I just got home from grocery shopping, and I was sitting there rather content with my piece of bread covered with nutella, coconut, and whipped cream when the daunting thought of another blog entry began haunting me. I have decided to cover in detail my past 18 days of travel, as much as a method of remembering for me as to inform you of what transpired. Of course, things that are important to me are often considered useless detail by others, but this is my blog, not yours, HA. This could include a 'grosse' amount of information about food, but that's one thing I really enjoy about traveling. For those of you who "give a damn," strap yourselves in for a long one. For those of you who don't, I ask that you "don't throw it up." When I get bored, some entries may be spiced up with abnormal English.
*After considering the length of the entry, this one will be split into 3 parts, presented on consecutive days.
Friday, December 19th:
Fly from Toulouse to Madrid. Quickly found that the low price of flying EasyJet comes with the pain of having to pay 18 euros to check my bag. Had to do this as well on the way to Rome and to Paris.
The ever-happy face of Marta greeted me at the airport- a welcome sight. We went to her apartment and flashed back to our summer days in Paris, eating pasta and drinking wine while hanging out with her roommates.
Saturday, December 20th:
Marta and I walk around Madrid, occasionally hitting up stores for her to finish Christmas shopping. We went in this pastry shop that her mother remembered from years ago, and I got this awesome cream type thing. We ate calamari and Spanish tortilla sandwiches, as well as French Fries covered in some sort of tabasco sauce, in the main square/plaza. Walked around a bit more and returned to her apt, then we went to an Asian restaurant and had some sort of brochettes, from what I recall. Followed this up with a delicious banana daiquiri in a bar and then returned Chez Marta. I had a surprisingly long conversation in BROKEN Spanish (the only kind I speak) with her roommate Rocio, who was quite cool. Exchanges were complicated even more by the fact that she speaks with this CRAZY accent from southern Spain, but we managed nonetheless. It was a fun challenge to communicate, and I just figured you gotta manage to conquer every obstacle, making possible, well, possible. That's because, even when winning’s illogical, losing's still far from optional [TI 2008].
Sunday, December 21th: (verb conjugation?)
Martizzle and Goyo wakes up early for churros con chocolate (delicious) and goes to El Escorial, a palace/monastery about 45 minutes by train outside Madrid. The place be really sweet, especially the crypt area, which had been included the tombs of over 4 centuries of Spanish monarchs, as well as their significant others. Impressed we was, as it done been the first time for both of us to see it. We went eat paella, pollo asado, and creme brulée type thing at this nearby restaurant (delicious, part 2). Marta always are a good time to hang out with, and we will walk through the surrounding park before catch train back to city. We relives memories from my previous trip to Madrid with walk through park with lake. Eventually we been returned Chez Marta and eated pizza. I says goodbyes and sleeps in airport for EARLY flight to Rome.
Voila, the Spanish gang.
Monday, December 22nd:
Catch another stupid EasyJet flight, land in Rome. Pain to get into the city, taking near 2 hours after I arrive to get bag, catch bus, fight traffic, and make it to hostel. I hit up a falafel joint across the street and am stunned to be greeted by an Italian pop news program talking all about TONY ROMO. What country am I in? Why is my quarterback so great? I finish and go check my email to find the Cowboys got owned by Baltimore. Why is my quarterback so terrible?
Anywho, I go and walk around Rome for the day till Scott and Kevbo arrive, hitting up this park near the Spanish steps that I hadn't explored the last time I was there. It was pretty sweet just walking around, eating my Muesli and exploring solo. After many an hour, however, I went to wait for Scott and Kevin, whom I'd been really looking forward to seeing for quite some time. They arrived at night after quite a bit of difficulty finding the hostel. I was incredibly happy to see them, and we began to search for food, eventually settling for a shady looking kebab with not so friendly appearing workers. It turned out to be delicious- a fitting introduction for Scott and Kevin to the wonderful world of shady, wonderful kebab joints.
