The Eiffel Tower

   I didn't forget to mention the Eiffel Tower in 5 things, I really just didn't have the space to say everything that I wanted to say. I figured I would save this tourist attraction for last, since it was probably the most touristy and uninteresting thing that I did. 
   When I got off the bus (it took me into Paris proper from the Beauvais airport), I went to go meet my tour guide and gracious host, Rob at his university, which was conveniently only a few blocks away from the Eiffel tower. While waiting for him to finish work, I went to check out Paris's iconic statement to the world, and what used to be the world's tallest structure until the Empire State building took it's title.
  Now, the Eiffel tower is on the shorter side of the world's tallest structures, with the Burj in Dubai literally towering over the Eiffel tower, but it is still incredible to say the least. Once you add the fact that it was built in 1891, and see it for yourself, you can't help but be slightly impressed. 

Naturally, I wanted to go up to the top. Isn't that the point of a tower anyway? But there was a massive line for the elevator that wrapped around the tower and might have ended somewhere in the Sein river a few blocks away. 

After waiting in lines for my Visa, planes, and museums, I said "no," and looked for another option. I decided to pay a little bit less and avoid the line by taking the stairs. Little did I know that I was about to embark upon the Parisian version of quad-burning mayhem and a marathon-like test of cardiovascular endurance. So, I plugged in my headphones and played the following song. 

Needless to say, with Survivor's "Eye of the Tiger," blasting into my ear drums, the first 347 steps to the first observation level went relatively quickly. Out of breath, I got to look at the poor bastards waiting in that never-ending, soul-destroying line. So, like a Parisian, I second-hand smoked a few cigarettes, relaxed, and people-watched before making my way from base camp into the more difficult level, observation deck two, where few dare to go.

   No song could prepare me for the next set of stairs. While 347 stairs separate the earth from the first observation deck, 674 steps separate the first observation deck from the second. So, with my quads threatening to give out, and my calves wishing I waited in line, I took off my jacket and started the ascent.

   Somewhere around stair 230-240, the air began to thin, and the altitude started to make me see things. This is a picture of Andres, my sherpa and guide up the tower. I'm still not sure why he kept running away when I tried to ask him for oxygen, isn't that his job?

   In my time here in Europe, I've seen some pretty alright views. This was one of them. Because it was so alright, I decided to stay at the second observation deck. And by decide, I mean that any more stairs would have made me go into cardiac arrest. But, I realized that I might never get the chance to come back to this tower of leg-muscle-inferno, so I got in line to go to the top. Luckily, there was only an elevator to the very top, no more stairs.

   After waiting in line for 15 minutes, I realized that I was in the line for the 'down' elevator. All that work, nearly flushed down the drain. Like I said, the altitude, lack of oxygen, and onset cardiac arrest was doing funny things to my brain. So, I stumbled over to the right elevator, and payed my 5 euro to summit this steel beast.

It's really tall. And upon looking out at the city of Paris, from the top of the eiffel tower, I had yet another epiphany. This song, "Midnight City" by M83 came on, and well, it set the mood for the epiphany.

   Now, there were about 50 people at the top of the Eiffel tower when I got there. Out of those 50 people, I heard somewhere in between 10-15 different languages. Growing up, and in Spain, the most I have ever heard at one time was three, maybe four, which included Spanish, Chinese, English, and maybe Farsi, usually at a Panda Express or Costco. But at the top of that tower, I was awestruck and simply dumbfounded at the amount of languages that I heard, and that these were people from all over the world that had come to see the same tower that I had seen in movies and learned about as a child. Have you ever heard a Portuguese man tell his 9 year old son what the Sein river is? Have you ever seen a Russian couple take a picture for a Korean family without having to say any words? Well, on the top of that tower, I saw just that. It made me realize that this incredible French creation, was something that everyone and anyone could appreciate. You don't need words, or language to appreciate it, just eyes and an open mind. It wasn't just a French creation for French people, but a human creation, for humanity. And even though we fight, disagree, compete and threaten to blow each-other up, we are still human at the very least. On top of that tower, I saw my fellow humans appreciating humanity, and dammit, that was beautiful. There was no competition at the top, no bomb threats as far as I knew, and no racism, or shred of 'cultural superiority.' It was simply a handful of people, from a bunch of different backgrounds, appreciating something form a different culture, thousands of miles away from their respective homes. Like a child upon completing their first macaroni necklace, France says, "Hey guys, look what I made," and we said admiringly, "good job France, good job." This mutual appreciation for culture and people has drifted away in recent years, with the global economic recession, nuclear weapons, war, and ethnic tension among other things sucking the life and enjoyment out of the world. Call me an optimist, or naive, but I'd like to think that it's not too late to bring back this cultural appreciation.  After all, I went from hating the very thought of crepes to slightly enjoying the funny little french pancake in a few hours, so how hard could it be?


