Well, the big day had finally arrived. After a moderately boring week in London after the end of classes, it was Thursday and I was ready to start my 10 day sojourn through Barcelona, Madrid, and Amsterdam. Unfortunately, my flight was actually on Friday, which I luckily realized just before buying a bus ticket to the airport (those of you who read the Amsterdam post, will recognize this travel difficulty as a nice foreshadowing of greater issues to come). Anyway, I finally got to Barcelona on Friday evening and was promptly greeted with some alcoholic beverages, as everyone else had already begun pregaming for the club. In Barcelona, I met up with Ryan Rauh, who had come down from Madrid for the weekend, at the apartment of his friends, Tom Sullivan and Eddie O'Connor (shout out to Tom and Eddie for being awesome guys and letting a dude they just met stay at their place for 2 full days after the mutual friend had left, and showing the aforementioned dude a great time). I forget the name of the club we were originally going to, but its really not important because our group ended up going somewhere else since stupid Ryan wasn't allowed in after getting in a fight with the bouncer about drinking a beer in line. Anyway, the club we ended up going to was called Catwalk and though, as mentioned in previous posts, clubs really aren't my scene, being idiotic, drunk, dancing Americans can be a good time (for an image off the club, picture expensive drinks, beautiful/douchey spanish people sweating all up ons each other and ignoring the dumb americans, and hot girls in lingerie awkwardly doing model poses on a stage at the club and refusing to give a lap dance to Tom even after his impressive offer of 2 euros).
The next day, I had probably one of the greatest days that a man can have. It was absolutely gorgeous out, 75 degrees, and without a cloud in the sky; weather I had not experienced in quite a while, having spent the majority of the past 4 months in London. Thus, we headed to the beach, full of beautiful Spanish women (with and without tops, crazy Europeans) and the clear blue waters of the Mediterranean. One of my goals for the trip had been to take a dip in the ole Roman Lake, and though the water was a bit chilly, I'm happy I got to accomplish that goal, something I'll remember for the rest of my life. Plus, I peed in the water! Suck it, Europe!
After the beach, we went back to Tom and Eddie's apartment (ran into 2 girls from Fenwick on the way back, Europe is crazy small), where every Saturday they apparently have a barbecue on the awesome terrace of their apartment for their friends in Barca. Now this day apparently, with its combination of awesome weather and El Classico later that night, led to the greatest, best attended barbecue they'd had thus far, and I must say, it was awesome. Grilled meats all over the place, live music courtesy of the hosts, beer, mimosas and scotch flowing like wine, and though I hate to admit it, Ryan Rauh makes a mean patatas bravas. After the barbecue, we all headed to a bar/former warehouse to watch El Classico, which is the nickname for the match-up between Barca and Real Madrid, and as you can imagine, it's a huge deal. The game was amazing, with Barca winning in a commanding 2-0 shut out, and the atmosphere of the place was out of this world; hundreds of Barca fans singing and just going nuts. Back at the apartment, people worn out from the sun, excitement and drinking all day crashed all over the place after a failed attempt to watch one of my new favorite movies, In Bruges. I, myself, ended up sleeping on a comfy pile of dirty laundry...
The next day, Sunday, Ryan peaced out back to Madrid, and in the afternoon I met up with Darcy Johansen, a fellow Wildcat studying in Barcelona, for some much needed sight seeing. I got to see the famous and beautiful, work-in-progress, Sagrada Familia Cathedral, the neat old Gothic quarter architecture, and some ruins of the wall that used to surround Barcelona's ancient Roman predecessor. After bidding the Darc adieu, I went back to Tom and Eddie's, where they were preparing to celebrate, as it was Eddie's 21st birthday. Now apparently they perform and have become regulars (like in an, awesome "Cheers" sort of way) at an Irish bar called McCarthy's in Barca. So we went there for the celebration; just a great time, singing, yelling, old Irish men, and even a complimentary birthday bottle of champagne.
