Backpacking Europe

    Round trip tickets from LAX to London Heathrow for $430. No, I will not stop bragging about it. :)

    Flight to London was direct, which was pretty sweet, but  I still insisted on taking my backpack as carry-on because I'm used to short Southwest airlines flights where I carry everything with me, and I'm paranoid about losing my luggage. I mean, I was going to be gone for 2 months, losing everything on day zero would not have been pleasant. 
The flight was oh-so-incredibly long. Made worse by the fact that it was a full flight, and I had the window seat, which meant I had to bother the old lady sitting next to me every time I had to go to the bathroom, which was quite often because I'd been drinking too much water on account of dry airplane air. I wasn't able to sleep much on the plane, probably 'cause of the excitement. I never really felt like the trip was really happening until we were driving to the airport, and then it was just kinda cool and scary and bubbly. Mind kept running around thinking of things and wondering and imagining. I arrived in London an hour and half late (Thank you American Airlines!), so it was probably around 3 or 4pm when I arrived at Heathrow.

    I knew I was in England when I went to buy an Oyster Card (touch-and-go card for the metro, or 'tube', as they call it) and the guy at the ticket window called me 'love'. I don't know why, but being on the 'tube' was one of those fantastic moments when every part of you knows it's somewhere else. A lot of the times when you're travelling, you can forget that you're in a completely foreign place, but when I was on the 'tube' I *knew* I was in London. It was pretty cool.

    The London metro's one of the better transportation systems I came across, but it's also really frickin' expensive. 1.50 pounds ($3) per ride (in the city center - zones 1-2) using the Oyster Card. And I think it caps off at around 6 pounds? 12 bucks for one day's worth of transportation. And it was 4 pounds to get from the airport. Still, it's really well connected and easy-to-use, easy-to-understand. I finally understand those 'Mind the Gap' tube logos now. ;)

    I wandered into Covent Garden looking for dinner and wound up eating a sandwich (see left). I think I commented on it on flickr. I stuck around for a few minutes to watch some of the street performers. Saw one dude walking on a tightrope while juggling knives. Pretty cool. Took a video, but had to delete it to save space. If you're dying to see, I'm sure you can find it on YouTube.

    The hostel I stayed for my very first night in Europe was Journey's Waterloo, which wasn't really that great, but I won't complain as it was only ~10 pounds per night. They were very big on security - had three different code locks, including one for the room. Lockers were available outside. The bathrooms were really nice and clean, but the blankets they gave were pathetic. I couldn't sleep at all that night half because of jet lag, and half because I was freezing. I left my pants on to sleep, but I had left my jacket at home and hadn't bought a new one yet, so I had nothing with sleeves. Plus, it was London in early spring... Even I'll admit that's cold.

    Next morning I went to see the Maritime Museum (The best thing about London is that all the museums are free); I want to learn more about sailing, but am to lazy to learn on my own. Field trips are always fun, though. ;) The poor Maritime Museum was pretty deserted when I went. It did pick up a little business from a school trip, but it really was kind of sad. They had some pretty cool stuff in there, though. Mostly models, but they did have one or two whole ships and lots of navigational instruments. Don't think I really learned much, though. Except for that anecdote about the Portuguese and the Chinese and the rhubarb.

    I wanted to go see the Cutty Sark, a preserved ship from way back when, but it's been closed due to renovation. On the upside, I had the BEST sausage roll ever while I was over there. I saw a small store that was pretty busy, and the people didn't look too touristy, so I thought maybe I'd try a hot cross bun 'cause they were advertised in the window, but the lady said they were out, so I had a sausage roll instead. Boy, was that thing delicious. Wish I had remembered the name of the store, it looked like it could have been a chain... Oh well.

    After that, I picked up a salad and a sandwich from Pret A Manger   (I really love this picture.) and headed off to Paddington station. You can tell I've been well-trained by the airlines because I went there probably 2 hours early in a fit of neurosis. I don't know why, or even what I expected, but I just felt like I should be super duper extra careful about not missing my train. So I sat around the train station and ate and waited and waited and watched the myriad of pigeons flutter about and peck at things. It was a bit odd to see so many pigeons wandering around so freely in a train station, but that's just the American in me. We're not used to wildlife in buildings - we freak out almost as badly as the bird when one of them loses its way into a building.

    The train to St. Austell was pretty long - 4 or 5 hours if I recall correctly (too lazy to look it up). Portrait - funny old guy, wispy white hair, thin, wrinkled, large thick glasses, perpetually cross-eyed. Pulled out a pipe despite the no smoking signs, but nobody bothered him about it. If I was a photographer, I would have asked him if I could take a picture of him. Also - saw a Pepto-Bismol pink limousine from the train window. Wish I could have taken a picture, but it went by so fast.

