Well, we're back, and I've begun posting the pictures to their respective days. So far I have my own pictures, as well as those of Mr. Witt and Mrs. Mortenson (thanks to both of you), and Mrs. Houser came by to give me hers today, though I still have to upload those. It took me all day to upload the first sets to the hosting site, and will take a few days to post them all here, but I wanted you all to see them as they come up. So far I've finished the pictures of the first travel day (here), the first day in London (here), and our second day in London (here), and our day in Warwick/Stratford/Coventry (here).
Also, I realized that I had the comments section set so that it prevented some of you from leaving comments. I've fixed that, so feel free to comment on the pics, share your recollections of the trip, etc.
I hope those of you who were on the trip are recovering from your jet lag. I thought I was fine after the extra night in out decompression chamber of Dallas, but yesterday the exhaustion took me by surprise in the middle of the afternoon. Looking at all these pictures has been helpful in remembering how much I enjoyed the trip before entering this persistent gray fog of jet lag.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Bonus day!
Yea. We landed in Dallas, made it through customs, got our checked bags, and Mr. Witt went to work trying to get us on a later flight to Portland while the rest of us sat just inside the baggage check, waiting for a shuttle to arrive to take us to a hotel. For the students, it was an exercise in patience. For me, it was an exercise in humility, because every time a student asked an entirely reasonable and timely question, fully deserving an unambiguous answer, I got to say, "I'm not sure. I don't know. We'll see. It could be. I just can't answer that yet." As we waited, questions evolved from "Will we get on a flight tonight?" and "Shouldn't we be waiting here to see if they can get us on a flight?" to "Who is going to get to get on a flight tonight?" to "Will there be a pool at the hotel?" and "Where is the bus?" and "Why is it taking so long? Why can't we just go to the hotel?" earlier in the trip I'd promised to get Amanda Laister a button that says, "I never know what is going on." I wanted one that quoted Socrates: "The only thing I know is that I know nothing."
Mr. Witt dd manage to get a handful of people off on the last flight to Portland, then got us all arranged onto flight for the next day. Unfortunately, those flight were not all together, so even when he arrived and we loaded the shuttle to the hotel, he couldn't tell the group when we would be leaving or arriving in Portland. We got to the comfort in, dropped our bags in our spacious suites, came back down to gwt our individual flight info, and then ordered pizza for dinner using the food vouchers provided by the airlines. After some hemming and hawing on my part about the necessity to do so, we decided we would need to call the parents of ten of the students who would be making one leg of their journey wiithout an adult unless I could get myself switched onto their flight. The parents were very understanding, offering to help in any way they could. After a couple pieces of pizza in a student's room I threw in the towel and settled in for a night of strange and harrowing dreams about losing students at airports in various cities around the world.
I woke up early (thanks to another nightmare), took my time packing, and went down to the lobby, expecting to have to call rooms to wake up kids who'd slept through alarms. For the first time, everybody was ready to go exactly when we told them to be ready.
We got our boarding passes easily and I even got switched to the flight that previously had no adult, though my checked bags will arrive on the other flight and the Hasbrooks will have to bring them to me later. That's okay, because I packed all the gifts for Paige and Noah in a carry-on. I can wait on washing my dirty laundry, but I'm excited about the gift giving.
We landed in Portland, everyone met with their parents, and we went our separate ways. Ikaika's mom generously offered rides to both Eric Brown and I, and we took her up on the offer. She drove us home, and I got to see Paige and Noah and give them their gift. The Hasbrooks brought my checked bag over later on. Now all that's left is adding the pictures, doing my laundry, and mowing the over-grown lawn. But first, some much needed sleep. Welcome home everyone, and thanks to all our travelers and chaperons for an entertaining, memorable, educational, successful trip!
And now, the gift giving!
