So where did I leave off? Oh yeah, we were on the plane to our second destination.............(those are drumroll dots) Barcelona, Spain! The home of Catalan, Tapas and the 1992 Summer Olympics! Just a quick aside, I learned the origin of the word "Tapas". For those unfamiliar with Spanish Tapas, they are bite-size portions typically of meats and cheeses, finger foods if you will, generally eaten late at night and always with a beer or wine. So the word "Tapas" essentially translates to "Toppers." Years ago in Catalonyan villages, people would ritualistically head out to the pub for a drink or two and spend a few hours sitting over a warm beer discussing the happenings of the day. The pubs were filled with not only meats, cheeses and other foods, but also laborers ripe from a days work in the fields. So as you can imagine, odor often emanated from both the consumed and the consumer, drawing multitudes of flys and other unwanteds. The waiters would then place a small plate on top of the beer of each of their clients to keep the pesky flys from entering their drinks. Eventually someone came up with the brilliant idea of placing small slices of cheese, meat or other delectables on the plate, free-of-charge, for the customers enjoyment. Beer with a plate of snacks on top. Dual-purpose dining. Obviously Tapas are now a tradition in most of Spain as well as the rest of the world, no longer free-of-charge or placed on top of the drink, but definitely still an enjoyable part of each evening. I was told that in the more traditional sections of Catalonya, many villages still employ the complimentary nature of their Tapas, a free plate of snacks with each beer or glass of wine ordered. Not a bad idea in my opinion.
So back to Barcelona. Joel, Allison and I decided that we'd like to come to appreciate the nuances of Barcelonian culture rather than spread ourselves thin skipping from one destination to another, so we spent 7 days exploring the coastal city of Eastern Spain. To keep this blog a bit shorter, I'll point out just a few of my favorite places and experiences.
1: Parc Guell - This is a residential community-turned-park designed by the renowned artist Gaudi. His architectural style is unique to say the least. He didn't believe in squared or boxed figures, including corners of buildings. Thus, everything appears to flow from rounded and smooth shapes, from one section to the next with seemless transitions. If you've seen the Sagrada Familia chapel in Barcelona you'll understand his style. It's was almost as if everything were made of ice cream and had been left out in the sun for too long, dripping and drooping. The park itself was huge and beautiful, even where his structures weren't the prominent feature.
2: Montjuic - Home of a few museums, which we didn't enter, but more importantly the home of the 1992 Olympic Stadium and facilities. This was the first summer Olympics that I vividly remember watching, mostly the domination of Jordan, Pippen, Malone, Barkley, Bird and the rest of the Dream Team. My childhood heroes. You may also remember the old "Dan and Dave" ads featuring two decathlon athletes for Team USA. Well I specifically do because my best friend at the time was called Dave, thus we were commonly known as "Dan and Dave," probably more because of our similarly extraordinary athletic prowess more than our names I would imagine. Either way, the three of us were able to tour the original site of what I fondly remember as a special year of the Olympics.
3: Spanish - Seems pretty self-evident right, being in Spain? Well I obviously knew that Spanish was spoken there quite widely before arriving, but for those who don't know, I used to live in Latin America and have some experience with Latinos in the US, so Spanish has been a major influence in my life over the past 10 years. So much so that my life in Edinburgh feels a bit lacking without it. Re-entering a mostly-Spanish speaking culture again for the first time in a while was invigorating! Though the city itself was comprised of mostly foreigners and international travellers, almost everyone spoke Spanish, thus filling my ears and my heart with a much-missed element in my life. It reminded me of a people and culture that have impacted me greatly, giving me new incentive to finish my degree and pursue a path back towards this long-lost world.
