I'll be Amster-god-damned.

From way up on your cloud
Where you've been hiding out
Are you getting somewhere?
Or did you get lost in Amsterdam?
-Guster

Hey folks. You might be wondering why I'm posting a blog update when I'm supposed to be on a flight heading back to the U.S. Well s allow me to illuminate you. Shortly after my last post was published, the weather in Amsterdam started to turn to the cold, rainy temperate that I've grown accustomed to in Seattle's November-May season. By this point I had spent a couple of hours wandering around, walking from Amsterdam's Centraal Station (trained there from the airport) up to the Museum district, which is a few kilometers away. After the weather got bad, my first instinct was to say "fuck it" to Amsterdam and head back to the airport where I would be dry, but my wanderlust got the better of me and I decided to spend a few hours exploring Amsterdam and a few of its museums. Initially, I headed to the Van Gogh museum, since the last time I was in Amsterdam, I was a stereotypical 20-year old tourist who was high as a kite (Sorry, mom), so my memories of seeing Van Gogh are a bit surreal. The line this time was unreal...so I headed over to the nearby Rijksuseum, which (I think) I didn't see the last time around. I enjoyed the Rijks quite a bit...it was interesting after so much dogma-heavy Catholic art in Spain to see the more humanistic portraits of Vermeer and Rembrandt, culminating in The Nightwatch - which was just as impressive in person as I've been told it is by art teachers over the years. Since the weather was so bad, I decided to take a tram back to the station so I could catch a train back to the airport. The tram, bein in a touristy area during bad weather, was incredibly packed. I hopped on, and a few inutes later after being squished between a lot of people, I reached into my purse to grab some money to pay the trolley. That's when I realized my wallet was missing. Isearched frantically for a few mminutes, then hopped off the tram and ran back to the Rijksmuseum to see if I had lost it there somehow, even though pretty much every instinct I had at that point told me it had been stolen. My wallet contained not only my passport and 50 Euro in cash, but also my credit cards, my boarding pass for my flight the next morning, and the ticket for the airport locker in which my backpack was currently being stored. Yes, it was silly to carry all of that together at once, but I suppose after 35 days in all parts of Spain without any such incidences, I perhaps got lulled into a false sense of security in Amsterdam - which is supposedly MUCH safer than most places I've been in Spain. But, I suppose life imitates art, as the dude who got mugged in Amsterdam in Eurotrip (one of my favorite movies) should remind me. The receptionist pointed me toward a police station about 20 minutes away by walking. She told me I should take the tram, but I had about 5 Euro in pockets and I wasn't going to blow that on the tram since I had no idea what was going to happen to me. I made my way over to the police station, and the officer at the desk informed me that the American Consulate had closed 15 minutes ago, and there was nothing he could do. I asked him if I could make a report, and he said no, I had to come back tomorrow. After I insisted the Consulate would have an emergency line (and I'm pretty sure this qualifies) he sighed and went to look it up. I ccalled the American Consulate in Amsterdam (which was indeed closed) and the marine on duty patched me through to the American Embassy in the Hague. Praise Kanye for that woman, because at this point I was a nervous wreck. I had no money, nowhere to go, no identification, and a flight to catch at 10am the next morning. She called Kevin for me, since I had no way to make an international call, and explained the situation, helped us book me a hotel room for the night, and assured me that everything would be ok, I just needed to show up at the consulate the next morning to sorrt out an emergency passport. But I was definitely not going to make my flight.Thanks to her and Kevin, for letting me use his credit card information rather liberally over the last 24 hours, I got a room at the Amsterdam Marriott with access to room service so I could eat untilI got everything sorted out. I finally got a hold of myself while I was checking in, until the receptionist told me I had to give them some form of ID. I reitereated that everything