proper british tea & eh

yeah, yeah, i know. i have failed you. but i have excuses.

i'm now in the UK. it's cold. i went from the sevilla heatwave to london freeze and it's made me a bit ill. but of course, with my travelling wisdom, i figured i could knock it out with a fair amount of whiskey and beer cuz, you know, that's how they do it here.

turns out i'm wrong about all that and thus i'm still on the mend. i owe some stories from my past adventures (marrakech, sevilla, cadiz, granada, and here) but those will have to wait til i fix my lungs and gather my thoughts and have some more fish n chips, eh? probably not going to give you any of those goodies til i'm back on u.s. soil. or maybe i will hold out entirely and have you schedule a time slot with me to chat about anecdotes and drama from the road so i can keep myself too busy to actually look for any legitimate occupation. to me, this sounds like a divine plan. to you as well? great.

today i will escape the couch to eat some soup and then tonight probably going to a play. tomorrow off to madrid (where i hear the weather has cooled significantly from my experience in august but will still be a warm welcome--pun intended--after londontown). next tuesday i will be touching down in socal and am dreading the culture shock and realization that my seemingly endless adventure has come to a harsh end.

see ya soon, americanos.

brief transmission from the lost soul of california

hola.

backpacker slacker here. my frequency has continued to dwindle, for which i have much regret, but the road keeps me muy ocupada. i now have a stack of days for which i owe you reflections: marrakech, sevilla, and cadiz. i am working on this in my mind and will report back when the time presents itself to me. in the interim, please know i am alive, well(ish), tired (as always is the traveller), each day finding new things both to love and scoff, and dreading the return to u.s. soil (no offense).

keep doing interesting things, tales of which i shall look forward to. (embellishment is never frowned upon.)

besos.

a tisket, a tasket, watch me as i basque-it

it's been a minute since i saw you last, but i always say this. so thanks for coming back around. i understand that we both have our own lives to navigate and govern, but knowing that we can reconvene to touch base (too business-vernacular-y for this venue?) is something that brings me a great deal of comfort. like discount birkenstocks. (heyo!)

almost two weeks ago saturday (yes, it's taken me a long time to finally write this), i packed up my life once again, bid adieu to "petit blaumari" (the barca barco, aka my former abode by the sea), and hurriedly schlepped and sweat my way to the train station with my eyes on the prize to the north. i made it on the train with no more than about three minutes to spare (my late grandfather, connoisseur of trains, travel, and all things punctual, would have cursed me--in the way only he could, which was both frightening and charmingly humorous--a thousand times for this indiscretion) and i schlumped (i am going to squeeze in as many quasi-yiddish words in here as i can) into my seat, patted my brow with the train schmata they call paper towels, and b r e a t h e d. i had with me a bag of food (my standard: crackers, cheese, jamon serrano, apple) and an ipod to help the six-hour journey along. much to my surprise, they decided to show a movie. i got lucky (do i have to tell you when i am slathering the sarcasm or can you pick up on it?) with their selection of "confessions of a shopaholic" or rather "loco por las compras" because, oh yes, it was in spanish. somehow, a movie i had less than zero interest in watching became a challenge i was definitely up for. the movie was not my style, but getting the gist of it was. the six hours passed so quickly; nothing like the equivalent time on a plane. i am such a fan of the traversing the tracks.

i arrived in san sebastian at around 10:30 in the evening and awaited my next couchsurfing host. asier retrieved me from the station and took me to drop off my things at his very clean, comfortable, and modern apartment. we then went out to the parte vieja (old town) to have a drink and walk around. a few standard basque beverages are kalimotxo (red wine mixed with coke--a drink beloved by the youths), txakoli (a dry white wine typical of the region), and sidra (a local cider). the clubs are all packed with people of all ages and walks. asier informs me that there was a french rugby match during the day and thus many drunk frenchmen would be roaming the streets in the aftermath. at one bar we visited, we had the pleasure of seeing a middle-aged frenchy drop his pants in the middle of the bar--a reminder that alcohol is a true equalizer across cultures. amen. as we roamed the packed and chaotic streets, we popped into the occasional bar for one drink to check the people, the music, the scene. when i noted that one guy was exceptionally tall, asier informed me that he plays for the basque team. but i wouldn't know him, they're not very good. after a bit of this, we headed back to the house to get a little sleep in and gear up for tomorrow, which was gonna be a big one.