    I was fine until about an hour or so before we were supposed to arrive, then the exhaustion hit. Oh man, I've rarely been so sleepy in my life, but I'd gone almost 2 days with only few hours of fitful sleep, so when it hit, it hit hard. This big old dude - looked like John Goodman if he were angry and British - kept looking at me funny 'cause I was fidgeting around and banging my head and stuff trying to keep awake. He probably thought I was on drugs.

    Arrived at St. Austell in the evening. Was proud of myself for finding my way to the motel all by myself (and by that I mean, with the assurances of one or two natives that I was indeed going the right way).

    Was actually kind of glad I hadn't been able to find a hostel in the town, 'cause that meant I got to have my own room and shower at the Travelodge. Woke up nice and clean and refreshed. Happy day.

    Well, happy morning. Then I went to the bloody hotel reception to ask them to hold my luggage for me.  And what do I get? "Sorry, but we're not allowed. For security reasons, obviously."

    No, NOT obviously. If you go to any hostel anywhere in the world, they will hold your luggage for you. No worries, no fees (mostly), no waivers or 'security' issues. They just go, "Yeah, sure, dump it there with the crapload of other backpacks." *grumbles* On account of that, I had to drag my backpack almost a kilometer to the tourist info office so I could find a bus schedule. (I'd had plans to walk to the Eden Project and take the bus back, but I wasn't going to attempt that with my backpack on.)   

     When I got to the Eden Project, I had to carry my backpack down from the bus stop to the entrance (couple hundred yards), then back up to a parking lot 'cause the guy working there said they had lockers, but kept moving them around, and the last place he saw them was up there. Thankfully, the lockers were there and it wasn't a wasted trip, but, man, those lockers were small. I almost couldn't fit my backpack in there. Had to take out some stuff out and fit them in the corners.

    After that, the rest of the day was a breeze. Wandered around the Eden Project till ~3 or 4 in the afternoon. It's a huge place, and you can easily spend one or two days wandering around in there. The left dome is the rainforest biome, the middle dome is just the main entrance/gift shop/food court, and the right dome is the Mediterranean biome. I headed for the rainforest biome first, but almost turned back around when I hit the doors and a blast of hot, humid air smacked into my face. Forgot rainforests were tropical. :P

     I didn't get as many pictures as I would have liked in the rainforest biome because my camera lens got all foggy and though I tried wiping it off, it kept coming back. It took like 20-30 min. for the lens to finally warm up to rainforest temperature and by then I was like halfway through the thing. And, no, I wasn't going to stand around in that heat for an extra 30 min. just to get some pictures. Sweating into your pants is not fun at all.

    After that, I went to get lunch at the cafeteria. I'd heard it was pretty decent for a tourist attraction and it was. (If you don't count the exchange rate!) I had a vegan sandwich (cucmbers, tomato, sprouts, hummus, and tomato bread) and a sausage roll ('cause I'd been so enchanted by the one I'd had in London) and a cup of milk. The vegan sandwich was actually pretty good; the sausage roll was excellent, but nothing compares to the one I had in London; and the milk was the BEST milk I've ever had. Although to be fair, I've only ever had supermarket milk in the States, and that's not generally the good, fresh stuff. But, yeah, there was something about that milk. It didn't leave the gunky aftertaste I get with regular milk. I went back later and asked for another cup 'cause it was just that good.

    After lunch, I went to the Mediterranean biome, which was chock full of flowers instead of sweltering heat. Lots and lots of tulips. Fields of them. All different colors and bright as the sun. The place is probably even more beautiful in the summer, when more flowers start to bloom. They also have concerts and stuff outside at night during the summer. When I went, they were still constructing the stage and seating area for the concerts.

    I went exploring outside next. There was a giant statue made from electronic waste, this farmer thing on the right, a giant bee, metal sunflowers and more. There was also another building with exhibits on environmental issues, a giant water machine (which reminded me a bit of Tinguely as I don't think the machine really did *anything* just moved around a bit) and, my favorite, a gallery of photographs   by Andy Hughes with bright skies and heavily saturated close-ups of garbage  and debris lying on the beach.

    I wandered around the gift shop for a bit - bought a birthday gift and a postcard -  then hopped on a bus back to St. Austell, so I could catch a bus to the lovely city of Newquay, which is pronounced "Newkey" in British. Took me a while to get used to that one. Newquay is a small city, mainly visited by surfers. The downtown feels a bit like Las Vegas in the daytime, except with small arcade casinos. (That's another one of those things that took getting used to - the occasional casino/arcade and bookies that don't have big fancy hotels or names like Pechanga, Foxwoods or even my-ancestors-died-so-I-could-steal-the-white- man's-money.)