Word of the Day: Torre - Tower
El Torre Eiffel tiene una gran vista de Paris. The Eiffel tower has a great view of Paris.

5 things in Paris, France

   Now, before I humbly try and take on the wonderful city of Paris in this blog, I have an important disclaimer; I had only eaten a crepe once before coming to Paris, and frankly, I was rather unimpressed and let down. I concluded that, in reality, a crepe was basically a glorified, poorly-cooked, skinny pancake. Similarly, before Paris, and being the poor college student that I am, I usually avoided food that took over 10 minutes to make and eat,  needed more than one utensil to bridge the gap between plate and mouth, and if I couldn't eat it with my hands or if it wasn't wrapped in a tortilla, well, I would steer clear of that food. Sure, I'd spend a little extra money every once in a while on a sushi buffet, or a good $7 burrito, or go crazy at Trader Joe's and buy some fancy hummus, but my philosophy has pretty much always been, "if the food goes to the same place in the end, why spend the extra time or money?"

   In general, this philosophy kind of applied to my whole life. I've always stressed functionality and practicality over things like style and effort. When it came to quality versus quantity, I usually went for quantity. I wear sweats and flip-flops to class, and I while I know my hair looks great, and is the envy of many, I usually only went to super-cuts to get a hair cut. Now you all know my secret.

   Well, my weekend in Paris slapped my un-refined, simple, California, burrito-boy ways upside the head, and began to replace them with the sophistication, refinement, and appreciation for fine French cuisine and Paris lifestyle that only the Parisian way can teach. So, without further a due, here are my 5 things about Paris, France.

1. French Cuisine

  I love eating wierd food and food in general. In Cádiz I ate a live shrimp. One time on a fishing trip my cousin's grandpa ate a bate fish. Sometimes, my mom even buys 2% milk! Needless to say, I think my love of weird foods and appreciation for gastronomic exploration runs in the family. So, for my trip to Paris, I wanted to dive in head first into legendary French cuisine, and try everything from escargot to beef tar-tar, which I did. French cuisine, in fact, deserves an entry on it's own.

   I'm a big fan of Anthony Bourdain's show, "No Reservations." I've always watched it for the travel aspect of it, and before Paris, I kind of ignored the food side because I figured he went to really expensive restaurants that would cost me a month's rent for an entrée. Well, my friend and guide to Paris, Rob, had me watch the episode about Paris, one of the first episodes of the show. In this episode, Bourdain goes to Paris, and visits a simple, seemingly non-desrcript restaurant called 'Robert et Louise.' To say the least, Bourdain says that this place is incredible, and to my surprise, Rob told me that this restaurant was literally only a few blocks away from his apartment. So we went, and dear god, did I have the meal of a lifetime. 

Sweet, savory, mouth-watering blood-sausage on some bread. I have no words.

Escargot. It was my first time trying it, and it really only tastes like garlic and butter. It's good, and I recommend trying it, but it's not all it's cracked up to be. Just a buttery, garlic, warm slug. Like the one you ate as a toddler in your mom's garden, but warmer, and more refined, and about 8 euros more expensive.

And then they came out with this open-flame-roasted-hunk-of-Anthony-Bourdain recommended meat for my friend and I to split. Over the next 20 minutes, my life would never be the same. It did everything from falling off the bone, melting in my mouth, and changing my life. Again, I have no words. 