sunday morning in san sebastian. for a town so quaint and seemingly perfect, this was the beginning of absolute mayhem that would be matched only a couple other times during the calendar year. asier and i got up and out, met his friends who took the train in from pamplona, and we all went to a packed bar for a heavy breakfast to line the stomach (fried eggs, fried ham, fried potatoes, bread) and sipped some txakoli. drinking wine with breakfast at 11:00 am was a new one for me, but hey, i'm trying to be authentic here. from our table, we stretched out necks to see the regatta (boat race) on tv--each region had their own team competing, and thus their own color, and the bar clientele were segregated and delineated by the color of their shirts. each blob of color would be cheering for their team and, after the races were done, we head out to run amok in the chaos. it seemed that all inhabitants of the area, of all ages, were lining the old town streets. all bars were open, packed with drunkards or soon-to-be's, music was playing loudly, people were scarfing calamari sandwiches like a wolf devours its prey. i had fun hanging with the pack of boys; speaking nothing but spanish all day propelled me into a new bracket of conversation and comprehension. within the first 30 minutes, i gave them all nicknames too: asier was besucon for always making a kissy face, the super tall guy was alto (i know, not very creative), another was fantasma because i thought the image on his shirt resembled a ghost, one was rosita because of his pinkish abercrombie polo (FAIL!), one was joven meaning "young", because he was always drinking kalimotxo, and lastly i called ruben criminal because he snagged a cocktail and glass from one bar and took it to the next. the rest of the day needs no explanation, but it was long and draining. at around 5:00 pm i was ready to be done, and the streets looked like the receptacle of a port-a-potty. i was looking forward to seeing how much clean-up could be done overnight. the night was pure lounging at the pad with asier, watching spanish tv shows such as "sin tetas no hay paraiso" aka "without tits there is no paradise". really, this is the name of it. i kid you not.

the next day, i set out into town to see how the clean-up had gone down. the walk from asier's neighborhood into old town requires a stroll along the river and then the crossing of a bridge. whether it's sunny or raining, this is a beautiful place to be. the hotel maria cristina, which sits on the river, is the poshest hotel where all the celebs stay, and was currently anticipating the arrival of brad pitt, among others, for the film festival approaching that weekend. i arrived in old town and decided to take a walk along the beach to the other side. while walking i overheard some english and asked two girls where they were from. i discovered they were new zealanders and we walked and talked for about 15 minutes, then parted ways. i went to the end of the walkway along the beach and to a funicular which takes you to the top of this mountain. the view from above is nothing unlike a postcard. seeing it for even a moment is enough to convince you you want to see this view every morning of your life in order to achieve nirvana. or something. i soaked it up, took a few photos (they're on facebook, people), and head back to old town to eat some pintxos.

the way of eating in this town is unlike most experiences i've had. you walk down a street and can pop into any number of places that have little bites of food on platters across the bar. you take what you want, tell them what you had, and they tell you what you owe. some places have a few tables to provide the option to sit, but they seemed to only be utilized by tourist families. as far as i was concerned, it was standing room only. the best part about this experience is you are not committed; you walk in, have one pintxo (bread with jamon, membrillo [quince paste], and cheese, for example, or piquillo peppers stuffed with tuna, and the list goes on) pay the 1.80 or 2.50 euro and keep moving. it's a pub crawl, but instead of taking you from sober to drunk, it takes you from hungry to full. all the while exercising!

i head back to the apt to chill for a bit and in the evening i met up with alex, a chef and fellow san franciscan, who was in the midst of a bit of a culinary tour. we went to the local supermarket to buy some food for dinner. he was staying in a hostel with a couple drunk irishmen, a girl from canada, and a girl from ohio. i invited asier over to join as well, and we all went to town on a roasted chicken (that alex had the pleasure of decapitating) and rice with white beans, chistorra (basque chorizo), peppers, onions, tomatoes, and chicken stock (that alex made from the excess parts of the pollo). after hanging out, eating, and drinking some wine, we all took a stroll down the street to get some gelato and i met some more young irish surfers who were passing through and had a chat.

ok, so i don't really intend to bog you down with the daily play-by-play so i will say that most of my days were similar, with a few variations. one day i met up with the exchange student that came to stay with my family last year, and then javi, another guy from couchsurfing, picked me up and took me for a day trip to his town of hondarribia, about 20 km to the north, near france. it's an amazing little fishing town with lots of history and old streets. he took me to a historic castle/hotel where we had a coffee and then we walked to the harbor where the big fishing boats are and you can see across the water where france's boats sit. i could almost throw a paper airplane over to another country! too bad i'm not very good at making them. after a few traditional pintxos, i hopped a bus back to san sebastian and was greeted by a crazy downpour. i, of course, had no umbrella (ella, ella, ay), so i ran into a chinese store (apparently this nis totally acceptable to say) and bought one, then journeyed to alex's hostel to meet him and asier for some dinner.