had been stolen...EVERYTHING, and I had no ID. She told me I had to show her a police report, and I told her they wouldn't take one until the next morning. She kept telling me she couldn't let me check in, and at that point (though I had held it together pretty well up until that point) I totally broke down and just cried until the head of security came over and I explained my situation....then he convinced her to just let me check in, with the provision that I bring them a copy of the police report as soon as I secured one. This all only happened last night, but it feels like a month ago right now. Once I got up to my room, I cancelled my credit cards, talked to Delta to let them know I wouldn't be making my flight the next morning, then took a hot shower, crawled into the big, fluffy king-sized bed, ordered a club sandwich and fries from room service, and watched Inception in my room. It made a WORLD of difference. I felt completely normal again, and just accepted I wouldn't make my flight and at this point had done everything I could do. Ironically, it was probably the best night's sleep I've had the whole trip. No youth hostel bunk beds, or pension rooms opening up to a loud, raucus plaza. Just a quiet room and a thick comorter and English-language TV stations. It's really all a girl could ask for. That, and an awesome boyfriend who made all that happen. I seriously love you, boo! I woke up this morning and headed over to the American Consulate at 8:00 am. There was actually quite a long line, even though I thought I was getting there very early. Turns out, no less than 5 other Americans had their passports stolen the exact same day. One chick I met was supposed to be immigrating to Canada that morning, but her passport was stolen along with her backpack that contained all her immigration paperwork. So...I could have had it worse. Thankfully, we got skipped to the front of the line. They asked me for a police report too...I felt like I was going in circles. The police said I needed to talk to the consulate first, and the consulate wanted a police report to show some official offering of my identity. Security was pretty tight just to get into the building. I made it clear that I had nothing, and was prepared to break out the waterworks a bit, but they just let me fill out a form with all my vital info and admitted me. Then I filled out the paperwork, and had to pay $135 for an emergency passport. Thanks again to my totally understanding boyfriend, who let me wake him up at 1 am Seattle time to get his credit card authorization once again. They told me it would be tready by about 3pm, so I went to the police station, gave a full report to a very nice and funny officer named Martin (and got a copy to show the hotel), then headed back to my hotel and called Delta to see what flight I could get on in the next 24 hours now that I had an ETA on my passport. I spoke with a great manager who was horrified by my sob story, and got me on a flight for tomorrow morning without making me pay for any fare difference and waived the change-fee (provided I show my police report at the Delta check-in desk). This was such a huge relief for me, as I was sure I was going to be out a couple thousand dollars by buying a new last-minute ticket. I wish I could send that lady a fruit basket or something. I ordered some lunch and watched Eurotrip in my room (I thought I deserved a good laugh) then headed back to the consulate to pick up my passport. Now I officially have my passport, a ticket to go home tomorrow, and a comfortable bed to sleep in tonight. Yes, my time in Amsterdam has been a huge pain in the ass...but looking on the brightside of things, it's really only money after all. I'm taking out a shitload of debt over the next three years, so what's another $500 or so in the grand scheme of things? Plus, and I cannot understate the importance of this enough, this bed is ridiculously comfortable. I feel like a new woman. I was going to arrive home after spending two consecutive nights in an airport, sore and achy from that plus a month's worth of travelpains. Now I feel a bit refreshed. And it only added another day to my trip. The only part that really bums me out is losing my passport. I had so many stamps inside it Europe to my visas for Central and South Amercica and this trip...it makes me sad to lose all of that. I guess that's what pictures are for. I'm really glad they didn't steal my camera...that's for sure.

