Moments

I don't think I need to say I've been terrible at keeping this blog updated, because obviously you know, and I think it's getting redundant. 

I spent last week in Lisbon, met some amazing people, had a great time, and now I'm in Faro, Portugal. I have just a few more days left and it's crazy to think I'll be home next week. 

Probably the least informative update possible, but chances are if you're interested and care to ask, I'm sure I will tell you once I'm home.

In the meantime, enjoy some moments of yours truly...

The Tease of My Life 

If you read my blog last summer, you might remember I stumbled across an adorable store in Dublin whereupon I bought my red knit hat for way too much money. It was a problem, and I thought I was over this. Then, lo and behold, I’m wandering the airport in Madrid, my thruway at the time to Lisbon, and there it is: Accessorize. Really? I can’t go through this again. Don’t go in. I went in. BUT I did not buy anything. I’m not sure which was worse: the satisfaction of knowing I resisted, or the dissatisfaction of knowing I resisted. It’s like the store gods were in a terrible mood the day I was born and decided, “Hey, let’s design a shop that has absolutely everything Jaimie loves inside: we’ll throw in scarves, bags, hats, dresses, wallets, the whole shebang of her obsessions. We’ll let her discover it, and we’ll make it all ridiculously priced, place it conveniently in other countries, allow it a website that doesn’t ship to the states and call it good. I hate you, shop gods.

P.S. I just looked it up and apparently the first Accessorize store was opened in London in 1984, so I guess my theory is shot.

  

"A" for Effort, Claudio

Probably the best, or most creative, attempt at picking me up came from Claudio, an Italian newly settled in Barcelona. I noticed him for no other reason than his sadly unsubtle passing by moments and stares. But I was content enough with my book to pretend he wasn’t there. As I was getting up to leave, though, he comes over with a stack of books. In slightly broken, but not terrible, English, he tells me he wants me to take them; that he’d read them all and now wanted to pass them on to me. I said thanks, but I was leaving Barcelona that night and didn’t have room for so many books. I told him to pick his favorite and I’d bring it along. He was insistent, though. After a few more formalities, lying about not having a facebook, turning down his invite for drinks, and honestly just wanting to leave, I grabbed all the books…sufficiently unhappy at having to lug the stack back to my hostel. On the upside, I was nearly through with the paperback Katy loaned me and would need a new beach book anyway. When I was looking through the books to decide which to take with me, I noticed he’d written in them. He wrote down his email and facebook name in one, little notes in the others.

And that’s when I thought, "You know, if I didn’t have a boyfriend, and if I’d wanted to be bothered at the beach, and if I’d been attracted to him in the least, and if he’d come across a bit more smooth, this might have worked." Basically, the idea behind his attempt was nice, though a waste of his time.

Beach Invasion

Like I said, I don’t particularly like to be bothered at the beach, so I try to find the least crowded space possible, and I feel rather great when I can accomplish something of the sort. That being said, it really irritates me when people mess that up. I understand that the beach is public space where, short of on top of someone, you can really set yourself anywhere you’d like.

But when you have this much room on one side....

 And this much room on the other…

Also, that's Claudio standing up...

 I don’t appreciate being invaded by several teenage boys. 

Excuse me, but could you be any closer?? No really, please sit on me…you may as well.

I shook out my sandy towel without a care and moved.

Thong Man

The only thing worse than seeing this gross oily, orange man in a thong was having him strip it off right in front of me.  

So Long, Marvelous Market

I briefly mentioned Mercat de la Boqueria in my Barcelona post. I’m really sad I won’t be making it back to Barcelona, and partly for that market. I loved it.

They commit.

Wild Mushrooms

Entire rabbits

Flip Flop Fail

One of my favorite things in Majorca was hiking along the coves of the coastline. I loved it. It wasn’t a difficult hike in the least, and one time I found it perfectly acceptable to do it in flip flops. Not even halfway along, this happened....

I trekked on, despite my foolish appearance that came with the effect of walking as if I had a flipper on my foot. I’ll not hike again in such flimsy flops. 

 Food Wanted

While I've been gone, Josh has sent these pics to my phone…

And I sent him this…

I miss him cooking for me!

Just... ew.

