Drunk in Spain - Barcelona

La Boqueria (aka Heaven on Earth) - Barcelona, Spain

Like the rest of my time in Spain I don't remember much and am lacking in photographic evidence of most of what happened, but I do remember that Barcelona was absolutely amazing. We stayed at a hostel right off of La Ramblas which gave me quick access to La Boqueria, a market filled with treats and meats and other amazing things. I could walk around this place for hours, and actually came back later in the summer because I loved it so much here. La Ramblas is a street lined with touristy eating spots and stalls selling all and any souvenir you could imagine, but it is in central Barcelona and close to a lot of great things. The Gothic Quarter starts here and really exemplifies Barcelona's past even though it is mixed in with new, developing parts of the city. The nightlife here is my favorite part, there is something about wandering the dark, narrow alley ways that had me hooked. 

Treats on Treats on Treats

Bar hopping in the Gothic Quarter - Barcelona, Spain

A great place to go if you are looking to have a really gnarly hangover is Chupitos. Now this place, this place is wild. There are hundreds of shots plastered across the wall, and you don't know what any of them are. You. Just. Order. The red ones involve fire and they are all 2 Euro, except for about 5 of them. And those ones are SERIOUS. The Monica Lewinsky shot can be found here - be warned, it's vulgar. My personal favorite is the Boy Scout shot. They give you a marshmallow on a stick and light your shot on fire. You roast the mallow over it before taking she shot. The only downfall to this place is they use their own "branded" alcohol - it's all really cheap and every shot is mixed with loads of sugar. If anyone has ever partied here and NOT woke up the next morning feeling like they were hit by a bus, it would be a miracle. 

        

You also shouldn't leave Barcelona without visiting La Champaneria. You have to go early, because they close by 10pm-ish (if I remember correctly). This is VERY uncharacteristic of Spain, but that's their thing. It's a great pregamming spot. It will undoubtedly be packed, you will have no room to stand or sit or breath but delicious Cava (Catalonian champagne) and even more delicious tapas. Manchego quickly became my favorite cheese. Writing this blog has me drooling. 

La Champagneria - Barcelona, Spain

My time in Barcelona wouldn't be complete without visiting a park. Not just any park, but the most amazing park ever in the world. I wonder how many parks that I have been to I have considered "the most amazing". Probably every one I've been to, because dammit I LOVE PARKS. Park Guell was designed bu Gadui, which is pretty self explanatory and I don't even need to go into details about how beautiful it was. It, however, isn't your typical park. It's situated on a hill, and a lot of the walking is up. 

We spent some time at the beach, which was so incredibly beautiful and had such good vibes. We were desperate for flotation devices and spent the afternoon in the water with drinks, enjoying each others company. We didn't do too many "touristy" sightseeing things, which was fine. I'm not big on that anyways. We did walk past The Sacred Family cathedral. I'm also not big on lines. The view from outside was unreal. One day I will go back, maybe when it's finished :)

The trip ended in chaos. One member of the party lost his green card. And by lost I mean that a hooker stole his wallet. Him and another guy had to go back to Madrid to visit the consulate to ensure that he would be able to get back to America with no problems. The last night in Barcelona I decided to stay in because we had an early flight the next morning. The majority of what was left of the rest of the group went to a stock market bar, where the prices of drinks fluctuate based on what people are drinking the most of. They were supposed to have an early night. PSSSH. Please. I woke up at 6am and most of them weren't back, and the ones who were back had brought new friends with them ;) Our flight was at 8:45 and by the time we left the hostel one of them hadn't even returned. We had no idea where he was. We left without him. WE LEFT WITHOUT HIM. When we finally arrived at the airport around 8:15, they wouldn't let us through because no one had checked in online for the flight. Before we could get to Mallorca we were stationary in the airport for many, many hours. I tried messaging our fallen solider, Conner, but the attempts were unsuccessful. 

 

Drunk in Spain - Running of the Bulls

After Madrid we were off to Pamplona. Thanks to the 40 Liters of beer I drank previously, I was the only drunk one of the group while boarding the trains. I got lucky with a first class ticket somehow but wasn't able to enjoy it because I passed out almost immediately. Once we arrived late that night we trekked our way to the hotel, which was quite a distance from the station. The boys who were running (from the bulls) still needed to go downtown to get their morning attire (white shirt, white shorts, red bandanna and sash) so I, along with the rest of the girls decided to accompany them. I had just jumped out of the shower and had my pajamas on but I was convinced it was going to be a quick trip so I wasn't bothered. 

