MKNonline Blog

Today was my selfish day. Actually, every day of this trip was a selfish day, since this was my idea and all, but let’s pretend there were two other people with me for a second. Finally, I got to check off my list of things I didn’t experience the first time I was in Paris.

Cool Things
- The Catacombs. Alan and I were looking forward to this months before we even left the States. Ezeibe…not so much. We had to wait outside in the freezing cold for quite a bit to get in (as there are limits to how many people can be underground at once). Ezeibe was not pleased. Then we took about 800 or so steps way way way underground. This was like beyond sewer level, it felt like we were walking down to Earth’s core. The stairs were on this tiny spiral staircase that just never ended. Not for the claustrophobic or old, for sure. You walk a good quarter mile or so of tunnels without ever seeing a skull or bone, but it’s still pretty cool. There are sculptures built into the rock, for example, and just being underground going through a tiny narrow tunnel is pretty awesome. But then, the bones. Oh the bones. The catacombs are no joke. It goes on for miles. And it is COVERED in bones. There used to be a time where they didn’t really lock up parts of the Catacombs and visitors would actually get lost amongst the miles of bones down here. Unfortunately, they now provide a pretty clear path you follow. The feeling of being deep underground surrounded by, essentially, dead people, was kind of fascinating. You could touch these bones and skulls. It felt unreal, like I was examining a model skull, not that of an actual person. When I realized that these bones belonged to real people, I went through phases of disgust and guilt for being so disrespectful.

Back in olden times, Sunday worship service was actually held down in the Catacombs to pray for the souls of the deceased.

For obvious reasons, the Catacombs are not very well lit, making it extremely difficult to take photos without flash. That wall behind the pedestal...all dead people.

Not sure how PC this is, but a close up of one of the walls of bones.

- Pompidou Center. I still don’t know how I feel about the Pompidou Center architecture, but I can say it’s at least fitting for the art collection it holds (modern art). I went to the Pompidou Center when I was here in high school, but we never went inside. It’s a good thing we did this time. The collection was pretty spectacular, Man Ray, Dali, a ton of Picasso. It felt like it had the majority of the modern day masterpieces. What I enjoyed vividly about this museum was the description cards in each of the rooms were written out in English. When it comes to modern art, that context was pretty vital. Each of the main exhibit rooms went in chronological order from early 1900′s to today separated by art movement or artist. And the view of the city from the top of the Pompidou was again spectacular.

Modern art at its finest. This was considered a masterpiece of modern art. People actually stared at these three paintings (yes, it's a painting) as if they knew what the hell was going on. Yuppies.

Cool view from the top of the Pompidou Center.

My kind of art

- Dans le Noir. We ate in the dark! If you talked to me before I left for this trip, you know the castle and this restaurant were the two things I was most looking forward to. I got to say, no matter how much research I did on this restaurant, nothing prepared me for this dining experience. In good conscience, I can’t even say we ate in the dark, we ate in pitch black. This isn’t the type of dark like when you leave all the lights off your house but can make out slight shadows of the light switch. This is the dark where you close your eyes but never open them, without peeking. Now, after a really really really long day (see below), maybe this night wasn’t the greatest bit of timing. I felt so bad, I did offer to pay for dinner, this was my dream after all. Ezeibe and Alan at least respected me enough not to deny me of my lifelong dream (you had to book a table days in advance), even if they were slowly melting down. Interesting tidbits about this restaurant
- All of the wait staff are legally blind. Ours was an awesome lady named Sarah who could speak a crazy amount of languages. I felt so reassured every time I heard her voice in the restaurant (since you know, we were in pitch black and couldn’t see her). It’s crazy how they know where all the tables and chairs are in the restaurant.
- That night, we only had the Surprise menu available. The surprise theme du jour was “Orange.” You don’t find out what you ate until afterwards, which unsettled Ezeibe greatly.
- Pouring water into a cup is not easy when you can’t see anything. First, reach for cup without knocking anything over. Dip finger in said cup. Pour until your finger gets wet.
- Things get very loud in pitch black.
- Eating in pitch black must save you a lot of money on decor.
- From what we could gather from echolocation, it was cafeteria-style dining, with one or two long tables and all parties getting seated along the table. I was in between a Spanish-speaking dude and what I think was an empty chair. Ezeibe and Alan were across from me. I was so tempted to poke them in the face.
- Marshmellows are most delicious when you’re not expecting them.
- Upon seeing the photos of what we ate, I’m fairly certain I missed a good third of my main course.
- The “Orange” was mostly pumpkins. Unfortunately, I hate pumpkins.
- I offered to pay for a 300 dollar bill. Sweet.

Dans le Noir restaurant - Isn't the decor lovely?

Not-So-Cool Things
- Douchebags in the Catacombs. Like those that steal skulls and bones and then get caught when they exit and get their bags searched. Who the hell steals a dead person’s bones?! Also, people who are obnoxiously loud and giggling in, essentially, a cemetery. I don’t care how long ago these people died, show some respect!

- Remember those 800 steps down to the Catacombs? The only thing more never-ending is 800 steps back up to ground level. Alan and I had lost Ezeibe in the tombs. We assumed he was taking his time. Turns out, he ran through the Catacombs because of his “fast metabolism” (i.e. enlarged prostate)

- The most miserable walk ever. At this point, we still hadn’t seen the Champs-Elysee. Ezeibe really wanted to see the Arc de Triomphe and go to the top. Unfortunately, I don’t think we could’ve picked a worse time to go, the day after Christmas…on the Champs-Elysee. Think about it. First, we misshot our metro stop and had to walk a good half a mile to get to the Arc, through crowds of people all over the Christmas market. It was suffocating. Imagine the amount of people buried in the tight spaces of the Catacombs, except alive and trying to return all their Christmas presents, and you had the chaos of the Champs Elysee. The Arc du Triomphe could not have been more crowded either. And it was bitterly cold and windy. We decided to not wait in line to attempt to go up top, but did get our pictures from ground level as quickly as possible.

A closeup of the Arc. You guys know what the rest of it looks like (Click the photo to see more photos if you don't)

So, given the shitty conditions, what is the best thing to do after the Arc? Take the metro to the Pompidou Center? Ridiculous. We were going to walk…all the way down the Champs Elysee. I can pinpoint this decision as the exact moment Ezeibe’s spirits died. Refer to the Downright Disasters section to see the result. Yes, we walked, what was probably a good two to three miles down the shopping street of the Champs, across the Tuileries Gardens, past the Louvre (again), and then a couple more blocks to Pompidou. That was a long, cold, crowded, miserable walk.

