Alright, I ended up in Barcelona.
Let me catch you up with the remainder of Toulouse before I get carried away.
The morning my father left, I went to Carrcasone with some of his associates. Carrcasone (possibly misspelt) is famous for having a fully preserved medieval castle and city walls. It was magical, the entire thing seemed entirely too epic to be real. It was though, 900 years old and still standing thanks to the marvels of modern restoration. I am not sure how much of the structure is original, but it doesn´t matter to me too much, the whole thing looked great.
While waiting for the french language tour to begin (on which I was to attend) I met a Canadian foreign exchange student studying in Toulouse named Jessica. We ate lunch together and toured the castle, and then made plans to meet up later. Unfortunately, I would have to break these plans and postpone them until the following day, because I was staying with a family known to my father through work, and their house was a two hour walk from Toulouse, which at the time was well below freezing with the wind chill. Surprisingly enough.
The family I was staying with were consummate hosts and excellent cooks. I asked if I was the first strange guest they had invited into their home and they told me that I was. The wife had prepared a wonderful french dinner composed of beef stew and and caramel covered cherry tomatoes. I was to sleep there two nights. I think I made a pretty good impression, because they enthusiastically invited me back for a future visit. I am thinking about taking them up on it, because their meals were divine (Norwegian smoked salmon, pound cake and gingerbread ice cream)
About my day with Jessica. We met early Sunday morning, and went to the large weekly flea market. They had a generous selection of french language comic books, and over a dozen assorted Radiohead bootlegs. I bought one, and it is pretty awesome. I needed to after having their Washington concert cancelled in August. After the flea market, I had lunch in her dorm, where I met her friend from down the hall. Her friend was also a foreign exchange student from Canada, but the one thing that I noticed right away about her, was that she was blind. I have racked my memory trying to think if I have ever met a blind person, and though I might have, I certainly have never had lunch with one. A couple of things stuck out about her in my mind. First, when we were talking about something or something that happened, she would nod knowingly and say "Oh, I see". Please don´t think that I am trying to mine this for humor, this is what she really said. Later during lunch, the discussion drifted toward the arrangement and decoration of Jessica´s dorm room. Jessica´s friend had very interesting things to say. She said that despite Jessica´s feelings toward the contrary, that she had a wonderfully decorated room, and that she would do well to decorate her room in a similar fashion. She spoke of her room having a "residence feel" and how she wanted to get posters to liven it up. Lunch ended and we said goodbye to Jessica´s friend and ventured out into the cold afternoon.
List of things: Canal walk, photo exhibition, goodbyes, and a solo visit to a local modern art gallery to see a temporary exposition by a famous Japanese artist whose name I cannot recall. The art was great though, it was infused with a real sense of whimsy and longing for the infinite.
Alright, now about my journey to Barcelona.
I was driven to the train station this morning at 6:45 in hopes of making the 7:10 train toward Barcelona. That dream was quickly smashed by the counter attendant when she told me in stern french that the connection I needed halfway between Toulouse and Barcelona was completely full. Major bummer. She did however say that there would be a train in an hour, that could get me to Barcelona, and it would only take an additional hour. My other option was to wait around till four in the afternoon for the next train. The second train sounded alright to me, so I bought the new Rolling Stone (Bob Dylan on the cover, photo by Herb Ritts), and boarded the train. This was to be the biggest mistake of my entire journey thus far... (feeling of melodrama)
Somewhere along the way, in the mountains, and surrounded by snow, our train stopped breathing or had a heart attack or something, but for whatever reason it was not moving. I was getting hungry too, and my next connection was only 20 minutes away. You can guess that that connection was missed, but luckily we only had to sit there for an hour or so. Our train was then revived and we pulled (albeit slowly) into the train station. At this point it was "Everyone off the train" it was the beginning of my adventures with buses.
