The Pyrenees

Spain does many things excellently. Food, wine, football. Another of the nation's particular talents is the ability to milk a bank holiday for all it's worth. Since arriving in Catalonia, I'm pretty sure the weeks in which I have been working five days are outnumbered by the ones which have included a day off for some reason or another. The 1st November is a public holiday and, luckily for me, it fell on a Thursday. Now, I was nothing short of outraged at this to begin with. 'WHAT SORT OF USE IS A FREE THURSDAY TO ANYONE?!' I wailed at my host family. Until they explained that if the holiday falls on a Thursday then everyone just takes the Friday off anyway so they can have a four-day weekend. Spain, I think I may have discovered why your economy is so far up the proverbial creek sans paddle but I totally respect you for it.

Host family, extended host family and myself took a trip to host grandparents' second home close to Vielha in the beautiful Val d'Aran in the Spanish Pyrenees. The setting was idyllic. A beautiful mountainside house surrounded by nature (and animals!)

We made a brief soujourn into Vielha, which was typically pretty, rustic-in-a-way-that-obviously-appeals-to-skiiers and expensive. It was a beautiful little town, but I am not a fan of these places that seem to only serve the wealthy tourists rather than the locals. Spanish Mum and Auntie took me into a clothes boutique and I was ogling the gorgeous scarves until I saw the price tag and nearly vomited. We did find an amazing little shop though that sold a weird assortment of absurdly beautiful Christmas decorations, home furnishings, antique typewriters and model aeroplanes. There were replica German bombers next to the British ones which I found very strange!

My favourite day was the trip to go walking in the mountains. Spanish Dad drove us up some very windy and precarious 'roads' which made me feel a tad queasy/scared of plummeting off a mountain. It was worth it when we got there though. The views were simply stunning. We were there searching for mushrooms (we didn't find any) but I was just getting snap-happy. Every angle, every view was equally breathtaking. I mean, look:

Me looking glamorous in fluroscent skiwear.

I could have stayed up there forever. Well, not forever. It would probably get a bit cold. I definitely could have stayed up there a bit longer than I did. There's nothing like being surrounded by such raw nature. The air is different, the sky is different, the trees are different. You feel so insignificant and so privileged in the presence of all this wonderfulness.

Being so close to the border, we also took a cheeky day trip into France. The main purpose of this was so that Spanish Family could buy their homeopathic 'medicine' more cheaply (presumably the French have realised that it's just water and pot pourri and so don't charge as much as the Spaniards who are Well Into It), but luckily I got to do more than just stand outside a Pharmacie tutting and rolling my eyes. We visited a utterly charming little village called Saint-Bertand-des-Comminges which I just fell in love with. I love France and my French is vaguely more passable than my Spanish (and a darnsight moreso than my Catalan!) so I was so content to be there. There was a beautiful old monastery/cathedral, typical little boutiques - loads selling handmade umbrellas - and a peace and enjoyable stillness that only comes from sleepy French villages.

The time I spent in the Pyrenees was far too short. It was heaven. I got to walk, eat good food and befriend animals. Some of my favourite things in the world. Whilst I was there a world beyond the mountains was impossible to imagine. Just as now I am back in my day-to-day routine I find the mountains impossible to describe.

Me with my assortment of new friends.

Cordoba

Last weekend in Spain involved a national holiday on the Friday which meant I was of course going to take advantage of the extra day by travelling somewhere exciting. A friend of mine is studying in Cordoba and, given that with the highspeed trains Andalucia is a mere 3 hour journey from Catalonia, I decided to visit him. After several battles with the complete catastrofuck that is the RENFE website, I booked my tickets (rather pricey at 180 Euros - train prices in Spain are determined by the speed of the train) and spent the entire week being a bit too excited and making all the other teachers at my school jealous.

Despite their website being reminiscent of something you would find if you clambered through the bloody looking glass, the RENFE trains themselves are very nice. Comfortable, lots of leg room and bloody fast.

I arrived in Cordoba at about 8 in the evening. After waiting around for-bloody-ever for my friend, ever fashionably late, we walked into the old part of the town for tapas and vino. I was immediately struck by the beauty of the city. It is almost obnoxiously gorgeous. Old Spanish and Moorish influences intertwining to make the most beautiful wonky old buildings and winding, cobbled streets. We had good food (apart from the weird, sweet meatpaste ball things) and then had some vino and cervezas in a hipster bar with bicycles and ambiguously-gendered clientele in unfeasibly tight jeans.

Next day we got up early(ish) to visit the mezquita (mosque) which was just beautiful. We didn't go in because money and hordes of tourists but the exterior was stunning enough.

Sickening, isn't it?

