The glory of living in a small city...

I ran into three of my students tonight while out and about around Gijon.

One of them asked me how my trip home to England was. During the last four months I have probably mentioned Minneapolis, Minnesota, USA, as my home at the very least once every other week... if not every week... is it possible for someone to be paying so LITTLE attention to not know what continent I am from?!?

And when I said it took me six hours to fly to NYC and then another three to get home to MPLS for Christmas, you'd think it would connect that I DON'T LIVE IN EUROPE! I didn't know it was possible...

And then I didn't stop moving for a month (Pt. 3)

Only a few days after arriving back to Gijon from my German adventure, I was off to the states. Better put, I attempted to get back to the states. The whopping 4 inch "snow storm" in England left all their airports closed for round about a week. (England has one of the biggest and most important international airports in Europe.) France also closed their airports for a couple of days, along with Belgium and who knows who else, all for a few sprinkles of snow. And so the airline industry all over Europe was totally fucked for the holidays. The consequence for me, being a standby passenger, was that other airlines, affiliated or not affiliated with Delta, were sending all their passengers to fly through Madrid on any airline back to the states (instead of through London, Paris, etc. etc.) because it hadn't snowed here.

My fellow standby travelers

During these airport crisis, standby usually end up chatting. "How many days have you been trying to fly?"... "Who do you know that works for Delta?" ... "What's your standby priority?"... Anyway, I met two super nice girls, one from Minneapolis (cause my world is always small) and one from Atlanta. We spent our waiting time getting to know each other. We bought some cheap wine at the duty free store, ate lunch, and enjoyed our nerve-wrecking time together. In the end I got pretty lucky, we all did, and we only had to try for two days. On my second day at the airport I got on with style in business class and accompanied by my two new friends Amanda and Til. Together we enjoyed some cocktails, take-off and landing, and then lost each other between connections. Freezing rain and snow in Minneapolis luckily delayed, but didn't cancel, my flight home. When I arrived I was picked up by my brother, who was just finishing his shift at his new job with Delta. So, home for the holidays. You could say I got lucky. There were paying passengers all over Europe who got stranded on vacation and missed Christmas. =/

A combo of my two homes:

Pouring Asturian sidra in snowy Minnesota

And then I was home for my first "vacation" home. It was quite a strange experience, just stopping by home to say hello, to visit for a couple of weeks... no work, no worries... just time to enjoy my friends and family. I ate, ate, ate. Drank a bit, of course. And ate. Went sledding. Made "ooh" and "aah" sounds at the three feet of snow covering my house. Tried to explain to extended family members that I still have no idea which continent I want to live on, let alone what I want to do with my life. I made "ooh" and "aah" sounds at my friends who have at least figured out something in their lives, like their life partners or their jobs. I had deep conversations in English, my native tongue, which is always fun. And then, before I knew it, it was time to go.

Yes, the ball.

New Years Eve brought me to New York City where I did pretty much what I would have done in any other city on NYE, except without knowing anyone except my dear Rachel. Drink. Eat. House party. Another house party. ("Ahh how do we make this the best NYE ever?!... OMG I just can't decide what we should do!!...Where should we go?? This has to be fab!!") In the end, NYE is always a night like all others but with higher expectations and champagne. But, I did get rites to say I was in NYC for NYE which always gets some good reactions out of people. Oh, and I got to call my mother after midnight because I (to my surprise) wasn't drunk, just to have her ask me, "Did you kiss Rachel?" which my answer was, "Yes, mom, you know us so well!" (AKA she knows neither of us is ever dating anyone, but by default, each other... and that after 13 years of friendship germs are no longer a worry.)

This dog was the best thing I managed to take a picture of on New Years Eve....

Anyway the following days were more exciting. Rachel works in the "music biz" in NYC and so one day we went into a recording studio where one of her friends (name drop here:) Eric Arc Elliott was recording some tunes. Some beats. Some rhymes. And as Rachel and I were (drinking and) talking about "rad hip hop music" in our good old Fargo-style Minnesota accents, Mr. Eric said, "Go in there and record that!" So, we chit chatted in Minnesotan over some rockin' beats and vualaaaa! I was in a song. And I would show you but it's kinda embarrassing so you'll have to come to Spain to hear it. Hah.

Representin' the small cherry in the big apple!

(Get it... Minneapolis in NYC?)

As usual I got lazy and didn't do much sight seeing, because my thought is that I will be there again soon... I did eat a lot. And drink a lot of delicious IPA beers that are impossible to find in this beer-deprived country called Spain. I did go to the Museum of Natural History where I saw an overload of things, so many things that I have no idea what I saw. The only thing I remember was learning about this rockin' fish that changes its sex organs depending on what its society needs from it....! So cool, modern, useful:

In my book, the most interesting fish in the sea.