There’s a disgustingly large number of fish in Lisbon. Really, it’s disgusting. I guess you’d have to know my incredible dislike for groups and clusters of things to understand how repulsive this was to me. 

 Drugs & Thugs (maybe)

Leave it to me to try to find a shortcut back to my hostel on my evening run…

With groups of men huddled together along this path and the water, and my thoughts of, “Oh [four letter word], this is it for me,” marked the end of my shortcut-taking days.

Take Two(million) of Cycling Clumsiness

It’s official: I can’t ride bikes. I fall nearly every time I’m on one. It’s inevitable. Honestly. And as much as I’d like to blame the man nearest by when this incident occurred, it wouldn’t be right to pass my clumsiness off to him. This has Jaimie written all over it. 

If I were a Bum

Bums are classy in Lisbon. This is the Nob Hill of Bumville.

Sleepless Nights

At my hostel in Faro, there’s a lovely window and balcony literally right by my bed. From my pillow, this is it.
It’s nice, isn’t it?

No. Because it turns into a scary ginormous (is not a word? Really? Huh) tree that makes terrible noises with the wind and causes lack of sleep. Needless to say, my pillow went on the other end of the bed last night.

Ironically enough, my inability to sleep also had to do with the last book I read about a serial killer, a book Claudio gave me. First I thought, that's what I get for brushing him off so easily. But no, that's just what I get when I read scary books.

“Just two years after a majority of visitors to Merriam-Webster OnLine declared it to be their "Favorite Word (Not in the Dictionary)," the adjective "ginormous" (now officially defined as "extremely large: humongous"), has won a legitimate place in the 2007 copyright update of Merriam-Webster's Collegiate^® Dictionary, Eleventh Edition."

Yeah, so go away red squiggly line.

 Aw, Flirty Birds...Wait.

Today I was in a park and I saw some cute birds in cages. They looked like they were flirting, and I thought it was adorable. So I decided to record them. Then they started doing something else, and I stopped, lest the people behind me think I was some pervert. Slightly embarrassing. 

Laying Low in Majorca

Sunday, September 4

My time in Majorca has been so needed. As much as I'd like to self-proclaim this adventurous, outright independent nature that can take on anything without a care in the world, I cannot. It's a difficult thing getting lost every few days, sharing mixed dorm rooms with a dozen other people while sharing bathrooms with even more, and listening to the ever constant on-the-go mentality that shouts at you, naturally, when you're traveling some of the biggest cities in Europe. I'm happy to say, though, that for the past four days I've been getting lost zero times a day, enjoying the privacy of my own room, and taking full advantage of the carefree voice that calmly whispers, "You don't have to do anything today."

I've been savoring my mornings of bliss on secluded cove beaches, remembering what hours of getting lost in a book feels like, wading into clear blue waters that can only be described as perfection, hiking along never-ending coves that stretch out along the coast, taking sunset runs along a bustling boardwalk, and stopping to breathe in the free and easy air of my little new found haven. 

 

One of my favorite swimming coves

  

Tuesday, September 6th

I was supposed to leave Majorca on Monday. One of the things about leaving a place, though, is knowing where you're going, and come Sunday, I had no idea. It didn't help that my budget was significantly dwindling and that the idea of stepping off the island and back into Somewhere Busy, Europe was slightly daunting. My boyfriend described Majorca as my vacation away from my vacation, and I knew leaving my bubble of a paradise world was going to take a pep talk from my mom. 

I told her what was going on: that, despite how much I wanted to go to France, I didn't think my budget would allow it; that I was enjoying every day and every experience, but I was often hungry, tired, and, my least favorite, lost; that I had two weeks left and no idea where to go next. She listened, as she always does, and I brought up the possibility of Portugal. We talked it over, and I booked my ticket that night. A couple plane rides and some very crowded and uncomfortable public transportation later, and I am now sitting in my hostel bed in Lisbon, Portugal.

I have a week booked here, and I plan to start out proper and rested tomorrow since I've been feeling sick lately. As my friend Nelly put it just moments ago after I told him I was under the weather, "Traveling can be a bitch." Ah, but how we love her. Because despite the days of long transportation, of hunger and dehydration, of unknown destinations, and the ones that knock you down, it's the thrill and freedom of discovering the world, of stowing away those moments that no one will ever be able to take from you no matter where you end up, that keep the hearts of wanderers pulsating.