I know this has been kind of a rambling post, but I just wanted to reassure everyone that I'm ok, and I will be back home tomorrow. I will probably finish my thoughts on Spain one I'm home, and give an overview of Barcelona and Huesca, which were hugely fun because I got to meet up with some friends. I feel like I can't think about that part of my trip right now with the depth required to do that post justice, so I'll save it for later. All in all, a pretty solid trip. I can't wait to go home and talk to you all again.

Till next time!
A-bear

End of the line. No re-entry.

Hello Americans!

I know it has been quite a while since my last update. The frenetic pace of my trip has seemed to increase in the last week or so, and I have opted to spend what little time I had left in Spain to seeing things, instead of telling you all about it. Forgive me for my rationality. I am sitting in an "internet" cafe in Amsterdam right now writing this update. I have a 24 hour layover between Madrid and Seattle in this fine city, and so I decided to hang out and try to check out some sights before heading to the airport. So, here follows my final update from Europe, although I hope to post a final update on my trip once I return to the States and have some time to defrag.

SEGOVIA
It seems like months ago that I was in Segovia. I headed over that way because the Roman Aqueduct is located smach in the middle of town. It is in incredible condition, mostly due to an intensive restoration project in the 80s and 90s. No mortar at all holds the massive structure together, and I took plenty of pictures at all angles and light levels. On my first day in town, I trekked up the hill to drop off my backpack at my hostel, then headed over to the Alcazar, the Segovian fortress. As with most old fortresses in Spain, it began as a Roman fortress, then was built up by the Moors, then converted to a Christian stronghold after the Reconquista. Unfortunately, most of it burned down in the mid-1800s, so its present iteration is a much-restored, highly romanticized version of its earlier self. Allegedly, this castle was the inspiration for Disney's Sleeping Beauty castle, although I've heard the same said about the Neuschwanstein Castle just outside of Munich. Now having seen both castles up close and personal, I'd say the Alcazar looks a bit more authentic. There is a giant, four-storey moat (enpty) encircling the castle, and some serious dungeons as well as gorgeous towers with sweeping viewrs of Castilla y Leon. Fun fact: Isabel (as in Colombus' patron) was crowned queen of Castille in a church in Segovia, so they loves them some Queen Isabel in Segovia. After visiting the Alcazar, I cleaned up at my hostel before heading out to treat myself to a fancy dinner at Casa Duque, which has been serving up Segovia's specialty, cochinillo asado (roast suckling pig), for something like 150 years. And it shows. That was some delicious pig. and the other 4 courses were pretty fantastic. I was a typical tourist and took pictures of every course, so those will come shortly. I went to go find a bar to listen to some music after dinner, but like 40% of my Lonely Planet guide recommendations, the bar was no longer there. So I just went back to see the aquaduct at night and had some wine in the square and took pictures. The next morning, I went to see the Cathedral, which was pretty gorgeous, then had a quick lunch at a pastry shop before heading over to the Museum of Contemporatry Art, which had this interesting exhibit about the origin of painting as interpreted by a Greek legend, and it's implications on form and beauty. I enjoyed it, but like a lot of contemporary art, I felt like the artist was sort of browbeating me with the point she was trying to make. The museum also had a garden attached to it, and I saw two of the tiniest kittens I have ever seen living under one of the sculptures. I spent the afternoon wandering around Segovia before taking dinner in the plaza (roast suckling lamb this time, which I thought was mediocre). The next morning, I caught a bus to Burgos, in northern Castilla Leon.

BURGOS
I really liked Burgos. I got a good first impression because the owner of my hostel was a really kindly older guy, and we bonded over cooking crawfish when he found out I was from Louisiana. Then I found an open farmacia (pharmacy), and one of the clerks helped me find relatively small, inexpensive versions of all the shampoo, contact solution, toothpaste, etc. that I had run out of the previous day. Farmacias in Spain are not at all like Walgreens in the US. They stick to the narrower definiton of pharmacy, carrying only medicines and personal hygiene products. And they usually only have display products up, and you have to ask for the item you want so they can pull it oput of the back or a side drawer. Anyway, after my farmacia outing, I asked the hostel owner if there were any good walking paths nmearby, and he pointed me towards one that took me about 2 kilometers outside town, walking up the river toward a wooded area with a manufactured beach. It was a beautiful walk, and it felt nice to take a walk where I wasn't surrounded on all sides by tourists in a rush with screaming children. It took me a few hours to get all the way out and back, and I paused in the park at the end of the trail to continue reading DQ (Don Quixote - not Dairy Queen). The next day, I decided to pay homage to El Cid, who was born and raised just outside of Burgos. You may have seen the "historical" fiction movie starring Sophia Loren and Charlton Heston. Apparently he wasn't quite as valliant and Christian as the movie portrayed, but people seldom are. Either way, Burgos plays up their connection to El Cid, even though he spent his latter days and died in Valencia. His remains are buried in the Burgos Cathedral (typically extravagant and beautiful for Spain). There are several statues of El Cid in and around town, so I went to check them out, and saw the interesting artistic licenses taken. I had a famulous lunch at a vegan restaurant in the old quarter. I have long held a prejudice against vegan food, because I find most vegans pretty insufferable as a bunch (although I have known a few who are cool and not holier-than-thou about it). However, after so many weeks of bread and pork products, I felt like I was craving something with lots of vegetables and not a lot of processed fats. I gotta say, I've been totally coverted to the merits of vegan food by that restaurant alone. It was one of the best meals I had in Spain, and all vegan. While I'm not in danger of becoming a full vegan (I could not live without seafood, first of all), I think it couldn't hurt to incorporate a bit more vegan-inspired cuisine into my diet. I think as a rule people eat far too much shit, and the idea that we have to have a meat with every meal has become less appetizing to me as I get older. So look forward to vegan cooking experiences in future blog posts. Anyway, after a lunch that was delicious and filling without being heavy (!), I took a hike up to the Castillo (castle) at the top of the hill. Unfortunately, it was closed the day I was there so I couldn't go inside, but the trail was lovely and I got some great views and pictures of Burgos from the top. On my way back down I stopped over the Puente de Santa Maria, and passed under the Arco (arch) of the same name. The Arco usually has a museum inside, but it was closed to set up for the next exhibit. It sounds like some of the sights were a bust, but I really enjoyed myself in Burgos because the people were incredibly nice, the views were beautiful, and it felt a bit more relaxed than the previous few places I had been in Spain.