The next day, after sleeping in (I managed to secure a couch) and going to a pretty good pizza place for lunch (Eddie had won 5 free pizzas in a drawing since he correctly guessed the score of El Classico, I tell ya, these kids are living the dream), I think we just hung around the aparment playing video games. This may sound like a waste of an afternoon, but I have been unable to just sit on a couch and play video games for going on 4 months now, so it was definitely a worthwhile experience. That night, I met up with Sarah Gallo, another Wildcat in Barcelona, for a dinner of Tapas and Sangria before going back to the apartment where Eddie and Tom were sustaining their first night sober since they'd arrived in Barcelona (living the motha fucking dream).
The next day, I headed to the airport for an afternoon flight to Madrid, to meet up with Rauh. Upon arrival, we immediately headed to the basketball courts for some ball against a couple of his buddies before a night of drinking with his friends in his apartment and Ryan getting yelled at by his crazy landlady's sister who lives in the apartment (this will have some significance coming up). The next day, after Ryan had returned from class and I was just waking up, the sister informed Ryan that the landlady was coming to talk to him and his friends about their shenanigans. I waited outside once the landlady arrived, as visitors crashing at the apartment was not permitted. Anyway, turns out the landlady informed Ryan and co. that they could no longer drink in the apartment, and after a brief argument, RyGuy was evicted. 2 weeks to find a new place. The only reasonable course of action we foresaw after this was to pick up a bottle of Scotch and go sightseeing. We went to Retiro, a huge, beautiful park in Madrid once reserved only for the royal family and had a couple drinks there before heading over to the Prado to check out what Goya, Velazquez, El Greco, and the rest of the gang had to offer (because Ryan had gotten into a fight with his landlady, I was unable to shower at his apartment, thus by the time we got to the Prado, I was smelling pretty rank, hence, the title of this post). That night, after polishing off the Scotch, we met up with Ryan's crew and went to a crazy tapas bar called El Tigre, where with each relatively cheap drink you buy, you get a shitload of delicious tapas; just an amazing place. We had to peace out early so I could grab my stuff from Ryan's apartment and get on the metro to the airport before it closed for the night. Upon arriving at the airport at like 1:30, I napped for a couple hours on some comfy benches before jumping on my 6:50 flight to Amsterdam. Little did I know what kind of shitty luck I was in for....
Monday, 19 April 2010
Euro Spring Breaking Part 2: Amsterdam...Solo?
Well, before I get into what actually happened, let me tell you how the Amsterdam trip was supposed to happen. I was to arrive in that fair city from Madrid at 9:50 am on Thursday morning, having booked a cheaper flight earlier in the day than everyone else. I had to book a hostel by myself for Thursday night, as the sweet boat hostel we found only allowed bookings in multiples of 2 and there were 3 of us for Thursday night. I didn't see this as too much of a problem, as I figured that it was only one night and that because we'd all go do whatever it is kids do in Amsterdam these days, and then I'd be able to fall asleep no problem in my cheapass hostel bed in a room with 11 strangers. Ryan and his friend were supposed to arrive in Amsterdam from Madrid late Thursday afternoon, and then when our 4th arrived on Friday, we'd all be in the same hostel for Friday and Saturday night. The way it was supposed to work out, I had a few hours Thursday to kill by myself. So once I arrived Thursday morning, after grabbing some food, wandering around for a while (stumbled upon the I Amsterdam sign and a schnazzy little market), and eventually finding my shitty hostel, I decided to take a nap, as I had only gotten a couple hours of sleep on a bench at the airport the night before. When I awoke, I saw I had a couple missed calls from Ryan, and the astute amongst you may have guessed what those calls were in regards to. Yep, everyone else's flights had been canceled because of the goddamn Icelandic volcano, and thus, I would be solo in Amsterdam until at least Saturday morning.
The first day/night were by far the worst, as during the day, myself and my would-be companions tried to figure out what was going on and whether they'd be able to get on another flight. Ryan found out that he could get a flight Saturday morning at the earliest (though that too was eventually canceled), while the other two gave up hope. That night, I went to bed sober and though I was exhausted, I barely got any sleep because shit-faced Europeans kept coming back and being loud at all hours of the night/morning and also because the dude on the bunk below me looked like the French version of Charles Manson. After that restless night, I checked out of that miserable place and headed to the place that everybody was supposed to stay at for Friday and Saturday, but which in reality I was the only one who would get to enjoy it. After convincing the wonderful manager that I should only pay for myself, even though we had booked 3 nights for 2 people and 2 nights for 4 people, I decided I might as well go out and enjoy Amsterdam. I judged it best to forego the coffeeshops for now, as partaking in their goods and then wandering around by myself might have ended with me waking up naked in a field in Belgium or something, so instead I did some nice, wholesome touristy things; went on a free, 3 hour walking tour of the city, which was actually pretty cool and then headed over to the Anne Frank House. Even though it was really crowded, it was actually pretty intense/interesting.
