DR GOOGLE & MADRID
First off, the whole health matter. So, before going to the farmacia in madrid, I, of course, went to google. Search: sore, throat, swollen. Result: Google returned a wide variety of options, and I went to one. It said: sore throat+swollen tonsils & glands+white spots on tonsils= strep throat with infection; antibiotics required. Time spent: 4 minutes. Cost: €.05. So armed with Dr. Google´s advice, hit up the farmacia for the pills. That was Tuesday. Skip forward to Friday. No improvement. Patience is gone. To the Cruz Roja Hospital I go. After a bit of wait, doctor sees me. Asks whats up, then looks at my throat. Two seconds later - Ahhhh. Back to the desk. I was able to understand what he said: Strep throat with infection. Time spent: 40 minutes. Cost: €37.30. The only difference being he was able to write a prescription for something stronger and better equiped to fight the afliction. So, my solution to all health care problems: www.drgoogle.com - type in your symptoms, out comes a prescription. Everyone is happy, time and money saved. Now its Sunday, and the drugs are working and soon I will have my "A" game back.
So, Madrid. Loaded with painkillers I took to the streets, and took a path I rarely take - the one leading to the art museums. I got the trio pass to hit the three biggies in Madrid. The biggest was the Prado, and it was impressive indeed. I am sure more sophisticated scholars of art would recognize the names of the painters and the works, but, not being of that variety, I didn´t know much. I certainly was amazed at what can be accomplished with ink and a canvas, especially over such a time period. But I didn´t have the knowledge or background to truely "appreciate" all the intricacies and hidden meanings, if they exist, within each painting. Or maybe its just a conspicary among "art people" to make "non-art people" feel stupid by deriving all sorts of meaning and interpretations from even the most minute detail. I dont know. But I do know the following day at the Reina Sofia museum I felt a bit better about myself thanks to Roy Lichenstein. The musuem has a RL exhibit, and his work was within my grasp. And quite amusing really, if such a term is appropriate for art. Next up with Salvador Dali. Quite a contrast there. While having very little idea what was in the man´s head while painting such convoluted matters, I didn´t feel so bad for myself, figuring that no one should really have any honest idea what is going on. Certainly amazing work though, and I found myself looking at some of them for a good five minutes. The exhibit contained a good bit on his film and Hollywood ventures ,which I knew nothing about, and his planet sized ego, which led him to publish the "Dali News" daily in New York, containing nothing but articles and paintings by him and about him. In the main gallery the highlight was Picasso´s Guernica. Guernica is a town in the Basque Country that was the victim of the first-ever coordinated arial bombing during the Spanish civil war in 1939, requested by General Franco and delivered by Hilter´s Germany, as a test of their capabilities. Anyway, a good percentage of the town and people were wiped out. The painting is about 3m X 6m, very large. Lots of distorted figures and imagery with no real color. Interpret it for yourself, as Picasso never shed any light on what anything in the painting meant. It also was in New York during the remainder of Franco´s reign, and wasn´t returned to Spain, at Picasso request, until democracy was restored. Anyway, enough about art, lets talk about....
Futbol. Estadio Bernabeu, home of Real Madrid. Took the subway up north and took a tour through the stadium, from the upper level behind goal, to the President´s box, to the players bench, to the dressing rooms, around the field, and into the self-promoting trophy room and out through the never ending souvenier shop. I was impressed by the steep angle of the stands, such that the top row is about twice as high off the pitch as they are from the pitch. While sitting in the players bench, could only think, if only I had trained a little bit harder as a youngster.....
Sunday, July 25, 2004
Wednesday, July 21, 2004
Well, maybe I am getting a little lazy in updating my blog, but so be it.
Going back a bit, last Thursday and Friday went to the "Concerts for the New Milenium" in Santiago. Great outdoor venue a easy 10 minute bus trip from town and festive atmosphere both nights with nearly 30,000 in attendance. Starting off on Thursday was none other than Iggy Pop. I don´t think the guy has any shirts and no one has told him that hes some 50+ years old. He was playing the rock star from start to finish, and for it still being light and only third from the top of the list, it was pretty impressive. Not to familiar with his stuff, but he did play "Dont wanna be a dog" twice. Was hoping for a bit of lust for life, but no dice. Next up Massive Attack. Took the stage with an cast of about 6 and an ANGEL amongst them. With the singers always coming and going, they delivered some KARMACOMA to keep the crowd SAFE FROM HARM. The INTERIA CREEPS but couldnt stop the HYMN OF THE BIG WHEEL from crashing into the MEZZAINE, resulting a few TEARDROPs. All was well, though, as the RISINGSON brought PROTECTION, but the UNFINISHED SYMPHONY was never completed. Among others. All in all, fabulous show with top-notch lightening and effects. The Chemical Brothers took the stage around half 12, and said, "HEY BOY, HEY GIRL, you're gonna be UNDER THE INFLUENCE of some BLOCK ROCKING BEATS, so, we hope you´ve GOT GLINT, but either way, IT DOESN'T MATTER cuz were just gonna LET FOREVER BE. Not as up to date on my hermanos tunes, and they played a good deal more new stuff than did massive attack. Again, the crowd, mostly 16-23 year olds it appeared, was loving it and the presentation was excellent. Not to mention the insane volume. Alrite, overall, I´d give the show 8 of 10. Could have used a bit more MA and a bit more passion from the brothers.