LA RIOJA (LOGRONO, HARO, BRIONES)
The next morning, I got up and caught an early bus to Logrono, in the heart of La Rioja, Spanish wine country. My hostel room was a single, which was nice, and had a small terrace overlooking the old town square. I spent my first afternoon just walking around, as I usually do, exploring and getting a feel for the town. I passed some great wine shops and wineskin shops (still handmade) and walked over a few bridges that cross the Ebro River. Logrono owes much of its growth during medieval times to the Camino de Santiago pilgrimage trail, and the town is very mindful of its history, with plenty of establishments catering to pilgrims and the trademark scallop shell decorating many a streetsign, wall, or walking path. I pintxo-hopped my way through the old quarter that evening, drinking quite a bit of red wine (I was in wine country...I had to...) before heading up to my hostel. I intended on taking an early bus out to Haro, which is supposedly the best please to visit bodegas (wineries) in La Rioja. I had a really lame experience in Haro (even though I got there by 11 am, none of the sights were open yet, none of the wineries would accept visits without a pre-arranged appointment, and this crotchety old dude who ran the sandwich shop in the bus station kept insisting he didn't understand me and wouldn't let me but a sandwich - fuck him, p.s.), so decided to cut out early in favor of nearby Briones, a tiny town of 900 people that is home to the incredible four-floor Dinastia Vivanco museum. The Vivanco family (or dynasty, as the name of the museum implies) is a major wine producer in La Rioja, and has been mproducing wine for several generations. The current owner has this awesome cheesey introduction video that everyone has to watch before entering the museum, and it discusses how he built the museum to pay homage to the land that has given the family its livelihood. The museum houses a thorough history of wine and wine-making, with massive exhibits and videos of barrel-making, wine bottle-blowing, wineskin-crafting, corking, and the world's largest collection of wine openers (seriously). There was also a ton of incredibly well-preserved artifacts of wine bottles, bowls, and art related to wine and its uses dating back from phoenician times to the present. It has got to be one of the most impressive private museums I have ever seen. Briones is such a small town that it has no real bus stop...so you have to just ask around town to see where the buses pick you up. It's completely unmarked, and I talked to about 5 different elderly folks (there seem to be few native young people in rural Spain) who told me roughly similar directions, so I hung out near a park bench that seemed to corrrespond to where most were telling me to go, and eventually, lucked out and caught a bus back to Logrono. That evening I had dinner in the square and a real ass 20 piece Mexican mariachi band was performing. It was SO refreshing to hear a Mexican accent again. No lisping at all. Wonderful. I stayed out a bit later than I anticipated that night (my waiter kept buying me glasses of wine) but eventually called it a night and got up the next morning to rush to catch my train for Zaragoza, with a connecting train to Barcelona. I was in such a rush, that I left my new jacket (that I purchased in San Sebastian) in the closet. I realized it about 10 minutes before my train pulled into Barcelona that afternoon, and I new that it was long gone by that point. I hope whoever finds it puts it to good use. In the meantime, I will pour a little out for my bitchin jacket that I thought would be the pride and joy of my trip to Spain. Sigh.

I need to head out now. Will finish my update a little later.

