BA293

my flight leaves at 1310.



i don't know what else to say really.

ohhh valencia, tarragona.

mirablau.

i never realized that i've never ridden on a motorcycle until tonight.
when i rode on a motorcycle.



vickychristinabarcelona. if you haven't seen it, see it now.

recoger las camas.

so, spain had a little more of a taste of mechanicsville the past ten days. a little taste in the form of robby saady, with tomato bread on the side.

it started with me on the train to the airport, anxious like a 5-year old. i finally got there and ran all the way to 'llegadas' and screamed when i saw him. we took the train back. i offered him some wine from my leather wine flask. we laughed at everything... namely my complete blissful ignorance of where we were or anything that was going on.

we went to sorli discau with robby's luggage and picked up our travel snacks: vino tinto, baguette, manchego, jamon. we got back to the lovely sant jordi 5 and i gave him the grand tour of our charming piso. he showered, i packed... haha packing is so funny... and we left for the train station.

we boarded a night train, a hotel night train, headed towards seville, eta: 7am. our room was cute. complete with a recoger las camas service. we stayed up late drinking wine and me telling robby of all of my ridiculous adventures. we finally slept for a little while. i kept one eye opened, knowing robby's bunk was about to fall and smash my head.

there was some dreadful lightning when we woke up. haha. kind of.

we got to seville and it was a beautiful morning. we took a cab to the hotel cervantes, tucked between some of the crazily planned streets in seville. after our check in and some tomato bread in a cafe nearby, we spent the rest of the day exploring the city. which was so beautiful. we bought sorpresas, two for one euro, had tapas, icecream, had our fortunes read and then were cheated by the 'fortune teller' ( mujer, el no puede comprenderte.), climbed to the tower in the beautiful cathedral, and took lots of pictures. we had caiprinhas at a little american bar (que divertido... the national drink of brazil at an american bar in the heart of one of spain's most historic city's.) dinner was lovely. we went to a bar beside the restaurant, and went back to our hotel.

i read in my travel guide, "if a person is to only see two cities in spain, let them be toledo and seville"

check.

s'morocco.

haha, get it? like s'mores?

ok, yeah, so i know... i haven't blogged in like, a really long time. here's the first excuse: i was in africa. yes, morocco. where they still take donkey-taxi's. really. so needless to say there was no blogging in morocco.... let me tell you what there was though.

after a very entertaining plane ride, we arrived the first funny thing was the currency exchange... something that hasn't been funny in the least bit in europe, but was very funny in morocco. we all walked away from the atms with 2000 moroccon dollars in our pockets. of course, me being perpetually late, there was no room on the bus for me joe and niel. thus arrives the first taxi ever made. literally. only one window went down. it was about 80degrees, very sandy and flies everywhere. so we get in the taxi and pull out behind the bus. about 5 minutes later, the bus turns left at a stop light. our driver, with another agenda and no english/spanish skills therefore no way to communicate with us, decides to go straight. good. and there i was, imagining my posthumous blog titled "and that's how i died in morocco."

he managed to let us know that that car wouldn't have made it the 4 hours to where we were staying (by the way, everyone told us it was one hour... ). so we had to switch taxi's. and drivers. to an even worse taxi with a driver who was convinced we knew french and made no other attempts to communicate.

the four hour drive was... intense. we were all exhausted but too afraid to sleep. i have come to the conclusion that in order to obtain a drivers license in morocco you only have to have two arms with hands attached. there are no other requirements. they all drive like crazies. we were on a two-lane road the entire way playing chicken with trucks piled a mile high with hay. i was so scared. i finally was able to doze off for a few minutes to be awoken to us pulled over by a moroccon cop, our driver screaming at him and then opening the trunk to show him our luggage and most likely making him an offer of one scared american girl and 3 suitcases. (hence, again, "and that's how i died in morocco...").

the remainder of the week went a little more smoothly and overall very moroccan-ny. we stayed in tagazhout, a very very small little town, in a house at the top of a street. from our rooftop terrace we could see the ocean... as well as the children chasing goats in the street.

we spent a lot of time at different beaches, surfing and relaxing. the beaches were beautiful. we went to the bath house, which was an experience. it's like this big tile room with faucets and you get a big bucket and a little scoop bucket, fill it with water, and then go to a little area between the naked moroccon women soaping each other up (really.) and try and clean yourself. that's where they go for their weekly baths. needless to say we all kept our bikinis on and then went home and showered.