And then I arrived in Madrid on Reyes (liiiike, "3 wise men day"). And spent a few days out eating and drinking with my cousin Tomas. It seems that now I have traveled so much that the only thing I can stand doing is eating and drinking. Hm. Surprise? Oh, and sometimes shopping. I'm not much of a shopper, but I was on Madrid's biggest shopping street on the biggest shopping day of the year. Love H&M.

Reyes. With mi primo Tomas and his pals

And here I am, back "home." And, of course, sick again. Conclusions: Europe needs a snow plow. Going home on vacation is kinda strange. NYE will always be overrated. Rachel is my BFF. Yes, I said it, best friends forever!!!

Hasta luego, guap@s!

And then I didn't stop moving for a month (Pt. 2)

Tuesday, December 7th

...My poor German friend Jenny is extremely afraid of flying. I am so not afraid of flying there was no way for me to console her. I can barely even imagine being afraid. I have no idea what it's like to feel like my world is ending when the plane has to change directions to the east, I just know what it's like to watch my friend freak out as I try to be supportive and not giggle at the same time. And Jenny, if you read this, I'm sorry, I tried my best to help.

A German snowman saying hello from the freezing shores of Dusseldorf's river

(So that was the start of my trip to Germany. We arrived late at night so the trip really started on the 8th. Interesting to know the dates, right? Oh, another fun fact! I'm 1/4 German. Wahoo!)

Jenny checking out a Christmas Market stand

The second that freezing cold German air hit my nose and I saw dirty snow on the streets, I felt at right at home. The first couple of days were spent in Jenny's hometown of Dusseldorf. We wandered around the snowy city and enjoyed the nice Christmas markets. In Minnesota we should really adopt a Christmas market or two. They get people out of the house and on the streets, no matter the temperature. In the end, it's really all about the gluvine (hot mulled wine). No matter how cold is it, gluvine warms you up in more ways than one... and after only a glass or two, it's already gone straight to your head and all over your body.

Christmas market in a medieval town outside of Dusseldorf

After a late and long night out in Dusseldorf, I of course had to get sick. Once or twice a year I tend to get super sick, and it tends to last a really long time. I got sick the day I was heading to Berlin. Since trains and buses are so expensive in Germany, there is a popular tradition called "car sharing." Via websites similar to... for example... Craigs List... People post that they are either 1) looking for a ride, or 2) looking for riders. Contacting via email and phone, drivers and riders meet up and share the costs of the trip. So, for 60 euro round trip, I went from Dusseldorf to Berlin and back (compared to at least double the cost and time by train or bus). But let me tell you what, this is the last time I do tourism in a cold place in winter!

Street art in East Berlin, made by the patient art of stencils

I have heard people rave of Berlin. The history. The sites. The party! My uncle worked and lived in Berlin before the wall fell, and that has always made me even more excited to go. But, of course I was sick, of course it was wet and raining (way worse than dry and snowing) and any walking around or tour I did was ruined by the wet ground and my cold. I was so sick I never went out at night, and really only withstood about one tourist thing a day. Maybe a trip to Berlin will be due come spring or summer.

Street art in East Berlin

Now, the trip isn't all complaints. I took a pretty cool street art tour and got to see East Berlin that way. I saw the wall, which is now decorated with all kinds of art. I ate a kepab (better known as a gyro in the states) which is super popular all over Europe now but was invented by Turkish immigrants in Berlin. And I saw a few other not too exciting sites... The best thing about my trip to Berlin was that I stayed with a German friend of mine named Maggie. Maggie and I met three years ago when I was traveling in Scotland with Andrew. (You can check out the post about Scotland on my ooooold blog: http://takingspain.wordpress.com/) Maggie and I have kept in touch, writing emails and postcards and we finally met up again!

Maggie and I at the wall

The trip back to Gijon was in itself an adventure... perhaps a bigger adventure than my entire trip to Germany. We landed in Bilbao eeeearly, at 8am I believe. We took the bus into town and took the metro to Jenny's car (where we joyfully found her precious Pugeot unharmed and unticketed). We jumped in and started driving. We made our first pit stop only 10 minutes out of town. I went to the bathroom and when I came out there was a look of sheer panic on Jenny's face. She had locked the keys in the trunk of her car, only to discover there was no "trunk pop" on the inside of her car. The only way to open the trunk was with her keys. We figured there had to be some simple way to get the keys out... but no.