Day 2. Didnt bother showing up for the first few bands as it was a bit toasty. Lou Reed, taking the place of David Bowie, played the role of sub-headliner. Again, dont know much of his music, but it was a quality show, a bit more laid back the IP of course. And I got what I came for, as he left us with a PERFECT DAY. Taking the top bill was The Cure. And they played....and played...and played. A full 3 encore performances, during the last of which they were playing a mellow song and I just wanted it to end, as it was now after 3am. Delivered a good mix covering most of the hits from Galore and about half their new album. Great show, well worth it, but unless MA, this one dragged on.
Next day was off to Salamanca to camp and chill out for a few after the run Santiago to Pamplona and from the bulls and back to Santiago. The town has the oldest university in Spain, going back to the 13th Century. The landscape in this part of the country is flat, rolling hills, and mostly farmland, not to mention dry and hot in the summer. The plan was to rent a bike and make a 43km loop around the area. Nice plan it seemed, but the rental bike wasnt too comfortable. Anyway, no bother, set out Sunday morning. Got about 4km from town and the chain had derailed 3 times already, and the pedal had developed a regular clicking sound. Stopped to check things out, and the bolt holding in the left pedel was coming loose. A local stopped on his way by, and offered to help me get it fixed in the town 2k ahead. Nice. Found a farmer, tightened it up, and set off again with a guide to keep me from losing myself. Until 3k more down the road it was loose again. Worthless. Sometimes ya get what ya pay for, other times you get a whole lot less. Like this time. The local assured me I couldnt make it and should set back, but that defeats the purpose I figured. Told him I´d be alrite, and he set off. Clunked my way through another 3k or so to the 13k point. Couldnt go any further. The lack of ability to use the left pedal more than a touch combined with the threat of soon having no left pedal forced me back. By the time I got back to town there was no way I was taking the bike back to the campsite, 4k on teh other side, so I locked it outside the shop and left it for the night.
Not much else eventful, as I was starting to feel a bit ill, so just chilled out at the campsite pool. Came to Madrid on Monday, and the illness took on a whole new life. I´ve got strep throat or something evil like that. My throat is about 35% swollen on each side, leaving only a meager 30% for the essential things like breathing, eating, and drinking. And without 800mg of IB every 6 hours, I´m a hurting unit. But the European medical system (hopefully) came in handy enough. I had no intention of paying 100€ to see a doctor, as even taking the time to do it is hurdle enough, without any money involved. So I went to a pharmacy and managed to communicate my symptoms and assure them that only antibiotics would do. So I walked away with some drugs for a mere 4€. Now only if they´ll start doing some damage to my affliction.
Needless to say, Madrid has been a bit quieter than expected. Spending the days seeing the sights and all, and just laying low at night. Will be out of here Thursday or Friday heading down south.
Going back a bit, last Thursday and Friday went to the "Concerts for the New Milenium" in Santiago. Great outdoor venue a easy 10 minute bus trip from town and festive atmosphere both nights with nearly 30,000 in attendance. Starting off on Thursday was none other than Iggy Pop. I don´t think the guy has any shirts and no one has told him that hes some 50+ years old. He was playing the rock star from start to finish, and for it still being light and only third from the top of the list, it was pretty impressive. Not to familiar with his stuff, but he did play "Dont wanna be a dog" twice. Was hoping for a bit of lust for life, but no dice. Next up Massive Attack. Took the stage with an cast of about 6 and an ANGEL amongst them. With the singers always coming and going, they delivered some KARMACOMA to keep the crowd SAFE FROM HARM. The INTERIA CREEPS but couldnt stop the HYMN OF THE BIG WHEEL from crashing into the MEZZAINE, resulting a few TEARDROPs. All was well, though, as the RISINGSON brought PROTECTION, but the UNFINISHED SYMPHONY was never completed. Among others. All in all, fabulous show with top-notch lightening and effects. The Chemical Brothers took the stage around half 12, and said, "HEY BOY, HEY GIRL, you're gonna be UNDER THE INFLUENCE of some BLOCK ROCKING BEATS, so, we hope you´ve GOT GLINT, but either way, IT DOESN'T MATTER cuz were just gonna LET FOREVER BE. Not as up to date on my hermanos tunes, and they played a good deal more new stuff than did massive attack. Again, the crowd, mostly 16-23 year olds it appeared, was loving it and the presentation was excellent. Not to mention the insane volume. Alrite, overall, I´d give the show 8 of 10. Could have used a bit more MA and a bit more passion from the brothers.
Day 2. Didnt bother showing up for the first few bands as it was a bit toasty. Lou Reed, taking the place of David Bowie, played the role of sub-headliner. Again, dont know much of his music, but it was a quality show, a bit more laid back the IP of course. And I got what I came for, as he left us with a PERFECT DAY. Taking the top bill was The Cure. And they played....and played...and played. A full 3 encore performances, during the last of which they were playing a mellow song and I just wanted it to end, as it was now after 3am. Delivered a good mix covering most of the hits from Galore and about half their new album. Great show, well worth it, but unless MA, this one dragged on.
Next day was off to Salamanca to camp and chill out for a few after the run Santiago to Pamplona and from the bulls and back to Santiago. The town has the oldest university in Spain, going back to the 13th Century. The landscape in this part of the country is flat, rolling hills, and mostly farmland, not to mention dry and hot in the summer. The plan was to rent a bike and make a 43km loop around the area. Nice plan it seemed, but the rental bike wasnt too comfortable. Anyway, no bother, set out Sunday morning. Got about 4km from town and the chain had derailed 3 times already, and the pedal had developed a regular clicking sound. Stopped to check things out, and the bolt holding in the left pedel was coming loose. A local stopped on his way by, and offered to help me get it fixed in the town 2k ahead. Nice. Found a farmer, tightened it up, and set off again with a guide to keep me from losing myself. Until 3k more down the road it was loose again. Worthless. Sometimes ya get what ya pay for, other times you get a whole lot less. Like this time. The local assured me I couldnt make it and should set back, but that defeats the purpose I figured. Told him I´d be alrite, and he set off. Clunked my way through another 3k or so to the 13k point. Couldnt go any further. The lack of ability to use the left pedal more than a touch combined with the threat of soon having no left pedal forced me back. By the time I got back to town there was no way I was taking the bike back to the campsite, 4k on teh other side, so I locked it outside the shop and left it for the night.
