When in Rome-ania: My trip by the numbers

April 26, 2011 by · 12 Comments

The customs agent scoffed upon reading my boarding pass. He thumbed through a few pages of my passport (which recently turned five) and gave me a puzzled look.

“I guess if you’ve been everywhere else, the only destination left is Romania,” he said, adding a fresh Barajas stamp to my documentation.

Spaniards have an aversion for Romanians, even when the better part of their gypsy population (and, therefore, flamenco, are of the same country). Many of the supposed criminals, and indeed residents of Spanish prison systems, come from the former Soviet country and their disgust in Romanians is far from hidden. Like my trip to China, I didn’t expect to have Romania at the top of my list, despite my long obsession with gymnastics and need to see every corner of Europe.

But my friends went, so I tagged along. What transpired was a great number of miles driven in our keyed but Soviet-strong Dacia and several laughable screw-ups. Here’s our trip by the numbers.

Hours spent in Bucharest: three. Hours spent trying to get out of Bucharest: nearly two

Size of the Parliamentary Building at the end of Blvd. Unrii: 270m by 240m by 86m, making it the second largest in the world, after the Pentagon

Year of our Dacia: 2001, we think?

Number of stray dogs we saw: Good one. Multemesc, Chow-sess-cuu

UNESCO sites visited: four, we think, which were the Saxon fortified churches, painted monasteries of Bukovina, the historic center of Sighasoara and wooden churches of Maramures

Number of times we thought we were in Ghimbav before we actually got there: two

Width, in inches, of Sforii Street in Brasov: 44 at it’s slimest

Cost of entering Dracula’s Castle (really called Bran and never home to Vlad the Impaler, or Jonathan Harker’s captor) on a student entry: 10 lei, or 2,50 euros

Inhabitants of Botiza, Maramures, where we spent two nights: 2,500 according to our host, George

Wooden crosses marking the lives of the dead in Sampanta: 800, all carved with the deceased’s most important life moments

Cost of an overnight train from Gura Humorului to Bucharest: 44 euros (154 lei)

And, it goes without saying, the amount of fun we had was immeasurable.

Filed Under: international travel, Romania, tourism, Travel, travel photography ·

Five Travel Books to Get You to Hit the Road

April 13, 2011 by · 9 Comments
Journalism school is overwhelming. People are constantly fighting for clips, being pretentious is taught in the basic reporting class and the DI newsroom just always looked…so….full of frazzled people (which I came to find out when I worked there one semester).
 
I found solace in a few classes where the teachers were experienced and invested, and where new worlds opened up. I love that my editing instructor took funny and interesting articles and changed them to be grammatically incorrect for exams, that my ethics teacher had a sweater with a dog on it, and that my magazine reporting and writing class prof was a frequent visitor of the Popcorn Shop. But Gigi Durham was something else.
 
I took Writing Across Cultures with her, a journalist who writes about women and gender issues, eager to learn how I could get my travel work published. Her answer was simple: Read. Read until your eyes fall out of your brain.
 
 
I became obsessed with the search for good travel writing through various magazines and Sunday sections, library stacks and recommendations. I was already in love with plenty of books: The Stranger, Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, A Boy’s Life, The Princess Bride. Then came the book we read in Gigi’s class: The Spirit Catches You and You Fall Down.

Written by journalist Anne Fadiman, the novel chronicle’s a Hmong family’s struggle to cope with Western medicine for their child, who they believe had fallen and let a bad spirit inside of her (Her Western diagnosis was epilepsy). I read the whole thing in a weekend. It was one of the novels that kind of stirs you inside when you finish the last page, the last word, close the book, set it on your lap and just think.

I needed more.

Armed with my Wheaton Public Library card upon graduating, I spent my whole summer reading about expatriate life, Spain and duende. I made it a goal to one day travel with an entire suitcase of books about the destinations I’d be visiting, to fall in love with poetry about the Alhambra, to place the vivid images in my mind when laying eyes on the things I’d always dreamed of seeing.

Good travel writing takes many forms, from pilgrimages to self-discovery to an eloquent love-affair with a destination, a feeling, an event. I’ve read plenty I don’t like, and many I would pick up again and again. Below are my top-fives picks.

