I hardly knew ye. I went to sleep at 6:30 am, it being 8:45 right now. Had to post some more pictures in a fit of fury.
May 20: train to Nice.
May 21-May 26: Camping in Corsica.
May 26-May 31: Conference in Prague.
May 31-June 6: Crete
June 6-June 15: Greece with Will
June 15-June 25: Ah, there's the rub, I just donnow...
JUNE 25: COME BACK TO THE STATES FROM PARIS, WHERE IT ALL BEGAN!!!!
Friday, May 20, 2005
Sunday, May 15, 2005
Spring Break (trying to avoid pun of: Spring Break, more like Spriiiiiiiiing Broke, hahahahah..... I'm so alone.)
Thurs April 21st
Trained to Hendaye (last stop before France), then took Euskotren to San Sebastian, remember, this is Spain in name, but really yur ian Basque Kuntry now-uh. YEEEHAAAAAA!
We tapas it up for dinner, rather pinxto it up (Basque), washed down with Txacoli (sparkling white wine), just like Let's Go Europe 2004 tells me to do, damn them, I can never escape.
Go out with Rory and amigas (?) to Molly Malone's, hopping Irish pub, and then a club, with a long and confusing title, on the beach. (All the while intermittent rain throughout).
Fri April 22nd
Juanxto's Bocadillos for lunch, 70 minute bus to Bilbao for 8.5 Euro, en route to the Guggenheim museum there, exhibits of Yves Klein and various Aztec ish, the star is the edifice itself. Frank Gehry wooo!
Cloudburst in Bilbao, we 're talking torrential here, overpriced dinner back in Sebas at La Cueva, damn you LP, I throw the book into the bay.
Sat April 23rd
Here comes the sun, and there go Joel and Dave Minc (with whom I was travelling) scurrying up Jesus mountain, has another name, old castle etc., but what's cuter than a forty foot statue of Jesus standing sentinel over yer city? Gorgeous views though, ye shall see.
Sun April 24th
5-6 Hour Train in Spain, to the capital above the plains, Madrid, we arrive at a very (un)fortunate hour and go to Las Ventas to see the bullfight, it was cloudy with a chance of showers, Spaniards with a chance OF RECLAIMING THEIR HUMANITY BY STOPPING SUCH A SAVAGE AND BARBAROUS CUSTOM OF SACRIFICIAL VIOLENCE.
I'm sorry, what, I just blacked out, oh, the bullfight, it was cool. You know like Hemingway.
Afterwards, we meet up with Mathieu, my Bordeaux host parents' son who's in Madrid. By this point Dave and I, who've had a good run together, are a bit worn down from the fast pace we've been setting
Dinner at « Cuban » restaurant, bedtime.
Mon April 25th
Reina Sofia (home of among other pieces Picasso's Guernica, excellent, then lunch with Zoe, a high school friend of Dave, then the latter and I go our separate ways, he flies off into the sunset to London. Then I bounce from the International Youth United Hostel (Damn Fascists, no just kidding, great place) and head over to Chez Mathieu's, generous guy let's me crash for three nights. Quick dinner of ham and cheese pizza that he prepares, mind you, this is during Passover* (this means look down to the bottom of the post for interesting Passover anecdote). I then meet Andrea Soroko and friend at El Azucar, for salsa lesson and a drink for 8 euros. Obviously I'm in the remedial class, but it was fun. Kind of.
Tues April 26th
Lazy day of laundry, Thyssen Museum (known for breadth of artists and movements, but lacking in individual depth) with Andrea, before that Parc Retiro by meself to decompress. Madrid isn't for me, but it sure was sunny. Attempt and fail to reserve seat to Barcelona, three hour lines.
Wed April 27th
Low point of the trip. Spend all day going back and forth on the metro to the trian station, waiting in hours long lines, getting locked out of Mathieu's apartment while he was at class, huge frustration with Spanish system, it ain't third world, but it definitely ain't France. I repeat, morale is low. No day trip around Madrid to El Escorial, Segovia or Toledo because of transportation woes. THAT BEING SAID, IN THE NIGHT I GO TO A FLAMENCO SHOW, tagging along with the Wash U program, thanks Andrea! 25 Euros, including one drink, really really really cool. It's as if the bullfight and flamenco are symbiotic dances with death, a choreographed exaltation of aficion, each one complementing the oth... Yes yes yes, we get it. Moving on.
Thurs April 28th
Make the most of my delayed departure to Barcelona, and head over to the Prado Museum to sift through the religious iconography, zooming in on El Greco, Goya, and Velasquez. 4:15 pm train to Barcelona, 9 pmish arrival, woohoo Kira's house. Dinner there of Spanish tortilla (Omelette with potatoes and onions), saalty matzah ball soup, we do a little bar happing, then retire early with ice cream and a rental movie.