Not much else eventful, as I was starting to feel a bit ill, so just chilled out at the campsite pool. Came to Madrid on Monday, and the illness took on a whole new life. I´ve got strep throat or something evil like that. My throat is about 35% swollen on each side, leaving only a meager 30% for the essential things like breathing, eating, and drinking. And without 800mg of IB every 6 hours, I´m a hurting unit. But the European medical system (hopefully) came in handy enough. I had no intention of paying 100€ to see a doctor, as even taking the time to do it is hurdle enough, without any money involved. So I went to a pharmacy and managed to communicate my symptoms and assure them that only antibiotics would do. So I walked away with some drugs for a mere 4€. Now only if they´ll start doing some damage to my affliction.
Needless to say, Madrid has been a bit quieter than expected. Spending the days seeing the sights and all, and just laying low at night. Will be out of here Thursday or Friday heading down south.
Monday, July 19, 2004
Wednesday, July 14, 2004
FIESTAS DE SAN FERMIN
So there was a change in plans in the last few days. And I must give credit to an email from Nate for changing the plans. I had more or less decided against going to Pamplona for the Fiestas de San Fermin and Running of the Bulls, but after an email from Nate about exactly that, I reconsidered and decided there was no way I could be in Spain during the festival and not hit Pampolona.
So Sunday morning at 7am I set off on for San Sebastian by train. 12 hours later, I arrived. SS is a hour north of Pamplona, so I stopped off here for a good night´s rest. The city is impressive, although full of tourists. Two mountians form the mouth of a bay opening into the city, leaving a nice crescent shaped beach right at the foot of the city. Once the rain stopped on Monday, I tok a cable car up to the top of the mountian on the outer side of the city for some impressive views. After that made my final preparations at the grocery store, stocking up on food and beverages to save a bit of expense in Pamplona.
Arrived into a sea of red and white in Pamplona around 830pm. Checked my pack into the luggage storage - only it would have a place to sleep this night - and made my way out to find the encierro route. Walked the route from start to finish making special note of the potentially dangerous areas one would not want to encounter a 1200lb bull at. Recon completed, headed to the main square to chill out and finish off my eats and mix up some calimocho. Started chatting with a local man from SS, and ended up walking around with him for the next few hours. Watched the nightly fireworks in one of the parks, and messed around just about everywhere. Met a couple of Americans sometime around 1am or so, and took off with them throughout the bars and clubs, drinking calimocho and sangria and partying it up. Around 3-4am switched over to water to ensure all my senses would be in top notch come time the rocket went off at 8am signalling the start of the run.
At 530am set off for the street to stake out my location and get a bit of advice from experienced locals. My chosen starting point was at the Esfalta corner, a sharp turn the bulls have trouble making, leaving them to slide into the wall and any unfortunate runners. From there I would be able to see the bulls coming around the prior corner about 100m away. By the time 730am rolled around I had met quite a group of mostly americans, a few who lived in Spain. We started getting our game faces on, when the first of the pre-bull snags hit: The police cleared everyone out of the street, starting at the prior corner. Funny how now of the locals consulted bothered to tell us this. Not knowing what the deal was, the only real thought amongst the crowd was ¨I have to get back in¨. So off we went down the back streets to get to the start, then jumped through the fences to get back in the street. Alrite, all set. After clearing everyone out of the street, the police now let everyone back in. So back to the corner we went. Or so I thought....despite being warned about not taking photos in the street, I figured I could get one off as we moved out. Not quite. Snag #2: The police grabbed me and made me climb thru the fence and off the street. Again ¨I am not going to be in Pamplona and not run. I must get back in¨. Turns out another guy had the same dilemna. So we backtracked, found a clear spot in the fences, and climbed through and back in. 10 minutes and counting. Back to the corner. Adrenaline is pumping now. And then, Snag #3: Police must have recognised me and he came over and told me to get rid of my camera. Not again. Took out the memory card, and told him I would get rid of it. So I gave it to some man sitting front row. But the camera in my pocket. Turned back, looked around, and cop was gone. So I asked the man for the memory card and he gave it back. Tucked it securely away and left it at that.
At this point the sound of the rocket going off was a relief. Waited at the corner looking back until the frantic crowd led the first bull around the corner. Then I was off, as much as a sprint as possible in the crowd. Every look back at the bulls risked a violent colision. About 200m down the street I looked back to see the leading bull but 5 meters back and gaining. Darted to the side to a doorway, watched him go past and right behind him 5 more, nearly shoulder to shoulder. Ran out right behind them and took off for the Plaza de Toros, carefull to ensure there wasn´t a lagging bull cmoing up on me.
Entered the stadium which was full of spectors with another couple hundred runners. The bulls were prompltly guided out the other end of the ring. Was quite a rush to be in the stadium after having run with the bulls, given the history and excitement of it all. Met up with a few of the Esfalta corner crew in the ring, and exchanged cheers for having made it. A few minutes later they send smaller steers, yet still with nice enough horns, into the ring to chase people around and entertain the crowd. Darted around the first few bulls, then jumped into the stadium to relax and watch the spectacle of it all.