This meal, well, it changed my life. 

   From gourmet chocolate to gourmet cheese, from the finest wines to the sweetest cognacs, from escargot to caviar, from filet mignon to beef tar-tar, France literally invented fine dining and modern cuisine as we know it today. Add in a few hundred cigarettes, and you'll quickly realize that France, and French culture shaped the world and what we know today as 'high society.' France invented everything from the appetizer to the croissant, and France's few hundred years at the top of the European cultural ladder helped develop everything from fashion to philosophy. From Voltaire to Louis Vuitton, France set the standard for refinement and sophistication, and Parisians epitomize this. Hot pockets and bagel bites, cereal and potstickers will never satisfy me like they used to. Thanks Paris, you've turned my life in a new direction.

2. Shakespeare and Company

   After World War 1, people were confused. Disillusioned and trying to find a new home, a lot of American ex-pats settled in Europe, because they didn't want to go back to the states. Thus, a lot of people ended up in Paris, with the bohemian Parisian lifestyle being a refreshing change and a point of refuge from the death and destruction of the war. 

   This is the original Shakespeare and Company, a bookstore that offered room and board to aspiring writers who worked there. It is also credited by some to be the birthplace of modern literature, because it was a meeting place for the likes of Ernest Hemingway, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Gertrude Stein, and James Joyce to name a few. In fact, the first owner, Sylvia Beach, published Joyce's legendary work, Ulysses. Later on, the store became a meeting place and foundation for the 'beat generation,' with writers like Allen Ginsberg and William Burroughs meeting there. So I went in, looked around, wished I was as cool as the hipsters who hung out and worked there, and then I bought Dharma Bums, by Jack Kerouac, which a friend had recommended to me earlier, as my souvenier. 

3. The Catacombs

   Deep underneath Paris, in a former quarry, lie the 'Catacombes de Paris', which house the bones of approximately 6,000,000 people. In the late 18th century, Paris's growing population and outbreaks like the plague caused Parisian cemeteries to fill up and overflow, forcing Parisians to move their dead into the empty quarries in what would have probably caused a lot of upheaval from the Catholic church and religious turmoil. After descending a few hundred stairs into what seem to be the pits of hell, you are greeted by a sign that says, "Arrête, c'est ici l'empire de la Mort," which translates to, "Stop, this is the empire of death." If that wasn't creepy enough, the air transforms into a musty, cold, stench, and the ground becomes moist. Rats scurry past your feet and you begin to realize that you are walking into an ossuary, or a giant vault of death. Sounds like the stuff nightmares are made of.

There were literally just rows and rows of bones and skulls. In some areas they made designs out of the bones.

They were real. Don't touch them.

   In retrospect, walking deep underground into a claustrophobic death chamber, and one of the world's most haunted places might have not been the happiest place to go, but without a doubt, it was definitely one of the coolest things I've seen. If I had gotten trapped in there, well, that just would not have been ok.

4. The Louvre and Orsay museums.

Paris is filled with art. Two of the best art museums are the Orsay and the Louvre. We had to squeeze our visits to both museums in one day, and you can't take cameras into the Orsay. But in the Orsay, I saw the impressionist genius of Monet, some Manet, and "Portrait of an Artist," by the legendary Vincent Van Gogh, to name a few. I pretended to know alot more. The Louvre was huge. It's housed in a palace about half the size of my university campus back home. We got lost in the Egypt exhibit, strolled through Roman and Greek sculptures, and saw the Mona Lisa among others. It's small and guarded by a bunch of glass. There is always a crowd in front of it. Sorry Da Vinci, but I was unimpressed. Luckily your Illuminati code and contributions to humanity were more interesting.

5. Wine & Cheese at the Luxembourg Gardens
    On Saturday, we decided to live like a parisian by drinking wine trying some fancy cheese at the luxembourg palace and gardens. It was absolutely delightful.

   Overall, I learned that Parisians really know how to live and enjoy themselves, and I got to take a huge bite of the Parisian lifestyle. From fashion to food, they pretty much have it covered, or at least a gourmet version of it. I had a delicious time, 10/10, and a food coma but for some reason I feel like I'm forgetting to mention something. Maybe I'll remember it later.