Lots of wandering around followed. I didn't mind. Walking beautiful old streets with good company and the sun beating down is pretty much my idea of heaven. We walked past a christening and had coffee in the shadows of a 900 year old church. 

Obviously the evening involved getting 'British drunk', as my friend's non-UK Erasmus student pals have affectionately (ahem) named it. Friend and I broke off from the Germans and headed for a gay bar which was great. It was tiny but fabulous. Everyone needs a disco ball. Also, we got chatting to some of the loveliest, most comfortable and happy people I've ever spoken to. LUSH. Then there was the 5am rave where a transwoman flashed us her boobs and we danced to Gangnam Style.

This seems to be something of a common theme in these blog posts. 'BEAUTIFUL BUILDINGS! DRUNKEN DANCING!'

Such is life.

Us, looking every inch the glamorous sophisticates we are.

Hola Espana!

For this next year I will be living and working in Lleida, Catalonia as a Conversation/Language Assistant in a school. Lleida is a small town and therefore I am expecting an 'authentic' (bloody hate that word) Catalan experience.

I will be keeping you posted as I enjoy my experiences here in Spain. No photos or anything as yet, as it has been very hectic!

Warsaw

One of my best friends from university is a lovely Polish girl from Warsaw and I went to visit her for five days. I am honestly very ignorant of Poland and most of Central/Eastern Europe so I have to say I was very intrigued. Besides, the promise of cheap vodka was enough to lure me eastwards so I booked a ridiculously cheap flight (£50! Return! Thank you LOT airlines!) and hotel and looked forward to partying.

It has to be said that Warsaw, on the surface, is not the most beautiful city I have ever been to. Over 85% of it was destroyed in the course of World War Two and some rather unsightly Eastern Bloc architecture sprung up in its place. That said, the Old Town has been painstakingly recreated, brick for brick, and I think this provides a true example of what Warsaw and Poland is about. Resistance, resilience and getting on with and enjoying life.

Warsaw Old Town

Warsaw suffered. A lot. A must-see is the Warsaw Uprising Museum which really highlights the immense trauma Warsaw experienced during the war years and the Polish people's determination to fight back. It was impossible to fight back the tears when my friend translated the diary of an 8 year old boy who was actively involved in the resistance movement. "I hope I see my parents again." "I will never forgive them for what they have done to us." It's a tough museum to visit, but an important one. As with many museums dedicated to awful or harrowing events (the Holocaust exhibition at the Imperial War Museum springs to mind), every detail has been thought out. Warsaw is a booming, bustling city very much looking to then future but keenly aware of its past. Part of this, I presume, is due to the fact that its history is a part of history very much ignored outside of Poland. We all know Germany invaded Poland, but I at least had very little knowledge of Poland's role in the war beyond that. This is a shocking oversight. The Uprising Museum is not only full of information, all presented in an accessible and engaging way, but heartbreakingly demonstrative of how much was sacrificed by ordinary citizens. I for one will definitely be researching this aspect of WW2 history much further now. As a side note, if you're interested in this too then Andrzej Wadja's excellent 1956 film Kanal is a good place to start.

Of course, vodka is a key part of any visit to Poland. And drinks were CHEAP. Where else can you go to a capital city for five days with £100 and come back with change? Warsaw is also generally a very chilled and fun night out. The moment where I got insulted by a guy with a mullet aside, I found clubbing a much more relaxed and enjoyable experience. Guys didn't come up and grind into me as a way of indicating that I didn't look completely shit. They came up and ASKED to dance. And if I said no, they went away. Jesus, I wish clubbing in England was like that! It seems like it's a European thing (to be a respectful, non-douchebag) as the Swedish guys we met at the 70s club - don't ask - were equally friendly, chilled and non-sleazy. Brits, take note!

I also got to visit my friend's family, which was lovely. Polish people really are the best. You're in their house for less than a minute and you've got at least a beer. Magic! I also got to see lots of adorable Polish babies but I can't start talking about them or I'll never stop...

As I said, Warsaw is not Paris. It's not fabulous buildings (Old Town aside), elegant charm and tree-lined avenues. What it is is genuine, friendly and bloody good fun. Visit the Uprising Museum. Learn about the suffering this tough-exteriored city endured. Then appreciate how far it's come since. There's always someone offering a drink, a dance, a smile. I think that's worth a million Louvres or Notre-Dames if I'm perfectly honest.

Things.

Firstly, this blog hasn't been updated in a while for the simple reason that I haven't been anywhere. Apart from Cork, but that was to visit friends/get drunk so I don't feel I can write an appropriate piece on the city. I've been horrendously busy with work and things too.

Secondly, you will get a post soon as I'm off to Warsaw in a couple of weeks, so watch this space!