That all ended about 9am, and headed out with a few others to claim the pack and get a coffee before jumping a bus out of town. Had a look at the encierro photos before leaving, didnt have any hereoic shots of me with the bulls. But as I turned to leave I saw a former St Pat footballer I knew in Korea - Aaron from Florida. Chatted with him for a bit. Random.
Off to Vitoria at noon, and sorted out a place to stay by 2pm. Then slept til 930pm. Went out for a bit of food and a walk around, then back to sleep by 12am. The plan, as it was since I have to be back by 2pm tomorrow to pick up my concert tickets, was to take the 1040 train to santiago, arriving at 2009 tonight. Turns out it was all booked. As was the only other train heading west. To the net cafe to find a plan B. Sorted - train to Burgos and 0445 bus to Santiago, arriving 1pm. Went to the bus station, uh, booked up. Uh, plan C, "anything that gets me to Santiago before 2pm tomorrow". Alrite, to Bilboa and then from Bilboa to Santiago leaving 145am arriving 115pm. Ah, a nice and pleasant bus ride for 11.5 hrs. Perfect. Sign me up.
So thats where I am now, Bilboa, chilling out til departure. Hope to get some photos up next.
So there was a change in plans in the last few days. And I must give credit to an email from Nate for changing the plans. I had more or less decided against going to Pamplona for the Fiestas de San Fermin and Running of the Bulls, but after an email from Nate about exactly that, I reconsidered and decided there was no way I could be in Spain during the festival and not hit Pampolona.
So Sunday morning at 7am I set off on for San Sebastian by train. 12 hours later, I arrived. SS is a hour north of Pamplona, so I stopped off here for a good night´s rest. The city is impressive, although full of tourists. Two mountians form the mouth of a bay opening into the city, leaving a nice crescent shaped beach right at the foot of the city. Once the rain stopped on Monday, I tok a cable car up to the top of the mountian on the outer side of the city for some impressive views. After that made my final preparations at the grocery store, stocking up on food and beverages to save a bit of expense in Pamplona.
Arrived into a sea of red and white in Pamplona around 830pm. Checked my pack into the luggage storage - only it would have a place to sleep this night - and made my way out to find the encierro route. Walked the route from start to finish making special note of the potentially dangerous areas one would not want to encounter a 1200lb bull at. Recon completed, headed to the main square to chill out and finish off my eats and mix up some calimocho. Started chatting with a local man from SS, and ended up walking around with him for the next few hours. Watched the nightly fireworks in one of the parks, and messed around just about everywhere. Met a couple of Americans sometime around 1am or so, and took off with them throughout the bars and clubs, drinking calimocho and sangria and partying it up. Around 3-4am switched over to water to ensure all my senses would be in top notch come time the rocket went off at 8am signalling the start of the run.
At 530am set off for the street to stake out my location and get a bit of advice from experienced locals. My chosen starting point was at the Esfalta corner, a sharp turn the bulls have trouble making, leaving them to slide into the wall and any unfortunate runners. From there I would be able to see the bulls coming around the prior corner about 100m away. By the time 730am rolled around I had met quite a group of mostly americans, a few who lived in Spain. We started getting our game faces on, when the first of the pre-bull snags hit: The police cleared everyone out of the street, starting at the prior corner. Funny how now of the locals consulted bothered to tell us this. Not knowing what the deal was, the only real thought amongst the crowd was ¨I have to get back in¨. So off we went down the back streets to get to the start, then jumped through the fences to get back in the street. Alrite, all set. After clearing everyone out of the street, the police now let everyone back in. So back to the corner we went. Or so I thought....despite being warned about not taking photos in the street, I figured I could get one off as we moved out. Not quite. Snag #2: The police grabbed me and made me climb thru the fence and off the street. Again ¨I am not going to be in Pamplona and not run. I must get back in¨. Turns out another guy had the same dilemna. So we backtracked, found a clear spot in the fences, and climbed through and back in. 10 minutes and counting. Back to the corner. Adrenaline is pumping now. And then, Snag #3: Police must have recognised me and he came over and told me to get rid of my camera. Not again. Took out the memory card, and told him I would get rid of it. So I gave it to some man sitting front row. But the camera in my pocket. Turned back, looked around, and cop was gone. So I asked the man for the memory card and he gave it back. Tucked it securely away and left it at that.
At this point the sound of the rocket going off was a relief. Waited at the corner looking back until the frantic crowd led the first bull around the corner. Then I was off, as much as a sprint as possible in the crowd. Every look back at the bulls risked a violent colision. About 200m down the street I looked back to see the leading bull but 5 meters back and gaining. Darted to the side to a doorway, watched him go past and right behind him 5 more, nearly shoulder to shoulder. Ran out right behind them and took off for the Plaza de Toros, carefull to ensure there wasn´t a lagging bull cmoing up on me.
Entered the stadium which was full of spectors with another couple hundred runners. The bulls were prompltly guided out the other end of the ring. Was quite a rush to be in the stadium after having run with the bulls, given the history and excitement of it all. Met up with a few of the Esfalta corner crew in the ring, and exchanged cheers for having made it. A few minutes later they send smaller steers, yet still with nice enough horns, into the ring to chase people around and entertain the crowd. Darted around the first few bulls, then jumped into the stadium to relax and watch the spectacle of it all.
That all ended about 9am, and headed out with a few others to claim the pack and get a coffee before jumping a bus out of town. Had a look at the encierro photos before leaving, didnt have any hereoic shots of me with the bulls. But as I turned to leave I saw a former St Pat footballer I knew in Korea - Aaron from Florida. Chatted with him for a bit. Random.