the next day the weather was a bit cold, but i walked around, and then later arrived another couchsurfer with whom i would share asier. she was from a maltese family in australia, spoke no spanish, and was travelling all over, a different country every couple days it seemed. within a few days, i felt like i knew the place pretty well, so between me (with the visitor's perspective and the fluent english) and asier (with the local's perspective and the gradually improving english), we took her for a walk around and then started hitting up a few pintxo spots. we saved the best for last, and thankfully, because to cap off the night, asier took us to a place called cuchara (spoon), where we had foie, beef cheek, and some kind of gland. all were so rich and prety-ty, pret-ty good. it was a good note on which to end my basque stay.

the next day was my last. i went adventuring with the aussie while asier was at work, and then he took me to the train station to depart. there was some trouble with the train (a fire on the track, perhaps? clearly i need to beef up on my "transportation emergency" vocab) so we stalled at the station, awaiting an update. while standing there, i met a young guy, fellow english-speaker--another aussie on a long journey around europe. we became buds and, when the bus arrived (with no explanation of how far it was taking us), we got on with forty senior citizens, passed notes to pass the time, and struggled to maintain composure as we both badly had to "hang a piss". two hours later we arrived at a train station that was to take us straight to barcelona. and so was the end of my san sebastime.

overall, a few reflections after the fact:
how does one attempt to explain san sebastian as a whole? it's quite possibly not a real entity. it is an idyllic illusion that has been created out of holograms and wine. it's a dichotomy of the trust sort: extremely complex and conflicted while also intensely and effortlessly like paradise. the basque people consider themselves autonomous and unique--not french, and not quite spanish. sort of the anti-venn diagram, as the overlap of the countries has created something that doesnt quite belong to or relate to either. walking through parte vieja, you'll stroll one street where ETA (euskadi ta askatasuna or basque homeland and freedom) prisoners' headshots dress the building walls, and then turn the corner and see an inviting pasteleria and a distant view of the peaceful coastline and thirst-quenching ocean. jux-ta-pose.

unrelated but also noteworthy was my observation that the older women of san sebastian are perhaps some of the most fashionable over-fifty that i have ever encountered. always to the nines with their chic attire, hair and makeup, but not in the beverly hills sort of way. here they take pride in their look, and they rock it well. since i was out walking during the weekdays when most in my demographic are learning, teaching, or hustling, i saw a great deal of-- what seemed to be--retirees. the way i saw the these people (women and men alike) walking along the beach with their style and apparent contentment restored my faith in aging just a bit. granted, this is most likely the lifestyle made possible by a great deal of funding, but to know it is possible, at age 78, to be savoring the day, sporting a bikini, strolling in a pack with your friends of forty years, took the slightest edge off my typical cynicism.

lastly, a few trends that persist: lip piercings (1 in 5 under 30!), the extreme mullet (military in the front, guns n' roses/tina turner/bob marley in the back), and, i must note, the gladiator sandals over pants because, i was the only one to rock this in the states and people thought i was weird. it is everywhere here, and doesn't mean i'm not weird. but, ya know, i'm just sayin.

and with that, if i still have your attention after what has possibly been the longest-awaited and lengthiest image-free update, i will bid you farewell from barcelona, where i feel like i live now, know the city so well, and will be weeping tears of sangria when i leave on tuesday for marrakesh. i shall now embark on day two of the catalonian festival of festivals, la merce!

H A S T A

yes, i'm still breathing (smoke)

hello, readers of the lost blog.

i am now back in barcelona, crafting an update from san sebastian. it is my sincere hope that, upon its completion, you will not be disappointed. but hey, there is only so much i can do. and admit it--sometimes you are so hard to please.

promise me this: once in a while you will eat, drink, and live--wherever you are--like you're on vacation.

be well and stay tuned...

b is for bocadillo

oh-la.

as you know, i am in barcelona. land of los lisps and las ramblas. i am trying to sort out my travel plans--no shortage of curve balls being thrown but i will always prevail. i am currently staying with new-friend-shannon (whom i know through a mutual friend in SF) but moving myself to a couchsurfer's BOAT today, where i will stay for the next night or two. sounds crazy, no? hey, this is what i do.