Friday April 29th
Walking tour, then tanning on the dock, where? Byda beach. Imitate Ritz-Carlton guests as Kira, Megan and I waltz into the Hotel des Arts pool area. Then gelato with Elodie and Francesca, Kira's French roommate and Italia friend, respectively. All of us 'cept Kira know French, 'cept me know Spanish, and we all speak a bit o' English. Super international, really like L'Auberge Espagnole, the film which took place in Barcelona.
Later, dinner at the COOLEST PLACE, La Campaneria, no seats, all chaos, literally I was using my size advantage over the shrimpy Spaniards to bulwark a nook for us against the wall. It's a jungle in there. Cheap sandwiches, sausages blood or regular, all sorts of others. Ya can't order drinks, but if you order sandwiches, enough of which won't exceed 5 Euros/person, the proprietors will make sure you've got as much Champagne as ya need. The place had the whole smarmy fishing village bar thing going on, whatever that means. After a couple bar interlude, we head to Otto Zutz, a cool club. Yes my friends and family, this was spring break. Also on a side note, I'd been to Barcelona once before, and knocked a lot of heavyweight tourist stuff during that visit. Back to playtime.
Saturday April 30th
At 1:30 pm, Kira and I meet Mike Share for Maoz Falaffel on Las Ramblas, schmooze. Then Gaudi's Park Gruell overlooking the city, we wax philosophic and relax on modernista park benches. Next a nap, (I know, life is hard) dinner at El Foc, a fusion Spanish-English place, kinda chic, with aforementioned Megan and Francesca, and Kira's other soon-to-be former roommates, Susanna and Daniel, two smitten Spaniards who are just hilarious, in the laugh at sorta way. Beautiful people. I order a pea, mint, and basil cream soup, then a Pavo (Turkey) Rilleno, wrapped in bacon and an orange-y cheese sauce, and on odd panna cotta thing for desert, plus the bottle o wine I'd brought from Bordeaux. Next we go to this insanely stylish bar, La Tinta Roja, where it is just decadent, like early 20's Paris, with a trapeze hanging, and just every crevice oozing with character. And get this, it's all red!!
Aah, I see, you know what Tinta Roja means. Hmmmmm.
This is awkward.
We then meet back up with Mike at Carpe Diem, another club. When that closes it's off to Catwalk. People are dumb. On the bright side, Mike and I met SEAN ROOKS, former L.A. Laker and Clipper now playing in Spain, cause this club is where the ballahs chillax. Rooks gave us some serious love, asking us our names, what we're doing here, he even saved his cell number on Mike's phone, told him to call him to get some tickets or just to hang out. He LOOOves L.A. People. He relishes the Lakers' demise, maybe a wee bit bitter, no title for you! It was just that kind of night. Before leaving the club, Mike and I had the swell idea to find Sean and go say goodbye. After some teary-eyed hugs and hand pounds, we made our way to the exit. And that's how Mike and I befriended a 6 foot 10, 260 pound, 34 year old brutha...
Sunday May 1st
Go to bed at 6:30 am after the night out, then wake up at 9:30 am to catch the lovely 10 hours of train back to Bordeaux. The end. Pictures on the way.
*In San Sebastian, Dave and I had a makeshift seder in our hotel room, thanks for the hagaddah mom. We had matzah, Bordeaux wine, and each other. Twas memorable, made even more so since our room was, no joke, decorated with an Egyptian theme, with tasteful cloth paintings of Pharoah profiles, and hieroglyphics. That and the INQUISITION provided some swell context for our little religious ceremony.
Trained to Hendaye (last stop before France), then took Euskotren to San Sebastian, remember, this is Spain in name, but really yur ian Basque Kuntry now-uh. YEEEHAAAAAA!
We tapas it up for dinner, rather pinxto it up (Basque), washed down with Txacoli (sparkling white wine), just like Let's Go Europe 2004 tells me to do, damn them, I can never escape.
Go out with Rory and amigas (?) to Molly Malone's, hopping Irish pub, and then a club, with a long and confusing title, on the beach. (All the while intermittent rain throughout).
Fri April 22nd
Juanxto's Bocadillos for lunch, 70 minute bus to Bilbao for 8.5 Euro, en route to the Guggenheim museum there, exhibits of Yves Klein and various Aztec ish, the star is the edifice itself. Frank Gehry wooo!
Cloudburst in Bilbao, we 're talking torrential here, overpriced dinner back in Sebas at La Cueva, damn you LP, I throw the book into the bay.
Sat April 23rd
Here comes the sun, and there go Joel and Dave Minc (with whom I was travelling) scurrying up Jesus mountain, has another name, old castle etc., but what's cuter than a forty foot statue of Jesus standing sentinel over yer city? Gorgeous views though, ye shall see.