Halfway there! Note the setting sun...

Suffice to say, a museum was not the most ideal destination, where we would have to continue to stand, stare, and walk some more. I saw Ezeibe just sitting, looking dead as one of those Catacombs bones, in one of the exhibit rooms at one point.

Downright Disasters:
- Today was the beginning of the end for Ezeibe. Alan said it best when he described his body balancing on a fragile combination of germs, viruses, bacteria and healthy immune cells. I think we all felt this way after beating up our bodies so brutally in the past week with the awkward sleep schedule, weird food, and new environments. A slight passing wind would’ve knocked our sensitive bodies into full-on sick mode. Germophobe Ezeibe lost his battle this day, and it really took until the last day of the trip to recover. Poor guy…

- The end of the honeymoon phase is typical on any trip. No one ever escapes it if they travel long enough (any more than 3 days together). I think it really began on this day for us. Before you go off thinking that we all hated each other and the trip was miserable from this point on, it wasn’t. It couldn’t be further from the truth. But exhaustion was setting in, patience was wearing thin, quirks became annoyances, change of scenery became homesickness, and stubbornness became outright rudeness. Being lost and cold and indecisive all of the time was wearing thin. And then to stick us in a tiny apartment to boot. But honestly, we all had the decency to suppress our emotions like the introverts we are. I write this more as a footnote, not as a memorable event. We had been arguing throughout, they just began to last a little longer. People got a little crueler or huffier. Some solitude was just a little more cherished. Even so, I don’t remember any discussions, fights, or disagreements (I can’t even call them arguments) that didn’t end in a joke or laughter.

Bonne Fetes! This day could not have been more awesomely lame, and I mean that in the best possible way, to me. For Alan and Ezeibe…not so much.

I should add that we got back to our apartment from the Eiffel Tower the night before (see Day 7) exactly at the stroke of midnight Christmas Day. It was cool to me, at least. Then we all slept, for a really long time. This day I’m about to describe started around 1PM’ish.

I’m going to flip the script a bit on this post. Today is what I refer to as “Alan’s Day.” Alan had a few things he wanted to get out of Paris, and today was his day to do it. It’s not like Ezeibe or I were opposed to any of his suggestions. In fact, we were equally enthused or at least indifferent enough to not tell him otherwise. Unfortunately, Alan maybe reached a little bit in his expectations of Paris. We’ll go through it event by event.

A visit to Sacre-Couer
- Alan’s expectations: See the beautiful cathedral on a bright sunny day and call his love from a phonebooth at the base of the hill that Sacre-Couer sits on.
- Alan’s shattered reality: There were no phone booths in front of Sacre Couer, just a LOT of aggressive street peddlers. And it was pretty cloudy and cool on Christmas Day. And it being a church, the only types of buildings open on Christmas Day, the visiting tourists were essentially mobbing this area. I still found the cityscape view from the top of Montmartre pretty inspired. The sun peaked out a few of its rays onto the skyline which was pretty cool to look at. Also, there was this awesome French street musician who had amassed quite a crowd. He was really good, and sang fun singalong classics like “Stand by Me.” Alan and Ezeibe were too fed up to let me sit on the steps and listen to the dude play his guitar and sing all day though.

How do you tell a hundred people that they're in the way of my shot?

The heavens shining down on Paris on Christmas Day

Alan’s traveling buddies
Alan’s expectations: That he traveled with two sane and sensible co-workers who wouldn’t fall for the tourist pitfalls.
Alan’s shattered reality: Are you kidding me? Ezeibe and I totally fall for the tourist pitfalls. I bought a santa hat with flashing lights that read 2009. 2€. I still justify this as a reasonable expense. Alan hated this hat and hated that I embraced it, wore it, and rocked it so adoringly. Ezeibe and I wanted crepes, so rather than walk a few blocks to the local street stands and restaurants, we settled for crepes at the Haagen-Daaz in front of Sacre-Couer. To be fair, we were hungry. And secondly, even though it was a chain and overpriced, they were damn good crepes. Alan just wandered around in disgust while Ezeibe and I (now in a flashing santa hat) waited a good half an hour to order our crepes. There was only a woman in front of us, but she apparently had like 20 kids to feed, because homegirl ordered a bunch of crepes and waffles. One her kids sneezed onto the ordering window and left quite a messy booger trail. Ezeibe, the germaphobe, freaked out. This would prove to be horrific foreshadowing.

Alan's worst nightmare.

Onto Pere-Lachaise Cemetary
- Alan’s expectations: Visit the famous cemetery and pay his respects to Jim Morrison, who is buried there.
- Alan’s shattered reality: Ok, yes, we spent Christmas Day in a cemetery. It’s not like we had a lot of options on Christmas Day in terms of open attractions. And as far as cemeteries go, this one is a big deal. It was actually quite peaceful and quiet. And the cold, dreary day just made this cemetery the perfect place to be at. The three of us started off walking together, until Ezeibe’s fast metabolism kicked in and he wanted to find a bathroom. Alan, ever the beacon of patience, popped a blood vessel and decided we should split up and meet back at the entrance at the specified time. A few hours later, the poor guy never found Jim Morrison’s grave. This was a big-ass cemetery people. You could probably walk about a mile and a half in any one direction and still not be at the edge. Of the famous people buried here, Ezeibe and I found Balzac’s tomb and Gericault’s tomb (painter of Raft of Medusa! Talk about full circle). There were a few other famous French people I’m sure we passed and saw, but none that were famous to me.

Ezeibe does his best zombie expression.

Raft of Medusa! The Tomb!

Christmas Evening
Alan’s expectations: A nice home-cooked dinner with friends in a cozy, warm atmosphere.
Alan’s shattered reality: Three dudes in a tiny apartment playing Scrabble and figuring out how to heat up our store-bought, pre-cooked pork. I should back up a bit to explain how we got to this point. When we got back from our day at the cemetery, it was starting to get dark. Most of the local markets and street vendors at this point were long closed (if ever open at all). All we had was the big supermarket up the street. Now sure, a supermarket has everything, and we probably could have made a nice fancy 4 course Christmas dinner, but…1) We were cheap. 2) No one trusted each other to cook such a meal. 3) No one was sure what we had back in our kitchen. 4) We didn’t have a real oven, we had this weird oven/microwave combination machine that slightly concerned us. 5) When everything is in French, you tend to doubt your ability to identify what you’re buying. It’s best to stick with the basics.