     I had some time, so I went down to a nearby beach and looked around. It was pretty nice there. Only saw one dude surfing, though. I think summer is the surfing season. March is perhaps a bit too early and a bit too cold.

     The beach actually reminded me of San Francisco because it was next to some cliffs with houses on them. And, of course, there was a sign there, telling me not to walk close to the cliff because it was unstable and might fall on me. I wonder if the owners of the house sitting at the edge of the cliff noticed that when they bought it. :P

    I stayed at the Newquay (damn, is this an evil, evil word to type.) International Backpackers Hostel. It was a pretty old place, and pretty dead when I got there (I had a six person dorm all to myself), but I can imagine it being lively and fun if you go during the summer and you're a surfer. It's a real backpacker's place with a kitchen and a pet dog and a lounge where people can hang out and chat. The blankets were pretty thin, though so if you go during the winter, wear extra clothes to sleep.

    The flight from Newquay was interesting. Or rather, the airport at Newquay was interesting. It was a tiny thing and under construction, so you can imagine how impressed I was. I've never been to a really small airport before. We had to walk from the gate to the plane. I didn't think you'd be allowed to do that, but there you go. But it was a cheap-ish flight (woulda been cheaper if I had gotten my bloody ATM card earlier. Thank you very much Bank of America.) so I wasn't expecting much. Flew Air Southwest. As it was a short, direct flight, I checked my big backpack in luggage. Plus, you never know when these cheap airlines will choose to fight you over baggage size. They also had interesting ass-shaped seats at the gate. I tried to take a photo, but it was really blurry, so you'll just have to live without the joy of seeing an ass-seat.

    On a rather interesting note, when I flew from the Newquay (UK) to Dublin (Ireland) I was given a passport stamp from customs. I also got one on the way back. Everywhere else I went in Europe, I never got a stamp. They'd look it over and wave me on. I could understand if I had a EU passport, but I had a US passport. You'd think they'd care. At least I won't have to worry about asking for a new passport as I filled up mine already.

    <-- Full Irish breakfast fry. Lily's super-cool friend John recommended it to me. He was nice enough to show me around the city a little and treat me to dinner even though he was busy with school. The little black round thing is blood pudding, which is the nasty bits of pig mushed into blood. It's got a rather strong taste. Reminded me of the kidney pie - it wasn't exactly bad, but made me nauseous after a few bites. One of those 'aquired' tastes. (I've always wondered about acquired tastes.  I mean, if it tastes like crap the first time, why would you bother trying it again and again until it finally tastes good? Maybe back when people had nothing better to eat, but nowadays, acquired tastes aren't a necessity, and you sure can't ever call them a pleasure until afterwards. It's like putting yourself through torture just for the heck of it.)

    The best thing about Dublin was the hordes of cheap internet cafes. Unfortunately, this was at the beginning of my trip, so I didn't fully appreciate it and ended up wandering into Europe thinking all internet should be one euro an hour...

    I stayed at Barnacles in Temple Bar the first night. Had the splendid experience of waking up at 3 AM in the morning due to cold water leaking from the bed above me. The guy above me just kinda grunted, but didn't seem to be awake. If the water hadn't been cold, I would have been really freaked out. Nobody wants warm liquid leaking on them, ever. I went downstairs to tell the staff and the guy moved me to another dorm, which was right above the street where I could hear lots of loud drunks walking home, followed by the garbage trucks with their clanging and thunking. Hurrah. Remind me why I decided to stay in the drunk part of town?

    Next day, I pretty much just ran around town taking pictures of stuff. Went back to take photos of a lot of the stuff John had shown me the other night - my camera doesn't do well with night pictures unless you've got a tripod. (Though it was pretty cloudy that day, so I'm not sure it was all that much better...)

  Saw Dublin Castle (left), Trinity College, couple of churches, St. Patrick's Cathedral, etc. Touristy stuff. :P The cool thing about architecture in Europe is that you see so many styles - modern and old right next to each other. The sad bit is that you can see really old, fancy stone buildings with great architecture, and  you expect them to be... I dunno... something special like a museum or at least a government administrative building, but they're not. They're shopping malls.

    Also went to two parks. Wanted to go to Phoenix Park 'cause it's just got such a cool name. (One of the few times I bothered to take a city bus during the trip.) But it was pretty boring. Lots of green, yeah, but not much else. I also somehow wandered into what I think was St. Patrick's Green, which was actually prettier not 'cause it had flowers and a lake - Phoenix Park had those too, but because they were in a smaller area. :P Phoenix Park had like the same amount of stuff, but spread over a wider area so you get bored in the giant spaces of flat green.