The Sun Also Rises, Ernest Hemingway
My sister is an English teacher and loves the greats: the Brönte sisters, Shakespeare and the dude who wrote about a fish, Ernest Hemingway. I, for one, don’t care for any of them, but she begged me to give Ernest a chance. I was reluctant, but upon visiting Pamplona and sitting in his old haunt, Café Irún, I knew I had to know why this man had taken to Spain as much as I. The story begins in Paris and travels to Pamplona, where a group of expat friends witness a bullfight. Though not traditionally classified as a travel book, this book spoke to me about the pitfalls of living abroad and got me prepared for witnessing Spain’s national game (and this prompted me to read A Farewell to Arms, which I adored). thanks, Margie, for making me give your old pal a second chance.

Buy now: The Sun Also Rises Paperback |  The Sun Also Rises Kindle

Paris to the Moon, Adam Gopnick
Some say you either love Paris or you hate it, but I can imagine myself there in a second. This book, along with the Michelin Green Book, was my only required reading for a college class called “Paris and the Art of Urban Life,” which I might credit as a big part of my moving abroad. Gopnick, an accomplished journalist moved to the French capital for five years, compiled sweet vignettes of his observations into this hilarious book. His takes on French fashion, French women and French politics are of that laugh-out-loud type, and I think they really have inspired me to discover the hidden Spain. I like to consider myself a bit of an expert, really!

Buy now: Paris to the Moon Paperback |  Paris to the Moon Kindle

No Reservations, Alice Steinbach
This story follows the typical travel memoir outline: Woman in need of adventure and to rediscover herself. Quits job. Moves to Paris with just a hotel reservation. Sits in Duex Magots paying 7€ for a cafe au lait. Meets soul mate. You get it, and you’ve read it. But what is so poignant about this book is how Steinbach weaves in memories of her previous 40-something years into her experiences living around Europe, somehow suggestion that all great travel is prefaced, even by a young age. I’m currently 80 or so pages into the book but enjoying her insistence that being programed to travel is innate.

Buy now: Without Reservations: The Travels of an Independent Woman Paperback

River Town, Peter Hessler
My dad gave me his credit card and asked me to buy a guidebook to China, a Michelin map of China and a book for myself, knowing I love to read (Yes, my dad is the coolest). I went to a bookshop and browsed the entire travel section, eventually ending up with a copy of Hessler’s account of his two years in the Peace Corps in Fuling. I would be traveling to China in six months, and those this book had nothing to do with my destinations, it was a memorable introduction into the lives of the chinese, especially during the opening up despite the traces of the cultural revolution. Though a bit long at times, I was swept away in his struggle to fit in, his struggle to understand the Chinese way of life (often at the cost of taking shots of liquor to save face) and his struggle to leave a place he grew to love.

Buy now: River Town: Two Years on the Yangtze (P.S.) Paperback |  River Town: Two Years on the Yangtze (P.S.) Kindle

A Year in the World, Frances Mayes
Yes, this is the same woman who Diane Lane brought to life in Under the Tuscan Sun, but, really it is my favorite travel book. I bought it the first day I was back in America for summer reading, and to my astonishment, the first place Mayes chose to call “home” on her year abroad was Seville. The way she described Plaza Altozano made my arm hair stand on end, and I actually got a little teary. Mayes and her husband left their California home and spent one year traveling to numerous locales to try and figure out what makes a home. Is it the structure itself? The surroundings? The people? I ask myself these questions daily, but Mayes’s sense of humor, effortless prose and ponderances have stayed with me nearly three years after picking up the book.

Buy now: A Year in the World: Journeys of A Passionate Traveller Paperback |  A Year in the World: Journeys of A Passionate Traveller Kindle

I’m constantly on the look out for other great reads, be it travel or otherwise. Any hints? 

Filed Under: Books, Europe, expat life, international travel, moving abroad, Travel, travel books ·

A trip to the Pomegranate

March 24, 2011 by · 4 Comments

My dentist, Dr. Clinton, is the type that has pictures of his kids right in front of the chair, so I get cavities filled looking at all of them. There’s no shortage of years-old People magazines that one can enjoy while listening to Muzak, and Carol, the hygienic, chats you up while sticking instruments in your mouth.

The only reason I don’t dread the dentist’s office is because of Dr. Clinton’s obsession with Spain (ok, and Wally’s milkshakes next door). More specifically, he loves Granada, a city he has a vacation flat in and returns to once a year.

A mid-sized university city, Granada was the last stronghold of the Moorish Al-Andalus kingdom, which fell to the Christians in 1492 (same year Columbus claimed the Americas for Spain. Big year, I’d say). Nowadays, it’s famous for free tapas and majestic Moorish palace, the Alhambra, which stands high above the city.