So, we went with pre-cooked lasagna, delicious salty chips (the kind you know wasn’t made with the healthy corn oil shit they’re using nowadays in the States), a package of frozen carrots, and, as a Fuck You to to those who said we weren’t adventurous, we bought this weird stuffed pork log. A giant log of pork is the only way I can describe it. All of which were ready-to-go or only required a microwave/toaster oven heating.

Ghetto Christmas dinner, just like home.

Don't worry moms, we ate our carrots.

The Scrabble Incident
Alan’s Expectations: Alan found a Scrabble board game in our apartment in one of the drawers. He expects no one else to find it. And even if one of us did, who would want to play Scrabble while we’re in Paris?
Alan’s shattered reality: “NO WAAAAYYYY!!!!!! Our apartment has fuckin’ Scrabble!!” I yelled. The dining room table was cleared in one fell swoop, and gameplay immediately began before either of the two realized what was about to happen. Three grown men were about to sit down on Christmas evening and play…wait for it…Scrabble. If that’s not a Christmas miracle, I don’t know what is. This would soon become a sensitive subject for me though because I felt robbed of a victory. Cava is a legit word, people. Unfortunately, we defined legit words as landmarks we visited thus far or words found in The Official Scrabble Word Guide, written in 1957. And for the record, Ezeibe does not know how to play Scrabble properly…at all. Anywho, Alan ended up winning, his one redeeming moment of the day. Otherwise, Paris really raped Alan this day.

“Way to forget about how you and Ezeibe still went to dinner that night” – Alan in response to my Day 4 post

This is how he decided to comment on my blog. His snark will be forever immortalized on my blog like the puke stain that’s forever on my bedroom carpet because my dad decided it was a good idea to feed my dog an orange.

Well thank you Alan for the catch. Let’s take a moment to go back to Barcelona and finish off Day 4 so I can spend every other sentence mocking you in petty and immature ways. After being ripped off on paella, Alan felt physically ill from spending any more money. Our 75euro “snack” turned out to be quite filling, but Ezeibe was still determined to eat dinner at this fancy, expensive restaurant called Bar Mut, because the New York Times said so. Ezeibe claims he is an atheist, but he really worshipped two gods: his cell phone and The New York Times travel section. The only way he was convincing me to go was if he offered to pay for it, which he did. This wasn’t enough incentive for party-pooper Alan, who decided to skip out and spend the rest of the night presumably closing his eyes really tight and opening them until euros magically appeared back in his wallet.

Ezeibe and I walked a good mile up the Barcelona streets trying to find the restaurant. Meanwhile, Alan probably took a shit, hoping euros or a sense of a good time would come out of his ass.

When we got to the restaurant, Ezeibe claimed they screwed up our reservation time, which they had written down for earlier in the night. What probably really happened was Ezeibe screwed up again because he didn’t understand what they were saying when he called the restaurant. Ezeibe basically dropped the ball again…just like the New York Giants, right Alan?

It was probably good that Cheapskate McGee didn’t go, because this restaurant was small (probably a fire hazard to fit any more than 20 people in there at once) and cramped. The service was friendly, and the food was probably great, but a little over my unrefined palate. You basically ordered from a menu of fancy tapas, except it was all in Catalan, and we had forgotten what everything meant after our waiter meticulously went through each option on the menu, poor guy. Speaking of poor guys, fun fact, Alan clips his nails on the bathroom floor and doesn’t clean up the clippings, much to Ezeibe’s disgust.

Here's a godawful picture of some tall guy caught smoking pot on a Barcelona castle defense tower. I hope this picture embarrasses him enough to never point out my shortcomings again.

In conclusion, you’re cheap, Alan. Now, where was I?

You can’t do Paris without spending a few hours in the Louvre and going to the Eiffel Tower. Heck, I’ve already been, knew it was going to be crowded and unreasonably expensive, and I still did it anyways because it’s fuckin’ Paris. How can I go home and say I didn’t see either of those attractions? I don’t think we explicitly decided this, but we ended up getting these major tourist traps out of the way at once. And honestly, unlike other tourist traps, these attractions are so spectacular that it’s still worth the hassle the second time around.

Cool Things That Happened:
- Christmas Eve in Paris! It doesn’t get much cooler than that. After 22 Christmases spent with the family, this was a refreshing change from the routine, not that I don’t love my family or anything. I was a little bummed my brother turned 21 without me there, but it was short-lived.

- Les Baguettes et Fromages! The great thing about staying in an apartment just outside of the touristy part of Paris is you get to live life exactly like a local…if that local never worked and ate bread and cheese every day. Pretending to live the stereotypical Parisian lifestyle, I would take a stroll around the block to Avenue de St. Ouen every morning to purchase an armful of baguettes (1-2euros) from the local boulangeries. Avenue St. Ouen is just a street full of local cheese shops, fruit stands, butchers, and other small specialized stores. Streets like these should exist in the States. It’s so relaxing walking amongst the locals and shopping every morning for the day’s meal. Am I in the mood for fish? Let’s go to the seafood stand. How about fruit? There’s a fruit stand on every block. There was at least one shop devoted to each food type. Maybe I embraced French life too much, as I began to find supermarkets excessive and disgustingly American. Anywho, on this day, I bought a gift basket of different French cheeses to go with our daily breakfast of baguettes. While Spain had its zen moments at the cliffs and rooftops of places, zen in Paris was achieved right in our apartment every morning eating our delicious, warm, freshly baked baguettes at our tiny dining table in our tiny Paris apartment. This was good bread people. And this was a good life. The three of us devoured three giant loaves (one each) every morning. The bread was good just on its own. We would try a different cheese from the gift basket a day. They ranged from creamy-and-familiar to putrid-aftertaste-and-what-the-hell-are-those-spots-on-it. If this was the relaxed morning the French have each day, I’m moving out there ASAP. Yes, I would absolutely move to France just for the baguettes.

- The Louvre. The art museum to end all art museums. This place is gigantic. You would think all pre-19th century art exists inside of this museum. The complex itself is a work of art, with the I.M. Pei pyramids, the fountains, and the wings of each building. Organized chaos is a good way to describe this museum. Even with the thousands of visitors there that day (apparently, everyone had the same idea to visit the Louvre on Christmas Eve), we still got in and our tickets quickly, unlike other museums we would visit. The three of us split up and spent a good four hours exploring. This would be not-enough-time and more-than-enough-time all at once. Favorite spots in the Louvre were anywhere that didn’t have a million people looking at the same thing. For anyone going to the Louvre and want an less-visited but under appreciated section, Napoleon’s apartment is pretty spectacular. There was also a really crowded, but great special exhibit on Picasso. In Barcelona, we passed on the Picasso museum, and I think we sort of regretted it because at least Alan and I were Picasso fans. Turns out, all the good stuff was in Paris anyways.