Mr. Witt dd manage to get a handful of people off on the last flight to Portland, then got us all arranged onto flight for the next day. Unfortunately, those flight were not all together, so even when he arrived and we loaded the shuttle to the hotel, he couldn't tell the group when we would be leaving or arriving in Portland. We got to the comfort in, dropped our bags in our spacious suites, came back down to gwt our individual flight info, and then ordered pizza for dinner using the food vouchers provided by the airlines. After some hemming and hawing on my part about the necessity to do so, we decided we would need to call the parents of ten of the students who would be making one leg of their journey wiithout an adult unless I could get myself switched onto their flight. The parents were very understanding, offering to help in any way they could. After a couple pieces of pizza in a student's room I threw in the towel and settled in for a night of strange and harrowing dreams about losing students at airports in various cities around the world.
I woke up early (thanks to another nightmare), took my time packing, and went down to the lobby, expecting to have to call rooms to wake up kids who'd slept through alarms. For the first time, everybody was ready to go exactly when we told them to be ready.
We got our boarding passes easily and I even got switched to the flight that previously had no adult, though my checked bags will arrive on the other flight and the Hasbrooks will have to bring them to me later. That's okay, because I packed all the gifts for Paige and Noah in a carry-on. I can wait on washing my dirty laundry, but I'm excited about the gift giving.
We landed in Portland, everyone met with their parents, and we went our separate ways. Ikaika's mom generously offered rides to both Eric Brown and I, and we took her up on the offer. She drove us home, and I got to see Paige and Noah and give them their gift. The Hasbrooks brought my checked bag over later on. Now all that's left is adding the pictures, doing my laundry, and mowing the over-grown lawn. But first, some much needed sleep. Welcome home everyone, and thanks to all our travelers and chaperons for an entertaining, memorable, educational, successful trip!
And now, the gift giving!
Return Trip
After our wake-up calls at five in the morning, I went to each door to make sure students didn't sleep through the calls or go right back to sleep. Almost half the students did not respond to my pounding in their doors, so we called a few rooms, and when that didn't work Mr.Witt went down to the front desk, got copies of the keys of the last hold-outs, and broke into their rooms to shout at them. I'm not sure I've ever seen him enjoy anything more.
We got everyone on the bus, did a passport check, and guess who didn't have his in hand? Yep. Poor Chris. After he got out his checked bag under the bus and proved he hadn't lost it between the lobby and the bus, we went to the airport. By the time we arrived I was feeling the last surges of manic energy that made me slap happy. Then we got in the Iberian ticket line, they announced that a computer problem would make the ticketing process very slow, and I hit a wall. Stumbling around to try to stay awake, I honestly worried I'd start drooling or wet my pants. I knew if I sat still I'd fall asleep, but I couldn't help it, and ended up sleeping on the marble floor by the ticket counter while students checked in. At some point someone woke me (I can't remember who or why) and I went and bought a Snickers bar and a Coke. We made it to our gate in Barcelona, and I must have walked into the plane, but the next thing I remember was being awakened on the plane because two of our boys didn't get on with the rest of us. The wouldn't let me off the plane, of course, so all I could do was panic until they sauntered on board. After smacking each in the back of the head I set about counting everyone, but I didn't trust my own ability to count so I had to do it three times. Then I sat down and fell into oblivion.
I woke up and assumed we were in mid-flight, stood to go use the bathroom, and was scolded and shooed back into my seat by two frantic stewardesses. We were coming in for a landing.
In Madrid we had to go all the way back out to tge ticket office, because iberian Airlines' computers hadn't communicated with American Airlines'. We were impressed by American Airlines' efficiency at the ticket booth, but we still never would have made our flight if it hadn't been running late. We made our way to the gate ans gave kids a chance to buy some food, but most slept most of the extended wait. Then we boarded and fell right back to sleep.
So here's where we sit now: I could have been stuck in Madrid, a city I've never seen and have always wanted to visit, but because the flight was late we made our connection but will miss the next one, so we'll probably get stuck in Dallas, a city which interests me not at all. Could this get any worse? Of course it can. In-flight movie: some Matthew McConaughey vehicle. Nuff said.