i have concluded that, for the time being, i'm going to omit photos from the blog because it has become a huge dolor en mi culo, if you know what i mean. photos are being hand-picked and posted to facebook. and if you are reading this and not yet on facebook, i'm not sure what you're waiting for. how has my dad not convinced you to join by now?

so neil and his BFF are coming to barcelona tomorrow to hang out and celebrate his bday so i plan to meet up with them for lunch and bebidas. i do enjoy some alone time, but most of my days have been solo missions all along as my hosts are typically working 9-5s or 10-8s or the like. (working? ugh, i forgot it is an obligation of real life that i will need to confront eventually/soon when my well dries up.) having some companionship during the sunlight will be a welcome change, if even if just for one day.

last weekend i got to hang with a few random connections from the states--patrick, erin, dimitra. it's odd but wonderful how many people happen to be here at the same time. i had fun trying to get erin (farm girl from illinois-turned-SFer) to eat varied canned fish products. i am cruel, but all in the name of "adventurousness", and she didn't fare so badly. i also pulled a major macguyver move trying to open a rectangular can of piquillo peppers that had no means of opening. the peppers tasted like sweet, smokey victory.

i have been walking like a maniac. (do maniacs walk or do they just roam, loaf, sway, wait to attack?) i have a metro pass but every time i am about to get on i think, i could just walk it, right? and then i do. it's so much better to see the route in front of you. when you're underground, you have no real sense of where you are and miss out on all the surroundings. down there all you get is hot air, stank, vagrants, and fluorescent lighting.

i am plotting an excursion to san sebastian. i hear the food is delectable, but pricey. what will i give up so that i can eat well? i am already lodging for free so what else is there? i don't smoke so i can't quit that. this is when a long list of vices would really come in handy. it's about a 6 hour train ride there and i seem to have aligned a couple couches/company for a few days. each place i come to, i fantasize about living. i wonder how the basque region will rank. how would i ever choose between all of these desirable spots on the map? it's like showing me filet mignon, a burger, and a carne asada burrito and telling me to choose.

when living in budget mode, most things need to be purchased with the currency of time and experience in place of money. it becomes a challenge to fill an entire day, to feel like i'm fully savoring and soaking the place and its life, but without leaving a trail of euros behind me. window shopping gets old after a while (i do buy things, but they're typically a few euro each--a trend which will be tapering off as the sale season allegedly shuts down until next year), and food and drink come with a high price if you go for the renowned places, the creme de la manchego. i have been buying many meals and snacks at supermarkets but i am tiring of different combinations of bread + meat + cheese. and i end up eating something every couple hours because so much about being in a foreign land are the new and exciting consumables, coupled with the fact that i have nothing else to do and nothing but time to kill. so much centers around food and bev, doesnt it? coffee and pastry, then talk about where to eat lunch, then have a gelato, then a drink, and then talk about where to have dinner. thank dios for spandex, right?

on that note, however, i am going to leave this cafe where i have planted my ass for what i now learn is three hours (!) and walk around, not spending, not eating, until i just can't hold it any longer.

and then i let loose.

too bad i can't nourish all the world's starving child with boxed red wine, because it's 50 cents at the store and i would feel so good about myself. drunk homeless babies--i think that's the answer to all our problems.

until the next time... b e s o s.

it's true, i heart portugal

to catch up my immense following (aka about 3-5 people, most of which are obligated out of familial relation or so bored with reading about the economy that they have no other op-ed entertainment options) on the week i've just spent in portugal is quite a daunting task so i am defaulting to recounting random moments that have transpired since i left madrid for the exotic coast of big butts (cu) and bacalhau (cod).

lisbon, oh, lisbon. what a beautiful city you are. i arrived in the evening, so my first view of the skyline, streets, arches, and cafes was aided by a magnificent illumination. the roofs and the river, reflecting the moon and the modern light bulbs in ancient fixtures. met up with my first couchsurf host, sergio, who you've already heard about, got situated, drank some vinho verde, ate some rice and seafood (aka portuguese paella, more or less), and headed downtown to a couchsurf event in the alfama area. on our way, we grabbed a pastel de nata which portugal is famous for--pastry shell filled with some kind of egg custard that is heavenly. we got to the meet-up and, at first i was just chilling with sergio as an observer, as everyone seemed to know each other, but within minutes i was schmoozing, drinking caipirinhas, dancing with former strangers--some portugese, some imports.