Peekaboo. I see Louvre.

Géricault's Raft of Medusa. I just had took a class where we analyzed this painting, so this one had significance to me.

Napoleon must have hosted some rockin' potluck dinners in his time.

A room full of gigantic paintings. My happy place.

- The Eiffel Tower. Still as awesome as the night before. We took one of the last elevators up to the top, because it took so long to walk from dinner to the Eiffel Tower. What you may not know is that to get to the top of the Tower, you have to take two separate elevators up. In an exceptional example of Ezeibe’s “fast metabolism,” he nearly made us miss the last ride to the second elevator to the top because he had to use the bathroom, again. On his return, “How does it feel peeing in the Eiffel Tower?” Alan asked in his kind-of-sarcastic-but-actually-irritated tone of voice. I chuckled, but then I nearly missed the elevator when I misplaced my elevator ticket. Wouldn’t be the first time (foreshadowing). Up top, I forgot there’s a very creepy room with wax figures of the people who used to live on top of the Eiffel Tower. Otherwise, the view was great as usual. It was really frigid and windy up there at night, but the lighted city are worth the mild discomfort. The clock hit 11PM, and the tower went all sparkly again, which nearly sent me into epileptic seizure.

City of Lights lives up to its name

Tall man on Tall Tower.

Not-So-Cool Things That Happened:
- Let’s go back to our apartment for a second. The name of the apartment was “Cozy Carpeaux.” And boy was it extremely cozy. The bathroom was probably the size of my closet. You only had room to stand, either in the shower or in front of the sink. Otherwise, you had to sit on the toilet next to the sink. The shower was too small to sit in. Words cannot describe how small this bathroom was. Barely functional, and far from comfortable. I have no idea how Alan used it daily. The rest of the apartment was pretty small too, but still had all the nice amenities, guidebooks, dvds, kitchen supplies, a decent (if smaller) kitchen. The couch pulled out into two single beds. You know I hate futons, but this one provided a good night’s sleep. There was a roomy’ish bedroom that Alan had, but I had to share the armoire in there with him. So yeah, we bumped into each other frequently, but still, the price couldn’t be beat and we were all fairly comfortable for our seven days.

- The walk to Avenue St. Ouen was full of dog poop. Landmines everywhere, everyday. Pick up after your dogs, French people!

- Alan and I argued about how to get to the Louvre. Uncomfortable with new modes of transportation, Alan wanted to stick to what he knew, the metro. I argued that the bus line, whose stop was closer than the closest metro stop, took us directly to the front of the Louvre. I won the argument. We got confused as to how we pay for the ride, and ended up not paying. So we shrugged and rode for free. Huzzah for the honor system! We would continue to play dumb the next few times we rode the bus until we “discovered” there was a ticket machine. I might have won the argument, but then our bus went ahead and got stuck in crazy Parisian traffic for 30 minutes. I stared out the window and quietly ignored the shit talking from the two fellow travelers behind me.

- If the Louvre was Hollywood, the Mona Lisa, Winged Victory, and Venus de Milo would be Angelina Jolie, Paris Hilton, and Kim Kardashian respectively. They’re surrounded non-stop with paparrazzi, except their paparazzo may have had a higher ratio of Japanese. I have a new dream to be in a room alone with the Mona Lisa, which is about as likely as being in a room with Angelina Jolie. You may be thinking “Did he really just type that?” But until you see the clusterfuck that is constantly in front of the Mona Lisa, you will never understand.

Wasn't even going to attempt the crowd manuevering.

Leave Venus Alone!

- Ezeibe needed to get the typical outdoor Parisian cafe experience out of the way, and felt he needed to do it at a cafe right by the Louvre. This was a visibly bad idea, but for whatever reason, we were all too thirsty or exhausted to fight this battle. So out comes the GPS phone, or, as I now refer to it, my mortal enemy. We circled around the block a million times looking for this supposed amazing cafe where we could get some hydration. Never found it that day. Two or three days later, we would discover the cafe was IN the Louvre plaza, not outside of it. We instead settled on a similar looking cafe that had seats, heated awnings, and a decent people-watching view. My tea costed 6 euros. We paid 21 euros for a hot chocolate (Ezeibe), tea (me), and a cafe au lait (Alan).

- Ezeibe also picked our dinner spot. He was missing some home-style African cooking and decided that Japanese food would be the next best substitute. So we had Japanese food on Christmas Eve. This was only slightly less disturbing than having Vietnamese food on Christmas Eve every year. What’s worse, I’m pretty sure we went back to our apartment all the way uptown only to settle on this restaurant, and go back to just a few blocks behind the Louvre. Efficient travelers, we are not.

Near Disasters/Meltdowns:
-My ankles. Museums are painful. Standing, walking, and staring up does a number on your back and feet when you’re at it for four hours. And then we made the genius move to…you guessed it…WALK…from Japantown to the Louvre. I think the justification was that we could see the Eiffel Tower, how far could it actually be? Pretty damn far, for the record.

So we’re off to France! Halfway through writing this post, I sensed a recurring theme of the day: my inability to be a functional human being when traveling. Most of my close friends and family have come to this conclusion well before I started this trip, but now, in chronological order, I document the evidence to prove their point:

#1. I sleep through Catalan sunrises.

This day was one of those crazy travel days that looked kind of exciting on paper, but was pretty brutal in reality. We woke up ass early (5 or 6AM) to leave our castle and get to the Girona airport, one hour outside of Barcelona. I think after we cleared the black ice going down the narrow roads of the castle, I was out like a baby. The Audi A4 is pretty smooth, what do you expect? I did catch a bit of the sunrise, I think I have pictures or video to prove it. Otherwise, this road trip only existed in dreamland.

I would fall asleep soon after.

#2 I can’t carry luggage properly.

Apparently, pounding a cheap, overstuffed, 50-pound rollaway suitcase down flights of stairs and through bumps and curbs rather than, as I learned, lifting the suitcase, puts a lot of stress on the two wheels at the bottom of my suitcase. One wheel decided that it had had enough with my abuse and fell off as I rolled it into an elevator.

#3 I can’t carry broken luggage properly.