The dreaded tow

We waited for a couple hours until the tow arrived. We were towed back into town, to the nearest Pugeot workshop, and arrived exactly at 1 (remember how I've said over and over that everything closes for lunch, from around 1-3?). We went into town, ate a delicious meal at the local restaurant, and went back at 3 to find a large group of men wondering where to begin. They hooked up the car to a computer, hoping to electronically pop the trunk. Nope. They tried again, in a different way. Nope. They tried to force the trunk open. Nope. So out the back seats come. Could it be that simple? Nope. Taking out the back seats reveled only a small opening into the trunk. Jenny, being perhaps three or four inches shorter than me, but with the same length and sized arms, started to pull out junk from the trunk, our jackets, pillows, anything that would fit through the hole. The burly men handed her a long metal, magnetic rod and using that she pulled out the keys from the trunk. Lets say she got a deal on the price, considering the keys never would have made it out without her. At 6pm we were on the road again.

Beautiful Basque countryside

Lessons learned? Just say no to Pugeot. Who makes a car without a trunk pop??!

And, to be continued... Minnesota, New York...

And then I didn't stop moving for a month (Pt. 1)

Oh, this is just in case you've forgotten what I look like. And to show off these amazing American peanuts marketed in a super-American way... decorated by none other than Ms. Statue of Liberty and the good ol' red, white n' blue. Yea!

(And on to the real reason I'm writing...)

Right after my "longest Thanksgiving ever," I jumped directly into one of my longest journeys ever. It started off with a nice road trip to a town only half an hour away from Gijon, with two hungover girls: Jenny the German and Christina the Canadian. I, for once, was not hungover! Victory!!

Llanes

We started off with a wander around a little old fisherman town called Llanes. We arrived at dusk but were still able to appreciate the view of sharp, pointy rocks popping out of the sandy beach, decorated by a backdrop of snow capped mountains. Oh, the north, how I love thee. A walk around town led us down some dark cobbled alleyways and into the portal of a crazy elderly lady's hotel, but we made it out just fine.

Picos de Europa- view from the top

Spending the night at a cheap, over-heated (better than under-heated?) hotel in a tiny pueblo kept us close to our next sight to see: we took off early to go to one of Asturias most important sites, Covadonga. Yes, it's just another convent buried in the mountains where another virgin supposedly came to yet another soldier telling him to fight in the name of god or something like that... but it was a cool site to see before heading up to the treacherous winds of "los lagos" at Picos de Europa. (Yes, I realize I just name dropped famous sites in Asturias. Los lagos= the lakes. Picos de Europa= a huge, beautiful national park in Asturias.)

The second lago

We drove up the skinniest "road" accompanied by an insane amount of cars going both up and down. Parking at the top, we hopped out of the car to realize that the winds were so strong we could barely stay standing. The combination of the wind with the un-plowed walking path (of course, who would clear sidewalks during the biggest tourist weekend of the year?) made for an interesting climb up. Well, the hassle and wet socks were worth it. The view of the lakes and the snowy mountains was, cheesily enough, breathtaking!

Roman bridge in Cangas de Onis

Next stop: Cangas de Onis. Turns out Cangas de Onis is one of the biggest tourist trap towns I have ever seen, but it's historical importance makes it a must-see anyways. It was in this town that the Spanish reconquest of Spain started. You see, from 711-1492 the Arabic people invaded and had control over almost all of Spain. It was in this town that the reconquest of the country started with a dude named Pelayo. (Funny thing is, it took the Arabs only 4 or 5 years to conquer all of Spain, whereas it took the Spanish from 718-1492 to get it back.)

A really old lion in a really old town.

It was then that spontaneity took over. I opened the guidebook and decided we should stop by the city of three lies: Santillana del Mar. Why the three lies? It's name itself screams deception. The city is not particularly holy (santi), flat (llana) or on the sea (mar). (Yes I stole that from Lonely Planet but I thought it was funny.) The pueblo was absolutely precious. Medieval to the max. We stayed in a medieval hotel with medieval walls, windows and heating system (aka, coooold). We wandered around in awe of the city and then visited the biggest local attraction: a REPLICA of the caves where the first drawings by man were discovered. Well, that was quite a waste of time as it was a plastic rock with chalk drawings and extremely inaccurate and deceiving videos to accompany the fake cave...

Santander pre-sunset

Then there was Santander. I swear everything in the North of Spain is precious. I just can't stop saying how beautiful it is, so I'll let the pictures attempt to do justice to our stroll and take-out Chino meal on the sea...

Santander post-sunset

A night and a day of wandering in Bilbao brought Jenny and I to our flight to Dusseldorf....

To be continued...