Real Talk: Spain

Well I can´t tell you where I´m going, I´m not sure of where I´ve been
But I know I must keep travelin´til my road comes to an end
I´m out here on my journey tryin to make the most of it
I´m a puzzle, I must figure out where all my pieces fit
-The great Dolly Parton

And a very good day to you from España! Right now I´m sitting in an internet cafe in Valladolid, Spain, having just taken an excruciating bus ride from Segovia and awaiting my next bus to Burgos. My wise and tarty friend Alex, currently about a month into her stint working in East Timor, recently made a very good point in her blog that about a month into your stay in a new country, a combination of homesickness and moderate irritability start to set in. In short, the novelty of experiencing a totally different place and lifestyle, while exciting at first, eventually wears down a bit, and you become less tolerant of the location´s idiosyncracies that were once amusing, but now just highlight the inconvenince of not being home. Don´t get me wrong, I´m not trying to compare my friend´s research project on sanitation and drinking water in East Timor to my trip backpacking around Spain just for the hell of it. Nor am I trying to complain - because backpacking around Spain just for the hell of it is pretty awesome - but I feel like I need to get a few things off my chest so that I can return to fully loving the hell out of Spain. So, without further ado, it´s time for REAL TALK: SPAIN EDITION.

1) Spanish people are REALLY loud. I´m not saying this is universal, but I have encountered SO MANY people have only two volume levels: mumbling (usually in a customer service capacity) or screaming like you´re trying to communicate across a football field (often found in small enclosed spaces, like aboard buses and trains, and in museum lobbies). The bus system in Spain is pretty reliable, and a lot cheaper than traveling by train, so I have been utilizing it pretty standardly. Without fail, every time I have gotten on a long distance bus, a pair of loud Spanish women of any age will sit directly behind me (no matter how many open seats there are) and proceed to talk at each other as if they were trying to communicate in front of the speaker system at a Van Halen concert. It´s just a little bit grating after a few hours. And I feel like every woman sounds like she has been smoking 3 packs a day since she hit kindergarten. I don´t mind the throaty voices; I´ve just been shocked on a number of occasions when a girl I take to be my age starts speaking with the voice of an emphysema patient.

2) I don´t get siestas. I don´t. I´ve tried, and the only time it remotely made sense was when I hadn´t slept in 30 hours because I had just flown from Seattle to Madrid. I get that it´s the culture here, and I have tried to embrace it. But it just strikes me as a HUGE waste of time. Yeah, I love naps...but I´m on vacation. I sleep in. And nothing here seems to open until 9 or 10 am anyway, so it´s not like museums or stores are open from 5 am and they need an afternoon break. It´s just like the entire city shuts down for technically 2 - but often 4 - hours a day. I want to go out and see sights, but nothing is open. I tried to nap during siesta, but it just makes me feel disoriented when I wake back up, and then I can´t get to sleep until like 4am that night. I tried just chilling at cafes and drinking sangria - but three hours a day is a long time to drink alone without admitting a serious substance abuse problem. I tried to hang out in parks and read, but I´ve torn through so many of my books that I have almost nothing left to read. I´d buy another book...BUT NOTHING IS EVER OPEN. That brings me to my next point:

3) NOTHING IS EVER OPEN. Not even pharmacies. Seriously. I ran out of shampoo, contact solution, and toothpaste all on the same day. Unhappily, that was yesterday, a Sunday. I walked all over Segovia trying to find a single open farmacia, and could not find a one. All day. Forget shampoo; people need medicine on Sundays, right? I feel like I´m complaining a lot, which I don´t mean to do. I think I´m just in a sour mood because I couldn´t brush my teeth this morning and I washed my hair with bar soap last night (after holding out a few days to find shampoo - it needed to happen). So I just feel...gross and kinda weird. And I miss home. I wanted to call Kevin or my parents a few days back just to check in and hear a familiar voice, but Segovia aparently has no internet cafes near the old town, and the only one I could find after wandering around for an hour was closed. Of course. During non-siesta time, too. Then I tried three pay phones, none of which worked. So I guess I´m just a bit irritated. But, in the words of Arrested Development, ¨don´t let that spoil prison for you!¨

I´ve actually had quite a lot of fun since my last update. The weather is wonderful, so I´ve been in really good mood aside from my minor grievances listed above. So from here on out, no complaining. Just good old fashioned cheerful notes on what´s been up as I´m travelin´through.