Like the true Darwinian failure that I am, I shrug and proceed to continue dragging my now one-wheeled bag to the terminal (which, I might add, was nowhere close to where we parked). Dragging it across pavement would create a harsh scratching sound that was kind of like nails down a chalkboard, except 10 decibels louder. It didn’t sound too bad to me, but I apparently got a lot of looks, from curious to threatening. This would cause all sorts of embarrassment to Alan and Ezeibe.

#4 I get easily confused.

Our drama for the day was in the form of shuttle bus tickets that we had reserved online pre-trip. Alan, the organized dude that he is, created a perfectly reasonable checklist of reservations and confirmations we needed to print out before leaving for Europe and who was responsible for what. Now, this was 100% Ezeibe’s ball drop as he had reserved the shuttle tickets, but I had it in my head that this was my responsibility, thus leaving us confused as to how we all could not handle the simple task of reading and checking off a checklist. This sounds mad minor on retelling, but this was pretty aggravating in reality. And to Alan and Ezeibe, I did NOT check off something I wasn’t supposed to. It was always Ezeibe’s item and he checked it off.

#5 Come to think of it, I sleep in any moving vehicle.

I missed a good 80% of the French countryside on that shuttle.

#6 I can’t hail a cab.

Things went from bad to worse when the shuttle dropped us off on the outskirts of Paris. Now we had to find a way to get to our hotel. Simple enough, we’ll call a cab. There was a taxi stand right in front of the bus area. We hailed a good 5 or 6 empty cab drivers and they all just pointed at us and drove off, leaving us perplexed and really annoyed. We would later learn they were pointing to where they were required to stop. We instead gave up and decided to take the metro (much to the frustration of our apartment landlord, who rushed to the apartment to meet us). We first had to find the metro stop. I would lead us to a public restroom (it had the Metro logo, I swear). Alan was getting offended because i kept calling it the T. I secretly tried to see how long I could call it the T until he figured out the ruse or I feared he would punch me in the face. Inappropriate after a long day of travel? Definitely. Entertaining to at least one person? Sure was. As was becoming routine, we hiked another quarter mile with luggage, this time a swanky mall to get to the real metro stop. The metro would be crowded and in the middle of rush hour. This would further aggravate Ezeibe and Alan greatly.

#7 I still can’t carry broken luggage properly.

SCKZZZWEKLERJLRNJKGERTOR!#@HOIEEJ)D.…That’s my best interpretation of the sound of my one-wheeled suitcase being dragged another quarter mile downhill to our apartment. Except I only made it halfway before a thoroughly fed up Alan snatched the luggage from me, and huffily proceeded to carry it all the way to the apartment. I felt like a toddler who just lost his blanky that he’s been drooling on for weeks. It had to be done, but I was a little sad.

#8 I have no wine etiquette.

Let’s fast forward to dinner our first fancy French restaurant later that day where I was offered the first glass of wine we ordered. Apparently, you’re supposed to go through the motions of sniffing, then sipping, then letting the waiter know that you accept the wine. Whatever…I was thirsty, so I drank it.

#9 Technology hates me.

This restaurant also had these awesome electric salt and pepper shakers that doubled as flashlights over your plate. Pretty ingenious. But for a guy who can barely operate luggage, you can guess how this ended. I tipped extra for the amount of pepper that was strewn across the floor.

So, now that I’ve publicly humiliated myself, some other thoughts on the day:

Cool Things:
- Lui L’Insolent. This was the restaurant we had dinner in. It was a 25 euro fixed 3 course menu for dinner and it was worth every penny and then some. Even including the dinner mishaps, this was one of the best meals I have ever had in my life. No joke. I will never forget the salad starter, duck main course, and dessert of THREE souffles. Words will never describe the heaven all three of us were in. On top of that, amazing small restaurant ambiance and a waiter/chef who was so friendly and stereotypically French.

- Eiffel Tower at night. It was lighted up all blue. Alan and I couldn’t really wait to see the Eiffel Tower, so we went down after our amazing dinner. It sparkled on the hour. This really is a city for lovers. Unfortunately, I only had Ezeibe and Alan. This dilemma would put us in many awkward moments in Paris.

What a view...

Not-So-Cool Things:
-We took a Ryanair flight that would get us to Beauvais Airport, an airport hour north of Paris. I liken Ryanair to those Fung Wah Chinatown buses. The stops are always out of the way, you rarely feel comfortable or safe during the trip, but it is so incredibly cheap, you take your chances and spend the ride wondering if your life was worth the cost-savings. Ryanair did its best to swindle you at every step to get more cash out of our pockets. Only Ezeibe really took the bait, checking in two bags (25€ for the extra bag) and then ordering a Sprite mid-flight (5€ or something ridiculous). We had to walk onto the tarmac and into our plane, there was no notion of assigned seating, and don’t expect a Skylines magazine to peruse. The main pre-flight drama was at the boarding gate. They told us one gate, so we parked ourselves and did some last minute souvenir shopping. When we got back, the gate had changed, without our noticing. We go over to the new gate, and a line had formed to get good seats. We were so far back, To be fair, other than a bit of a hard stop on landing, the flight was too short to be considered miserable.

Disasters:
- I already listed nine of them. God, you can be so needy sometimes.

We left our amazing Barcelona apartment and the city itself today. I’ll forever long for a sunroom and Top Chef kitchen like our rental when I get my own place.

Today’s adventure took us to Montserrat, a monastary complex high on top of a mountain. It’s about an hour outside of Barcelona. After that, we fulfilled my lifelong goal of sleeping in a castle. But back to the beginning. We rented a car from an Avis uptown, which required another long hike with suitcases through the Barcelona streets. It would take us until Brussels to get over this bad habit of dragging suitcases for 1+ miles. When we got there, a nice black Audi A4 awaited Ezeibe, our driver. Alan and Ezeibe pop boners on first sight.

I was never allowed within touching distance of the steering wheel.

Now this car would be quite a blessing and curse. You see, Alan is not comfortable in the passenger seat, especially when the driver has little experience driving manual transmission. Alan had been varying levels between anxious to agitated in the days leading up to this moment, and it was all about to boil over in an entertaining show of sheer panic.

Our drive to Montserrat essentially followed this pattern of activity:

1) Ezeibe stalls *…”Whaaaaaattttt?!?!”
2) Alan repeatedly chants “Don’t worry. Don’t panic.” I secretly wonder whether he is calming himself or Ezeibe.
3) Ezeibe fails 1-3 times at restarting the car. Alan fights the urge to hijack the steering wheel and pedals.
4) Ezeibe succeeds! Everyone breathes a huge sigh of relief.
5) Everyone gets complacent and comfortable with Ezeibe’s driving so we talk about the differences between the A4 and GTI. **
6) The GPS says to turn or take an exit. Alan, the navigator, gets confused with Ezeibe’s phone GPS. I, the backseat driver, saw the sign to take the exit 10 miles back, when we were on step 5.
7) We take the wrong turn/exit. I get reprimanded for pointing out their blind reliance on technology.
Repeat.