    Stayed at Globetrotter's this night. It was interestingly decorated, but felt a bit old. The toilets smelled quite a bit and the showers had no changing space, but at least had a hook outside the door for you to hang stuff. Overall an okay experience.

   It's Friday the 16th of March, the day before St. Patrick's Day, and it's my birthday! I got plans to go see the  Giant's Causeway and the Antrim Coast by bus.
    Unfortunately, it was a cloudy, rainy morning, so I couldn't go see the Giant's Causeway. Well, I could have, maybe (I don't know what their policy is on weather), but it would've been a very long bus ride back if I'd gone running around the Causeway in the rain, and pictures would have been near impossible. I love running around in the rain, but it can be rather annoying if you can't change back into something dry. So, I figured I'd go see it next time, and this time I could see Belfast.
    I hadn't really done my research on Belfast because I'd planned on the Giant's Causeway taking up most of my time, but I was lucky enough to find the local farmer's/flea market. I was just wandering around and saw a rather busy building so I went in. Oh, how I love markets! Ever so much food to look at. Only problem was, it was pretty early then, around 10 AM, so I couldn't try any of the food - most of it was still being cooked at the time. :(  Oh well. Looking may be half the fun, but it's also none of the calories.
    I also wandered into the town hall when they were having some sort of ceremony. There was a band and everything. Not sure what it was for though. I wasn't sure if I should have been there, so I didn't want to ask and get kicked out. >_>
    Belfast is a short, stocky, red-bricked town - working class, but with a lot of history behind it. I wish I'd known more about it's history, but all I knew could pretty much be summarized as Protestant/Catholic/Separatist/ Loyalist in-fighting. Not really enough to fully appreciate a place like Sandy Row. (Which is probably not pictured below. Although, I have no idea where that is, so for all I know,  it *could* be.)
    I wandered into a hostel that actually had cheap internet and wound up talking to this guy for like 2 hours. Well, more like me listening to him about various things like fire tornados and near death experiences and how his little boy is afraid of moss, but it was fun, and I can't help it if I'm just not that talkative. I finally left when a fire alarm went off and he had to go check it. I went looking for the photography gallery, which I never did find. It started raining a bit while was looking, which was great.
    While I was walking back to the hostel, some middle-aged dude asked me if I wanted to have a drink with him. I just shook my head and kept walking.The funny thing is, the guy took my silence as a sign that maybe I didn't speak English, so he switched to, "Drink?" and "Pub? You know pub?" and drinking motions. The important thing, when someone is trying to harrass you on the street, is to just keep walking. Doesn't matter if this is beggars or advertisers or greenies who want you to sign a petition or some dude who's trying to get you into a pub, just keep walking.
    For dinner I went to this restaurant above a pub that had one of those early bird specials that charges you the price of the time you eat. I went in a little after 5:30 and after ordering, I guess it was 5:45, 'cause they charge me 5.75, but I'm not complaining. I got this beautiful salmon on mashed potatoes. The funny thing about the place was that it looked pretty posh, until you looked at their wine menu and saw them quoting Wayne's World .
    Back at the hostel, I met this nice Finnish lady who had been like, everywhere. She had the most awesome speech pattern. She spoke English very well, but there was something about her tones that made every sentence that came out of her mouth sound like one giant sigh. Like she's been put on by the whole world, but that's okay, because somebody's gotta do it. It was way cool.
    I stayed at the Hostelling International  hostel in Belfast. Being a chain hostel, it was really clean and nice and new (and souless if you care about that sort of thing). The showers pissed me off for being one of those that don't take changing into consideration. Luckily, no one was there when I showered 'cause it was pretty early. The beds, however, were nice - lockers underneath (a bit noisy as all those cage sliding ones are) and lights for each bunk. I love those lights. There was internet, but it was overpriced as it is in most hostels.

   Took the bus from Belfast to Dublin and flew back to London because it was cheaper to do that then take the Eurostar to Paris than to fly from Belfast to Paris, although, I am regretting how little time I spent in France, so it may have been better to have tried a little harder to get cheap plane tickets. I almost didn't get on the bus. Actually I didn't get on 'the' bus. I got on 'a' bus. The bus I had meant to take was full on account of it being St. Patty's Day and lots of people going to Dublin for some fun. I, in all my genius, had forgotten to add that to my calculations and was only slightly panicked about what to do. Luckily, there was another bus service, which I was able to find and take to the airport.