Sun April 24th
5-6 Hour Train in Spain, to the capital above the plains, Madrid, we arrive at a very (un)fortunate hour and go to Las Ventas to see the bullfight, it was cloudy with a chance of showers, Spaniards with a chance OF RECLAIMING THEIR HUMANITY BY STOPPING SUCH A SAVAGE AND BARBAROUS CUSTOM OF SACRIFICIAL VIOLENCE.
I'm sorry, what, I just blacked out, oh, the bullfight, it was cool. You know like Hemingway.
Afterwards, we meet up with Mathieu, my Bordeaux host parents' son who's in Madrid. By this point Dave and I, who've had a good run together, are a bit worn down from the fast pace we've been setting
Dinner at « Cuban » restaurant, bedtime.
Mon April 25th
Reina Sofia (home of among other pieces Picasso's Guernica, excellent, then lunch with Zoe, a high school friend of Dave, then the latter and I go our separate ways, he flies off into the sunset to London. Then I bounce from the International Youth United Hostel (Damn Fascists, no just kidding, great place) and head over to Chez Mathieu's, generous guy let's me crash for three nights. Quick dinner of ham and cheese pizza that he prepares, mind you, this is during Passover* (this means look down to the bottom of the post for interesting Passover anecdote). I then meet Andrea Soroko and friend at El Azucar, for salsa lesson and a drink for 8 euros. Obviously I'm in the remedial class, but it was fun. Kind of.
Tues April 26th
Lazy day of laundry, Thyssen Museum (known for breadth of artists and movements, but lacking in individual depth) with Andrea, before that Parc Retiro by meself to decompress. Madrid isn't for me, but it sure was sunny. Attempt and fail to reserve seat to Barcelona, three hour lines.
Wed April 27th
Low point of the trip. Spend all day going back and forth on the metro to the trian station, waiting in hours long lines, getting locked out of Mathieu's apartment while he was at class, huge frustration with Spanish system, it ain't third world, but it definitely ain't France. I repeat, morale is low. No day trip around Madrid to El Escorial, Segovia or Toledo because of transportation woes. THAT BEING SAID, IN THE NIGHT I GO TO A FLAMENCO SHOW, tagging along with the Wash U program, thanks Andrea! 25 Euros, including one drink, really really really cool. It's as if the bullfight and flamenco are symbiotic dances with death, a choreographed exaltation of aficion, each one complementing the oth... Yes yes yes, we get it. Moving on.
Thurs April 28th
Make the most of my delayed departure to Barcelona, and head over to the Prado Museum to sift through the religious iconography, zooming in on El Greco, Goya, and Velasquez. 4:15 pm train to Barcelona, 9 pmish arrival, woohoo Kira's house. Dinner there of Spanish tortilla (Omelette with potatoes and onions), saalty matzah ball soup, we do a little bar happing, then retire early with ice cream and a rental movie.
Friday April 29th
Walking tour, then tanning on the dock, where? Byda beach. Imitate Ritz-Carlton guests as Kira, Megan and I waltz into the Hotel des Arts pool area. Then gelato with Elodie and Francesca, Kira's French roommate and Italia friend, respectively. All of us 'cept Kira know French, 'cept me know Spanish, and we all speak a bit o' English. Super international, really like L'Auberge Espagnole, the film which took place in Barcelona.
Later, dinner at the COOLEST PLACE, La Campaneria, no seats, all chaos, literally I was using my size advantage over the shrimpy Spaniards to bulwark a nook for us against the wall. It's a jungle in there. Cheap sandwiches, sausages blood or regular, all sorts of others. Ya can't order drinks, but if you order sandwiches, enough of which won't exceed 5 Euros/person, the proprietors will make sure you've got as much Champagne as ya need. The place had the whole smarmy fishing village bar thing going on, whatever that means. After a couple bar interlude, we head to Otto Zutz, a cool club. Yes my friends and family, this was spring break. Also on a side note, I'd been to Barcelona once before, and knocked a lot of heavyweight tourist stuff during that visit. Back to playtime.
Saturday April 30th
At 1:30 pm, Kira and I meet Mike Share for Maoz Falaffel on Las Ramblas, schmooze. Then Gaudi's Park Gruell overlooking the city, we wax philosophic and relax on modernista park benches. Next a nap, (I know, life is hard) dinner at El Foc, a fusion Spanish-English place, kinda chic, with aforementioned Megan and Francesca, and Kira's other soon-to-be former roommates, Susanna and Daniel, two smitten Spaniards who are just hilarious, in the laugh at sorta way. Beautiful people. I order a pea, mint, and basil cream soup, then a Pavo (Turkey) Rilleno, wrapped in bacon and an orange-y cheese sauce, and on odd panna cotta thing for desert, plus the bottle o wine I'd brought from Bordeaux. Next we go to this insanely stylish bar, La Tinta Roja, where it is just decadent, like early 20's Paris, with a trapeze hanging, and just every crevice oozing with character. And get this, it's all red!!