My best friend in the whole world finally made it to Spain, and there was only one weekend trip I would allow. Not Madrid’s museums, not Gaudi’s Barcelona. I took her to the Pomegranate, one of the most beautiful places in the south. I think she and Dr. Clinton have some words to exchange.

The streets shooting off Plaza Bim-Rambla, near the Cathedral
Frederico Garcia Lorca, Granada’s prodigal son, shot during the early days of the Spanish Civil War 
A study on Moorish arches: The Alhambra
The Lion Court, considered the most intricate and complete example of Moorish art in the world
Sewer cap: the pomegranate city
Give him money, woman, as there is no greater injustice in life than being blind in Granada
Gypsies at the Mirador de San Nicolas, Barrio Albacin
Graffiti that characterizes this southern city

Filed Under: Andalucia, Andalusia Tourism, Architecture, Granada, Tapas, Travel · Tagged: ,

Sevilla Bucketlist

February 25, 2011 by · 9 Comments

Kelly and I were enjoying a rare day off from our teacher lives today, as our schools celebrated Teacher Day. Five hours less of slobbering, crying and poopy pants? Sounded fantastic, so we indulged in something neither of us, as wannabe sevillanas, would dare do: Go to Starbucks.

It got me thinking: When did I make the switch from being a tourist here? When did I stop wanting to run around and see everything Sevilla offers a tourist and  just, well, live like a Spaniard? After all, I don’t drink coffee between 12am-6pm, think a cold is an acceptable reason to turn down social plans and now have residency to prove that I’m getting there.

“I need a Sevilla bucket list,” I told her over my caramel macchiato. “You know, to keep Sevilla interesting.”

“What we both need is to relax these four days,” she replied. And despite doing the DELE, the guidebook, planning a summer camp, running a different one and working 43 hours a week, I’m making one, some of which were inspired by the website I devoured before moving here.

While waiting for Kike to get up from his nap and catching up on my TV shows, I started making a bucket-list of all the things I’d like to do in Sevilla, beginning with the one Kelly and I first did together:

  • Have a drink on the patio of Hotel Doña María at the foot of the Giralda. (4,50€ for coffee and a view is worth it)
  • Eat breakfast at the sumptuous Hotel Alfonso XIII (closed for renovations from March 2011)
  • Have churros from a lady on C/Arfe I once saw pictured in a book (Amazing! Just get chocolate or cola cao down the street)
  • Spend a session at the Arabic Baths (prune!)
  • Rent a paddle boat in Plaza de España (harder than it looks!)
  • Marvel at the Hospital de los Venerables Sacerdotes, where priests went to die peacefully (go Sunday afternoons from 3-8, when it’s free entrance)
  • Climb the Parasol in Plaza de la encarnación
  • Visit the newly renovated Covento de Santa Clara
  • Explore Hospital de la Caridad, noted for its collection of sevillano painters like Murillo and Velázquez
  • Visit museums like Archivo de las Indias, Palacio Lebrija and Artes y Costumbres
  • See the Virgen de la macarena in her Basilica
  • Have a beer and tapa at Sevilla’s oldest tapas joint, El Rincolncillo
  • Pet puppies in the alfalfa Sunday pet market
  • Hike in Cazalla de la Sierra, a mere 10 miles from my boyfriend’s town
  • Visit the Huevo de Colón, an offbeat monument (thanks, Manuel!)
  • Explore the Cementerio San Jerónimo, resting place of bullfihgters and famous sevillanos

Please leave any suggestions, or come with me!!

Filed Under: Seville, Things to do in Sevilla, Travel · Tagged:

Ode to the Too Lame, Too Furious

October 24, 2010 by · 5 Comments

I’ve seen the better part of Spain from the passenger seat of a 2002 LX Series Mercedes. Up and down the Vía de la Plata, cruising Sevillian streets afterhours as the sun is peaking over the top of the Giralda and hitting beach town after mountain village.

Kike deciding to sell his silver car, affectionately called (HEY! I’m American! I name appliances and inanimate objects!) the Too Lame, Too Furious for its constant trips to the shop, was like losing a finger. The finger I used to point to things like bulls along the highway and monasteries popping up out of nowhere, ruined Moorish castles and strangely named rivers and pueblos. He didn’t even tell me, just a, “Like my new car?”

To be honest, his new car is way cooler and has a similar name: Too Cool, Too Furious. But I miss the musty smoke smell, the never-clean floormats and the way I knew what numbers on the radio corresponded with Máxima FM and M80. I’ve had some of my most memorable moments in that car.