I boarded the bus at the train station, thinking that it would take me to my destination, where I could get back on the train to Barcelona. If only it could have been so easy. The train drove for an hour, and arrived in Andorra, which as you may or may not know is a small sovereign nation between France and Spain. Once in Andorra, I was starved so I ate. Omelette and frites.
Then the waiting started. First I was told it would only be twenty minutes, and then an hour. A full hour and a half rolled by, and I am waiting, in the snow thinking that God had forsaken me to live in this mountainous region for the rest of my days, and the bus rolls up. Heated too, which was a definite plus. The bus then snakes around the terrain, up and down the rocks for about an hour, before I arrive in Andorra Central. Once there, it wasn´t difficult to find the bus station that would take me to Barcelona, and ultimately the last leg of my long journey, at this point almost 10 hours on what should have been a 4.5 hour trip.
I did have to wait around for an hour before the bus to Barcelona departed, and the bus ride itself was 5 hours long, so for those of you following at home, that would bring the entire journey to 15 hours. The bus ride itself was uneventful save for the one moment where I thought I would actually commit vehicular homicide. Not with the bus, but rather on it.
It was because the sole other person on the bus, a curly hair and portly woman in her late twenties thought it a perfect time to test all of the rings on her Nokia. I heard all the varieties, from pulse to tone, from Cheers to Mozart, and back again. For 15 minutes the ringing would not stop. It was at this point that I decided to say something, and this is what I said, in Spanish, or close enough to it.
"Hey! This is not the time or the place to play with your phone. I was sleeping. I know I am the only person on the bus, but I still need to be respected!" She quickly apologized, I pondered forgiving her, which I eventually did and tried sleeping again.
The two pleasant surprises from the whole trip was the I was the only person (ring chick since gone) on the bus into Barcelona, so I asked the bus driver (in Spanish) if he would drop me off in the city center, to which he agreed. And the hostel was not full. Thank God.
I am able to write this lengthy message because I am at an easyeverything internet cafe with english style keyboards and rock bottom prices. It works out to be about twenty five cents per hour. Yeah!
Hope everything there is alright.
Let me catch you up with the remainder of Toulouse before I get carried away.
The morning my father left, I went to Carrcasone with some of his associates. Carrcasone (possibly misspelt) is famous for having a fully preserved medieval castle and city walls. It was magical, the entire thing seemed entirely too epic to be real. It was though, 900 years old and still standing thanks to the marvels of modern restoration. I am not sure how much of the structure is original, but it doesn´t matter to me too much, the whole thing looked great.
While waiting for the french language tour to begin (on which I was to attend) I met a Canadian foreign exchange student studying in Toulouse named Jessica. We ate lunch together and toured the castle, and then made plans to meet up later. Unfortunately, I would have to break these plans and postpone them until the following day, because I was staying with a family known to my father through work, and their house was a two hour walk from Toulouse, which at the time was well below freezing with the wind chill. Surprisingly enough.
The family I was staying with were consummate hosts and excellent cooks. I asked if I was the first strange guest they had invited into their home and they told me that I was. The wife had prepared a wonderful french dinner composed of beef stew and and caramel covered cherry tomatoes. I was to sleep there two nights. I think I made a pretty good impression, because they enthusiastically invited me back for a future visit. I am thinking about taking them up on it, because their meals were divine (Norwegian smoked salmon, pound cake and gingerbread ice cream)
About my day with Jessica. We met early Sunday morning, and went to the large weekly flea market. They had a generous selection of french language comic books, and over a dozen assorted Radiohead bootlegs. I bought one, and it is pretty awesome. I needed to after having their Washington concert cancelled in August. After the flea market, I had lunch in her dorm, where I met her friend from down the hall. Her friend was also a foreign exchange student from Canada, but the one thing that I noticed right away about her, was that she was blind. I have racked my memory trying to think if I have ever met a blind person, and though I might have, I certainly have never had lunch with one. A couple of things stuck out about her in my mind. First, when we were talking about something or something that happened, she would nod knowingly and say "Oh, I see". Please don´t think that I am trying to mine this for humor, this is what she really said. Later during lunch, the discussion drifted toward the arrangement and decoration of Jessica´s dorm room. Jessica´s friend had very interesting things to say. She said that despite Jessica´s feelings toward the contrary, that she had a wonderfully decorated room, and that she would do well to decorate her room in a similar fashion. She spoke of her room having a "residence feel" and how she wanted to get posters to liven it up. Lunch ended and we said goodbye to Jessica´s friend and ventured out into the cold afternoon.