Well, you can't have the good without the bad, so I'll raise only one contention with this experience. Barcelona is exciting in its own right and for many reasons, but it lacks any singular or historical culture at the present, at least in my opinion. Expectations are a fickle friend, quickly and often times letting you down. I walked into Barcelona hoping for a rich Spanish experience, particularly a Catalonyan experience. Instead I encountered a conglomerate of cosmopolitan world cultures interacting and creating the cultura mezclada that is Barcelona. Again, this has a beauty of its own, but left me feeling a bit dazed and confused, much like opening a bag of mixed candies when what you really wanted was a rich, dark chocolate bar...still delicious but far too diverse and lacking distinction. Obviously this critique is open to its own criticism as this was just my experience, but it was my experience after all.
Aside from this one negative, we had a fantastic time wandering the streets, eating Tapas, shopping, seeing the architecture, interacting with the "locals" and catching up on life. After our week and a half of exploration, we finally had to part ways, them heading back to Arizona (only after an unexpected day-long delay in Madrid due to mechanical failures) and me off to a final week of resting and relaxation in Berlin with a few friends of mine.
So that's my holiday "Travels with Charley" experience for you. Obviously a much shortened version, leaving out all the gory details and dangerous shenanigans that my mother would chastise me for not only joining, but seeking out. Don't worry mom, no hold-ups, sharks, sky-diving or illegal activities were involved in this trip :) Just good, ol' fashioned fun.
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
Thursday, January 12, 2012
Travels with Charley
Ok, so I haven't actually travelled with anyone named Charley, especially recently. In fact, I can only think of one Charlie known to me, and we've never spent any amount of time exploring the world. For those fans of travel literature, you may recognize this as the title of a 1960's John Steinbeck book detailing the rediscovery of his country and himself as he spent months traversing America from east to west, and then back again with his French poodle, Charley. Not only is it humorous and well-written, it chronicles classic 60's Americana unlike anything I've read before, and thus worth a read if you've not yet done so.
So why the allusion to such a work? Three weeks ago my cousin and his wife, Joel and Allison, came for a visit, much needed at least on my part. Now I've only been away from home for about 5 months, but those who have lived or are currently living abroad will recognize my need for the familiar, especially around the holidays. That said, their arrival on the 24th of December was not only welcomed, but especially appreciated. Christmas day was atypical to say the least. Normally I would wake up to my parents and some combination of siblings and nieces and nephews, syrup-smothered waffles a Christmas tree by the fireplace and a stuffed stocking (yes, I'm 30 and still gladly receive a stocking). This year I awoke to an apartment sans Christmasy decor and all of the other normalities of the holiday season, yet with new experiences awaiting me. We ate a traditional Scottish breakfast of ham, eggs, sausage, black pudding, juice and coffee. Delicious. After allowing a few minutes for the food to settle, we headed out for hike up Arthurs Seat. In what turned out to be about the funniest part of our trip, we chose one of the windiest days I've experienced in Scotland thus far to venture up the hill. With hurricane-like wind speeds, we struggled to keep our feet on the ground. After chasing hats, scarves and random papers that managed to escape our pockets, we finally summited the peak, grabbed a hold of something stable and enjoyed the breeze. Though neither words nor pictures do justice, if you want to see the effects of such a wind, check out my Facebook page for pics of us leaning into the wind at crazy angles.
From Edinburgh we drove 3ish hours north to the city of Inverness on the shores of Loch Ness. As it was my first trip as well, we all wanted to get a "real" Scottish experience so we headed to a local pub for a Christmas dinner. Johnny Fox's pub was not to disappoint. After a pint and a pizza, four young Invernessers (Invernessites?) sat next to us and only moments later joined our table. In typical Scottish fashion, they'd already had their fair share of drinks so conversation was not lacking. We had a great time questioning and responding in turn to questions of their own. For those wondering about the Scottish demeanour and character, our Christmas evening exploits best describes it. They're quick to start up a conversation, easy to engage and love a good laugh. Now, like any description of an entire nation of people, that's vastly stereotyped, but true to a good extent. Our new friends displayed this character to the utmost extent. We had a great time joking with them, finding more out about the Inverness way of life and sharing of our own. Though I miss the tradition and family of a normal Christmas, this was a great Christmas indeed!