we went to a few different markets, which were crazy. the one in agadhir was ridiculous. apparently the biggest one in africa (again, i feel like everything on this trip is some superlative... the biggest, the oldest, whatever. i mean, i believe it i guess.) it was really fun. you just barter with them. i bought a bunch of good stuff, including a leather bag that he wanted to sell me for 720durham and i paid 200 for (20 euro...). the only thing is, it smells. like feet. badly. stinky bag.

i bought some cool fabric too. and tiny, sweet bananas. delicious.

one of the days we were all out in the water, trying to surf, and i could see that the horizon started to look a little odd. about 5 minutes later we were caught in the middle of a ridiculous sandstorm. the waves got really rough and we couldn't even see the shore anymore, or anything really. it was crazy and scary. somehow we all managed to paddle to safety and find all of our stuff and get back to the vans.

we rode camels up the mountain-ish thing behind our house, which was so fun. camels are very tall. i was scared. just look at the pictures before you make fun of me. it was scary.

probably my favorite thing was one evening we rode 4-wheelers (which everyone else calls quads?) on the beach at sunset. it was so so cool. we like rode through this crazy desert path and then onto the beach, which was wide and empty. the sunset was the prettiest i've seen. we raced back up the beach.

we had another "and that's how i died in morocco" moment on the streets one night... even my blog isn't safe, so i'll save that story. haha.

we spent our nights on the terrace, relaxing and laughing and listening to music. but mostly laughing. and then stealing cheese. and not being able to fall asleep because we all kept cracking up on our bunks. so funny.

and so, morocco. lots of flies. beautiful beaches. funny people. stamp on my passport.

<3.

chica, tu con tantas curvas y yo sin frenos.

wow.

i think what i love most about being here is waking up and having no idea what my day will be like, and then all of the crazy adventures that unfold.

saturday we got up and met with ricardo to go out to a racetrack. he races as a hobby so we all came out to this formula one track, ate hotdogs, and then we each took turns putting on a helmet and riding shotgun in his black porsche. i sat there screaming, watching the spedometer hit 252kilometers an hour.... as in really really fast. as in please don't tell me what that is in mph because i will need to change my pants again.

that night we went out for sushi annnnnnd sake bombs... which is so so much more fun than i ever imagined. we said sake chants and drank and ate amazing sushi. then we went to small bar and had probably the best shot i've ever had... consisting of a lemon covered in coffee and sugar and a shot of vodka. thennn we finally found the jazz bar and spent the rest of the night salsa dancing. it was amazing.

today, the picasso museum all day. i probably could have stayed longer. it was so fun. we went around to a few shops, bought some cool books and things.

VIP

ok, yes, i know what VIP stands for... but making up acronyms is so much more fun.

i feel like our whole trip we've been vip in one way or another.

thursday night we had another bad cabman experience. this one not only knew where nothing in the city was, but he also did not speak. just shook his head repeatedly. we ended up at one of the many chupitos, which always makes for a good start to the night. lots of fire, shots, and british men later, we headed to otto zutz... upon entering we were escorted up to the VIP area to enjoy dancing withouth 4701239321 people sweating on top of you as well as free rum and cokes.

the night was fun. hiphop instead of techno made us feel at home and all the spanish people made us feel like badasses. we stayed out and danced the whole night.

friday was sitges, our daytrip. we went to cordoniu, the oldest champagnery (don't know if that's the right word or not... if you know what is good for you.) in europe. it was insanely big. as in 125 million bottles of 'cava' big. we rode this little mrtoadswildride-esque train through tons of dark cellar hallways. it was so fun. then we sampled the cava and the cava man used me to demonstrate how to hold the glass... which was challenging.

sitges was charming- a little beach town with lots of character. it wasn't warm enough for the beach so we just walked around and explored and took lots of pictures. i really need to find a place to develop my film.

last night we went to razzamatazz... which always makes me laugh because i think of that snl skit... you know the one.
razzamatazz was huge. and crazy. and i tried to find the exit and was invited to the vip level. and then i came home. and ate a sandwich.