We jumped on the bus and as soon as we hopped off it was apparent that we weren't going anywhere any time soon. It was past midnight at this point, and there were thousands of happy Spaniards drinking sangria and listening to music and having a damn good time. No way were we going to pass this up. We found our outfits for the next day (after first getting the largest cup of sangria I could find) and spent the next few hours walking in and out of bars,drinking as possible and making as many friends as possible. Everyone was drunk and happy and DRUNK. 

Some of the boys took the last bus back to the hotel to get sleep before they had to be CHASED BY BULLS. Who knew that a few members of the group were actually responsible. A few others, including myself, decided to go on a mission to find where the bulls were being housed before the run in the morning. We found them, and let me tell you - they were HUGE. The guy watching the pen explained that there were 6 calm bulls, and then 6 very scary and angry bulls. They all looked frightening to me. While planning my trip I had full intentions of participating completely in the run. I was going to be there, why not? But after consulting a few people and realizing I was more likely to get trampled by people than bulls considering how small I am, and the fact I was drunk - I decided against it. Being there was more than enough for me. 

View from the balcony - Pamplona, Spain

It gets a little foggy after this. All I know is I was still hammered drunk at 7am when we headed back to the hotel to chance quickly before we had to be at our balcony for the run. I am so lucky to have been able to watch the event from above, in a lovely Spanish woman's living room. There was food, which I wasn't interested in, and coffee - which I was very much interested in. After the bulls rushed passed (The whole thing lasted not much longer than a minute) the TV was turned on and we all crowded around to watch what was happening in the arena, which wasn't good. 

There was a blockade of runners clogging up the entrance to the stadium. The bulls ran right into this wall of people, and the miraculous thing is - they were not being violent. The sweet lady who owned the home was freaking out, exclaiming (in Spanish), that something like this has never happened. I am so thankful that my friends were not involved in this mess. It was one of the scariest things not knowing if they had been injured or not. 

We quickly gathered our things and went to the meeting place where we nervously anticipated their arrival. It felt so good seeing them walk up to us mostly unscathed. We made our way back to the hotel to get some well deserved rest, and then woke up and did it all again. My memory of most of this event is minimal with even less picture evidence. I remember having the damn time of my life though, and being in awe while watching the firework display later that evening. Despite my lack of photograph proof this is by far one of the craziest things I have ever experienced in my life. I would do it again. Over and over and over. 

I'm a big idiot and didn't think it would be necessary to book my train for the way out of Pamplona. We were all headed to Barcelona that Sunday morning, and I couldn't get a train there until Tuesday. The lovely man at the ticket counter also wouldn't help me get to another train station in which I could make a connection. All I got out of him was, "Zaragoza". So, I hopped on the next train there with no idea when I would be able to meet up with my friends again.

But that's okay, because I made plenty of (drunk) new friends on the train. Two were from Chile and were in the same situation as me. They were angels and agreed to help me once we got to the train station. They ended up being not as much of a help as I would have imagined - because somehow I purchased a bus ticket to Barcelona instead of getting on a train, which added about 3 hours to my travel time. BUT, the bus ride wasn't that bad and I was honestly just happy to be getting there. 

The majority of my new friends spoke literally no English. My new Chilean friends translated what they could but despite speaking the same language (technically), there were still communication barriers. Despite that, we still had a blast on the train and I am Facebook friends with most of them. Facebook - global connections at their finest!

Eric put together a video of their experience Running with the BULLS. Wild.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gEBRWQIR3oQ

Drunk in Spain - Madrid

A bunch of hooligans in Parque del Retiro - Madrid, Spain

The picture above was taken shortly after having beer taped to my hands. Spain was one big fantastic mess. It definitely stands out from the rest of my trip, mainly because I was with a group of friends who's travel style includes massive amounts of alcohol. 

I'm not gonna bother trying to piece together my trip bit my bit. 

A group of 8 people spent almost 2 days in airports and on planes trying to get to Spain. Me and Zach however ended up at Hostel 007 in Madrid on time and made the absolute most of it - wandering the streets, buying drinks in bars only when I had to use the bathroom. Employees usually throw a fit when you try and use their bathroom without purchasing any goods. We weren't bothered, and my bladder was extremely weak.  It set a good precedent for the adventure that was to come. I vaguely remember running into prostitutes, trying to work up the courage to talk to one, and instead settling for one of my all time favorite things to do - people watching. 