* My favorite stall happened on a highway onramp close to a tollbooth.

** I may not have been included in this conversation.

Miraculously, we make it to the Montserrat base. We were going to attempt to drive up the mountain and park at the monastary, but we of course couldn’t find our way up, so we decide to take a cable car ride from the base (If you’re keeping track: this would be four cable car rides in two days).

Cable Car #3

If yesterday’s cable car ride was frightening for its unnecessary height, this one got me for its sheer audacity. We scaled a fucking mountain in less than five minutes. On the way down, I thought I was leaning against a clear glass window. Except there was no window. No one seemed to notice. I mentally go through all the scenarios of how I would fall to my death off a cable car.

Cool things about Montserrat:

- Their chocolate, made by the monks up there. Bad for your teeth, good for your soul. I bought about five pieces of their chocolate.

Ezeibe looks for chocolate.

- The view. Another breathtaking view, this time of the Spanish valley. We were surrounded by this amazing valley and tiny villages. You could see the snow-capped Pyrenese mountains in the distance. If you look up towards the top of the cliffs, Montserrat has these unique white, rounded cliffs. It was a super clear day, and we could see for miles. Spain just looked totally unspoiled from that height.

This is one of those optical illusions where your brain can't decide who or what is better looking. I made it into frame with half a second to spare. Tripod was set up on top of a flight of spiraling stairs

Not-So-Cool things:

- Vertigo. I don’t care how good with heights you are, you’ll get it in Montserrat.

Cool rock cliffs, but don't look down...

- People taking pictures inside the Montserrat basilica when the signs say specifically not to. I hate when people disrespect tourist rules, especially in an actual place of worship. Although I have no pictures to show for it, the cathedral was pretty spectacular as cathedrals go. One, it’s up on top of a mountain, which is inherently cool. And it’s really ornate and big and cavernous, just the way I like it. It had some really ornate tombs, sculptures, and their prized black statue of Madonna (not the Kaballah one) that pilgrims go to rub.

Bad tourists!

- Microclimates. It was freezing down in the valley. Extremely warm, especially while walking, up top. Taking on and off layers are annoying.

After a nice early afternoon there, time for my anticipated portion of Spain, the Cardona Parador. Paradores are hotels that the Spanish government runs or something. What’s unique about them is that they are either these super modern buildings in some scenic location or in these crazy old and historic castles, monastaries, or fortresses. Ours was a castle. I could talk to our drive to Cardona, but it went exactly like our drive to Montserrat. See above.

Cool things about Cardona

- The castle. It was everything I hoped for and more. It was old, it was in near ruins, it was on top of this hill overlooking the village and the valley. And no one was around for miles. Barely anyone was there staying that night. It was just this incredible quiet peacefulness. The castle was all ours to explore. You could literally dangle off cliffs with no barriers. Large chunks of rubble abound. It was the coolest thing, you felt like you stumbled upon this castle by yourself. The rooms itself were large and decent as well. We only paid like 60 euros for the place, which is a steal (yay young person’s discount!).

I keep my distance from wells ever since I saw The Ring.

A deck with a view

The place was that empty.

- Sunset. There was this small tower that when you climbed up, you just had another spectacular view of the village below and the natural surroundings. We got there around midnight.

Alan gets his front row seat to sunset.

Fact. It's impossible to take a bad picture of a Spanish village at sunset from atop a castle.

Did I mention we slept in a castle overlooking a village?

- The village. This was a legit medieval village. Small narrow cobblestone streets with hidden alleys and little specialty shops abound. There were kids just running around and in the middle was the imposing church and a square where all the teenagers just hung around. It could not have been a more typical laid-back, European village. After Barcelona city life, it was incredible to walk around and be a part of that slow lifestyle. We ate dinner in a small greasy diner that night in the village square. I had never felt so at home away from home.

All villages should have a castle overlooking it.

The village church. The medieval village of Cardona is probably smaller than Central Park in size. Cool winding, alley, one-lane, cobblestone streets.

Not-So-Cool Things About Cardona
- Ezeibe at sunset. Two minutes after getting to the top of the tower, about 10 minutes before sunset, Ezeibe got bored, whipped out phone and searched for a 3G connection, thus ruining our moment of zen.

Ezeibe, unimpressed by natural surroundings.

- Japanese tourists. Five minutes before sunset, a group of three Japanese tourists and their Spanish friend invade the tower and further ruin our moment of zen by their Japanese tourist ways (taking pictures of each one of them at sunset and being really loud and obnoxious about it).

- Ghosts. I went down to the village from the castle, it’s a 10 minute hike down the castle ruins to get there. Uphill back to the castle, it’s more like 20 (a lot of stairs…). I went by myself to the village the first time. It was an amazing walk down to the village, as the sun was slowly disappearing. It was bone-chilingly frightening on the way back up. Total darkness except for some very dimly lit lights every once in a while. And I was alone. It was probably the wind, but I heard a woosh that sent me running up those stairs.

Detour on my way down to the village. It's all fun and spiritual in the castle ruins until the sun goes down. I would crap my pants in terror in this same spot on the return trip.

After dinner, it was a pitch black hike up to the top of the castle. We stared at some stars and went off to bed.

Hey, don’t forget, these are only a sampling of pictures I took. I have plenty more good shots of Cardona and Montserrat. Please take a look! You’ll be impressed.

Our last full day in Barcelona got off to a late start from exhaustion. The nice thing with vacation is that this is totally okay. The bad thing was we essentially wasted our Arsticket from the day before. Price of Admission at two museums < Price of Arsticket. We only had time for one museum before everything closed (it was supposedly Sunday. We would have no idea of the day of week it was from here on out).

We chose the CCCB (the Contemporary cultural building or something to that effect) because it was closeby to our apartment. They had a cool special exhibit called Drap Art that was all art made with recyclable or re-usable material. Cool stuff. The other exhibits were depressing though. I think one was on people's obsession with material things and body image which made me, a person obsessed with material things and body image, feel like a horrible person. It was also very uncomfortable art, which I can respect, but I'm not going to look at it more than I have to. The other was not so much an art exhibit but a pretty extensive collection of evidence on the rapid globalization and urbanization of China in the form of movies, photographs, maps, and city records. Lesson learned: China is big. And it will destroy everything in its path.