Off to Vitoria at noon, and sorted out a place to stay by 2pm. Then slept til 930pm. Went out for a bit of food and a walk around, then back to sleep by 12am. The plan, as it was since I have to be back by 2pm tomorrow to pick up my concert tickets, was to take the 1040 train to santiago, arriving at 2009 tonight. Turns out it was all booked. As was the only other train heading west. To the net cafe to find a plan B. Sorted - train to Burgos and 0445 bus to Santiago, arriving 1pm. Went to the bus station, uh, booked up. Uh, plan C, "anything that gets me to Santiago before 2pm tomorrow". Alrite, to Bilboa and then from Bilboa to Santiago leaving 145am arriving 115pm. Ah, a nice and pleasant bus ride for 11.5 hrs. Perfect. Sign me up.
So thats where I am now, Bilboa, chilling out til departure. Hope to get some photos up next.
Friday, July 09, 2004
THE MOUNTAIN AND THE END OF THE WORLD
I´ve been in Spain for 10 days now and haven´t posted anything, so I´ll start off as I left my last post with some thoughts and observations:
- Spain was more or less a military dictatorship from 1930s to 1970s. Given that, its quite impressive what has been accomplished here in terms of social well being and economic development. Given that, many parts of the country, particularly outside the cities, are still a bit behind the times.
- Spain is composed of about 17 provinces, some of which are natural and go back years, others of which were created simply for governing. A few of these provinces, Pais Vasco, Galicia, Cataluyna, date back well before Spain and have notions of idendenpence much like Quebec in Canada. They all have their own variation of Spanish that is unique to their region. The Basques in Pais Vasco, known as the ETA and for their terrorist acitivities, is the most well known, established, and agressive. While much less than a majority in each region seek independence, the goverment has gone to great lengths to give them a bit of it. Pais Vasco is largely self governed, maintains the right of taxation, and remits to the national government a percentage of that. Many other provinces seek such freedoms. Much more to say here, but...
- As mentioned before, Spanish is only the official language. Here in Galicia, they speak it and Gallego. Needless to say, the Central American Spanish is a bit different.
- The political sentiment here is much like Portugal, but being able to read the newspapers and magazines has given me a sense of why. The reports are generally brief, not balanced in viewpoint, and only focus on areas that portray negatively. Some of the things I have read and seen have shocked me. For example, the Michael Moore film has been in the news.....and its treated more or less as an authoritative and accurate portrayal of American politics, Bush, and the wars. And the national TV station is government run, and, without a doubt, influenced. Quite shocking overall.
Alrite, back to my world. Spent two nights in Vigo upon arriving, and they were quite uneventful. Basically had some things to take care of, and needed a city to do it in. The city itself in nice enough, but nothing special.
On 3 July I went to Santiago de Compostela. As I might have mentioned, this was the endpoint for St Santiago on his pilgramage back in the 8th century or so. The catedral there, built in various stages over 800 years or so, is enormous and impressive. Each side has its own entrance and style of architecture, and the detail both outside and inside is incredible. So back about 20 years ago, the Pilgramage on the Camino (walk) de Santiago was a bit out of fashion and only 400 or so people per year did it. Now the numbers are about 400 per day pass various points along the path. So the town is full of people with walking sticks and clamshells who have just finished the walk, which takes about 35 days in its entirety. Anyway, spent 3 days there messing about, seeing the sights, and relaxing a bit. Hooked up with a nice place to stay for 15€ a night, so no complaints.
Set off for the coastal towns on Louro and Muros on Tuesday the 6th. Muros is a small historical fishing village, Louro a small town just up the road, both on the mouth of a river feeding into the ocean. Camped in Louro close enough to the beach to hear the waves at night. Walked about a bit on Tuesday eve, made it about 5km away and down a small road to the Ponte de Louro, where a lighthouse stands at the foot of two 250m mountians coming right out of the water. Had a thought.....so Wednesday set out to hike/climb the mountians. My gear: trainers and a bottle of water. Consulted a local out picking berries at the base, he said, sure, go ahead, climb it. No trails, no paths, no signs, but looked easy enough. And then.....the vegatation that looked innocent enough - anywhere from 2 to 8 feet in height, much of it thorned. The rocks - much more comfortable than the thorns, unless I had an unfortunate encounter in which gravity won against my balance. Along the way I had one casualty and one acquisition: lost the St Paddys day hat from Seoul somewhere in the thick of things - no chance of backpedalling for that, so it rests in peace for any Seoul Gael looking for a pilgramage; the acquisition was a 4 foot stick, which lucky for me was the toughest piece of wood on the mountain, and without which i would have been in much worse shape. Each bit climbed revealed more to go, and like an oasis in the desert, it also looked as if in 10 meters things cleared up a bit. Regardless I made it to the top, and have fotos to prove it, just not yet. Spent a good 30 minutes chilling out under the sun and enjoying the view. Then I figured, since I did the one peak, might as well do the other, about 100m away with about a 50m did in between. Once again, the oasis analogy. But I made it, and again, have the fotos to go along with it. Of course now I think, mission accomplished, head down, go for a shower and a beer. If only. Turns out going up was the easy part. Its hard enough to pick the best path down when everything looks the same, but I certainly failed in doing so. The majority of the path down, after getting by the 10+foot rock faces, consisted on vegetation so dense the outside world dissappeared. I alternated between doing my best Smeagle imiation and going under densest brush when there was a relative clearing underneath, to plowing straight thru it with my ever faithful stick, to walking on top of it, anywhere from 1-3 feet off the ground. If you can´t walk thru it, Smeagle yer way under it; if you can´t do that, then walk on top of it, if that doesn´t work, return to walking thru it. After what seemed a good long time, I reached a clearing enough to see the water below....and it didnt seem any nearer than at the top. Not wanting to stop for a moment, just kept on going til finally i was through. No damage except for a good number of small scratches on the arms, legs, and neck. The shower, dinner, and wine that night were all fabulous.