the day that followed (saturday), sergio needed to work so we both left the house early and i had the whole day to kill before meeting back up with him in the evening. i walked around alfama, went in some shops, ate a huge piece of bread stuffed with chorizo and cheese (there are about six pastry shops on each block so it's hard to know which one is most deserving of my business, but i go with my gut) and then took a train out to the beach. i dont know that i've beached solo many times in my life; its an interesting experience. everyone around (adorable children with bellies that stick out, old ladies who wear swim attire much too sexy for their age and shape, etc) is loud and playful, sharing ice cream and laughs, and i am lying there, on my little towel with some uber-american phrase on it, trying not to get sand in my sandwich.

but the beach was stellar. after a week of dry madrid, i needed to see and feel the water. i went to estoril which is just a bit outside of lisbon proper but still within what they call "big lisbon", the equivalent of LA county, i suppose. after a few solid hours of sun, sweat, saltwater, and sunscreen, i headed across the street to walk through a huge park that serves as the front yard for a casino.

though sergio was a gracious host, i felt it was time to switch things up and meet some new people. one guy i had met at the couchsurf event on friday had told me he'd be going to the beach (a different one) on sunday, so i met up with him and a few others there. after some volleyball, sunset, late-night dip in the freezing atlantic, i opted to move my backpack to a new location---ricardo's.

i ended up extending my stay in lisbon to enjoy more of the city and be around for the birthday of a young dutch singer visiting from ibiza. what followed was a lot more of me loving lisbon: train trips, shopping centers too large to comprehend, food and wares so cheap that i couldn't help but consume, a new friend's house in cascais which is essentially part of a resort, live music at night and people standing in the streets with their own booze while a trash truck pushes through the crowd. endless. how about some photos? sure, ok.

after parting ways with lisbon, i took a train ( i love train rides! i do.) up north to porto. i was welcomed by igor, who showed me his huge apartment that he shares with an italian guy and a portuguese girl. we then went for a coffee in a nearby plaza and then went for a quick city tour before he had to go to work.

in the evening, his italian roommate took me along to a dinner party down the road which started around midnight. fun people from all over and delicious food--fried sardines, sauteed mushrooms with bread, cheese and arugula. on our way back to the house it started pouring rain though of course my until-then-unused rain jacket was still at the house as i had not expected such a turn by the two-faced weather. the next day, igor took me for a walk all around town and down to the river, which seems to be the pride of porto, and rightfully so. then i went on a solo mission, found a cute cafe and ordered some lunch (having no idea what the menu items meant, i asked them what was best, they pointed, and i said ok, ill have that). it ended up being rabbit, i think, with a mushroom wine sauce, rice, fries, and salad. all for 3.85E. WTF, score! i cant be too sure, but i think i may have eaten a rabbit penis. this came cheaper than the price of a local (insanely unattractive) street hooker, but not by much. they line the streets in some areas and, the word is, one can be yours (in the biblical sense) for the low, low price of 15E. ill stick with thumper's thumper, thank you.

after that, i did a little quick shopping (a shirt for 2E, a dress for 4E) and then headed to meet nuno, an adorable, young couchsurf connection for a coffee, walk, and a visit to the local supermarket for a 1E bottle of wine. in the evening, the italian cooked up some polenta and meat sauce and we dined with some other international imports, and then went for a walk around town in the drizzle.

all in all, my visit to porto was quick but well worth it. i would certainly go back for more adventures. best to leave me wanting more so, well played, you quaint portuguese town, you.

i am now in the middle of my first full day in barcelona. i am heading to the beach to meet some san francisco friends for some sun before the eventual sporadic rain hits. i am still getting acquainted with this city, but excited to have a lot of time here to do my own exploring before the santa cruz boys invade, though i cant wait for that. because they are crazy. crazy good.

please don't write me off if i don't write soon enough. internet is not a steady resource for me and anyway, if i am inside on the lappy all the time, what will i have to tell you about? i must get out there and run amok.

.love from b a r c e l o n a.

as it turns out, i am still alive

i hope you had a chance to say goodbye to my couchsurf virginity because, ladies and gentlemen, it has left the building. i am still breathing, still eating and drinking. just been running around all day without access to my belongings (the beauty of couchsurfing!) so am catching up on all things life and internet right now. you will all get the juicy details you deserve soon enough but right now i am about to eat a meal of pork and stale bread soup (??? it actually smells really good) that sergio is cooking and then we are heading out on the town. people don't go out here until like 1 or 2, he says. crazy! and apparently john malkovich owns a club here which is kind of a big deal so, yeah, we may go.