Aah, I see, you know what Tinta Roja means. Hmmmmm.
This is awkward.
We then meet back up with Mike at Carpe Diem, another club. When that closes it's off to Catwalk. People are dumb. On the bright side, Mike and I met SEAN ROOKS, former L.A. Laker and Clipper now playing in Spain, cause this club is where the ballahs chillax. Rooks gave us some serious love, asking us our names, what we're doing here, he even saved his cell number on Mike's phone, told him to call him to get some tickets or just to hang out. He LOOOves L.A. People. He relishes the Lakers' demise, maybe a wee bit bitter, no title for you! It was just that kind of night. Before leaving the club, Mike and I had the swell idea to find Sean and go say goodbye. After some teary-eyed hugs and hand pounds, we made our way to the exit. And that's how Mike and I befriended a 6 foot 10, 260 pound, 34 year old brutha...
Sunday May 1st
Go to bed at 6:30 am after the night out, then wake up at 9:30 am to catch the lovely 10 hours of train back to Bordeaux. The end. Pictures on the way.
*In San Sebastian, Dave and I had a makeshift seder in our hotel room, thanks for the hagaddah mom. We had matzah, Bordeaux wine, and each other. Twas memorable, made even more so since our room was, no joke, decorated with an Egyptian theme, with tasteful cloth paintings of Pharoah profiles, and hieroglyphics. That and the INQUISITION provided some swell context for our little religious ceremony.
Saturday, May 14, 2005
Friday, May 13, 2005
Friday the 13th BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
I leave Bordeaux forever one week from today.
Lots of loose ends to wrap up.
I have been a complete homebody lately, studying, planning trips and housing for next year, summer internships, jobs etc...
When I decided on Wednesday to:
Wake up at 4:00 am to catch a 6:00 am bus to Les Eyzies De-Tayac, 2.5 hours away, in an attempt to enter Les Grottes (Caves) des Font-de-Gaume and Combarelles, each of which normally requires reservations of up to a month in advance.
Obviously neither of these caves is as famous as Lascaux, the «Sistine Chapel of Prehistory», but the two are still open to the public, whereas every inch of the original Lascaux has been duplicated, the copy turned into a theme park.
Font-de-Gaume is the last open cave with polychrome cave paintings, but it's not like you'd expect. These aren't huge caverns where families would pass the time by the fire painting and telling stories of successful hunts or of creation myths. The men, women and children who engraved and painted in these caves had to crawl alone or in pairs, up to 600 meters on all fours, with just oil lamps for light, ending up in obscure crevices that no one else might ever see. Exhibition was not the point. The spiritual journey into the dark damp of the earth was just as important as the finished interpretation of bison, woolly mammoth, cave lions, horses or fertility symbols.
That's why the recreation of Lascaux, with its colors brighter than the original, is a contradiction in terms. Imagine the primordial artist, with the exact same desire for self-expression as you or me.
The flicker of the lamp would bring his creations to life; sinews of shadow would flex and twist against the contours of the grotte's walls...
Lots of loose ends to wrap up.
I have been a complete homebody lately, studying, planning trips and housing for next year, summer internships, jobs etc...
When I decided on Wednesday to:
Wake up at 4:00 am to catch a 6:00 am bus to Les Eyzies De-Tayac, 2.5 hours away, in an attempt to enter Les Grottes (Caves) des Font-de-Gaume and Combarelles, each of which normally requires reservations of up to a month in advance.
Obviously neither of these caves is as famous as Lascaux, the «Sistine Chapel of Prehistory», but the two are still open to the public, whereas every inch of the original Lascaux has been duplicated, the copy turned into a theme park.
Font-de-Gaume is the last open cave with polychrome cave paintings, but it's not like you'd expect. These aren't huge caverns where families would pass the time by the fire painting and telling stories of successful hunts or of creation myths. The men, women and children who engraved and painted in these caves had to crawl alone or in pairs, up to 600 meters on all fours, with just oil lamps for light, ending up in obscure crevices that no one else might ever see. Exhibition was not the point. The spiritual journey into the dark damp of the earth was just as important as the finished interpretation of bison, woolly mammoth, cave lions, horses or fertility symbols.
That's why the recreation of Lascaux, with its colors brighter than the original, is a contradiction in terms. Imagine the primordial artist, with the exact same desire for self-expression as you or me.
The flicker of the lamp would bring his creations to life; sinews of shadow would flex and twist against the contours of the grotte's walls...
Wednesday, May 04, 2005
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