List of things: Canal walk, photo exhibition, goodbyes, and a solo visit to a local modern art gallery to see a temporary exposition by a famous Japanese artist whose name I cannot recall. The art was great though, it was infused with a real sense of whimsy and longing for the infinite.
Alright, now about my journey to Barcelona.
I was driven to the train station this morning at 6:45 in hopes of making the 7:10 train toward Barcelona. That dream was quickly smashed by the counter attendant when she told me in stern french that the connection I needed halfway between Toulouse and Barcelona was completely full. Major bummer. She did however say that there would be a train in an hour, that could get me to Barcelona, and it would only take an additional hour. My other option was to wait around till four in the afternoon for the next train. The second train sounded alright to me, so I bought the new Rolling Stone (Bob Dylan on the cover, photo by Herb Ritts), and boarded the train. This was to be the biggest mistake of my entire journey thus far... (feeling of melodrama)
Somewhere along the way, in the mountains, and surrounded by snow, our train stopped breathing or had a heart attack or something, but for whatever reason it was not moving. I was getting hungry too, and my next connection was only 20 minutes away. You can guess that that connection was missed, but luckily we only had to sit there for an hour or so. Our train was then revived and we pulled (albeit slowly) into the train station. At this point it was "Everyone off the train" it was the beginning of my adventures with buses.
I boarded the bus at the train station, thinking that it would take me to my destination, where I could get back on the train to Barcelona. If only it could have been so easy. The train drove for an hour, and arrived in Andorra, which as you may or may not know is a small sovereign nation between France and Spain. Once in Andorra, I was starved so I ate. Omelette and frites.
Then the waiting started. First I was told it would only be twenty minutes, and then an hour. A full hour and a half rolled by, and I am waiting, in the snow thinking that God had forsaken me to live in this mountainous region for the rest of my days, and the bus rolls up. Heated too, which was a definite plus. The bus then snakes around the terrain, up and down the rocks for about an hour, before I arrive in Andorra Central. Once there, it wasn´t difficult to find the bus station that would take me to Barcelona, and ultimately the last leg of my long journey, at this point almost 10 hours on what should have been a 4.5 hour trip.
I did have to wait around for an hour before the bus to Barcelona departed, and the bus ride itself was 5 hours long, so for those of you following at home, that would bring the entire journey to 15 hours. The bus ride itself was uneventful save for the one moment where I thought I would actually commit vehicular homicide. Not with the bus, but rather on it.
It was because the sole other person on the bus, a curly hair and portly woman in her late twenties thought it a perfect time to test all of the rings on her Nokia. I heard all the varieties, from pulse to tone, from Cheers to Mozart, and back again. For 15 minutes the ringing would not stop. It was at this point that I decided to say something, and this is what I said, in Spanish, or close enough to it.
"Hey! This is not the time or the place to play with your phone. I was sleeping. I know I am the only person on the bus, but I still need to be respected!" She quickly apologized, I pondered forgiving her, which I eventually did and tried sleeping again.
The two pleasant surprises from the whole trip was the I was the only person (ring chick since gone) on the bus into Barcelona, so I asked the bus driver (in Spanish) if he would drop me off in the city center, to which he agreed. And the hostel was not full. Thank God.
I am able to write this lengthy message because I am at an easyeverything internet cafe with english style keyboards and rock bottom prices. It works out to be about twenty five cents per hour. Yeah!
Hope everything there is alright.