    Some of you may be asking why I would be so silly as to leave Ireland on St. Patty's Day, but you must understand, St. Patty's Day is not a good time for anyone sober to wandering around. Even if you aren't in Ireland. Even in London, there were hordes of people wearing green and getting drunk. St. Patrick's Day is an international excuse to get pissed, and the world thanks you, Ireland. The part of the world that's drunk, anyway. (Which is also the vast majority...)

    I got into London late in the afternoon, so I decided to skip lunch and wait for dinner. All I'd had to eat that day were some plums and a Clif Bar. I went to Garfunkel's  for dinner. It's really, really busy in there, but that's why I bring books with me to eat. I had Cottage Pie (a bit like really thick ground beef gravy and some mashed potatoes.), onion rings and treacle pudding.The onion rings were awesome, but one of them, the piece on the top there without a hole, didn't have any onion in it. I thought it was just the cap, but when I bit down,  oh my god, mouth full of seasoned powder. I mean, the taste is great when you eat the rings, but the powder by itself is way too strong  and eugh. I was so full and really shouldn't have ordered the treacle pudding , but I had to try because Pratchett  always talks about it.  The thing about the word 'custard' is that Americans don't really expect something that liquidy. We're more used to thick stuff that glomps more than it flows. Either way, it was delicious. :)
    After dinner, I found a cheap internet cafe in what appeared to be the 'Chinatown' of London. I sat down and digested and uploaded some pictures and left my camera's USB cord with the computer... Lucky for me, I realized this pretty soon after going back to the hostel and was able to get back to the store before they closed. I was doubly lucky because they actually had my cord. It would have been f*ck all if I'd lost my cord. 4 gigs of memory is so not enough for two months of travel. I should have gotten more, but I've already paid too much for memory.  Even if I didn't know it at the time.





    Stayed at Ace Hotel  over in Kensington. A bit out of the way, but a really nice, clean place. The common areas looked really nice - modern minimalist decor; the rooms felt a  bit older, but were still pretty nice. It was odd at first because I noticed a lot of the staff had accents when they spoke English, but the more I traveled, I realized that they have lots of people who speak perfect English working at hostels in other countries, and it makes sense to have foreigner students or whoever working at a hostel for cheap.