The following day found us up early enough and out exploring the turbid waters of Loch Ness! Like most Americans, my only knowledge of Loch Ness was heavily influence by the myth (or is it?) of its mysterious monster. What most surprised me was the beauty of its mountainous surroundings and its HUGE waves! Now we were there on a windy day, but because of the length of the loch (23 miles long, only a stones throw wide) waves build up to a thunderous height. We spent most of the day exploring the ruins of Urqhart Castle on what turned out to be a free visit day. Actually it was closed and we jumped the fence. Still a free visit day for us though. After the return trip to Edinburgh, we relaxed a bit, had a good Scottish meal and watched a few episodes of Dexter.
The following day, we awoke to as cloudy a day as ever, but without the customary drizzle of Scottish winters. We decided to venture into old city Edinburgh, walking the hilly streets and seeing the antiquated buildings. In the late morning we took part in the Scotch Whisky Experience, taking a ride in whisky barrel and experiencing the sights, smells, stories and history of the scotch whisky process. After another short briefing on the different regions of Scotch whisky production, we had a small dram of the liquid gold and took off for the Edinburgh Castle. With nearly a 1000 years of architectural history within it's stone walls, there was plenty to see and do. More than a mere building, Edinburgh Castle is a city within a city. Chapels and museums, military training posts and shops, houses and stables, everything exists, or more so existed, as a sustainable society within its four walls. The hours of walking took their toll on our already-tired bodies, so we headed home for a break before going to the Sheeps Heid Inn for a pre-dinner pint. I only mention because it is said to be the oldest pub in all of Scotland, established in 1360 (though not the original building). It is a beautiful old building in the south-east corner of Edinburgh, tucked away on an inconspicuous side-street achievable only with prior knowledge of its existence. Perfect for our last night in Scotland. Inside it was highly typical of a Scottish pub, darkly lit and filled with tables, chairs and a bar made of all dark-woods. Age and Character.
Our final morning was spent in two different castles. First was Craigmillar Castle, a family-home for hundreds of years, now a tourist attraction located but a mile from my apartment. This was much more "castle" like (at least in my mind), a single building with winding staircases and dozens of paths creating an intricate stone maze. We explored for only a half-an-hour but all left feeling as if we'd just experienced something important. It was a visceral experience, connecting us to a time and way of life subject to the harshness of weather and war. We all also agreed that we'd love to live in a (modernized) home in similar fashion, only without the threat of war. From there we took off for our final tour of Scotland, the infamous Stirling Castle, home of Robert the Bruce and at times, William Wallace. Again, a city within a city, Stirling was vast, filled with similarly purposed buildings as Edinburgh Castle, but with a heavier touch of Royalty. This was the home of the Kings and Queens of Scotland, and the size and splendour of its banquet halls, chapels and bedrooms reflected their royal residents. Unfortunately, our last day was also spattered with cold, wind and rain, so the tour ended quickly by our own choosing and we headed for a meal of haggis, steak and ale pies and other such Scottish delicacies. What a great end to a great trip in Scotland!
I'm sure your eyes are as sore as my fingers, so although the full story doesn't end here, today's telling of it will. Stay tuned for part two of Travels with Charley!
So why the allusion to such a work? Three weeks ago my cousin and his wife, Joel and Allison, came for a visit, much needed at least on my part. Now I've only been away from home for about 5 months, but those who have lived or are currently living abroad will recognize my need for the familiar, especially around the holidays. That said, their arrival on the 24th of December was not only welcomed, but especially appreciated. Christmas day was atypical to say the least. Normally I would wake up to my parents and some combination of siblings and nieces and nephews, syrup-smothered waffles a Christmas tree by the fireplace and a stuffed stocking (yes, I'm 30 and still gladly receive a stocking). This year I awoke to an apartment sans Christmasy decor and all of the other normalities of the holiday season, yet with new experiences awaiting me. We ate a traditional Scottish breakfast of ham, eggs, sausage, black pudding, juice and coffee. Delicious. After allowing a few minutes for the food to settle, we headed out for hike up Arthurs Seat. In what turned out to be about the funniest part of our trip, we chose one of the windiest days I've experienced in Scotland thus far to venture up the hill. With hurricane-like wind speeds, we struggled to keep our feet on the ground. After chasing hats, scarves and random papers that managed to escape our pockets, we finally summited the peak, grabbed a hold of something stable and enjoyed the breeze. Though neither words nor pictures do justice, if you want to see the effects of such a wind, check out my Facebook page for pics of us leaning into the wind at crazy angles.
