I've done for you.
I don't remember much after that. Just a bright light, some time in the middle and then here I was, a baby.
Well I've been looking for you to give me the same kind of signal here. Why didn't you let me open my eyes that night? I just want to know what you look like so I can stop bugging all the other girls. Everytime I try to help them out or look into their eyes to see if they look familiar they pretty much do the same thing as the ladybugs. Fluttering around and flaunting their pretty spots. Scaring me or exciting me just to see if I'll budge. If I budge, then they laugh because they know I'm frightened, or excited. What they don't know is that I'm not scared of them or what they can do at all - they're just spots. I'm just scared I'll never find you. So I walk away from them with the same pace that I used to track them down, a little bit slower each time.
I thought I saw you a few times in those other girls. Their eyes were so...inviting. They even lay down their shells and were kind of relaxed around me, for awhile. They let me examine their spots and I shared with them some delightful conversations. I assured them that they wouldn't need their spots anymore if I was around. I would keep the predators at bay, just like I did with that caterpillar. But eventually, every time, I would go see them and lo and behold the spots were back. They fluttered them around with a hoot and a holler, and so I left.
I'm so disappointed. I don't know where to look anymore. Maybe I'm looking for the wrong sign. Maybe I shouldn't be looking for the calming connection we had last time. After all, we've changed a great deal since then. Well I have, I hope you're not still a ladybug. Anyway, I do have some work to do in this life, being a human really is harder than being a bug, less guidance. I think what I'm going to try to do is close my eyes at night the way I used to. I'll keep them shut real tight and I promise I won't open them. Just pay me a visit one night and give me another kiss from the inside out so that I know I didn't miss you this time around.
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