Word of the Day: Comida - food
Cuando estaba en Paris, aprendí a apreciar comida de la primera calidad. When I was in Paris, I learned to appreciate food of the finest quality.

   

FCB

   Barcelona and I decided to take a serious step in our relationship today. I finally bought my FCB (Fútbol Club d' Barcelona)  jersey from Camp Nou, along with tickets to the game against FC Sevilla on Saturday night. The act of buying your first jersey and going to see the world's best fútbol team is a right of passage here in Barcelona, and it was bout time I went to a game.

 And of course, I couldn't get just any ordinary jersey, so I got #5, Puyol, team captain and Barcelona's best ironed on the back.

Word of the Day: Ganar - To win 

Esta camiseta se siente como ganando. This jersey feels like winning.

Alcohol & Drinkin'

I can drink here, legally, and it’s about time I address the topic of alcohol and Spanish attitudes towards drinking. I’m not going to try and sugarcoat or censor the amount of alcohol present here in Spain, Barcelona, and Europe in general. It’s everywhere, and in all honesty, saying that the alcohol flows like snowmelt in a spring river would simply be a huge understatement at best. Beer, wine, and hard alcohol, are so easily accessible and readily available that sometimes I have found it more difficult to find water than an alcoholic beverage. One time, in fact, I was at a restaurant where a bottle of water actually cost more than a beer.

            In Cádiz, on our way to school, we would walk past old men drinking beer and wine as early as 10 am, and we were shocked at the way they appeared to have no desire whatsoever to even pretend that it was 5 o’clock somewhere. There is a fully stocked bar in nearly every restaurant and cafeteria, including on my university campus. In fact, every department has their own cafeteria where many students enjoy beer at lunch, or before class. On top of that, while the drinking age is 18, from what I’ve observed, it is certainly not strictly enforced, and drinking outside isn’t usually punished, but encouraged.

            When I first came to Spain and noticed what I misinterpreted as an apparent dependence on alcohol, I asked a few people what they thought about the concept of alcoholism. After asking around, I discovered that the Spanish don’t really have a concept of alcoholism. So, I began to wonder, “Why do they drink so much alcohol?” and more importantly, “Why can’t I just get a nice, tall, glass of chocolate milk?”

Here in Spain, it turns out that alcohol isn’t really for getting drunk. In reality, being obviously drunk is a sure-fire way to be spotted as an American or stick out as a foreigner. It’s not like people don’t get drunk here, but the Spanish don’t usually go drinking with the sole intention of getting smashed. I’ll be honest. As many of you know, college weekends at an American, albeit, Californian university, have programmed college-students like myself to think that alcohol is for getting drunk. If you have alcohol, you drink it, and you drink it to get plastered. Many times, you try and drink it in the quickest, most efficient way possible. Leave it to college students to figure out some pretty clever ways to get plastered. Keg stands, beer bongs, shot guns, shots, drinking games and every other stereotypical college speed-drinking competition gets people drunk. And while you might be with other people, the focus of the situation was never just the people you were with, but the alcohol itself, and in hindsight, it’s almost sad. From what I can remember, I never once sat down and ‘enjoyed a beer’ with someone, because frankly, it’s kind of difficult to enjoy a 30-cent can of piss-water, much less choke it down through any sort of drinking apparatus created by some drunk engineering student.

Here in Spain, alcohol is a social tool, not a social requirement. Think of alcohol as more of a social lubricant rather than the fuel to the collegiate party-mobile. In fact, the slogan for the Catalonian beer, “Xibeca,” is “alcohol ets per compartir” which poignantly translates to “alcohol is for sharing.” Also, the Spanish don’t usually drink the giant mugs of beer like you see in German drinking halls, but “cañas” or small glasses usually accompanied by a meal or a tapa. Spanish alcohol ads don’t tell us to “drink responsibly,” like American advertisements, because apparently, it seems like they just don’t really need that warning. Spaniards have described alcohol to me as an excuse to enjoy time with friends, and to relax, rather than ‘rage’ and get ‘hammered.’ While getting furiously inebriated can be fun, embracing the Spanish way of drinking provides an interesting viewpoint to reflect on American attitudes towards alcohol and alcoholism. Alcohol, here in Spain, and in typical Spanish fashion, is yet another way to strengthen relationships, make friends, and ‘celebrate life.’ As an American college student, and with a 21^st birthday a few months away, this might be one of the more relevant lessons that Spain has taught me so far. And with that said, I’ve realized how well I can write when I’m drunk. Don’t worry mom, I’m just kidding. But seriously, someone sit down and have a beer with me.