Needless to say, the following day I took it easy, messing about Muros for a while, then heading back to camp for eats and a quiet night.
This morning I set off way to early, 730am bus after packing up camp, for the End of the World - Cabo Finisterre, which is the western most part of Europe. From there the people back in the could see, as the figured, to the end of the world. The weather wasnt promising, clouds stirring and all, and the local that pointed me in the right direction from the town was none too encouraging. But off I went. 40 minutes later, and only a slight bit of rain, I arrived at the lighthouse. While a sunny day might have been nice, the low clouds limiting the view did add a bit to the whole end of the world thing. In the midst of the clouds, couldn´t help but think I was back in Seoul or Tokyo, where any view just disappears into the smog after a few hundred meters. Walked out to the point where they have a bronze bust of ole St Santiago boots (he made it here after Santiago). As there was a road going up to Monte San Guillermo, I set off up another mountian, granted this time on paved or dirt roads. Stumbled upon a great view amidst the clouds looking out to a beach below, and have some nice pics of that. Otherwise, just limited visibility in amongst the clouds. Back to town in time to retrieve my pack from the shop I left it before they closed for siesta. While eating lunch, the rain started to pour. Guess the early morning was worth it. Took the bus from there into La Coruna, where I am now.
I´ve had to reante twice on my net time, so that´ll be that. For now.
I´ve been in Spain for 10 days now and haven´t posted anything, so I´ll start off as I left my last post with some thoughts and observations:
- Spain was more or less a military dictatorship from 1930s to 1970s. Given that, its quite impressive what has been accomplished here in terms of social well being and economic development. Given that, many parts of the country, particularly outside the cities, are still a bit behind the times.
- Spain is composed of about 17 provinces, some of which are natural and go back years, others of which were created simply for governing. A few of these provinces, Pais Vasco, Galicia, Cataluyna, date back well before Spain and have notions of idendenpence much like Quebec in Canada. They all have their own variation of Spanish that is unique to their region. The Basques in Pais Vasco, known as the ETA and for their terrorist acitivities, is the most well known, established, and agressive. While much less than a majority in each region seek independence, the goverment has gone to great lengths to give them a bit of it. Pais Vasco is largely self governed, maintains the right of taxation, and remits to the national government a percentage of that. Many other provinces seek such freedoms. Much more to say here, but...
- As mentioned before, Spanish is only the official language. Here in Galicia, they speak it and Gallego. Needless to say, the Central American Spanish is a bit different.
- The political sentiment here is much like Portugal, but being able to read the newspapers and magazines has given me a sense of why. The reports are generally brief, not balanced in viewpoint, and only focus on areas that portray negatively. Some of the things I have read and seen have shocked me. For example, the Michael Moore film has been in the news.....and its treated more or less as an authoritative and accurate portrayal of American politics, Bush, and the wars. And the national TV station is government run, and, without a doubt, influenced. Quite shocking overall.
Alrite, back to my world. Spent two nights in Vigo upon arriving, and they were quite uneventful. Basically had some things to take care of, and needed a city to do it in. The city itself in nice enough, but nothing special.
On 3 July I went to Santiago de Compostela. As I might have mentioned, this was the endpoint for St Santiago on his pilgramage back in the 8th century or so. The catedral there, built in various stages over 800 years or so, is enormous and impressive. Each side has its own entrance and style of architecture, and the detail both outside and inside is incredible. So back about 20 years ago, the Pilgramage on the Camino (walk) de Santiago was a bit out of fashion and only 400 or so people per year did it. Now the numbers are about 400 per day pass various points along the path. So the town is full of people with walking sticks and clamshells who have just finished the walk, which takes about 35 days in its entirety. Anyway, spent 3 days there messing about, seeing the sights, and relaxing a bit. Hooked up with a nice place to stay for 15€ a night, so no complaints.
Set off for the coastal towns on Louro and Muros on Tuesday the 6th. Muros is a small historical fishing village, Louro a small town just up the road, both on the mouth of a river feeding into the ocean. Camped in Louro close enough to the beach to hear the waves at night. Walked about a bit on Tuesday eve, made it about 5km away and down a small road to the Ponte de Louro, where a lighthouse stands at the foot of two 250m mountians coming right out of the water. Had a thought.....so Wednesday set out to hike/climb the mountians. My gear: trainers and a bottle of water. Consulted a local out picking berries at the base, he said, sure, go ahead, climb it. No trails, no paths, no signs, but looked easy enough. And then.....the vegatation that looked innocent enough - anywhere from 2 to 8 feet in height, much of it thorned. The rocks - much more comfortable than the thorns, unless I had an unfortunate encounter in which gravity won against my balance. Along the way I had one casualty and one acquisition: lost the St Paddys day hat from Seoul somewhere in the thick of things - no chance of backpedalling for that, so it rests in peace for any Seoul Gael looking for a pilgramage; the acquisition was a 4 foot stick, which lucky for me was the toughest piece of wood on the mountain, and without which i would have been in much worse shape. Each bit climbed revealed more to go, and like an oasis in the desert, it also looked as if in 10 meters things cleared up a bit. Regardless I made it to the top, and have fotos to prove it, just not yet. Spent a good 30 minutes chilling out under the sun and enjoying the view. Then I figured, since I did the one peak, might as well do the other, about 100m away with about a 50m did in between. Once again, the oasis analogy. But I made it, and again, have the fotos to go along with it. Of course now I think, mission accomplished, head down, go for a shower and a beer. If only. Turns out going up was the easy part. Its hard enough to pick the best path down when everything looks the same, but I certainly failed in doing so. The majority of the path down, after getting by the 10+foot rock faces, consisted on vegetation so dense the outside world dissappeared. I alternated between doing my best Smeagle imiation and going under densest brush when there was a relative clearing underneath, to plowing straight thru it with my ever faithful stick, to walking on top of it, anywhere from 1-3 feet off the ground. If you can´t walk thru it, Smeagle yer way under it; if you can´t do that, then walk on top of it, if that doesn´t work, return to walking thru it. After what seemed a good long time, I reached a clearing enough to see the water below....and it didnt seem any nearer than at the top. Not wanting to stop for a moment, just kept on going til finally i was through. No damage except for a good number of small scratches on the arms, legs, and neck. The shower, dinner, and wine that night were all fabulous.