Tuesday, December 23rd (Festivus. Rhymes to celebrate):
What it is, bruh, what it do mayyn? We go and hit up the Vatican (read: Vatikaaayyyyn), cuz thangs close the next day, and that's a damn shame. Ain't no line at the time so we go in fast, and I ain't lyin when I say it's as amazin this time as it was the last. We walkin and we seen paintins so pristine, then we go and finish with the Sistine. The place is nothin less than spectacular, Pope heads that hood cuz he speak the vernacular. Our faces in awe and you know our jaws done dropped, we finally go and done hit up the souvenir shop. We stop and we drop a few for them other dudes and they families, too.
Been thuggin all day, we deserve a break, and while it ain't steak, it ain't fake...you eat the pizza in Rome, where it known to be shown to be better than the rest, maybe better than the best. Different flavors, different toppins, maybe even one for Misses Mary Poppins. Get in line for some metal detectas, fortunately the aforementioned ain't brought no umb-uh-rellas. ella. ella. A. A.
We get in and enter St. Peter's Basilica, Kevin's mouth drops, dries like a packet of silica. You know, that stuff that come in yo shoes when they new and you know they ain't been wo'n by some other dude? It was just like that, bra, turn and you see the Pi...e....ta, and that ain't all, ya'll! Walk a little mo', a foot, or 3 or fo, statues like you never seeeeen befo! Stuck out there, they's totally unhid, and it be havin more Popes than the Great Schism did! Take your pictures, take your time, want confession? Get in line!
We get out and wanna head toward the heavens, so we sprint toward the cupola like our name was Dorsey Levens. Kevin whines cuz his knee hurt, piggyback ride offered but, to be curt, he says no, on we go. We reach the top and we ready to drop but it ain't that easy--there's even more! go out, turn right, and open the door. Go up, boys, and you keep climbin, till your face start to look like a ruby or a diamond. Finally we there, and it's an amazin view. Think you seen kilometers? Boy, I seen a few. Now I don't mean to be rude, and I don't like to be lewd, but my language at the top was no less than crude. Shocked by the city I seen, if only you knew what I mean, man. It was incredible, delectable, if panoramics was presidential, I might call it electable. But that's beside the point, and I've gotten derailed, so we peaced outta there, and down we sailed. That night was a time right just to go and find a bit more pizza, and while it ain't the Mona Lisa, it ain't a tower Pisa. We dine and the boys drink a little wine, and afterwards we all feelin just fine. We go on a search for another bottle, Kevin and I heads up, Scott's full throttle. Success be damned, the trails cold like a clam, Scott gives up, while me and Kevin find the right man. A stand on the street, I think that's fitting for me, we get ourselves a bottle and we drink it, all three. The night cut short by the need to sleep, else tomorrow we'll be nothin more than three heap....s. (Not sure, but I think this was the day I had these two sweet pastries- one cannoli and then some other creme filled thing.)
From cupola of St. Peter's
Wednesday, December 24th:
Christmas Eve. We head out early and see the Coliseum, as well as some Roman ruins. I'm really fighting the desire to rhyme as I write this. We ate lunch at this little Italian restaruant, where Kevin and I had some badout lasagna, and Scott I think went pizza again. For dessert, we had these creme-filled pastry things, and I ate mine and Scott's (because he was going to let it be thrown away). Afterwards, we saw some crazy huge monument to Victor Emmanuel and an unknown soldier. Then we walked along the Tiber to La Bocca della Verità, where Kevin, Scott, and I recreated a moment that I had a year and a half ago with my friends Jonah and David.
Eventually we headed back to the hostel and bought some supplies for the next day's picnic. After a bit, we ate again at our shady, unfriendly, delicious kebab before heading to midnight mass. Freezing cold, we watched the proceedings from outside in St. Peter's Square. We left at about 1:15 because we didn't quite understand the language and we had a 45 minute walk back. Twas, however, worth the experience.
Coliseum
Freezing at Midnight Mass in St. Peter's square
1 comment:
Mission accomplished
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