Ben and I enjoying Cañas of beer while we wait for our food, back in Cádiz.

Me, and my friend from Cádiz, 'investing' in our friendship. I borrowed that extra beer from a friend for the sole sake of taking a picture, I swear. Unfortunately, I can't speak for my friend, he's just double-fisting the night away.

Word of the Day: Beber - To drink

Mañana voy a Paris, y beberé vino con mi amigo. Tomorrow I'm going to Paris, and I will drink wine with my friend.

Sensation White

    With the hands of my dwindling budget placing a tightening grasp around the neck of my travel plans and suffocating my weekend lifestyle, I've begun to realize that living and studying in Barcelona is not just a vacation, or non-stop party, as many people might think. In fact, some parts of living abroad change things that I once found simple into really difficult tasks. Back in Davis, I could wake up 4 minutes before class, and stroll into the classroom with time to spare. Here in Barcelona, I can barely find classes, it takes about 45 minutes to get to the campus on a good day, and to top it off, classes are taught in Spanish, which is a surprisingly difficult language to understand. Add the fact that I'm the pasty-white foreign kid with a thick accent, combined with how often teachers cancel classes, and how expensive everything is, you can see how things might be slightly different from my cozy college town and Taco Bell dollar menus back in California.
    But then again, I can't complain, and I might very well be a shameless hypocrite. Last night, I went to "Sensation White," where some 10,000 people wear nothing but white to a 'house' concert that stops in various cities in Europe (House is a type of techno for those of you who didn't know). Last night it stopped off in Palau San Jordi, here in Barcelona.

   It was a sight, to say the least. They call it 'an ocean of white' and while you might not be able to see it here, the energy and thousands of snow-white uniforms helped me realize why Europe is the party and techno capital of the world. Just look at those lazers. Or, do yourself a favor and just look at us.

   Now I just have to figure out when I'll wear those white pants again. Did everything stay white? Absolutely not. Will I wear those pants again? Probably not. Did I have a great time? Yeah, it was alright.

Word of the Day: Blanco - White
Llevamos ropa blanca a Sensation. We wore white clothes to Sensation.

5 Things in Granada, Andalucía, España

   There I stood, teetering on the edge of a third story balcony railing, strapped into a safety harness at 5 a.m., getting shouted at by an eccentric Catalunyan director in a language I couldn't understand. My stunt double, Tito, non-chalantly puffed a cigarette while the make-up artist painted his hair blonde, accidentally leaving his eyebrows a dark brown, and his gray 5 o'clock shadow, well, gray. Believe it or not, I was filming the second of two short commercials for the Sitges film festival, where I somehow found myself playing one of two lead roles. The Sitges Film Festival, is a sci-fi, fantasy, and horror film festival, which premiered such films as "The Bourne Identity," "Kill Bill,"and "Aliens," among others. Disregarding my newfound, inflated ego, budding sense of stardom, and need to tell everyone about my 15 seconds of fame, the shooting of this commercial unfortunately caused me to miss my original flight to Granada. I was supposed to leave at 7:30 A.M., and arrive in Granada at 9 a.m. in order to get a full two days in Granada. However, because shooting ran three hours late on Spanish time, the producer changed my flight to later that night and payed the difference. So, this post should be more accurately titled as "5 things in Granada in under 34 hours." I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried. 