We got everyone on the bus, did a passport check, and guess who didn't have his in hand? Yep. Poor Chris. After he got out his checked bag under the bus and proved he hadn't lost it between the lobby and the bus, we went to the airport. By the time we arrived I was feeling the last surges of manic energy that made me slap happy. Then we got in the Iberian ticket line, they announced that a computer problem would make the ticketing process very slow, and I hit a wall. Stumbling around to try to stay awake, I honestly worried I'd start drooling or wet my pants. I knew if I sat still I'd fall asleep, but I couldn't help it, and ended up sleeping on the marble floor by the ticket counter while students checked in. At some point someone woke me (I can't remember who or why) and I went and bought a Snickers bar and a Coke. We made it to our gate in Barcelona, and I must have walked into the plane, but the next thing I remember was being awakened on the plane because two of our boys didn't get on with the rest of us. The wouldn't let me off the plane, of course, so all I could do was panic until they sauntered on board. After smacking each in the back of the head I set about counting everyone, but I didn't trust my own ability to count so I had to do it three times. Then I sat down and fell into oblivion.
I woke up and assumed we were in mid-flight, stood to go use the bathroom, and was scolded and shooed back into my seat by two frantic stewardesses. We were coming in for a landing.
In Madrid we had to go all the way back out to tge ticket office, because iberian Airlines' computers hadn't communicated with American Airlines'. We were impressed by American Airlines' efficiency at the ticket booth, but we still never would have made our flight if it hadn't been running late. We made our way to the gate ans gave kids a chance to buy some food, but most slept most of the extended wait. Then we boarded and fell right back to sleep.
So here's where we sit now: I could have been stuck in Madrid, a city I've never seen and have always wanted to visit, but because the flight was late we made our connection but will miss the next one, so we'll probably get stuck in Dallas, a city which interests me not at all. Could this get any worse? Of course it can. In-flight movie: some Matthew McConaughey vehicle. Nuff said.
Second half of Barcelona, Day 2
After a quick dinner at the hotel about half the group went back into the heart of the city to the Hard Rock Cafe. While we sat between all the rock and roll paraphernalia and vibed to the videos on screens on every wall, the maitre'd came over and told me Michael Jackson had just died. "Mentiroso!" I cried, so he went back in his office and printed the article off the news wire. I went around to each table and translated it. As much as we were surprised by his death, I was shocked to learn he was fifty!
After the hard rock some folks decided to go back to the hotel in the night bus. Anne Scheck was concerned that they didn't have an adult male traveling home with them, but I assured her they would be fine because they had Lori Houser, and, frankly, she's a lot tougher than I am.
Now before you hear too many stories (too late), I want to make something clear. It is true that part of the learning experience on this trip involved seeing not onky the height of what western culture has to offer, but also a little bit of the seedier side of humanity. All the students were offered beer on the streets, a few were solicited by prostitutes, and at least one was offered cocaine. No one partook. A few of the ladies did have to suffer some sleazy comments and rude gestures from some men on the streets (they dubbed them "creepers"). Still, everyone was safe, and by and large the people in every city were kind and helpful. In fact, Barcelona, which certainly had the most obvious and overt black market economy also had the warmest, friendliest people. Some were just too friendly, and very misdirected in their attempt to assist us. One funny note about that; before I was solicited by prostitutes last night, Mr. Witt had been solicited while I'd been offered hashish on the beach. I told the students this hurt my feelings a bit. It seems Jeff looks like an attractive john, while I just look like a drug user.
The first group left the Hard Rock Cafe, and I learned this morning that they did have quite an adventure coming home. First the group took the wrong bus heading in the wrong direction. Once they got off they had to wait a half an hour for the next one coming the other way. They had to pay the driver, despite having day passes (I'm still not clear on why and I think they may have been gouged a bit). Then, when they got ready to get off the bus, every student woke up and seemed ready to hop off, but they were so tired that one student immediately fell back to sleep. The bus pulled away and Miss Laister heroically sprinted after it, saving the day. Ultimately, the group that decided to head home early made it back later than the group that chose to stay up late.