Very drunk man laying under a statue in Madrid, Spain

Gazpacho!

As you can imagine, international airport drama can make you go a little loopy. When the crew finally arrived a day later than they expected, they had already come up with drinking games and activities abound. Insane tasks would be written down and numbered - numbers would be drawn to conclude which task you had to do. Shotgunning beers with locals, getting a kiss from a member of the same sex, and my lovely task - Edward 40 hands. Thankfully this game didn't last through the rest of our trip, one of us was bound to get into trouble. 

The last day we were in Madrid we spent the day at Retiro Park, definitely the highlight of my time here. Typical. Not much makes me happier than a big, juicy park. This one has art exhibits, a man playing an instrument (don't remember which) who refused a free beer and got mad when we didn't give him enough money, and a lake with a massive line of people waiting to paddle around on one of their many boats. 

Drunk in Spain - Mallorca

The last stop. We were down 3 members of our group, one of which was completely lost. Once we landed and got to our place we were able to see a post of his on Facebook explaining that we ditched him and he THOUGHT we were going to Ibiza, so he bought a ticket there. I immediately commented telling him NOT to go there, but if it was too late everyone would be there in a few days and to hang tight. Dramaaaaa.

We were low on money at this point due to the expense of missing our flight, so a quite night on the beach with a grocery store bought dinner of sandwiches sounded like heaven. Somehow, somewhere, someone had service that night - low and behold our dear Conner had mad it to Mallorca. We tried to let him know where we were and where we were staying. An hour or so later he came walking up to us on the beach. MAN, were we happy to see him. Turns out he got really, really drunk and cuddled with a prostitute all night. Really, he just cuddled.

Hookah lounge - Palma Mallorca, Spain

The next day we wanted to visit Cuevas del Drach - The Dragon Cave. Eric, the planner of these Spanish Escapades, was talking this up big. Apparently there was a massive lake down in this cave, and you could ride a boat through it. All 7 of us drove there in a car meant for 5 people. You know what that meant? Each trip we made, one of us had to ride in the trunk. I shit you not. I don't remember when exactly I had to bite the bullet in the small confines of the boot of a car, but it was as unpleasant as it sounds. Silly kids.

Anyways, we get to this cave and there are no boat rides. Oh well, it was still pretty cool. There were amazing formations and we got to watch a few productions. Okay, it wasn't that cool - only because afterwards while eating at the snack bar afterwards did I realize while looking at we were at Cuevas Hohlen, not Cuevas del Drach.

Now, at this point I was running really low on cash. Okay, the entire time I was in Europe I was REALLY low on cash. I just couldn't afford going to another cave and forking over more money. So me and a few others got dropped off at the beach - which is free - while the others made their way to the cave that we were supposed to go to. Which was wonderful! It was absolutely beautiful and clean and we swam and laid out and I almost left my camera at Burger King, but I realized it before anyone had the chance to swoop it. LUCKY. So damn lucky.

That night we didn't go out, but instead I bought a bottle of wine and walked to the beach where we got drunk and made friends and that's all I really remember. I had a damn good time though and was running on very few hours of sleep the next morning when I had to be dropped off at the airport to continue my travels without those crazy hooligans who I had such a BLAST with in Spain. It was by far the drunkest and most dramatic time during my entire 6 months in Europe - but I made some serious memories (and lack thereof).

LUCKILY, the amazing Eric put together this video proof of our Spanish Escapades. Man, oh man.

La Tomatina

Oh, La Tomatina.

When the ever so popular question arises and I have to rack my memory to choose ONE thing I did throughout my entire 6 months in Europe that I felt was the most fun... this is what my brain comes up with. The struggle getting there was real and the benefit I reaped from it was more than I could have imagined.

I planned on going to the festival with my friend Mike, who I've spent time with earlier in the summer. HE was supposed to book the tickets and some how I still ended up with my nose in my phone the only night I spent in Paris trying to get through the ridiculous spaintastic website. It was a nightmare getting the tickets. The website wasn't working and when I finally got my payment to go through they NEVER sent me the link for the tickets.