   Well, as soon as I stepped out of the Taxi, Granada met my nostrils with a smell of overwhelming comfort and reassurance -- the same type of comfort when you smell a warm, home-cooked meal. The city itself sits in the foothills of the Sierra Nevadas, dripping with Islamic and North African influence, due to it's status as the last Islamic and Moorish stronghold in Spain. With a huge student population and streets sprinkled with cheap tapas bars, Granada blends the slow, traditional Andalusian lifestyle together with the energy and vibrance of student life, cooking up a sweet and savory Spanish city. Obviously, I'm still overwhelmed at how great the food was (at great prices by the way), so I guess I'll start there with Granada's 5 things.


1. Churros con Chocolate. Dear God almighty, these little fluffy, deep-fried golden chunks of heavenly salvation nearly made me cry tears of sugary joy. I'm a big fan of churros, and I eat them pretty frequently at home. In fact, I consider myself somewhat of a Churro-connoisseur, of sorts. Whenever I go to Costco, I always get a hot dog and a churro, and for $2.50 I can get a great lunch and a huge helping of satisfaction. The churro is always my favorite part. But, in true Spanish fashion, they take a great thing and make it better. These crazy guys add a cup of HOT MELTED CHOCOLATE to the already great churro recipe. So, without further a due, I present to you my new favorite food, Churros con chocolate.

2. Tapas, cheap ones, free with the purchase of what usually is a 2-3 euro drink. In Barcelona, most tapas bars are really expensive and kind of a 'tourist trap,' because tapas are native to Andalucía, not Barcelona/Catalunya. Here in Granada however, almost all restaurants give a pretty size-able tapa with the purchase of a beer or glass of sangría, and two of Granada's tapas have the potential of knocking you directly into a food coma. Also, Granada, because it is such an international community, has alot of tapas-fusion restaurants. Check out this delicious fried rice tapa that I ate:

These falafel and pita tapas didn't last long enough to take a picture.

We finished off tapas with some pretty traditional Spanish tapas, called 'croquetas.'

Just when I finished my churros con chocolate, Granada goes and throws all of these tapas at me for the low price of 2 euros a pop. Delicious.

3. Well, Granada is famous for it's huge Islamic and Moorish influence, so it has a few streets lined with hookah and tapestry filled shops in the Arab Bazaar. It's pretty much as close as you can get to Northern Africa without having to go to norther Africa. You can try and bargain owners, but if you're anything like me, it usually backfires and they end up raising the price and you leave empty handed.

We went to a tea shop called "As-Sirat," in the same area, and just walking into the candle-lit seating area made me wish I brought my lensless Ray-Ban's and copy of On the Road. Yeah, this place was hip, and delicious.

4. Then we went to Granada's claim to fame, "La Alhambra," the last Moorish outpost in Spain, famous for it's ornate stucco decorations, gardens, stark beauty and the tangible presence of the Islamic religion. We went at night, and didn't really get to see all of it, but it was definitely worth the hike up the hill and entrance fee, and that 8 euro could have bought a whole bunch of churros, so you know I'm not joking around.

5. Finally, our friends took us to Granada's "botellón." A "botellón" is basically a giant outdoor party, where Spanish youth go and drink in plazas before heading out the bars or discotecas. There were quite a few people, and needless to say, my blonde hair stuck out in the sea of brown hair like a nun at a Motley Crue concert.

   There was trash everywhere towards the end, and it overwhelmingly reeked of pee. Later, I found out that people from Granada have a nickname for the pee-stench of their botellón, sarcastically named "perfume de botellón." That foul stench was the furthest thing from a perfume that I have ever smelled. While the pee smell of botellón didn't quite conjure up the same smell of comfort and satisfaction of churro and tapas, botellón was still a great way to finish up my short time in Granada. Granada is a really cool city, with alot of unique stuff to see, or in my case, eat. Go fish out a few two euro coins and go eat your way through Granada, you'll have a great time. Overall, Granada was great, easily the best 30 hours I've spent outside of Barcelona since I've been here. If I had spent any more time with those churros in Granada, well, I'll spare the details, but I'm pretty sure it's illegal in a few states back home.

Word of the Day: Oler - To smell ( this guy is an irregular verb, so it gets all sorts of crazy in the upcoming sentence)

Churros y tapas huelen muy sabroso. Churros and tapas smell very tasty.