Needless to say, the following day I took it easy, messing about Muros for a while, then heading back to camp for eats and a quiet night.
This morning I set off way to early, 730am bus after packing up camp, for the End of the World - Cabo Finisterre, which is the western most part of Europe. From there the people back in the could see, as the figured, to the end of the world. The weather wasnt promising, clouds stirring and all, and the local that pointed me in the right direction from the town was none too encouraging. But off I went. 40 minutes later, and only a slight bit of rain, I arrived at the lighthouse. While a sunny day might have been nice, the low clouds limiting the view did add a bit to the whole end of the world thing. In the midst of the clouds, couldn´t help but think I was back in Seoul or Tokyo, where any view just disappears into the smog after a few hundred meters. Walked out to the point where they have a bronze bust of ole St Santiago boots (he made it here after Santiago). As there was a road going up to Monte San Guillermo, I set off up another mountian, granted this time on paved or dirt roads. Stumbled upon a great view amidst the clouds looking out to a beach below, and have some nice pics of that. Otherwise, just limited visibility in amongst the clouds. Back to town in time to retrieve my pack from the shop I left it before they closed for siesta. While eating lunch, the rain started to pour. Guess the early morning was worth it. Took the bus from there into La Coruna, where I am now.
I´ve had to reante twice on my net time, so that´ll be that. For now.
Saturday, July 03, 2004
ON PORTUGAL & TRAVELING
After a month of traveling and leaving Portugal, I figured I´d change the plot here for a moment and spew forth a few of my thoughts thus far instead of telling what I´ve been doing. So here goes....
Futbol in Portugal: For people in the US it is be a bit difficult to understand the scope of futbol in Portugal, and many other places in the world for that matter, but I´ll give it a shot. Consider: its the only sport that matters, football, basketball, baseball, and hockey in one; tournaments are held only every four years; a country has to qualify just to make the tournament; you complete against other countries that in the recent past have demolished or occupied your country; the whole country cares, not just some. Its just impossible to compare the scene in Portugal, with the Portuguese and other country´s supporters, with any sport in the US.
Victory Celebrations: Massive amounts of people in the streets following each of the last three Portugal victories. Probably half the country is out in public I would guess. And no riots, no looting, no drunken escapades, and for that matter, hardly any police to be seen. Quite a contrast from the demolition and destruction occuring in any city that wins a championship in the US.
Portugal V Spain: Never knew that Portugal had such a deep rooted dislike for Spain. Something like Ireland England I guess. When I made an attempt at communicating in Spanish, it wasn´t well received. So needless to say they were a bit happy to send Spain home in the tourny.
Coffee: Coffee in Portugal (and much of europe for that matter) is to coffee in the US as vodka is to beer.
Economy: Much of Portugal is still a second world economy at best. Farmers working in their own small fields, taking the crops to a market, etc. Jobs there are hard to come by and most uni students dont have many options in their fields upon graduation. Apparently for teachers there is a 5 year backlog before one can get a job.
Perception of US: Of course I get asked all too often about the GW Bush, Iraq, etc. And 90% of those I´ve talked to, from Portugal and other countries, have a very negative view of US politics and policies. Of those, I´d only about a third have a decent perspective and level of knowledge to support their views. The rest only know the headlines and little more. Most are interested to know what someone from the US thinks, and if its like what they hear. Only a few carried their views on such things into disliking American people.
Traveling alone: The first 8 days or so I bounced around too much, one night here, two there, always on the go. No more of that. I´ve resolved to try to spend at least 4 days wherever I go, a bit of stability is a good thing and you get a better perspective of a place and people. The biggest downfall thus far to traveling alone is that, despite the countless number of people I´ve met and good times had, most days start back at square one, as the people you meet come and go.
My budget: Everythings on track despite the debacle with the camera. Its some good work to save a euro here and there then go blwo a few hundred by being stupid like that. Thus far, leading expenditures are, in order, lodging, food, entertainment, Euro tix, transportation.
Am up in Santiago de Compostela at the moment. Its the destination on the Camino de Santiago, the famous pilgramage of the Apostle Santiago from around 800AD or so, that, of course I never heard about before coming here. Will be here for a few then probably out towards the coast for a few. The south of Spain a bit roasty, with highs up to 48C, so am in no hurry to get down there.
After a month of traveling and leaving Portugal, I figured I´d change the plot here for a moment and spew forth a few of my thoughts thus far instead of telling what I´ve been doing. So here goes....
Futbol in Portugal: For people in the US it is be a bit difficult to understand the scope of futbol in Portugal, and many other places in the world for that matter, but I´ll give it a shot. Consider: its the only sport that matters, football, basketball, baseball, and hockey in one; tournaments are held only every four years; a country has to qualify just to make the tournament; you complete against other countries that in the recent past have demolished or occupied your country; the whole country cares, not just some. Its just impossible to compare the scene in Portugal, with the Portuguese and other country´s supporters, with any sport in the US.