I have a crush on Barcelona

As more regular as I would like to keep this blog, it just doesn’t happen. I’m not really a blogger, I guess. I have a couple friends to whom I’d give the title, but not this girl. I hope, however, that the few blogs and updates I do post make people somewhat happy.

I spent the last few days in Barcelona. I absolutely loved it; the perfect blend between this energetic atmosphere of people roaming down the ever-busy La Rambla, to that laidback flow of sunset rollerbladers and bicyclists down the boardwalk and beach goers basking in the the Barcelona breeze with their guitars and volleyballs. 

I didn’t go into any museums, I didn’t sightsee like crazy, because in Barcelona, you can just be.

Being happy in the city took a few hours, though. Remember my boost of street ego after spending four days in Madrid? I predicted a decline, maybe even back down to point zero. Self-made discovery: it’s very possible to be on a negative slope, at least in my world of navigation.

After a little over eight hours on a bus, I got to Barcelona just before 9 pm. A tiny part of me was worried about finding my hostel at night—knowing how well I find them in broad daylight—but only that tiny part, because in Spain, cities come alive at night. I would be fine.

I started at the station, trying hard to follow an old man’s Spanish directions to the metro.  I knew I didn’t understand, and why I didn’t stop to ask someone else is beyond me. It was nearing 9, though, and people would start filling the streets, coming out for dinner and nightly socializing. I kept telling myself this would work out, and I think it would have… if it hadn’t started pouring. As if wandering around aimlessly and far from anything wasn’t enough, the further blows of shopkeepers pulling down their gridded doors and waiters stacking up outdoor chairs and tables screamed, “You’re on your own, kid.” I was exhausted, aching, and now drenched.  And I was very, very lost. I could have cried. The situation, I feel, definitely warranted that. I told myself, though, that if I was the kind of girl who cried every time I was lost, or even incredibly lost in a dark city struggling with my luggage and a useless map in the rain, I wouldn’t be the kind of girl to up and leave for Europe on her own. I wasn’t going to cry.

After sitting down with a friendly Spanish man sipping wine under the shelter of a small café, he told me my hostel was nine blocks to the left. Looking me over with my wet hair, towering backpack, and sodden map, he told me to take the bus. I’d been walking around for over an hour now. Nine blocks was nothing, and I was not about to let the possibility of the wrong bus take me further away. I told him I would walk, thanked him for his help, and wondered what he was thinking as he watched me saunter off, counting my streets in the night.

The rain stopped just as I reached my hostel. Suddenly the past couple hours, or my entirely long day, didn’t matter anymore. I’d made it, and I was happy enough for that.

When I got to my room of fourteen dorm beds, I met my first two American girls since I’ve been traveling: Rosie and Thea. They’d just arrived that day, too, and they were about to get ready to go on a pub crawl. They told me to come, followed by a number of convincing reasons: it was Saturday night in Barcelona, our first night, it’d be fun, if it made me feel any better, they were tired too. Persuaded, I took a shower, and we left around 11:30.  

Day one quickly rolled into day two in Barcelona as we pored into our dorm beds around 5 am. I slept through noon and declared that afternoon a beach day. 

The rest of my days were a mixture of exploring the streets, marveling at Gaudi’s work, beach bumming, dining with new friends, and falling in love with colorful Barcelona.

I've met some really great people...

Thea and Rosie. I miss them <3

After dinner with Adam, Rosie, Thea, and Alex

 Had some really delicious food...

Chicken curry. So good.

Not very Spanish, but one of the coolest things I've seen: a rotating sushi bar.

Seen some really amazing things...

 

La Sagrada Familia

Inside the cathedral

At the top of Park Güell

Gaudi's Casa Batllo, where I will live some day. 

Roamed through the coolest markets...

Mercat de la Boqueria

 And enjoyed some really nice beaches...

I hope to maybe stop back in Barcelona before my trip ends. It's strange to think that it's half over already. I took an overnight ferry to the island of Majorca a couple days ago and have been reveling in the sun and calm of it all, but more on that later.

Barcelona's city lights from the ferry

P.S. Someone should give me a Blogging for Dummies book, because I can't make anything look like how I want it to. 

P.P.S. Nobody actually get me one, please, cause I won't read it.