Mr. Witt and I took the craziest group (who turned out to be the wiser group, quite by accident) on one last leisurely stroll through the city. We walked down Las Ramblas, through the Gothic Quarter, saw that hidden cathedral tucked between the buildings, then went down to the docks and had some ice cream sandwiches. When we learned how far we would have to walk to the bus station, Mr. Witt, sunburned and exhausted, hit a wall, so we decided to take cabs home. We split into two groups. The cabbie in Mr. Witt's cab didn't talk to them, but my group had this great driver who talked with me the whole way back. He played American classic rock, and though I suspect Ikaika would have preferred Spanish techno, it was a nice gesture. Meanwhile, I learned the guy had previously lived in Queens,NY, his sister still lives in Atlanta, and that he moved to Barcelona 15 years ago because he married a Spanish woman. We had a nice talk about the best things to see in Barcelona, the political situation in the Dominican Republic, and the fact that he and I would both choose to live in New York of we were single, but our wives are worthy reasons to live where we each do.
When we got our kids home (thinking they were the last ones) Mr. Witt and I decided there was no point in sleeping for a little over an hour, so we packed (I stuff, Jeff ORGANIZES) and I blogged, lost half the info, retyped it, lost it, retyped it again, lost it, wrote a hasty note, and signed off. You'll just have to trust me when I tell you that the original draft of yesterday's post was a thing of brilliance; exciting, laugh-out-loud funny, sometimes heart-wrenching, and all in all achingly beautiful. Each re-write got worse, and this is what you get. Sorry.
After the hard rock some folks decided to go back to the hotel in the night bus. Anne Scheck was concerned that they didn't have an adult male traveling home with them, but I assured her they would be fine because they had Lori Houser, and, frankly, she's a lot tougher than I am.
Now before you hear too many stories (too late), I want to make something clear. It is true that part of the learning experience on this trip involved seeing not onky the height of what western culture has to offer, but also a little bit of the seedier side of humanity. All the students were offered beer on the streets, a few were solicited by prostitutes, and at least one was offered cocaine. No one partook. A few of the ladies did have to suffer some sleazy comments and rude gestures from some men on the streets (they dubbed them "creepers"). Still, everyone was safe, and by and large the people in every city were kind and helpful. In fact, Barcelona, which certainly had the most obvious and overt black market economy also had the warmest, friendliest people. Some were just too friendly, and very misdirected in their attempt to assist us. One funny note about that; before I was solicited by prostitutes last night, Mr. Witt had been solicited while I'd been offered hashish on the beach. I told the students this hurt my feelings a bit. It seems Jeff looks like an attractive john, while I just look like a drug user.
The first group left the Hard Rock Cafe, and I learned this morning that they did have quite an adventure coming home. First the group took the wrong bus heading in the wrong direction. Once they got off they had to wait a half an hour for the next one coming the other way. They had to pay the driver, despite having day passes (I'm still not clear on why and I think they may have been gouged a bit). Then, when they got ready to get off the bus, every student woke up and seemed ready to hop off, but they were so tired that one student immediately fell back to sleep. The bus pulled away and Miss Laister heroically sprinted after it, saving the day. Ultimately, the group that decided to head home early made it back later than the group that chose to stay up late.
Mr. Witt and I took the craziest group (who turned out to be the wiser group, quite by accident) on one last leisurely stroll through the city. We walked down Las Ramblas, through the Gothic Quarter, saw that hidden cathedral tucked between the buildings, then went down to the docks and had some ice cream sandwiches. When we learned how far we would have to walk to the bus station, Mr. Witt, sunburned and exhausted, hit a wall, so we decided to take cabs home. We split into two groups. The cabbie in Mr. Witt's cab didn't talk to them, but my group had this great driver who talked with me the whole way back. He played American classic rock, and though I suspect Ikaika would have preferred Spanish techno, it was a nice gesture. Meanwhile, I learned the guy had previously lived in Queens,NY, his sister still lives in Atlanta, and that he moved to Barcelona 15 years ago because he married a Spanish woman. We had a nice talk about the best things to see in Barcelona, the political situation in the Dominican Republic, and the fact that he and I would both choose to live in New York of we were single, but our wives are worthy reasons to live where we each do.
When we got our kids home (thinking they were the last ones) Mr. Witt and I decided there was no point in sleeping for a little over an hour, so we packed (I stuff, Jeff ORGANIZES) and I blogged, lost half the info, retyped it, lost it, retyped it again, lost it, wrote a hasty note, and signed off. You'll just have to trust me when I tell you that the original draft of yesterday's post was a thing of brilliance; exciting, laugh-out-loud funny, sometimes heart-wrenching, and all in all achingly beautiful. Each re-write got worse, and this is what you get. Sorry.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Barcelona, Day 2
Yesterday I wrote that I wouldn't be blogging today, but I lied. More on that later.