That night, I sat around and drank with some of the other guests in the hostel, which wasn't too bad. Now, mind you, these are the kind of people who stay in on a Friday night in Amsterdam rather than go out, so not the wildest bunch, but it was still rather enjoyable. I also arranged to meet up with a few of em at a coffeshop the next day, which was exciting. So Saturday, after sleeping in nice and late in my comfy single bed (I at least ended up with a single room, which was nice), I hit up the Rijksmuseum, which has some neat Vermeer's and Rembrandts' (Nightwatch ftw) before heading over to the Heinken brewery for the tour/tasting. Although you do get 2 and a half beers out of the deal, the tour ("The Heinken Experience", as they call it) really was kinda stupid and not really worth the 15 euro. Anyway, next, after over 48 hours in Amsterdam, I finally got to enjoy some of the city's famous "coffee" with the group of Americans I had met the night before (thank you, david, mark, heather and sarah, wherever you may be, for taking pity on me). So that was nice. After that, I just went back to the hostel and crashed, ready to get back to London after 10 absurd days on the continent. Now that may seem like the most boring weekend anyone has ever had in Amsterdam, but all in all, I had a pretty good time just chilling and enjoying the actual city, rather than just its lax drug laws (though by saying that, I may permanently forfeit my already meager f-r-a-t-s-t-r credentials).
So Sunday, rather than have to worry about finding some way home because of the stupid volcano, all I had to do was worry about getting on the ferry, as I was able to outsmart the volcano by booking my Stena line ticket almost two months before the trip. This was no easy task however as, door-to-door, it took me 14 exhausting hours to get back to London. After waking up at like 10:15 (9:15 London time) and walking to the Amsterdam Central Train Station, I caught an 11:10 train to the ferry port at Hoek van Holland, where I arrived at 12:45 and waited around for my 2:30 ferry. After laughing at all the stranded Brits waiting on stand-by as I got on, I hunkered down for the 6 and a half hour ride to Harwich, on the east coast of England. It's really not a bad way to go if you got the time, though probably more enjoyable with a group... So upon arriving in Harwich at 8 pm (London time), I had to take an hour and a half bus ride to central london. Then after a quick jaunt on the ole Tube, I was able to get back to my room at like 11:30 pm and sleep for like 12 hours after the ten day trip that can only be described as "absurd". It was definitely a success, the 6 days in Spain were just insanely fun, and despite the retarded-ness that the volcano wrought, even touristing solo in Amsterdam was enjoyable enough.
So, though I'm happy to be back in the relative calm of London, I'll still be busy in the coming weeks. Got some big time school work and job applications to work on (a little late?) and then next Monday, sister Jen and I head off to Ireland for a few days before meeting Big Dan back in London for the weekend; should be a spectacular time and I'm looking forward to seeing the partial fam. After that, I've got a week or so to relax before I've got to start prepping for exams, which start on May 13. Then only a couple short weeks, later I head home (May 26, barring any volcanoes or other natural disasters).
It's absolutely absurd how quickly the time has flown by these past few months, and the fact that I'll be home in just over a month is just mind-blowing. It seems like I just got here, and even though I still have a ton of exciting stuff going on before then, I'm already beginning to think about what I'm gonna do once I get home (eat everything even remotely resembling food in my house) and also about all the things I'm going to miss about London. Expect more on those thoughts, in future posts, but for now.... thats all folks.