    I rode the Eurostar to Paris just so I could say I'd ridden it and been through the 'Chunnel.' It really wasn't particularly interesting (I mean, it's a tunnel, there's nothing to see in a tunnel.) , but it's probably around the same price as a cheap airplane ticket with less hassle if you book early. If you're going to go Eurostar, best to start checking the prices early, because pricing works pretty much like plane tickets - they change according to the whims of the statisticians/economists in charge of deciding when people are more likely to buy. You might also want to arrive a little earlier, since you will have to go through some security. They're not as fussy as airport security, but I remember getting there like half an hour before and wondering if I would get on the train in time. Most trains have little to no security - Eurostar was the only one I remember where they checked bags and stuff. Thankfully, the security people were nice enough to let you skip to the front if you had a ticket for a train that was leaving soon.
    Paris was ... to say the least, interesting. I was only there for three days, but it was probably the most ... eventful place I'd been. So, for starters, within 15 minutes of arriving at Gard du Nord (north train station), I meet this nice looking little old man with a battered suitcase who was just so nice that he wanted to help a poor little lost tourist. I wasn't really lost, I'd just bought my subway map and was taking a look at it, but he insisted on leading me by the hand to the subway, so I figured, what the heck, why not? He's just some harmless little old guy who happens to be going my way. Then when we're waiting for the train, he starts rubbing my hand, and I'm just trying really hard to give him the benefit of the doubt, but then he kisses me on the cheek, and I'm like, "This is starting to get creeeeeepy." I'm trying to get away from this dude, but he's just trying to nuzzle me on the nose, and I was just so happy when the train came. I hurried to get on, and I swear to God, the dude groped my ass. That was not cool. So I got off at the next station and tried to ditch him. (If I weren't so timid, I probably would have just yelled at him and told him to bugger off, but that sort of confrontation is not in my blood, so I opted for giving him the slip.) I had almost convinced him I was going to get out at that stop, and he had almost gone through the turnstile while I lingered behind, but nooooooo, the old guy was wise to that trick. The bastard turned around to check I was still behind him, and when he saw I wasn't, he began following me again. I didn't want him following me to my hostel, because that would just be creepy, so I went back to the subway and waited for another train to come. I have never in my life been so thankful to see a crowded subway train, and I probably never will be so thankful again. I just jammed my way in there, giant backpack and all, and thankfully, the old dude didn't feel like shoving himself into the mass, so I was able to leave him behind. And that was my introduction to Gay Paris. Creepy, but educational. DO NOT TRUST LITTLE OLD PARISIAN MEN ON THE SUBWAY. Lesson learned. (Also learned on the Paris subway: Beware the wrath of Zeus/Thor/[insert lightning god here] )
    After that little adventure, I was able to find my way to the hostel easily enough. I stayed at Caulaincourt Square Hostel, which was old and under renovation, but they have a nice cafe downstairs that looks new, and they offer a pretty nice breakfast. Croissants and rolls as only the French can do. :) It was pretty close to the subway exit, but make sure you don't make the same mistake as I did and try to walk up all those flights of stairs with your heavy ass backpack on. Just wait for the elevator. The receptionist guy seemed like one of those permanently grumpy people, but he would occasionally try to smile, which served only to creep me out. Stayed in a room with a girl from Michigan who was teaching English in Nice, and two Swedish guys, one of whom had actually studied abroad in Sacramento and had even been to a party in Davis. Since this was at the beginning of my trip, it was like, "Oh, wow! Who would have thought." How silly I was back then...
    After I dropped my stuff off at the hostel, I went to check out Notre Dame and the underground crypt, which was mostly just a museum of old Roman stuff. Then I walked around looking for a restaurant that wasn't there, looked around for a restaurant that was there, but looked kinda small and dingy and closed, and finally settled on eating in the Latin Quarter because there were cheap restaurants everywhere. The problem with that area is that they have these guys who's job is to stand there outside the restaurant and lure people in, which means I got people bugging me the whole time. Usually those people just turned me off of the restaurant because I wouldn't even dare look at their menu or they'd start talking to me. I ended up at some random restaurant, and, of course, I had to try escargot (left), which really wasn't that bad if you just remembered not to think about it.
    In the afternoon, I went to the Eiffel Tower. No, I didn't go up. It's expensive! And I'm somewhat scared of heights anyway. It's weird to go there and see some dude in an Eiffel Tower costume walking around like it's Disneyworld. I got two great pictures from under the Eiffel Tower that you'd think were taken at different times , but the sky was just that weird that day.
    As I was leaving, some guy came up to me and asked me directions to the Grande Palace, and I tried to help him out, and then he asked me if I wanted to go there with him, and I was like, "No, thank you. I've had enough of creepy dudes for one day, thank you very much." Well, he didn't look that creepy, and he was around my age, but still. He was just some random dude on the street asking me out. It's not the last time that would happen either. Although he was quite persistent. He asked me if I wanted to go the next day, and I was like, "Nope, gotta go to Versailles." "After that?" "After that... Barcelona. Sorry."
    After that little encounter, I moseyed on over to the Museum of Modern Art at the Palais de Tokyo. I like going to modern art museums just to see what sort of weird stuff passes as art nowadays. Stacks of rotting oranges (right), poo chickens , dumpsters overflowing with bubbles, live birds with clipped wings waddling about in some stringy yellow stuff ...