We woke up a bit later than normal, had a leisurely breakfast, and got together in the hotel lobby complete with swimsuits, ready for the day. We took a bus up onto Montjuic, planning to take the city's very cool cable car across town to the beach. We waited around for it to open, checking out the amazing view of the city and girding ourselves for the already oppressive heat. Unfortunately, after they officially opened they informed us that they'd had some technical problem the afternoon before and the cable car hadn't been running since. Poor Simon, our guide, who'd already been betrayed by so many thing outside of his control, was pretty incensed, but we didn't hold the incident against him.
We walked back down the hill a ways and took a city bus into the center of town, then a subway, then a hike to the beach. There, students piled their things around a couple generous adults and took off into the water. I found a bathroom with very small, dirty stalls and practiced my contortionist skills to change into my suit and put my shoes back on to walk across the hot sand. Then I walked out into the surf to look for agates for my wife, Paige, who collects them. After putting together a few good handfuls I swam out to hang out with the kids. The water was cool and wonderful on such a hot day.
Groups of kids got tired of swimming and went off with their chaperones. Finally the last group prepared to leave and we found that a few students had left their stuff on the beach. I volunteered to stay with the stuff in case some of the groups returned for it. Instead, I sat there for about forty five minutes by myself before I got fed up, took the stuff with me, and left.
Back up on the boardwalk I asked the guy running a newsstand if I could have a larger bag to carry the students' stuff. He said he didn't have any, which I knew to be untrue because his stand was just like all the others, complete with some larger items for sale like soccer balls, and I'd seen the other newsstand guys bagging those. Well, this little, very old man started laying into the guy about not being nice enough to the tourists who support him. It was great. I still didn't get a bag from him, but it was nice to get some support from a local.
The heat was really oppressive, so I got a soda (Mountain Dew!) and took a break in the shade before heading back toward Las Ramblas, the main outdoor touristy market we'd already shopped the night before. I still had some items I wanted to find for people, but I decided to turn into the tiny alleys between the buildings to check out the Gothic quarter. The little shops tucked away inside were filled with much cooler merchandise and wonderful food, and I ended up wandering around in between the buildings for hours. I found some great gifts for Paige and Noah, bought the best Gyro I've ever had (here they call it a Pita Kabob), and sat in a plaza to eat. I realized I hadn't spoken any English to anyone in some four hours. I'd spoke quite a bit to everyone, and was feeling very comfortable with my Spanish, but in some ways I still felt like I'd taken a variation on a vow of silence: no native language. They say people who take vows of silence learn a lot about their own inner life. I learned that my inner life is quite concerned with just how beautiful the women of Barcelona are (married, not dead).
While eating my lunch I finally got a phone call from Miss Laister. she hadn't been feeling well, so she stayed back at the hotel and was finally ready to meet up with us. I found her at the end of Las Ramblas, by the statue of Cristobal Colon (Christopher Columbus, as we've anglicized his name), and she and I waited around for Mrs. Larson and her group there for a while. While we waited we ran into some of our students, including Anne Snell and Alyn Monscko, who had successfully used the subway to return to the hotel to clean up after their beach time and then come back. They were so proud of their accomplishment, and had obviously gained a great deal of confidence from it. Miss Laister and I explained that this was precisely the kind of learning we hoped students would experience during the trip.
Eventually Miss Laister and I got tired of waiting and headed into the Gothic Quarter, where we first found Mrs. Houser and Abby Watson, then Mrs. Larson and Tia Jones. We walked around with them for a while, and I got to help Mrs. Larson pick out a cool gift for her son, Brian. We found that haggling is particularly effective with a translator. I could say to the guy in Spanish, "Yeah, I understand that it's a good deal, but she's really only interested if it's x price." Then, when he said no, we started to leave and he called us back. Ultimately he shaved more than a third off the sticker price. Not too shabby.