living is a hostel is fun because we always wake up with new random foreign neighbors.

hostage situation.

so.

wednesday was the biggest day of merce, the celebration that was going on here pretty much all last week. we spent the day walking around the city, seeing outdoor concerts and parades and eating gelato. there were people everywhere and it was so exciting. at 10pm we all went to placa espanya, right in front of the palace to see the fountain show and fireworks...

let me just say that i love fireworks. this 4th of july i didn't get to see any. i saw dave matthews, but no fireworks. wednesday night more than made up for it... the fireworks and fountain show and music and atmosphere was all so amazing. i posted a video... watch it. it was awesome.

obviously there were a million people out there. we managed to meet up with some friends and head to the next closest metro stop... which, of course was insanely crowded. and, considering my luck had been going well and my life was almost back in order... we were about at our stop and i reached into my verysafelittlebagthatsitsrightatmyhipboneandisvirtuallyunrobbable to find my phone... which suddenly was missing. MIA. no phone. anywhere.

instantly i was like, this is not happening. there is just no way this is happening. if it was stolen, my camera and all of my money was still there... and how would someone have reached in there without me knowing? anyway was mad. and confused. i took the subway back to the station we were at and looked around... nothing. finally i met back up with my friends and tried calling my phone about a hundred times. finally, all of a sudden someone answered. someone named miguel. someone who better watch his back because he has accumulated so much bad karma i wouldn't be surprised if he spontaneously combusted like right now.

miguel so charmingly asked my name, and then oye amor, how old are you? and from there told me if i wanted my phone back i had to come alone to his apartment and drink whiskey with him.

hostage. who the hell holds a phone hostage?

i gathered an army of friends, with a few strong boys, and we were prepared to meet him somewhere... and of course miguel stopped answering my phone all together.

so, i stopped my service. and once again i am phoneless until monday. however, i am also whiskeyandkidnapped-less as well, so things aren't all that bad i guess.

i<3IBZ.

ibizaibizaibiza.

so that's where i was last weekend... which, i suppose, lends to part of the reason why i haven't updated my blog in a while. the ibiza recovery/pullyourlifebacktogether/whatthehellhappened took a while.

but now i'm here. and ibiza was incredible... even wilder than the travel channel makes it out to be. when we first for there our cab driver from the the airport was seriously crazy. he had no idea how to get anywhere and insisted on asking every tourist on the street if they knew where "SOUL BEAIAY" is... it was an adventure.

the first night we went to pacha, the oldest club in europe... which was wild. they had this insane dj and these storm troopers that shot out sparks and snowy stuff and all out craziness. after the dj we found a floor with just random american music... think mr. jones and me to frank sinatra to hip hop to anything that would keep you there dancing all night until 6am. then we went to the beach and watched the sunrise on the beach and had a big hotel breakfast. and then slept.

it took me and my roomies 4 hours by bus to get back to our hotel. an angel at the farmacia saved me with some antibacterial eyedrops and turned all of our luck around. when we got back we tried to relax by the pool, but about 30 middle-age pale british men tried their best to prevent us from doing so.

friday night we had a dinner date. quite a dinner date. we met ricardo on the plane... or, kelsey did rather. she has such a skill for meeting people, anywhere. so friday night we met ricardo and 10 of his friends at a small outdoor restaurant, tucked away down a dirt road and right next to the sea. it was so so pretty. we had caiprinhas and lots of wine and fresh seafood.

ricardo had his personal taxi then take us to privelege, then biggest club in the world. literally. it was insane. we danced around until 6am when we called our taximan and he took us to the airport. i still don't know how we managed to board our plane, land in barcelona, catch the bus and then the subway and walk home and all finally get in bed. craziness.

i<3ibz.

annnnnnd i am late. we are going out. i will have to update this later.

<3.

kerouac

wc williams described jack kerouac's writing as "an enclosure of all that might have been made articulate, felt, tasted, witnessed, and confessed as actual to one's own life, for better or worst, at last."

i read this in the introduction of kerouac's Book of Blues while on the metro yesterday and it captured me, because i feel like that's exactly what this trip, this city is like. in a word, irrepressible.
And i crave it.

i feel so alive here. just sitting, writing, feeling the night breeze, it fills me. i am overwhelmed by this liberating independence. it's incredible.

ole.