so that's the skinny, though there will be more to come when i get a chance--pictures, stories, etc. but please consider that the time during which i was able to throw thorough travelogs with photographic evidence on the net may very well be behind me. the photos may have to come supplementally at another juncture. we'll see how the days progress. all in all, first 30 hours in lisbon are enough to win me over. i have a place in my heart for madrid, but nothing beats the coast; it's a welcome change to have a breeze. went to the beach today. THE BEACH. i am struggling to communicate in portuguese because, although in written form it seems similar to spanish, the pronunciation sounds almost russian to me. my ears/mouth/brain aren't really getting along too well. i am asked a question in the native tongue and i'm sure my face gives off the impression of my having been lobotomized because i just don't get it. i have a few more days to work on it before i'm catapulted into bar-theh-loh-na, where my spanish may not help me too much either. sending good love out to all you faithful readers. thank you for habitually consuming these sheez-its. soon enough, four out of five dentists will recommend them for cavity prevention and general well-being.

o b r i g a d o

the longest short lowdown. or the shortest long update

heyo, friends and foes.

first off, let me set some expectations. there will be no photos in this here bloggy. i gave up plenty of the goods last time, and right now i just don't have it in me. plus, it's not like i have some posh paparazzo equipment with which to capture magical moments so they're really quite boring, no? but regardless, if there are photos worth sharing, they'll surface one of these days--rest assured. have trust in the inner-workings of a gossip rag wannabe puppet master.

secondly, it's 2:00 am and i am--by some miracle of science, or god--a bit tired. it's taken me a good week plus, but i am finally starting to experience weariness. and i think that's a good thing. point is, i plan to keep this short (though i think i always say that and it never happens so you should be used to my lies by now) and give a quick and dirty lowdown on my situation before i let the whirring of the fan serenade me with its sweet, swiveling song.

a few days ago i took a trip to toledo. i do not like toledo. it has history and beautiful ancient architecture, but all i could really see was the money going in and out. as if a little spanish cartoon character (we shall name him pedrito) has euro signs flashing in his eyes. someone took a bucket of paint, the color of which is "tourist", and threw it everywhere. it's like disneyland. or, sadly, venice, italy. the curving cobblestone streets that seem to merge and loop with no rhyme or reason have some endearing qualities, but they are overshadowed by the commercialization of every step i'd take. after four hours or so, i was ready to head back, but i ran into a girl i had seen seen that morning buying a train ticket in madrid and she mentioned that most of the trains back to town were sold out until 9:30 at night. at this point it is about 4:30, scorching hot, and i have dinner plans. i panicked, thinking of what lengths i would go to to get on the 5:30 train. bribery? pull out the fake crying (i have tweezers with me--don't make me use em)? flash the ticket agent? too bad for you, the potentially exotic story ends there because they still had seats available and i was golden. when i got off the metro back in madrid, i could not have been happier. unholy toledo! so glad to be back home.

i'm still in madrid but leaving in the morning for lisbon, portugal. neil & chrissy took off for a weekend trip today so i am here holding down the fort til i leave tomorrow. i spent the day giving myself a minor anxiety attack trying to sort out the transportation and lodging super last minute but, hey, that's how i roll so i should get used to it one of these days. i was in a funk and not in the mood to live my last night solo, so i called up an adorable french-turned-spanish girl that neil and i met out last night at a swank hotel gathering (as she had just emailed me with her digits) and asked if she had dinner plans. nope, libre. so we met up at this fantastically spanish plaza in the city and walked the roving streets covered with tapas bars and guys furiously passing out flyers trying to recruit us to do many things that i didn't understand. just as well. it was great to hang with her again and she made me speak spanish all night, partially because she speaks english at work all day and needs the practice as well, though she has lived here for three years and could totally slay me in battle. a nice night out would've ended more smoothly if the entire metro wasn't under construction at midnight, but alas, i am home now, and feel like i've closed out madrid nicely, though i will return in october to give it another go, when the city has been resuscitated and perhaps takes a slight chill pill, weatherly speaking.

but my anxiety was not for nothing, perhaps, as i have taken a cue from today's madness and started locking things in, gradually. commitment makes me so uneasy (i'm pretty sure i devoted a whole blog to this not so long ago) and thus i have been living by the seat of my pleated shorts (don't worry, despite the classification, they're actually pretty attractive), but before i lose what's left of my mind i feel i need to rid myself of a bit of the chaos and just buy the goddamn flight already. so here's what's in store, loosely: lisbon--porto--barcelona--san sebastian, then i meet up with five--count em--five crazy boys/men (no, not boyz II men, but wouldn't that make for an interesting excursion; they probably wear pleated shorts too. woot woot!) to take on a little southern france action, some more barcelona (end of summer fire festival), and possibly one more mystery destination. after that, i meet up with another set of gents, these ones from my past--my adolescent years, to tackle marrakesh and the south of spain.