My kind of Art

Up next, we took our first Barcelona subway ride and immediately question why we never took the subway before. Clean, cheap, empty, and on-time, all of which are my favorite properties of a good subway system.

Since it was getting late for a Sunday, we were going to go to Montjuic, another giant park on another hill overlooking the downtown Barcelona area. This one was closer to the water. What’s fun is you take the subway to a funicular (those elevator-type vehicles that goes up a hill) that takes you to the base of the hill/park. From there, you take a cable car ride to the top of the hill where a castle sits with awesome views of the city and Mediterranean. It’s totally free and open to the public, although there’s a military museum you can pay for to visit.

Where did Alan go?

Alan's search party.

Always the willing subject, Ezeibe stares directly into the sun for me to get my shot.

Put some clothes on, woman.

The two most badass muthafuckas on the planet.

The view from the top of the fortress was as equally amazing as yesterday’s view of Park Guell. I love good views. Looking at everything around you, it weirdly just makes me so present and aware. I can hear my thoughts and emotions clearer.

A random couple enjoys the show.

Unspoken rule that all group photos must be taken from at least 50 feet above sea level.

One of the views from the top. I think that's the city museum in the foreground.

Thus ends my hippy diatribe. So the sun was setting, which meant we had to get out of the park and off to dinner. We decided to take a different cable car back down that would take us to Barceloneta, the neighborhood by the port close to the beaches. This cable car ride is up there in my list of scariest cable car rides. This car was tiny, with little seating. And, when it initially arrived to the station, the conductor looked at it funny, hopped out of the cable car, and talked to the tech. They discussed something, and then decided to send off the cable car on its own. Except, it went about 10 yards, swung in the wind a bit, and then came back to the station. And then they let us in. Paranoia sinks in and I start mentally accepting that this is the way I’m going to die.

This cable car was also unnecessarily high above the ground and water. I swear it actually went higher than the hill on its way to the port. At the end, you basically land on this giant hulking metal tower and have to take an elevator 30 something stories down. Not cool.

Scary cable car ride

We made it down and walked along the beach/boardwalk, which was another great “Holy shit, I’m in Europe moment.” It shouldn’t have been, but it just was. There were a scattering of people just chilling out in beach blankets either reading a book, having a picnic, or hanging out as the sun was setting. I have never been a beach person, but watching those people just hang out at dusk without a care in the world makes me want to immediately buy beachfront property. We walk through the sand and take our moment of zen along the water.

I could get used to beach life.

Cool art piece on the beach

Dinner provided some more fruitless wandering. We spotted an open restaurant that looked authentic enough and seemed to serve seafood. Everyone was eating on giant barrels, which was a good enough gimmick for me to buy in. Unfortunately, when we finally got seated, we were in the back room of the restaurant, where we sat in front of a giant keg, not on top of one. Whatever. Ezeibe decided he needed to try paella again. I felt adventurous and offered to split one as well. Alan, not really agreeing with our restaurant choice in the first place, just shrugged and joined in as well.

I guess the paella was okay. It had a ton of shellfish and clams. I’m not usually a fan, but hey, when in Spain. I’m sure it was better than the one Ezeibe had the day before, which we’re pretty sure was microwaved. I mean, for the giant portion we got even though we split a paella, it seemed well worth the 25euro price. Except it really wasn’t. When the bill came out, we realize we had each been charged 25euros for the joint paella. I guess that’s normal. It kind of ruined our day.

And so ended our last day in Barcelona. We tried to pack up and get some early sleep because of our day tomorrow, where we would leave the city.

Day 2 in Barcelona, I think we all may have had one of the best sleeps in our lives. I woke up so disoriented but refreshed, I could have sworn I had died. It was that deep of a sleep.

Today can be summed up as “Gaudi Worship Day.” A trip to Barcelona wouldn’t be complete without some Gaudi sites.

I hate being a dumb tourist, so I did some research on the guy before getting here. From what I can gather from Becky’s book, Antoni Gaudi was a brilliant architect who was known for his parabolic curves and inspiration derived from nature.

The Highlights

Palau Guell – We actually saw this one the day before wandering Las Ramblas, but it fit better in this post. It was the only Gaudi house with free admission, as they were renovating 90% of the house. We did see the basement, which was really cool and covered with arches and curved ceilings. A good taste of what was to come.

La Pedreira/Casa Milo – I think Alan and Ezeibe had been kind of apprehensive about Gaudi up until this point. This was the house that sold all of us on the guy. The rooftop of this apartment complex was the best part. There were great views of Barcelona (we would later become obsessive of views of Barcelona from high vantage points) and the warrior/smoke chimneys were so foreboding and a genius architectural and artistic feature. Gaudi really paid attention to the details, even the doorknobs of this place were carefully thought out as a functional and artistic presence.

Some of the chimney sculptures on the rooftop.

La Sagrada Familia – This cathedral is out of control. It’s almost excessive in the amount of sculptures and carvings and belltowers that make up this place. And it’s only halfway done. If this thing finishes before my lifetime, I am definitely going back. Outside admission, in hindsight, was probably good enough, as the inside was totally empty and the good stained glass and front theater area were blocked when we went. However, the museum is worth the admission fee if you do pay to go into the cathedral.

I thought the Big Dig took forever.

Park Guell – We got to the park close to sunset. We were a little overwhelmed with how much ground we had to cover before sunset, as that was when the park closed. We actually got to see most of it. We did miss Gaudi’s house though. We’re not even sure if we were even in Park Guell anymore, but we had wandered up the hill that it sits on through various paths and ended up with this incredible view of Barcelona and the Mediterranean. Barcelona at sunset is breathtaking.

Ezeibe captures a Kodak moment.

Not-So-Cool Stuff

Walking – La Sagrada and Park Guell…just on the border of a reasonable walking distance. It’s an uphill climb. But, we did get to see another Gaudi-esque hospital (not designed by Gaudi though, but in a similar modernisme style)

All this walking makes me want to break a leg and get admitted...

Paella – Ezeibe was on a mission to find the perfect authentic paella. This did not happen on this day. We found a place for lunch a bit up from La Sagrada Familia that seemed local, authentic, and cheap. However, the paella seemed like it came out of the frozen food section.

Casa Batillo – Another one of Gaudi’s houses. Very nice on the outside. The inside seemed amazing. The price of admission: 20 euros. That was a bit much for our wallets. We and Gaudi are not that tight.