Getting wooed by a new chaval, Winter 2007

When I met Kike, I had very little interest in him, just in the fact that I knew few Spanish people and wanted to learn more of the language. But his car showed my new parts of the city my feet couldn’t take me, became a place to steal kisses and helped me to feel more integrated in the way of life here.

Taking him (home) to visit my host family in Valladolid, Spring 2008

My first long car trip with the nov was taken five months after we met. I was filled with that kind of nervous excitement that fills your belly up with a mix of something wonderful about ready to bubble over as we drove the five hours up to Valladolid to visit my host family. After he treated me to a huge filet at his favorite restaurant in Salamanca, Dulcinea, we found our way to Aurora’s house and spent the weekend celebrating belated birthdays, meeting Aurora’s new daughter and teaching Kike about one of Spain’s original capitals. It was like a precursor to him meeting my parents, and I could finally show him a new place instead of the other way around.

Roadtripping to Asturias, Spring 2009

 Ever since my first trip to San Sebastian in 2005, I had been dying to get back to the north. Land of lush green landscapes, haûte cuisine and several seperatist groups, the land abrove the Picos de Europa mountains is shrouded with tradition and mystique. Kike’s mother was born in Asturias, so we made the trip with another couple all the way up through Extremadura, Castilla and, upon passing the tunnel from León to the Principality of Asturias, I was already in love. This was the land where Don Pelayo began his reconquist of Spain in the eighth century, where fabada and cabrales cheese becomes a staple of the harsh diet, and where goats outnumber people. Since the weather was rainy and cold, we did most of our tourism through the windows of Kike’s car, stopping off for coffees or photo ops. I completely fell in love with Asturies, its cider and a region that has never once been under Moorish control. This place, despite being cut off from the rest of Spain because of the Picos de Europa and the Cantabrian Sea, is turly the heart of Spain.

Spending weekends in the pueblo

When I found out I could be living in a city instead of a little village a tomar por culo, I was relieved. I was ready to go anywhere, so long as it meant living in Spain legally. But every now and then, I really enjoy getting to Kike’s village, San Nicolás del Puerto, to escape the city. Fresh mountain air, freshly hunted meat and Miura liquor are all formative parts of our weekends away, and the town has a reputation for beautiful landscapes. We’ve been to romerías, saint festivals and family celebrations, and being the girlfriend of one of the townies, I feel like it’s become my own, too.

Stealing a car, Blues Brothers Style, and driving to Antquera with friends.

When Kike came to visit me in Chicago, we had a bit of a role reversal. Instead of him taking the wheel, I transported him around Chicagoland, prompting him to tout my driving skills as better than his. When he was in the US one week, I convinced him to leave me his car so I could take my roommate and another friend to the nearby village of Antequera, home to dolmenes and the famous mollete bread I eat for breakfast. Apart from gorgeous views of the Malagueña countryside, the car allowed us to visit nearby El Torcal, home to Jurassic age limestone formations that were once underwater, otherwise unvisitable with a vehicle. Having two good friends and an open road made for a good day, and the paella was pretty good, too.

The Too Cool certainly has its merits, and I’m getting used to driving it (though it’s merely an updated model of the old one). But, like my first car, it has that nostalgic quality that, with every dent and scrape, seems to cling to something somewhere in your memory.

Today Kike left to go to the US for a week, so he left me in the care of Too Cool. I took Julie, Julia and Katerina to the Feria Regional del Jamón in Aracena, a mere huor away. We got lost twice, the car might have gotten a scratch and my tummy prevented me from eating ham or drining beer, but being on the open road with friends and turning kilometre after kilometre on the spedometer through the Spanish countryside made me love this new car.

Filed Under: love, Travel ·

Summer by the Numbers

September 1, 2010 by · 2 Comments
La Sexta news officially announced today as the beginning of that non-magical season: WORK. While I still have a week to wake up when I please and still eat ice cream, I’ve come to look back on my last three months since leaving Olivares and all that’s happened.
small town festivals: one
fireworks displays seen: three
world cup games watched: countless. really.
overnight buses to Madrid taken: four
days at camp passed: 35
nights camping out on the beach: 3
highest temperature sweated: 47º Celcius (110º Farenheit)
beaches visited: eight
money spent on lawyers/paperwork/transportation for one damn visa: 260€
new cities visited: six

years turned: 25
resumés sent: nearing 100
interviews had: 12
new job: one

I was originally nervous about staying the whole summer in the heat and with limited things to do, but it has all worked out! Here’s to another curso in Spain, starting a Masters and a good start to my 26th year!

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Filed Under: Travel ·
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