so here's the thing: tomorrow is when my adventure really begins. i have thoroughly enjoyed my time at neil & chrissy's and, frankly, become too comfortable. i take the metro alone at midnight (mom, hush), i know all the locals on the block, i can (kind of) understand the menus. it's been a delicious and warm tenure here but i must venture into the wild without the crutches of five star hotel towels and fine wines. au revoir, chateau monnens. time to holla @ lisbon.
couchsurfing, here i come. no joke. sergio (you know him almost as well as i do) is meeting me at the metro at 19:00 tomorrow so, if you never hear from me again, please know that i loved most of you very much and i still don't like pie or U2.

oh pshhh. no direspect to serge. i'll be fine. from emails he sounds enthusiastic and welcoming and all about cycling! and there is a huge couchsurf event in lisbon tomorrow night with live music (including people bringing their own instruments--i have no talent to offer but i like this idea), food and drink, all night long. sergio and i will be making an appearance, and so will the rest of the lisbon couchsurf community. plus, there is a korean journalist coming to stay with us on saturday. (in light of recent events, not entirely shocking to learn a journalist wants to flee korea, but that's for another blog, another time [that i probably won't ever write since politics may very well be where i draw the line on getting dirty with words].)

and with that i say, adios, madrid. peace out, my peoples. let's hit it, lisbon.

if paella were a blog, it would look something like this

¡hola, mi gente! admittedly, my format here is ever-changing. today i bring to you fewer words (or so i thought until i looked at the whole thing and it's probably longer than ever--such is my curse), more photos, a little mish-mashed chronologically but, all in all, relatively legit. i am trying to maintain some communication consistency but, you know, things happen, yada yada yada, and i slack on the posting. bottom line is, i will bring you what i can, when i can. i hope it brings you joy. or pain. as long as i am making a difference in the world. your world.

what follows is a wrap-up of some events of the past few days.

when we left off it was saturday evening and i was headed to el corte ingles (department store/super amazing supermercado). it was starting to cool down, and by cool down i mean it went from 98F to about 89F. but hey, i'll take what i can get.

i walked down a major street that leads me there from neil & chrissy's and it is basically a mellowed out rodeo drive. every bourgie store you can imagine lines the road so it's a pretty glamorous walk--me in my vans and $5 sunglasses passing by the suited-up señoras covered in chanel and class. i get into the store and first check out the ladies' fashion but nothing is cool enough to warrant spending my precious funds or schlepping it on my back for two more months. over it! get me to the food, already.

i go downstairs to the expansive market and i am loving it right away. there are entire sections (consisting of several aisles) dedicated to things as specific as olive oil or chorizo. i decide to pretend i am rachel ray (but less annoying, i hope? please.) and go on a mission to find the most bang for my euro (FYI the exchange rate right now is around 1E = $1.40) first up, a package of fresh green figs for 2E, which is a score compared to how i've seen them priced elsewhere. then i head to the canned fish section (which is massive, obviously) and hunt down a small can of sardines to do homage to my mom who told me she survived on canned sardines and fresh tomatoes when she was here years ago. less than one E. then the meats. ohhh, the meats. i showed you the impressive meatcase the other day (and i know someone is tempted to throw a "that's what (s)he said" in here but i don't think it really works). that stuff can be pricey though. i learned from chrissy & neil that their favorite type of jamon (iberico) is especially expensive because the pigs are fed nothing but acorns. sounds lovely, but i'm looking for a cheaper option and, since my palate is not developed to the point of specific gastronomic preferences, i am down with poor man's ham.