At Park Guell –
Me: Hey, isn’t this the place where they had that America’s Next Top Model finale?
Alan: I just heard someone say that it was.
Me: …How should I feel about knowing this?
Alan: Not good.

America's Next Top Model cave...where's Tyra?

Disasters

Arsticket – We decided at La Pedrera to get a museum pass. I’ll talk more about this on the next day in Barcelona, but this was an ill-advised choice as we didn’t really see any other museums.

Dinner – Our hunger and lack of research and ability to agree on one restaurant led us to another overpriced and sub-par-food chain. This one was another Ruby Tuesday’s type of incarnation, just in Barcelona. The menu looked promising, but Ezeibe and Alan realized they had eaten at a restaurant with the same exact menu the night before. And thus the dilemma of picking a dinnertime restaurant with Mike, Ezeibe, and Alan: We can all agree we want something authentic, although none of us really know what authentic would be, and authentic doesn’t sound very appetizing in Catalonia when push comes to shove. Ezeibe is a stickler for quality. He lives for that pricey five-star shit. Alan prefers inexpensive and reasonable prices, but not a chain. And me, I’ve been craving Kentucky Fried Chicken for the past week and a half. And their ads were everywhere in Barcelona. You can see how these opposing viewpoints and our passive-aggressive introverted ways can lead to a lot of awkward silent tension come dinnertime.

Other photos:

I'll always looked unprepared in any of our group shots because I'm too anti-social to ask someone to take our picture. Therefore, I use my mini-tripod to set up the shot, set the 10-second timer, and run into the group shot to varying levels of effectiveness.

Merry Christmas, everyone! I first need to apologize. As usual, i overestimated my ability to write blog posts after our packed days. At this point in real time, we’re out of Barcelona, but I’ll continue to catch you guys up day by day.

So, we made it to the airport and past customs. Alan and I asked Ezeibe multiple times what happens next and the response was always “We call the place and they come pick us up at the airport.” That was until Ezeibe actually read the confirmation message and saw that we had to find our own way there.

Cool Things of Day 1:

-Our Barcelona apartment was pimpin’. Extremely well-decorated, a Top Chef worthy kitchen, and this awesome sun room that looked out into the street. Ezeibe got his own bedroom, while Alan and I shared the second bedroom with two twin beds. Our room had a balcony overlooking the street. We were only a block or two away from Placa Catalunya, which is a busy part of Barcelona. It’s where Las Ramblas kind of begins. Apartment came with a bunch of city guides and we would be attached to the hip to our Time Out Barcelona book and our City Walk cards.

The perfect chair for contemplation

-Las Ramblas and especially the La Boquiera market. It was quite an orgy of dead animals and fresh fruits and vegetables. I wish we had something like that in Connecticut. Everything looked so fresh. We had our first Barcelona meal at Ra, a small restaurant behind La Boquiera. We had a breakfast.

This little piggy went to market...

Yumm...

- While we’re on the subject, the Old Barcelona districts were pretty stunning (Barri Gothic, Born, etc.). You didn’t really have to go inside of anything, just the windy streets and old Spanish houses were pretty cool to look at. Plaza Real off the Las Ramblas looked like it was a Hollywood charicature of a Spanish square, but it was the real thing.

Plaza Real

- Random churches, seemingly on every corner. All of them very old and medieval.

- People-watching in front of a random church. A true “Holy shit, we’re on vacation…in EUROPE” moment. There was a small Christmas market in front of the church. Alan and I got some coffee and tapas. We just sat there for a long while as we tried to adjust our bodies to the time difference. A crazy guy with an accordian was being mad enthusiastic about his accordian Christmas music in the church square. I would internally declare him my BFF.

- Barcelona is CLEAN. And very green. A lot of quiet buses that probably use some alternative fuel, human street cleaners on every other block, and these well tiled sidewalk streets. It’s definitely no NYC.

Not-So-Cool Things of Day 1:

- Late lunches and dinners. I just got off an eight hour flight. I’m hungry. But alas, lunch isn’t until 2PM and dinner isn’t until 9 or 10PM. And that would lead me to…

- Les Quinze Nits in the aforementioned Plaza Real. Totally a Ruby Tuesdays in a cool setting. People lined up for this stuff. It was a total tourist trap. No one in queue was a local.

Downright Disasters of Day 1:

- Jetlag. And then walking for miles when you’re body is jetlagged. And you have to stay up for dinner because you don’t want to be further jetlagged the rest of the trip. Ezeibe was about to drop by breakfast, and only held out a few hours longer. I held out until 10′ish and then crashed pretty mightily. Alan would stay up even later as we had left Ezeibe to pass out in the apartment in the afternoon. Ezeibe would wake up at around 10PM and had gotten hungry. After walking for miles while he was sleeping, I was not about to join him. Alan was nicer, but he was dying inside.

Day 1 was entirely travel. Still, there are some interesting/boring notes to share. This post was written mid-flight and is being posted after the fact. We have since arrived safely in Barcelona and going through some serious jetlag. The day’s not over yet, so I’ll recap the day later tonight.

–

I’m writing this blog post on our flight. it just hit midnight EST, and we’re about two hours from landing in Barcelona, where it will be about 7:30 in the morning. Inflight movies were that one where Vince Vaughn is Santa Claus’ brother or something and Mamma Mia. I opted not to view either. Before I go further, let’s start from the beginning:

Day 1 has been all travel. Nothing eventful picking up our rental car. Ezeibe decided to bring two suitcases, which I’m sure will probably come back to haunt us when we fly to Paris.

I shouldn’t be surprised, but we hit some annoying random construction traffic on I-84 on our way to the airport. Fun nugget of information: Alan has incredible road rage.

The Delta terminal was pretty chaotic. Looked like holiday traveling is starting pretty early this year. Even though I checked in the night before, there was a good half hour queue to drop off your bags. Security, however, went very quickly. So it evened out.

Now we’re on this flight. Ezeibe is next to me. We’ve entertained ourselves through an exciting game of Geography trivia on his phone and Checkers over our Zunes. I won both.

Alan is a few rows ahead of us in the emergency exit row due to his vertical handicap. While he stressed about not being able to sleep on the plane, it was all bullshit. He’s getting more sleep than either Ezeibe or I.

I downloaded the Pimsleur Quick and Easy Spanish audio and have been trying to memorize basic Spanish phrases. I’m sure it will be futile due to the fact that Barcelona speaks Catalan. My faith in Ezeibe and Alan’s Spanish proficiency kind of went out the window when they couldn’t decide how to say “Go” or “Left.”