Victory Celebrations: Massive amounts of people in the streets following each of the last three Portugal victories. Probably half the country is out in public I would guess. And no riots, no looting, no drunken escapades, and for that matter, hardly any police to be seen. Quite a contrast from the demolition and destruction occuring in any city that wins a championship in the US.
Portugal V Spain: Never knew that Portugal had such a deep rooted dislike for Spain. Something like Ireland England I guess. When I made an attempt at communicating in Spanish, it wasn´t well received. So needless to say they were a bit happy to send Spain home in the tourny.
Coffee: Coffee in Portugal (and much of europe for that matter) is to coffee in the US as vodka is to beer.
Economy: Much of Portugal is still a second world economy at best. Farmers working in their own small fields, taking the crops to a market, etc. Jobs there are hard to come by and most uni students dont have many options in their fields upon graduation. Apparently for teachers there is a 5 year backlog before one can get a job.
Perception of US: Of course I get asked all too often about the GW Bush, Iraq, etc. And 90% of those I´ve talked to, from Portugal and other countries, have a very negative view of US politics and policies. Of those, I´d only about a third have a decent perspective and level of knowledge to support their views. The rest only know the headlines and little more. Most are interested to know what someone from the US thinks, and if its like what they hear. Only a few carried their views on such things into disliking American people.
Traveling alone: The first 8 days or so I bounced around too much, one night here, two there, always on the go. No more of that. I´ve resolved to try to spend at least 4 days wherever I go, a bit of stability is a good thing and you get a better perspective of a place and people. The biggest downfall thus far to traveling alone is that, despite the countless number of people I´ve met and good times had, most days start back at square one, as the people you meet come and go.
My budget: Everythings on track despite the debacle with the camera. Its some good work to save a euro here and there then go blwo a few hundred by being stupid like that. Thus far, leading expenditures are, in order, lodging, food, entertainment, Euro tix, transportation.
Am up in Santiago de Compostela at the moment. Its the destination on the Camino de Santiago, the famous pilgramage of the Apostle Santiago from around 800AD or so, that, of course I never heard about before coming here. Will be here for a few then probably out towards the coast for a few. The south of Spain a bit roasty, with highs up to 48C, so am in no hurry to get down there.
Friday, July 02, 2004
BACK TO THE BEGINNING
So Portugal beat Holland in the semi finals and actually played well in doing so. I watched the match in a bar in Viana, and after set off for some food. The streets were empty as I walked out, and thought maybe this town wouldn´t go off like the others. Right. After eating, a mere 30 minutes or so, the main avenue was full from the train station at one end to the river at the other. So and it goes. Ran into the Aussies from the campsite, and ended up hanging with them for a bit. Wandered down the back streets toward the sound of the drums, and stumbled upon a little street party. Even got a chance to display my suberb musical ability by banging away on the drum for a good few minutes. Ended up closing the night out hanging out with some locals at a disco. The DJ was cranking out the typical beats, but the twist was a live drummer banging away with his hands, making something up to match the music as it went along. Great stuff.
The plan for Thursday was to take the train straight from Viana to Vigo, Espàna, but as it turns out the Spanish railworkers are on strike from 30 june to 5 july, so the trains are sitting idle. That left us, again run into a few of the aussie crew at the station, taking a train to the border town and walking over the river into tuy, spain, then catching a bus into Vigo. Messed around a bit in Tuy before heading off, nice enough town but nothing spectacular. A stroke of good luck in Vigo as the city bus from the bus station dropped me off right in front of where i had arranged to stay. Saved a bit of hassle. Messed about the city a bit before having a siesta and then watching the unfortunate tragedy of greece beating the czechs. So, as I said before, the first match of the euro is also the last: Greece V Portugal. Went out for a wander later on, and ended up wandering a bit farther than desired. Ended up meeting a guy from Venezuela while out, and we wandered out to a few bars for a bit. Have yet to speak any English yet in Spain, hope to keep that up for a bit.
So Portugal beat Holland in the semi finals and actually played well in doing so. I watched the match in a bar in Viana, and after set off for some food. The streets were empty as I walked out, and thought maybe this town wouldn´t go off like the others. Right. After eating, a mere 30 minutes or so, the main avenue was full from the train station at one end to the river at the other. So and it goes. Ran into the Aussies from the campsite, and ended up hanging with them for a bit. Wandered down the back streets toward the sound of the drums, and stumbled upon a little street party. Even got a chance to display my suberb musical ability by banging away on the drum for a good few minutes. Ended up closing the night out hanging out with some locals at a disco. The DJ was cranking out the typical beats, but the twist was a live drummer banging away with his hands, making something up to match the music as it went along. Great stuff.
The plan for Thursday was to take the train straight from Viana to Vigo, Espàna, but as it turns out the Spanish railworkers are on strike from 30 june to 5 july, so the trains are sitting idle. That left us, again run into a few of the aussie crew at the station, taking a train to the border town and walking over the river into tuy, spain, then catching a bus into Vigo. Messed around a bit in Tuy before heading off, nice enough town but nothing spectacular. A stroke of good luck in Vigo as the city bus from the bus station dropped me off right in front of where i had arranged to stay. Saved a bit of hassle. Messed about the city a bit before having a siesta and then watching the unfortunate tragedy of greece beating the czechs. So, as I said before, the first match of the euro is also the last: Greece V Portugal. Went out for a wander later on, and ended up wandering a bit farther than desired. Ended up meeting a guy from Venezuela while out, and we wandered out to a few bars for a bit. Have yet to speak any English yet in Spain, hope to keep that up for a bit.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)