So I called the company and explain. They understood, but somehow the package I wanted was sold out and had to get a more expensive one. Fine, I'll pay it. They never emailed me back.

Mike let me know the day before that he wasn't able to come because of work. I was so lucky to have met adorable Canadian girls at the hostel I was staying at in Paris that were going to be at La Tomatina too. They offered me a place to crash if I needed it, and I needed it hard. Lucky that opportunity fell into my lap!

They had purchased tickets through a different tour company and were able to communicate with their group prior to the festival. They all arranged to meet up on the beach the night before for dinner and drinks and lots of phone stealing fun. I got a little drunk, maybe. And let my phone a little unattended on a beach. Maybe. But my purse got stolen from under my nose.

Luckily before I left the hotel I separated some of my cash and left my credit card and passport at the hotel. One of those times that I used my head. It's always good to have stashes and backups in case crisis strikes. You also have to stay clam. I could have easily freaked out. My phone has everything. It WAS my everything - as far as traveling was concerned. It had very important information inside of it. And pictures. And email confirmations 0_0

I paid for a ticket that I never received and had nothing to prove it, yet I was in Valencia with more willpower to get to those damn tomato-filled streets than anywhere in the world. I wandered over to the pickup point for the tour at dusk, keeping my fingers crossed that my name would be somewhere. That SOMEONE would know I had the damn right to get on that bus.

There weren't many people there yet. I sat alone but chatted with everyone and eventually paired up with a cute group of young Australian girls (they are ALL over Europe). I explained my situation and we all made it a point to get me on that bus, regardless.

I explained my situation to a few of the tour guides. I checked all the list and my name wasn't on any of them, so I started making goody goody with the guide who was leading the group the new friends I made were in. She eventually agreed to let me on the bus and we would get everything sorted when we got there. I eventually got her to agree to a lot of things :)

She was flustered. It seemed the company was very unorganized, and she didn't have time to get meal tickets and locker tags and all the information we needed out. Volunteering to aid her was an obvious first step into getting into this festival. We chatted when we got off the bus, I helped her while she rolled a cigarette. It was chaos when we got to the lockers, and it was obvious she didn't want to deal with me. She had me write down my email and attached a wristband to me.

I. Was. In.

I'll skip right to the after photos.

Hundreds of us were hurdled in the small streets of Buñol. The houses on either side of us were covered with tarps. The residents lingered over us playing music and pouring water and wine all over us. As we waited it started to rain, and we started to sing. You could sense the anticipation in the air. We were ready.

The first truck rolled through. There were people standing in the truck tossing tomatoes at us in the streets. We frantically reached down to grab what tomatoes we could so that we could participate too. There weren't enough to go around. Not until the second truck came. 

The back of the truck stopped right at me feet, and within seconds the massive vehicle dumped thousands of tomatoes right at me feet. I was in heaven. Everyone was throwing tomatoes at everyone. Within 5 minutes I was covered in sauce. I was dodging tomatoes like a ninja and tossing them like crazy. HEAD SHOT! My signature move made me a lot of friends. I'd grab the collar of an unsuspecting victims shirt, pull it open and smash tomatoes into their back. This would typically start a war, and we would battle for the next few minutes until we got distracted by everyone else's battles. I felt like a kid, the happiest of kids.

This lasted for the next 50 minutes. I lost my Australian friends in the midst of it all. I wasn't bothered. Everyone was my friend. I pulled my signature move on, "the wrong guys", and they proceded to grab me by my arms and legs, toss me into the soup which filled the streets, and kick up a whirlwind of tomatoes. Perfect way to end the festivities.

The locals of Buñol were kind enough to spend their afternoon hosing off the fighters when the lines for the showers were too long. I waited patiently to get clean with new friends who were on the same bus as me. They brought a unicorn head to the party, and they enjoyed how small I was. We made a great team the rest of the day, which involved beer and sangria and PALLEA. Which my beautiful tour guide hooked me up with. Estella was her name, and making me happy was her game. 

A few days prior to the event I was riding around on a motorbike in the Spanish countryside with my Couchsurfing friend. You can read more HERE. In the attempt to get an awesome picture I burned myself on the exhaust. After being saturated in tomato juice for an hour, my wound was broken open while riding a unicorn. Just my luck, that damn thing got nasty infected. I still have a scar, and everytime I look a it, I smile.