We found Mr. Witt in the middle of Las Ramblas. Somehow, despite applying SPF 30sunscreen at least seven times, he'd backed in the sun down on the beach and had a nasty burn. Also, he'd lost his favorite pair of flip flops. We walked around Las Ramblas, getting more gifts for family and friends, and eventually went our seperate ways, planning to meet back at the hotel for dinner. Abby Watson, Mrs. Houser and I took some advice from Miss Laister and visited another markey where locals and tourists alike buy all kinds of fresh produce, fish, meats the likes of which I've never seen, and overwhelming assortments of candy. Then we decided to head back to the hotel, but, on the way, Mrs. Houser saw a dress she liked in another tiny shop in a thin alley. I was not helpful, encouraging her to buy it because she would kick herself if she didn't (sorry Glen). Abby Watson was remarkably patient with our last ditch shopping, and we got to talk quite a bit on the way back in the Subway. She's a really cool person.
Back at the hotel, after a quick shower and quicker dinner, we got ready to take kids back into the city for their big last night. As I mentioned yesterday, we'd already decided to keep our most adventurous kids up as late as possible to keep them out of trouble. Some wanted to go dancing, which sounded really fun to me (Paige doesn't like to go out dancing, so I never get to), but we found that the dance clubs in Barcelona are all in bars and generally aren't safe for kids. We knew it would disappoint them, but we decided to play it safe, so we took a large group down the Hard Rock Cafe.
Well, I just wrote the second half of this twice and had it lost both times, so I will have to finish when we get home after all. Grrr.
We woke up a bit later than normal, had a leisurely breakfast, and got together in the hotel lobby complete with swimsuits, ready for the day. We took a bus up onto Montjuic, planning to take the city's very cool cable car across town to the beach. We waited around for it to open, checking out the amazing view of the city and girding ourselves for the already oppressive heat. Unfortunately, after they officially opened they informed us that they'd had some technical problem the afternoon before and the cable car hadn't been running since. Poor Simon, our guide, who'd already been betrayed by so many thing outside of his control, was pretty incensed, but we didn't hold the incident against him.
We walked back down the hill a ways and took a city bus into the center of town, then a subway, then a hike to the beach. There, students piled their things around a couple generous adults and took off into the water. I found a bathroom with very small, dirty stalls and practiced my contortionist skills to change into my suit and put my shoes back on to walk across the hot sand. Then I walked out into the surf to look for agates for my wife, Paige, who collects them. After putting together a few good handfuls I swam out to hang out with the kids. The water was cool and wonderful on such a hot day.
Groups of kids got tired of swimming and went off with their chaperones. Finally the last group prepared to leave and we found that a few students had left their stuff on the beach. I volunteered to stay with the stuff in case some of the groups returned for it. Instead, I sat there for about forty five minutes by myself before I got fed up, took the stuff with me, and left.
Back up on the boardwalk I asked the guy running a newsstand if I could have a larger bag to carry the students' stuff. He said he didn't have any, which I knew to be untrue because his stand was just like all the others, complete with some larger items for sale like soccer balls, and I'd seen the other newsstand guys bagging those. Well, this little, very old man started laying into the guy about not being nice enough to the tourists who support him. It was great. I still didn't get a bag from him, but it was nice to get some support from a local.
The heat was really oppressive, so I got a soda (Mountain Dew!) and took a break in the shade before heading back toward Las Ramblas, the main outdoor touristy market we'd already shopped the night before. I still had some items I wanted to find for people, but I decided to turn into the tiny alleys between the buildings to check out the Gothic quarter. The little shops tucked away inside were filled with much cooler merchandise and wonderful food, and I ended up wandering around in between the buildings for hours. I found some great gifts for Paige and Noah, bought the best Gyro I've ever had (here they call it a Pita Kabob), and sat in a plaza to eat. I realized I hadn't spoken any English to anyone in some four hours. I'd spoke quite a bit to everyone, and was feeling very comfortable with my Spanish, but in some ways I still felt like I'd taken a variation on a vow of silence: no native language. They say people who take vows of silence learn a lot about their own inner life. I learned that my inner life is quite concerned with just how beautiful the women of Barcelona are (married, not dead).