Munich and Salzburg.

First off, you should probably know something about me. Something a little embarrassing. I love Germans. Despite being Made in England (although, technically, I was "made" in Texas but I don't particularly want to go down that road...), a full-blown tea addict and known to use the word 'ghastly' on more than one occasion, I bloody love our lederhosen-clad friends. Every single German person I have ever met has been kind, caring and downright hilarious. Despite this affectionate inclination towards the German people, I had, until recently, never actually been to Germany. Unless you count stopping off to use the loo at a service station on the way to a ski resort in Austria, but I'm not going to. So it was lovely to be invited to spend New Year's in Munich, where a dear friend of mine is currently working.

After getting up disgracefully earlier (or rather, not going to bed the night before) to catch the coach from Southampton to Gatwick, we boarded our 6.30am flight and arrived in Munich in a zombie-like state, completely unaware of anything beyond the need for a large coffee. Our host, having been out the night before, had also failed to arrive at the airport to meet us. He arrived two hours late and we got to experience Munich's stupidly efficient transport network as we went to his apartment. Day 1, given the antisocial timing of our flight, was somewhat of a write off. We slept off some of our tiredness and went out in the evening for a quite beer (or two, or three, or four...with German quality and prices, I couldn't stop at just one).

Can I just take a moment to ogle Munich's
U-Bahn stations?

Day 2 was when my first experience of Germany truly began. It was New Year's Eve, so few actual attractions were open. No matter. Munich is a lovely city to wander around, particularly for an architecture fiend like myself. Although, if I'm perfectly honest, my actual architectural knowledge goes little beyond 'ooooh, PRETTY!'. Pretty it certainly was. The weather was very grey, but that did little to detract from the overall...niceness. Nice is a bad word that everyone was told by their English teachers never to use in anything EVER. But it fits here, and I don't think it's a bad word. Even on a dreary day, I was enjoying the experience of just wandering around this new city, with my friends, looking at the buildings and getting nice, warm, fuzzy feelings. Of course, no trip to Germany, especially Bavaria, is complete without a trip to the beer hall to consume die Maß. After a quick sneaky peak into the overcrowded (and very tourist-geared) Hofbrauhaus to ogle blond men in lederhosen and some unconvincingly covered-up swastikas, our host took us to a smaller beer hall. I wish for the life of me I could remember what it was called, but it was in the Marienplatz and it was wonderful and here have a picture of me weight-lifting:

Cheers!

New Year's Eve: the less said the better. Let's just say, it was the Germans who mentioned the war. And the Brits who drank too much.

Day 4 - SALZBURG. Day 3, being New Year's Day, was a write-off. Everything was closed and all I and my compatriots were capable of doing was lying down groaning and eating vast quantities of carbohydrate. No matter. Day 4 more than made up for it. We travelled, on a group ticket, across the border from Munich to Salzburg. For around five Euros. FIVE EUROS. British trains, sort it out! I digress. We somehow managed to get the right bus from the Hauptbahnhof ('main station' is probably the main German word I picked up on this trip) to the Old Town. Then many, many pictures were taken. Salzburg is nothing short of beautiful. Gorgeous baroque buildings with a backdrop of mountains. Pretty perfect if you ask me. We then took the cable car up to the Hohensalzburg Fortress, an imposing castle which dominates the city's skyline.

Busking is a classier affair in Salzburg

An all-round bargain at around 12 Euros for the cable car, entrance to the castle and museum, we spent the entire afternoon exploring Hohensalzburg. As well as offering spectacular views of the Alps, you can see some of the state rooms of the castle and there is a museum about the history of the castle, Salzburg and Austria in general. Very well priced and interesting. The restaurant, where we ate dinner, was also very good and surprisingly cheap for being in such a tourist hotspot and having such wonderful mountain views.

Hello, this is Austria. We would like to casually offer you
some mountain.

Our final day in Munich was again spent exploring the city. The weather was much more pleasant and our photographs were much better for it. We visited the Schloss Nymphenburg, which was stunning. There's something so classy about even the grandest of buildings in Munich. I noticed that the ornamentation on the Palace was a soft yellow, rather than gold, ensuring none of the gaudiness that one would expect from similar British or French buildings.

Schloss Nymphenburg

After lunch and some shopping for tacky souvenirs and postcards, we visited the Olympic Park and sat on some of the old stone steps, chatting as the sun set over Munich. After a quick diversion into the BMW museum (which was quite fun, but I'm not admitting that to the boys), we went back to our friend's apartment, picked up our suitcases and sadly made our way to the airport.

It was with a really heavy heart that I left Munich. I truly loved the place and had a wonderful experience. This trip only serves to support my hypothesis that Germans and Germany are truly underrated.