SAN SEBASTIAN (continued)

So you know how in my last update I said I was probably just going to grab some tapas and some wine and head to bed? Yeah...that definitely did not happen. I did make my way back to my hostel, where I ended up hanging out in the common room with two Austrian chicks, an American hippie (he denied being a hippie, but we convinced him later that night that he needed to embrace it), the Argentine owner of the hostel, and this young American kid (only 19) who works at the hostel and reminds me of who Shia LeBeouf obviously wants to be. His parents were Basque, but he was born and raised in the States, worked on motorcycles most of his life, went to a liberal arts college, dropped out after a year, innovated some crazy car part with this friend of his father´s, then used that money to travel all over the world, working odd jobs here and there for room and board. Really cool kid. Anyway, the two ex-pat locals took us to get some great pintxos (I had a crepe with monkfish, shrimp, and this awesome green sauce) and then to a non-touristy bar which was like a 20 minute walk through town in the FREEZING POURING rain. But it was totally worth it. We had this drink called Calimocha, which is a mixture of cheap red wine and coca cola. It tastes as bizarre as it sounds. After a few of those, some shots, some beers, etc., I made friends with the guitarrist of the band who was playing at the bar. They were playing a lot of American covers, as well as some Manu Chau and Juanes. Somehow (I´m fuzzy on the details) I ended up getting on stage and singing ¨No Woman No Cry¨with the band. It was a LOT of fun, and everybody seemed to really like it. We all eventually stumbled back to our hostel somewhere in the neighborhood of 3 am, and I of course slept through my alarm and missed my early bus the next day. It wasn´t an expensive ticket though, and the crazy good time we had the previous night more than justified paying for a new ticket on a later bus.

VALLADOLID

I arrived in Valladolid excited to see the sun again. It was warm and sunny, and I found a really cheap hotel in a central location. After having stayed in a comunal environment for the previous 5 or 6 nights, I was so stoked about having some privacy and taking as long a bath as I wanted. After some relaxing, I headed out at about 10 to grab some dinner, having finally gotten it through my thick skull that nobody goes to dinner before that time. Well, it seems this doesn´t apply quite as much in Valladolid. Almost everything was closed, so I ended up going to a wine bar called Vinotinto and ate some iberico ham and bread and drank some wine before taking a stroll through the central plaza area and then heading back to my hotel. Not that exciting a night. But I made up for it the next day. I booked a late train to Salamanca so I could enjoy a full day seeing the sites in Valladolid. A little background: Valladolid was once the most important city in Spain, but the powers that be decided that it Valladolid was getting too big for its own good and so the smaller Madrid was made the capital of the newly-united country, much to Valladolid´s chagrin. Charles V even tried to move the royal court to Valladolid, but it was hugely unpopular and only lasted a few years. Consequently, Valladolid has a TON of history, art, culture, and architecture...but not that many people around to appreciate it. It was one of the least touristy cities I´ve been to. Frankly, I didn´t even know it existed until I read For Whom the Bell Tolls early in my trip. So I started my day out exploring the city, heading first to the Plaza de San Pablo and the lovely church therein which bears the same name. There were a number of incredible statues inside, many of which were figures of El Cristo Yacente (Reclining Christ), which were super-realistic portrayals of Jesus´dead body after his crucifixation. The detail of the wounds would make Oscar Romero shudder. After that, I headed over to the nearby National Sculpture Museum, and saw some pretty amazing sculptures. Mostly religious, due to the huge importance of the Contrareforma (counter-reformation) period, in which the church pretty much mandated that all art had to address the greatness of the true faith. After that, I wandered through the Parque de las Moreras and made my way over to the Casa de Cervantes, where Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra lived for a few years and (possibly) wrote the prologue to Don Quixote. It was a lovely little house with a recreation of what his home may have looked like. The guides were incredibly informative. I think I might have been the only person there all afternoon. One of the guides and I struck up a conversation about Don Quixote (I told her I was trying to read it with limited success in Spanish) which led to discussing antiquated words, which led to bonding over the Game of Thrones series (her daughter is reading them too!). After I closed down the Cervantes House (siesta time!) I wandered over to the Casa De Colon (Colombus House) devoted to the life and voyages of Christopher Colombus. It didn´t reopen for another few hours, so I walked around for awhile and eventually decided to park on a bench and read some more Don Quixote. After a while, this older dude sits down next to me. Literally every single other bench was open, so I got a bit sketched out. But the Spanish have a different perception of personal space, so I didn´t want to overreact. He sat there for a few minutes, then started drumming his fingers on the bench, and eventually commented in Spanish on my e-reader, saying something about it being a touch screen. I nodded and returned to my e-book. He started mumbling intermittently, not looking directly at me, so I wasn´t sure if he was talking to me or not. Either way, his voice sounded like it had been ravaged by emphysema and he wasn´t making an effort to enunciate, so I couldn´t make out a lot of what he was saying anyway. So I just ignored it and kept reading. Eventually, he looked at me and told me I was very attractive, that I had a ¨precious face¨ (creepiest compliment ever). I shrugged it off, thanking him for the sentiment, but said I couldn´t really understand him. He smirked, then said ¨yes, you understand¨. I tried to return to my book. Then he pulled out his keys and told me he wanted me to go back with him to his place. At this point I got sufficiently creeped out, put away my book, and said I had to train to catch within an hour (not true), and wished him a nice day. He protested, telling me I should be able to spend more time with him, and I curtly told him no thanks, I had to go, and I started to walk away. I made it about three blocks when I got this cold feeling all over me and turned around and saw the guy was following me. I made a couple of quick turns and increased my pace. About five blocks later, I checked my periphery and realized he was still following me and seemed to be gaining. At this point I freaked out and broke into a run, and I could only think about those slasher films where the female victim is running as fast as she can, and Michael Myers or Jason or whatever serial killer just walks calmly and steadily towards her. Everyone knows she is going to die. Even she knows it. Luckily I had spent the last couple of hours exploring this part of the city, so I had a pretty good idea of where I was and made a series of erratic turns at full speed. I don´t know how long I ran, I just know when I turned around, I had lost him. I have literally never been that scared while travelling alone. It was midday in an incredibly public place, and I have gotten lost by myself at night in some of the sketchiest parts of South America, Memphis, and New Orleans and never been that scared. I really don´t know what would have happened if I saw him again. Probably yelled for the police. It just scared the shit out of me even though it was probably nothing and he probably just wanted to catch up to me to make another entreaty. I don´t know. I think I need to take up kickboxing. Anyway, I finally made my way back to the Colombus museum and composed myself. The museum itself was kind of a let down. There was a really great history leading up to his voyages, and then a few artifacts from the Americas...but not much mention of the people of the ¨New World¨ that were more or less obliterated after he ¨discovered¨ them. I thought it was an odd and convenient omission. After the museum, I headed over to the train station to catch my ride to...