From Edinburgh we drove 3ish hours north to the city of Inverness on the shores of Loch Ness. As it was my first trip as well, we all wanted to get a "real" Scottish experience so we headed to a local pub for a Christmas dinner. Johnny Fox's pub was not to disappoint. After a pint and a pizza, four young Invernessers (Invernessites?) sat next to us and only moments later joined our table. In typical Scottish fashion, they'd already had their fair share of drinks so conversation was not lacking. We had a great time questioning and responding in turn to questions of their own. For those wondering about the Scottish demeanour and character, our Christmas evening exploits best describes it. They're quick to start up a conversation, easy to engage and love a good laugh. Now, like any description of an entire nation of people, that's vastly stereotyped, but true to a good extent. Our new friends displayed this character to the utmost extent. We had a great time joking with them, finding more out about the Inverness way of life and sharing of our own. Though I miss the tradition and family of a normal Christmas, this was a great Christmas indeed!
The following day found us up early enough and out exploring the turbid waters of Loch Ness! Like most Americans, my only knowledge of Loch Ness was heavily influence by the myth (or is it?) of its mysterious monster. What most surprised me was the beauty of its mountainous surroundings and its HUGE waves! Now we were there on a windy day, but because of the length of the loch (23 miles long, only a stones throw wide) waves build up to a thunderous height. We spent most of the day exploring the ruins of Urqhart Castle on what turned out to be a free visit day. Actually it was closed and we jumped the fence. Still a free visit day for us though. After the return trip to Edinburgh, we relaxed a bit, had a good Scottish meal and watched a few episodes of Dexter.
The following day, we awoke to as cloudy a day as ever, but without the customary drizzle of Scottish winters. We decided to venture into old city Edinburgh, walking the hilly streets and seeing the antiquated buildings. In the late morning we took part in the Scotch Whisky Experience, taking a ride in whisky barrel and experiencing the sights, smells, stories and history of the scotch whisky process. After another short briefing on the different regions of Scotch whisky production, we had a small dram of the liquid gold and took off for the Edinburgh Castle. With nearly a 1000 years of architectural history within it's stone walls, there was plenty to see and do. More than a mere building, Edinburgh Castle is a city within a city. Chapels and museums, military training posts and shops, houses and stables, everything exists, or more so existed, as a sustainable society within its four walls. The hours of walking took their toll on our already-tired bodies, so we headed home for a break before going to the Sheeps Heid Inn for a pre-dinner pint. I only mention because it is said to be the oldest pub in all of Scotland, established in 1360 (though not the original building). It is a beautiful old building in the south-east corner of Edinburgh, tucked away on an inconspicuous side-street achievable only with prior knowledge of its existence. Perfect for our last night in Scotland. Inside it was highly typical of a Scottish pub, darkly lit and filled with tables, chairs and a bar made of all dark-woods. Age and Character.
Our final morning was spent in two different castles. First was Craigmillar Castle, a family-home for hundreds of years, now a tourist attraction located but a mile from my apartment. This was much more "castle" like (at least in my mind), a single building with winding staircases and dozens of paths creating an intricate stone maze. We explored for only a half-an-hour but all left feeling as if we'd just experienced something important. It was a visceral experience, connecting us to a time and way of life subject to the harshness of weather and war. We all also agreed that we'd love to live in a (modernized) home in similar fashion, only without the threat of war. From there we took off for our final tour of Scotland, the infamous Stirling Castle, home of Robert the Bruce and at times, William Wallace. Again, a city within a city, Stirling was vast, filled with similarly purposed buildings as Edinburgh Castle, but with a heavier touch of Royalty. This was the home of the Kings and Queens of Scotland, and the size and splendour of its banquet halls, chapels and bedrooms reflected their royal residents. Unfortunately, our last day was also spattered with cold, wind and rain, so the tour ended quickly by our own choosing and we headed for a meal of haggis, steak and ale pies and other such Scottish delicacies. What a great end to a great trip in Scotland!