I can't begin to explain how thankful I am that I was able to experience this. When it seemed like nothing was going my way, I persisted and kept a damn smile plastered on my face. Sometimes it astounds me how lucky I am. And for that, I am forever and always thankful! 

Europe or BUST

I decided in 2011 that I wanted to finish my last semester of undergrad doing my Student Teaching Internship in England instead of at home in Vegas. My last semester of school wasn't until Fall 2013. I had lots of time to dream. 

Originally I planned on spending the summer prior teaching English in Italian summer camps, but the program fell through less than a month before I was planning on arriving. The economy there was in the decline and there wasn't enough enrollment to give me a job. I wasn't just NOT going to get on the plane, but I had been counting on the money I would have made working. I went from having 6 weeks paid with accommodation funding my 6 weeks frivolous travel to having nearly 3 months in Europe with practically no money. I knew I had to get creative.

Google led me to plenty of blogs that got my creative juices flowing on how I could make my trip work with very little planning. (If I can remember the specific blogs I checked out, I will link them!) 

My Couchsurfing and workaway profiles went up almost simultaneously and emails were being sent around the world at the speed of lightening. I looked at a map of Europe about 75% of the time my eyes were open and my mind rarely strayed from the subject. Within a week I had a rough outline (and I mean ROUGH) of where I wanted to be and when. 

When I finally returned home I came across my rough draft while cleaning and thought it would be fun to go over the plans (with orange pen) with where I had actually ended up being. Being flexible allowed me to tailor my trip as I went along. I loved not feeling confined by plans. 

I traveled alone the majority of the time, only meeting up with friends every so often. By no means did I ever feel truly alone. There was always someone, or something to keep me company. Hostel roommates, strangers, store clerks. People watching, park dwellings, and cemetery wandering were a few of my favorite pastimes. 

Couchsurfing was a savior! I am going to get into way more detail about this online wonderland of international friends in a separate blog post, eventually. There is no easier way to make new friends and experience local culture. 

For the beginning of my summer I found a host through workaway.info (which will also get its own blog post, respectively). I lived in a little Italian village for a few weeks and took care of some kids in exchange for accommodation and a stalked fridge. Thinking about these first few weeks of my trip brings back such fond, humbling memories. 

View of Bagni di Lucca from Montefegatesi - Italy

Then I partied my way through Portugal and Spain with friends. A LOT of friends. 10 of us in the group total. There were a lot of lessons learned on this portion of the adventure. 

Mallorca, Spain

I took some down time with a friend who lives in Germany. He is stationed with the army in Kaiserslautern. Wine festivals were plentiful and we went to Nature One, a music festival where we camped and partied and got pleasantly rained on. 

Burg Litchenberg Castle, Kusel - Germany

Spent a whole 16 hours in Zurich because a friend and I decided last minute to take a seven hour train to Switzerland for the Street Parade. We had nowhere to stay and no money to afford anything in Zurich (McDonalds was even out of our price range), but our hopes remained high! Plus, neither of us saw the harm in sleeping at the train station if it provided necessary. Which it did. I wish I had photos of us curled up along the lockers along with hundreds of other parade-goers who had the same carelessness. 

I made my way slowly but surely through Germany, peaking over to Austria and Amsterdam. I had a pit stop in Paris on my way back down to Spain (I HAD to go back), where I couch surfed and bathed in tomatoes. 

Amsterdam, The Netherlands

Paris, France

And then to my host family in Sheffield, England. I lived there for three months while teaching 9 year olds about King Henry VIII and the metric system. Money at this point was dwindling, so the amount that I would have liked to travel England was minimal - but it just made Sheffield feel that much more like a home away from home. 

Ecclesall Woods, Sheffield - England

Manchester, Durham, and Liverpool were lucky enough to enjoy my presence. Scotland got a big dose of me as well. I took a tour from Edinburgh through the Highlands to the Isle of Skye for my half term break. It was literally magical. 

Sligachan, Scotland

Our tour guide told us this river contains Faerie magic. Upon sticking our faces in the water for 10 seconds, we would be granted the blessing of not aging for a year! 

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And there you have a very condensed summary of what my 6 months in Europe looked like. It's crazy to think about all that time, all the things I did and people I met, summed up in one blog post. 

Hopefully I will have more in depth accounts of my experiences abroad, as well as advice and tips and resources and anything else I can think of to flood this blog with and occupy my time.