SALAMANCA

I really loved Salamanca. I had some friends who did a summer course there during high school and I´ve always been a bit jealous of not being able to go. Salamanca is absolutely beautiful. Most of the city, and certainly almost all of the old town, is constructed from sandstone, which gives the city a dignified continuity that would look like it was trying too hard to be pretty anywhere else. After arriving and checking into my hotel (Don Quixote-themed, as it happens), I treated myself to a fancy dinner in the exquisite Plaza Mayor, which is illuminated at night to magnificent effect. I ate at an outdoor table at Meson Cervantes, and had a few glasses of wine and the roast duck breast with a house grape sauce, which I´m pretty sure I will spend the rest of my life trying to recreate. It was incredible. I wandered around a bit more after dinner to get a feel for the city, then turned in around midnight. The next morning, I decided to do a full walking tour of the city to get a survey of all the sights, which took about three hours. I had booked three nights at my hotel, so I was in no huurry to cram in everything on day 1. I popped into the lovely Cathedral and wandered around. It was almost chilly inside the huge stone structure, which was a nice respite from the near 100 degree temp outside. Afterwards, I wandered over to see the old Roman Bridge before going over to the Convento de San Esteban (Saint Steven Monastery), which was also gorgeous. I let myself get a little lost in Salamanca, and it was a wonderful way to get to know the city and find my way back, finishing my day with a trip to an Asturian bar that makes its own cider. Two cups, please. The next morning, I started my day with a visit to the Museo Taurino (bullfighting museum) which had a great collection of memorabilia from bullfighters throughout the years. Then, I went to the Museo de Salamanca to take in some roman, medieval, renaissance, and modern art. The location was superb: very peaceful. Then I headed to the university, found the infamous frog carved into the facade, then rounded out my day with a visit to the Museo de Art Nouveau y Art Deco, which had a bizarre collection of 1920s and 1930s art, sculpture, and (creepiest of all) children´s dolls and toys. After a few fresh mojito and another dinner in the Plaza Mayor, I turned in and caught an early bus to Segovia the next day.

I have to leave off here...my bus for Burgos leaves in 20 minutes. I will explain the glory of Segovia in my next post. Until next time, hope all is well!

Hasta luego,
A-bear