I'm sure your eyes are as sore as my fingers, so although the full story doesn't end here, today's telling of it will. Stay tuned for part two of Travels with Charley!
Friday, January 6, 2012
The end of the beginning
Has it really been a full semester already? Wow, that means I ought to have a new-found wealth of knowledge stored in the recesses of my mind, a deeper insight into social and cultural happenings, higher-level thought capacities and a, errr, bigger profounder grander more copious vocabulary reflective of my extensive hours of reading, writing and discussing academia with far more intellectual people than myself. They say the mind is a sponge, soaking up every bit of information within reach...well what they neglect to tell you is that sponges have a point of saturation, where every new bit of information either forces other information to drip away unnoticed or sheds itself in angry disapproval of its crowded living quarters. I hit that point about mid-November, right before I began working on my final essays. Bad timing.
I always heard my friends mention this type of frustration when undertaking their Masters, shrugging it off as weakness on their part. Now here I sit making the same proclamations of information overload. Let this be my official apology to you friends for my previous lack of validation of your hard work. I feel you.
That said, I have to consider this a successful first semester. Or at least until I receive my final marks next week. Thankfully, not all learning comes in the form of grades and marks, nor even in an expressible cumulative bank of information. Rather, much of my learning has been experience. Experiencing new people and places; experiencing a culture vastly different from my own; experiencing an upper-level academic program; but most of all, experiencing personal transition and growth throughout it all. Maybe that's really the key to higher education. Expanding on the sponge analogy, maybe education shouldn't be reduced down to drops of information added to the cumulative and limited whole. Maybe it isn't even new ways to thinking that produce a denser material capable of holding more or thicker liquids. Education (one could call life itself an education) is about recognizing our sponges as alive, growing, reshaping to fit the experiences of our lives. It's only when we cut the sponge that its capacities are limited. That mid-November realization of saturation coincided with the realization that my sponge was still growing, in fact it has always been saturated by an ocean of experiences, alive in a constant state of progressive development. Okay, too much with the sponge analogy?
So what does that all mean? Just that I'll always aim for increased knowledge, intellect and academic achievement, but experience and growth will be the ruler measuring success in my life rather than calculable and static performance. The end of the first semester may have arrived, but remember, its still just the beginning.
I always heard my friends mention this type of frustration when undertaking their Masters, shrugging it off as weakness on their part. Now here I sit making the same proclamations of information overload. Let this be my official apology to you friends for my previous lack of validation of your hard work. I feel you.
That said, I have to consider this a successful first semester. Or at least until I receive my final marks next week. Thankfully, not all learning comes in the form of grades and marks, nor even in an expressible cumulative bank of information. Rather, much of my learning has been experience. Experiencing new people and places; experiencing a culture vastly different from my own; experiencing an upper-level academic program; but most of all, experiencing personal transition and growth throughout it all. Maybe that's really the key to higher education. Expanding on the sponge analogy, maybe education shouldn't be reduced down to drops of information added to the cumulative and limited whole. Maybe it isn't even new ways to thinking that produce a denser material capable of holding more or thicker liquids. Education (one could call life itself an education) is about recognizing our sponges as alive, growing, reshaping to fit the experiences of our lives. It's only when we cut the sponge that its capacities are limited. That mid-November realization of saturation coincided with the realization that my sponge was still growing, in fact it has always been saturated by an ocean of experiences, alive in a constant state of progressive development. Okay, too much with the sponge analogy?
So what does that all mean? Just that I'll always aim for increased knowledge, intellect and academic achievement, but experience and growth will be the ruler measuring success in my life rather than calculable and static performance. The end of the first semester may have arrived, but remember, its still just the beginning.
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