     It was pretty late after that, so I went to dinner, where I got to meet a genuine stereotypical French waiter. just weird because I ordered a set meal with a salad, but he comes back five minutes later asking if I wanted onion soup. I know he had the order right because he'd read it back to me, so I was baffled at the sudden interest in (Yes, I did just say, "genuine stereotypical." What're you gonna do about it?) Well, he wasn't that rude, but it was onion soup, which I didn't want. I wanted a salad because I was trying to eat healthy while traveling, so I told him, "No. I ordered the salad." He finally gets the point and walks away with the soup and brings me a salad. Then, while I'm eating my salad and reading a book, he comes up to my table, so I put my book down and look at him, wondering why he's there. Without a word, he grabs my plate with the last fourth of my salad and walks off before I can say, "Hey! I'm not done with that!" I wasn't pissed off or anything, just amused, but you certainly wouldn't see that in the States.
    That morning, I got up early, had breakfast, saw a few minutes of Days of Our Lives (Des Jours Des Vies) in French and went to the Jardin des Tuileries in front of the Louvre. I didn't go in the Louvre because I'm not a big fan of paintings and classical art, and it's big and busy and crowded, and I'm not a fan of those either. The Jardin wasn't exactly in full bloom, it being early March, and it being so cold it actually started hailing soon afterwards when I was heading for the Pantheon (left). It was cool, though, I was having fun running around in the freezing cold in my t-shirt. The lady who was taking tickets at the Pantheon thought I was nuts. She thought I was even more nuts when I told her I was from California. It's hard to explain to people that California is a big state and not just Hollywood. I loved the Pantheon. The design was wonderful, and I just loved the way those domes fit together like that. I also went to the Jardin de Luxembourg, and I wanted to go see the Jewelry exhibit they were doing at the museum there, but it looked really crowded, and I didn't feel like I had the time to waste. Had lunch at the Latin Quarter again, and tried to get some ice cream from Berthillon afterwards, but it was closed. There were places around that said they sold ice cream from Berthillon, though, so I got some from one of those places. I don't remember what flavor, but it was something chocolatey, I believe. It was good, but I wasn't knocked out. Next time I'll probably try a fruity flavor. Those are supposed to be really good.
    In the afternoon, I went to the Arc de Triomphe (after I got some of the BEST chocolate ever ), which you can't get to unless you find the underground footpath. I spent like ten minutes walking around looking for a place to cross and staring in disbelief at the giant circle of traffic around the thing and wondering why in the hell anyone would design a street like that before I realized I was supposed to go under. =P Walked up Champs-Élysées, which is just a really big shopping street. Stopped by the Virgin Megastore and got a Thomas Fersen  CD and new headphones because my old pair was futzing up on the right side. I wanted to go to La Defense, but it's way out on the outskirts of the city, and I didn't want to be in a deserted business center in the evening.
    I pretty much just ate at the Latin Quarter the whole time I was in Paris, which was bad, but I couldn't find any of the restaurants I'd wanted to go to... This time, there, some dude asked me if I wanted to go eat with him, you know, 'cause I was alone, and he was alone, and food tastes better with company, or something like that. My French wasn't that good, and his English wasn't that good. I squashed the urge to complain about all the weirdos in Paris, and just brushed him off as politely as I could. Some people don't mind going out with random people off the street, but I'm just thinking, worst-case scenario: he's some creepy Jack the Ripper wannabe who kills tourists instead of prostitutes; best-case scenario: he turns out to be a great guy, and I fall in love; most-likely scenario: he's just looking for a free meal.
   Next morning, I got up early to go to Sacre-Coeur (above right), which was really close to Caulaincourt, but I had a little trouble finding it. It was pretty empty that early, but I didn't have time to go inside because I wanted to get to Versailles (below) as soon as possible. The view from up on that hill is just amazing, though, definitely worth the climb. Didn't know how long it would take at Versailles, and I had a train to Barcelona that night, so I wanted to get that over with early. Versailles was overblown pomposity at its best. The place was just so overdone. Everything was gilded in gold, the fabrics all had fancy pants patterns, chandeliers all over the place... It was ridiculous. It's what Paris Hilton's bedroom would have looked like if she'd lived a couple hundred years ago. I'd show pictures, but we weren't supposed to take photos. Of course people always do, but I tried not to take very many, and I certainly didn't use flash. (I have to manually flip up the flash on my camera, so at least I didn't have to worry about it accidentally going off.) But yeah, I blew through Versailles pretty fast and was back in the city by the afternoon. I had some free time so I went to see the Pompidou Centre, which is interesting, but not actually very pretty to look at. I think there are things you can do inside, but I'll be damned if I could figure out what exactly. Also had time to find the Grande Place and walk around the Pont Alexander. The view from the bridge is just amazing. I loved how there were big fluffy white clouds in the sky, and you can see the Eiffel Tower in the background. Beautiful.
    Had a quick dinner and rushed off to pick up my stuff and get to the train station to wait for my overnight to Barcelona. The guys I asked about berth numbers seemed quite amused that I had a second class Eurail pass but had sprung for a sleeper bunk. I just didn't want to arrive in Barcelona dead tired since I only had like half a day there. They actually give you some water and mints and some random little things for the overnight trip, which was a pleasant surprise. I ended up sharing a berth with two businessmen who seemed nice enough. One of them even explained all the stuff like locking the doors, lights, temperature control, etc. to me since it was my first time on one of those. I was quite amused because they provided seatbelts for the beds. I'm still not sure how that was supposed to work. I slept really well on the train, but I'm also a relatively heavy sleeper and used to live near train tracks, so it depends on how good you are at blocking out noise.
    Next stop: Barcelona!