i find what i will refer to as the "dollar bin"--a refrigerated case with nothing but cheap meats and treats. sliced chorizo for 1E, jamon curado for 1E, and then--BINGO--the motherlode. (side note: in confirming my spelling of "motherlode" i came to discover that "the term probably came from a literal translation of the spanish veta madre, a term common in old mexican mining." well, whattayaknow? thanks, wikipedia.) i had been craving cheese as i had not eaten it since arriving here and, apparently, need it for my survival. what i stumbled upon was a mixed nuts package, if you will. mostly non-spanish cheeses but i do not discriminate. as long as it's not americano i am happy as a berberecho (cockle aka salt-water mollusk). manchego to fill the spanish quota (and to make wonger happy, as it it his ultimate favorite), swiss, brie, bleu, and some mysterious orange cheese with a rind that i cannot identify but am pleased with. all of this was 5E. my mind: blown. one more item before my bounty is complete--bread. i walk over to the bakery where this young man stands behind the counter, ready to serve. i ask him all sorts of questions because a) he seems bored so i am doing him a favor and b) i have no idea what the bread names mean. i finally settle on a small baguette and he tells me there are fresh ones coming out of the oven right now. he hooks it up! half a euro and hot hot hot! i take my schwag to the checkout. my total comes to 10E and some change and i am feeling GOOD. and hungry. i get outside, find a bench outside louis vuitton or one of those such places, and have a little snack. my happiness overrides the fact that madrid's upper crust is watching me eat bread like a vagrant. the rest i take back to the house as a small offering for my hosts who, undoubtedly, have been craving cheese too (as any human should, i say). here are the goods (after being picked at, obviously):

that evening, neil took me to the aforementioned and much-hyped "pirates of the caribbean" restaurant. i didn't quite know what he meant by that until we got there. decor was on point--quite the thrown-together, lost-at-sea motif. the place is a pulperia or something to that effect, pulpo being octopus. yes, this is an establishment that puts all their eggs in an eight-tentacled basket. (no, not literally. jeez.) i cant be bothered to know what it's actually called but let me please share a few crucial details of the experience, via photographic evidence. bottom left: pulpo (odd); bottom right: roasted chilies (tasty).

and now, bottom left: an empty bowl; bottom right: a flaming bowl of alcohol and fruit being scooped by a woman with a ladle and a deathwish.

neil and i were sitting adjacent to the table on which they "perform" this ritual (whilst the sounds of a spanish witch are played through the speakers) and considering all the many ways this could go wrong. neil's favorite: a loon could grab the bowl and throw it on the seated patrons and we'd all be covered in third-degree burns. let me tell you this: it is almost worth a visit for the insanity of the whole spectacle, but not so sure if it's worth the pulpo. too bad i don't know the name so you can't go anyway.

on sunday, as i mentioned, madrid is a ghost town, even more so than the other days during august. i suppose some people are out worshipping their lord, but i took advantage of this excuse to be completely lazy, which i rarely do. but before i could become a sloth i had one voyage to take. i started off the morning rather early (after another night of quasinsomnia) with chrissy and we took the metro to the rastro which is an open air flea market of cheapo new goods and antiques alike that covers several curvy cobbly streets. we walked around and scoped out the wares, but didnt buy anything. here are a few examples of the antiques up for grabs and the surroundings:

then, in trend-spotting news, thanks to chrissy (aka vanna white in the photo below), i got a couple photo ops of what we are still seeking the ideal name for. i am thinking "poopy pants", "diaper jumper", or "saggy booty overalls". not a fan. take a look and feel free to make suggestions:

additional trending news: white is white hot. women are loca for white pants and dresses. i wonder if the prevalence of such has a positive impact on the the sales of detergent and bleach (and tampons? too far?)
a few snapshots to prove i have what it takes to be a paparazzo (if it ever comes to that):

also spotted: men with mullets and rat-tails. or a combo, which is pretty much business in the front, party in the back all night long until the break of dawn. i have not yet been able to snap a pic of this but i am working on it. patience, child.

once we returned from the rastro, we spent the rest of the day lounging since the whole city is laying low. we made a great lunch (duh, right?) of whole trouts cooked in rock salt, roasted asparagus & eggplant, papaya, and a fun little cocktail we created with vodka, fresh OJ, gaseosa, and grand marnier. oh, i also prepared some of my figs and bleu cheese with walnuts and honey for a little appeteaser. do this--it will make you happy.

take a peek at neil preparing the fish:

to pass the day, i watched the remainder of the first (and only) season of "party down", with which i am completely obsessed and distraught there is no more to watch. it aired on the starz network but i believe it is available on netflix ("watch instantly" option) for any of you interested. word on the street is that some of the "freaks and geeks" people are behind this show. it is genius. i love.

yesterday i spent much of the day walking through a new area of the neighborhood shopping for food and a few clothing items. some discoveries along the way:

supermarkets have an entire flan section:

proof of the absurdly cheap wine prices:

a leather jacket for 59E!? yes, real:

some scenery i like:

and lastly i'll leave you with some stained glass behind a bar that neil recognized as bearing a striking resemblance to larry david. agreed?

thanks for checking in, my friends. there is always more coming your way. if you can deal. ciao.