The first day/night were by far the worst, as during the day, myself and my would-be companions tried to figure out what was going on and whether they'd be able to get on another flight. Ryan found out that he could get a flight Saturday morning at the earliest (though that too was eventually canceled), while the other two gave up hope. That night, I went to bed sober and though I was exhausted, I barely got any sleep because shit-faced Europeans kept coming back and being loud at all hours of the night/morning and also because the dude on the bunk below me looked like the French version of Charles Manson. After that restless night, I checked out of that miserable place and headed to the place that everybody was supposed to stay at for Friday and Saturday, but which in reality I was the only one who would get to enjoy it. After convincing the wonderful manager that I should only pay for myself, even though we had booked 3 nights for 2 people and 2 nights for 4 people, I decided I might as well go out and enjoy Amsterdam. I judged it best to forego the coffeeshops for now, as partaking in their goods and then wandering around by myself might have ended with me waking up naked in a field in Belgium or something, so instead I did some nice, wholesome touristy things; went on a free, 3 hour walking tour of the city, which was actually pretty cool and then headed over to the Anne Frank House. Even though it was really crowded, it was actually pretty intense/interesting.
That night, I sat around and drank with some of the other guests in the hostel, which wasn't too bad. Now, mind you, these are the kind of people who stay in on a Friday night in Amsterdam rather than go out, so not the wildest bunch, but it was still rather enjoyable. I also arranged to meet up with a few of em at a coffeshop the next day, which was exciting. So Saturday, after sleeping in nice and late in my comfy single bed (I at least ended up with a single room, which was nice), I hit up the Rijksmuseum, which has some neat Vermeer's and Rembrandts' (Nightwatch ftw) before heading over to the Heinken brewery for the tour/tasting. Although you do get 2 and a half beers out of the deal, the tour ("The Heinken Experience", as they call it) really was kinda stupid and not really worth the 15 euro. Anyway, next, after over 48 hours in Amsterdam, I finally got to enjoy some of the city's famous "coffee" with the group of Americans I had met the night before (thank you, david, mark, heather and sarah, wherever you may be, for taking pity on me). So that was nice. After that, I just went back to the hostel and crashed, ready to get back to London after 10 absurd days on the continent. Now that may seem like the most boring weekend anyone has ever had in Amsterdam, but all in all, I had a pretty good time just chilling and enjoying the actual city, rather than just its lax drug laws (though by saying that, I may permanently forfeit my already meager f-r-a-t-s-t-r credentials).
So Sunday, rather than have to worry about finding some way home because of the stupid volcano, all I had to do was worry about getting on the ferry, as I was able to outsmart the volcano by booking my Stena line ticket almost two months before the trip. This was no easy task however as, door-to-door, it took me 14 exhausting hours to get back to London. After waking up at like 10:15 (9:15 London time) and walking to the Amsterdam Central Train Station, I caught an 11:10 train to the ferry port at Hoek van Holland, where I arrived at 12:45 and waited around for my 2:30 ferry. After laughing at all the stranded Brits waiting on stand-by as I got on, I hunkered down for the 6 and a half hour ride to Harwich, on the east coast of England. It's really not a bad way to go if you got the time, though probably more enjoyable with a group... So upon arriving in Harwich at 8 pm (London time), I had to take an hour and a half bus ride to central london. Then after a quick jaunt on the ole Tube, I was able to get back to my room at like 11:30 pm and sleep for like 12 hours after the ten day trip that can only be described as "absurd". It was definitely a success, the 6 days in Spain were just insanely fun, and despite the retarded-ness that the volcano wrought, even touristing solo in Amsterdam was enjoyable enough.
So, though I'm happy to be back in the relative calm of London, I'll still be busy in the coming weeks. Got some big time school work and job applications to work on (a little late?) and then next Monday, sister Jen and I head off to Ireland for a few days before meeting Big Dan back in London for the weekend; should be a spectacular time and I'm looking forward to seeing the partial fam. After that, I've got a week or so to relax before I've got to start prepping for exams, which start on May 13. Then only a couple short weeks, later I head home (May 26, barring any volcanoes or other natural disasters).
It's absolutely absurd how quickly the time has flown by these past few months, and the fact that I'll be home in just over a month is just mind-blowing. It seems like I just got here, and even though I still have a ton of exciting stuff going on before then, I'm already beginning to think about what I'm gonna do once I get home (eat everything even remotely resembling food in my house) and also about all the things I'm going to miss about London. Expect more on those thoughts, in future posts, but for now.... thats all folks.
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