While eating my lunch I finally got a phone call from Miss Laister. she hadn't been feeling well, so she stayed back at the hotel and was finally ready to meet up with us. I found her at the end of Las Ramblas, by the statue of Cristobal Colon (Christopher Columbus, as we've anglicized his name), and she and I waited around for Mrs. Larson and her group there for a while. While we waited we ran into some of our students, including Anne Snell and Alyn Monscko, who had successfully used the subway to return to the hotel to clean up after their beach time and then come back. They were so proud of their accomplishment, and had obviously gained a great deal of confidence from it. Miss Laister and I explained that this was precisely the kind of learning we hoped students would experience during the trip.
Eventually Miss Laister and I got tired of waiting and headed into the Gothic Quarter, where we first found Mrs. Houser and Abby Watson, then Mrs. Larson and Tia Jones. We walked around with them for a while, and I got to help Mrs. Larson pick out a cool gift for her son, Brian. We found that haggling is particularly effective with a translator. I could say to the guy in Spanish, "Yeah, I understand that it's a good deal, but she's really only interested if it's x price." Then, when he said no, we started to leave and he called us back. Ultimately he shaved more than a third off the sticker price. Not too shabby.
We found Mr. Witt in the middle of Las Ramblas. Somehow, despite applying SPF 30sunscreen at least seven times, he'd backed in the sun down on the beach and had a nasty burn. Also, he'd lost his favorite pair of flip flops. We walked around Las Ramblas, getting more gifts for family and friends, and eventually went our seperate ways, planning to meet back at the hotel for dinner. Abby Watson, Mrs. Houser and I took some advice from Miss Laister and visited another markey where locals and tourists alike buy all kinds of fresh produce, fish, meats the likes of which I've never seen, and overwhelming assortments of candy. Then we decided to head back to the hotel, but, on the way, Mrs. Houser saw a dress she liked in another tiny shop in a thin alley. I was not helpful, encouraging her to buy it because she would kick herself if she didn't (sorry Glen). Abby Watson was remarkably patient with our last ditch shopping, and we got to talk quite a bit on the way back in the Subway. She's a really cool person.
Back at the hotel, after a quick shower and quicker dinner, we got ready to take kids back into the city for their big last night. As I mentioned yesterday, we'd already decided to keep our most adventurous kids up as late as possible to keep them out of trouble. Some wanted to go dancing, which sounded really fun to me (Paige doesn't like to go out dancing, so I never get to), but we found that the dance clubs in Barcelona are all in bars and generally aren't safe for kids. We knew it would disappoint them, but we decided to play it safe, so we took a large group down the Hard Rock Cafe.
Well, I just wrote the second half of this twice and had it lost both times, so I will have to finish when we get home after all. Grrr.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Barcelona, Day 1
At around 10:00 the train employees brought by box breakfasts to our berths. I had to assure Richard and Ikaika that they hadn't been given small jars of sour cream to eat. It turns out they've never had plain yogurt before. I spent some time looking out the window at the Spanish countryside. Different kinds of terrain from Mediterranean beaches to thick forests to rolling hillsides, to neatly tilled fields blended into the next almost as seamlessly as the ages of architecture. Moorish villas and medieval castles were tucked in between factories and hyper-modern apartment buildings. As a guy who loves variety of all kinds, I felt an instant affection for this country.
When we arrived in Barcelona we got on a bus, went to get a quick lunch, and then met up with a tour guide who gave us an shortened version of her normal tour, due to our tardiness. She took us out to the Guay Park, a park designed by Gaudi, which was filled with amazing version of modern architecture. Everything was curved lines and natural images covered in mosaics made of shattered pottery and broken glass. I told the guide, "No tengo palabras para describir que tan bonita es, ni en Espanol, ni Ingles."
Then she took us to see another example of Gaudi's work, the as-of-yet unfinished Sagrada Familia cathedral. It's like no other cathedral I've ever seen, even in pictures. Again, Gaudi used his modernist style, with curved lines and natural images in the facade, only this time these cover a massive cathedral. I'll let the pictures speak for themselves.