I arrived in Barcelona in the morning, but by the time I found my hostel* and checked in and got settled down, it was lunch time.  (The subway in Barcelona, by the way, was pretty new and much welcomed improvement from the Parisian subway.)  So I went walking around to look for some tapas.  I saw a couple of places, but didn't really know where to go -- I think I had a restaurant or two on my list, but I was hungry and didn't feel like walking around for an hour in a probably fruitless search.  (Seriously, if you go backpacking don't bother looking up restaurants unless they happen to be famous ones because it's usually not worth the effort of looking for these places.)  I walked into one restaurant, but I wasn't exactly sure how the seating went -- whether we were supposed to wait for someone or just sit down, or what, and nobody seemed to be paying me any attention, so I left and went to another place.  The place had a picture menu, which was nice, couldn't say I loved the service, but they were pretty busy.  The food was okay, I think it depends on what you order.  This is the first time I ordered mussels, and it wouldn't be my last if only because I'm a slow learner.  (I now know that I don't really like mussels, but, hey, when in Belgium, eat what they're famous for, right?)  I got some meat  dishes  and mini baguette-wich (looks longer in the picture than it actually was).  For dessert, I ordered the mousse, which was pretty good.
    It's a good thing I eat fast, because due to some poor (absent-minded) planning, I had a flight out of Barcelona the next morning.  Like, 8 AM in the morning, which meant I had to do all my sight-seeing in the next couple of hours.  Naturally, I went to see La Sagrada Familia, the great unfinished church designed by Barcelona's favorite son, Antoni Gaudí.  It really is a pretty cool church, especially on the inside.  It's got a cool ceiling (above), spiral staircases, and stained-glass windows that I actually liked.  I'm not a big fan of stained-glass windows, but the colors on these were just pretty.  There's also a museum dedicated to Gaudi and his works inside.  Pretty neat stuff and definitely worth a look if you're into architecture.
    Afterwards, I went looking for Parc Güell, which despite the name, is really Gaudi's park.  He designed the place, and you can tell -- the entrance is marked by two Gingerbread houses, and only one man in Barcelona would be crazy enough to do that.  There's also a technicolor lizard fountain, which is worth seeing just so you can say you saw a technicolor lizard fountain.  :)  There's a pink house in there that's also a museum, but I didn't go in because I was pressed for time.  There's also a dirt field where loads of people gather to look at the view or play soccer. 
    And because you know I cannot pass by a bakery without going in and looking around, on my way to Parc Güell, I picked up some bunyolas, a donut-y type snack (below).  Some were filled with custard and some were plain with only the granulated sugar on top.  The sugar was weird and tasted somewhat bitter, but the custard-filled donuts were nummy.
    It was weird walking through that part of Barcelona because it reminded me of Taiwan.  Something about apartment buildings with balconies and laundry hanging out to dry... I don't know.  It was just very odd to be on the wrong side of the world in a completely different culture and still feel a connection between these two places. 
    After the park, I wandered around a few minutes and saw the docks and some cool street architecture and the statue of Columbus pointing , which is important for some reason or other, even if the guy wasn't really all he was made up to be.  After that, I headed down to the sea to visit the Maritime Museum.  Don't ask why.  I'm sure you'll just be happy to know that his is the last one you'll be blessed to see.  :P  Although, I can't imagine anyone not wanting to enter a building with a large, wooden submarine parked outside.  That's just ten kinds of awesome.  Inside are a bunch of model boats and maps and all sorts of cool things.  There's even a really large sailling ship inside.  Unfortunately, the lighting was pretty bad, and museums frown upon the flash, so it was hard to get a good picture of that.  I did, however, get a nice picture of a diving suit with three-fingered gloves...  (I didn't even notice that until just a few minutes ago!)  Have I sold you on maritime museums yet?
    Next I headed for the Boqueria (below), Barcelona's famous outdoor market which sells all kinds of foods.  Lots of stand with fresh fruits and vegetables, but you're not allowed to touch!  If it was because they were afraid of someone knocking over their carefully arranged stacks of fruit, I would be more understanding, but I found that sellers all over Europe just don't like you touching their produce.  Odd if you're an American.  Even odder yet if you have parents who like to "graze."  There are also stalls for meats and candied fruits and nuts and all sorts of wonderful stuff.  A foodie's dream.  They have markets like these all over Europe, but Barcelona's is one of the bigger ones.  (You can also find them all over Asia, usually with an even wider variety of cooked foods to go along with produce, fish, meat, etc.)
    I ended the day with a not-so wonderful meal -- I really wanted to try the paella, but I ended up at a place that wasn't great.  The paella was way too salty and the tapas weren't anything special either.  I will have to go back someday and find a native to show me where the good food is.  I did also try the Sangria , because, well, I was in Barcelona!  I am, however, not a big fan of alcohol, so I can't tell you whether it was good or bad, just bitter.  Oh well, I tried.
    I pretty much just crashed at the hotel after dinner, even though in Barcelona the partying doesn't even begin until like midnight.  But, hey, I had to leave before the sun even rose just to catch a bloody plane.  Can't help it if I need my Hulk-angry-prevention sleep.
    Next stop, Rome!

*The hostel I stayed at was Centric Point on Passeig de Gracia, one of the major avenues with lots of restaurants and shopping.  It was a very nice, new, clean hotel, but it's for young kids and partiers, so don't count on an uninterrupted evening if you have to catch a plane in the early morning.  That's usually when people get to bed in Spain.