After the cathedral we came back to our hotel, the nicest we've stayed in yet, to clean up. Since we'd been on the train the night before, we were all feeling pretty gross, so the shower felt like one of those post-camping showers. Then we came down to the lobby, grouped-up, walked down to the subway station, and traveled back into the city. We walked down the Plaza de Las Ramblas, a wide street filled with vendors selling touristy items and original artwork, and lined on each side with little shops selling clothes, food, gellato, and more. After a couple hours (and way too much spending) there, we came back to the hotel, changed into more formal clothes, ate a very good buffet dinner, and got ready to go out again.
This time we took a charter bus into town and went to see a demonstration of Flamenco dancing. The dancers were very talented (and quite attractive), and even though some of the kids seemed bored at the beginning, by the end Andrew confessed, reluctantly, that it really was very cool.
After the Flamenco we had a little time to get some gelatto in Las Ramblas and shop a bit more before returning to the hotel.
Tomorrow we'll have a very busy day, visiting a castle after breakfast, then taking a cable car from the mountaintop to the beach for some beach-time, before dividing into groups to go see more sights. Then, after a late dinner, we're going to take the kids back into the city and hang out as late as humanly possible so the kids won't be hanging out in the hotel on the last night any more than is absolutely necessary (because that's when you get trouble). The next morning we'll leave, and I'll sleep my way back to the States. So, I won't be able to update this until after we get home. Come back for the last day, and for pictures added to the previous posts as well.
Now it's 3:20 in the morning, but we're all up to date, so I can sleep soundly. Blog at ya' from home soon!
We saw this guy in the market on Las Ramblas. Those shorts are tattooed on. Unfortunately, he was even less covered on the other side. To quote Sean, it was gross.
When we arrived in Barcelona we got on a bus, went to get a quick lunch, and then met up with a tour guide who gave us an shortened version of her normal tour, due to our tardiness. She took us out to the Guay Park, a park designed by Gaudi, which was filled with amazing version of modern architecture. Everything was curved lines and natural images covered in mosaics made of shattered pottery and broken glass. I told the guide, "No tengo palabras para describir que tan bonita es, ni en Espanol, ni Ingles."
Then she took us to see another example of Gaudi's work, the as-of-yet unfinished Sagrada Familia cathedral. It's like no other cathedral I've ever seen, even in pictures. Again, Gaudi used his modernist style, with curved lines and natural images in the facade, only this time these cover a massive cathedral. I'll let the pictures speak for themselves.
After the cathedral we came back to our hotel, the nicest we've stayed in yet, to clean up. Since we'd been on the train the night before, we were all feeling pretty gross, so the shower felt like one of those post-camping showers. Then we came down to the lobby, grouped-up, walked down to the subway station, and traveled back into the city. We walked down the Plaza de Las Ramblas, a wide street filled with vendors selling touristy items and original artwork, and lined on each side with little shops selling clothes, food, gellato, and more. After a couple hours (and way too much spending) there, we came back to the hotel, changed into more formal clothes, ate a very good buffet dinner, and got ready to go out again.
This time we took a charter bus into town and went to see a demonstration of Flamenco dancing. The dancers were very talented (and quite attractive), and even though some of the kids seemed bored at the beginning, by the end Andrew confessed, reluctantly, that it really was very cool.
After the Flamenco we had a little time to get some gelatto in Las Ramblas and shop a bit more before returning to the hotel.
Tomorrow we'll have a very busy day, visiting a castle after breakfast, then taking a cable car from the mountaintop to the beach for some beach-time, before dividing into groups to go see more sights. Then, after a late dinner, we're going to take the kids back into the city and hang out as late as humanly possible so the kids won't be hanging out in the hotel on the last night any more than is absolutely necessary (because that's when you get trouble). The next morning we'll leave, and I'll sleep my way back to the States. So, I won't be able to update this until after we get home. Come back for the last day, and for pictures added to the previous posts as well.
Now it's 3:20 in the morning, but we're all up to date, so I can sleep soundly. Blog at ya' from home soon!
We saw this guy in the market on Las Ramblas. Those shorts are tattooed on. Unfortunately, he was even less covered on the other side. To quote Sean, it was gross.
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