Just keep waiting for me...

I changed the look of my blog because
1. the template was called "Son of Moto"
2. I'm bored, but have nothing useful or "of note" about which to blog.
3. if Amy S. hasn't been eating because of me not posting like kelly says, I don't want her to die. which should happen any day now.
4. again, "son of moto" is funny.

Post

posty post post poster. Post posty postiferous postic prepost. Supost posty conpost conposter. Posty posting postage post. Tripost postar postific postal.

Back to Spain: Italy Part IV of IV. Why Jo and I are SO hardcore.

Amidst some questionable passengers we flew back to Spain via Santander aka. the bus station of an airport with the worst links to the outside world possible. Picture a can of sardines plus a salmon or two that dont have any clue as to what bus etiquette all shoved in a can. plus suitcases. We arrived in Santander and within 5 minutes had tickets to the next destination- San Sebastian. We stopped only long enough to have a really amazing menu with fish soup. Very tasty indeed.

With backpacks strapped on, yet again, we boarded the bus to our hostel. Our friendly Basque bus driver (basically everyone in the Basque land is friendly and nice) helped us find it and we relished in our very much needed hot showers, internet facilites and general Spanish ambiance.

The next morning, refreshed and back in a country where we could understand things, such as warning signs and danger tape, we felt ready to do anything. Even cross warning signs and danger tape. It was for the sake of art.














These are pictures of the modern art sculpture "Peine del Viento" or the Comb of the Wind. Danger tape was blocking it off, but what do we care? We're adventurers. It might have had something to do with the fact that it was out on a rocky precipice and it was raining and the sea was a mighty foe. Or something. Moving on..

We ended up covering our backpacks with plastic and forging on through the elements exploring peirs and the old Basque town before going to the next city, thats right folks, the seventh city on our world tour: Bilbao.



If there were ever a city designed by an artist, it would be Bilbao.
There are modern art sculptures literally everywhere and they did a good job preparing us for Bilbao's main attraction, The Guggenheim Museum. The coolest museum ever.
We explored the exhibits and especially enjoyed the temporary photographic exhibit of about 160 "hand" pieces. Being the art aficionados that we are, Jo and I left feeling privilaged and all around artsy-fartsy ready to stock a museum full of our own blatant talent. With one last burst of energy, and filled with Basque pinxos (not pinchos) (or tapas) we AMAZINGLY (get ready for this- the most amazing part of our trip...) we finished homework on the bus on the way back to Madrid!
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You must realize, up until this point, neither Jo or I had mentally processed anything that had happened thus far. We simply did not have the time. That's why, after 7 cities in 7 days, when Kelly and Amy asked me "How was it?" I took a deep breath and in a frenzy talked and laughed histerically for a full 30 minutes without stopping.

Italy Part III of IV- Venice and Rome

Venice was wonderful. The scenery was amazing. I've never seen a city with more bridges than roads and water literally everywhere. If you ever get to go to Italy, go to Venice. I bought a Venetian Carnival mask and Jo and I had the most AMAZING pizza either of us had ever had. And that's saying something- I'm from Long Island.

We, realizing our time was short in Venice, and Italy in general, realized it was our civic duty to eat more gelato before collapsing into our beds. The next morning we got up, and being the thrifty college students that we are, made a delicious breakfast of eggs, bread and sausages, and then packed our lunches and headed off in search of (gelato, um..er..) St. Mark’s Cathedral and the other Venetian sites to see.

After meeting some English tour reps and chatting about Italy for a while (we were experts by now) My Venetian vanity took over and I bought some “very cool” sunglasses with orange lenses and white rims. Chanel. (or fake Chanel). Of course they’re cool! We, my eyes now protected and Jo still stuffed from the amazing amount of food she’s able to tuck in at lightening speed, dawdled down to the Rialto, which is the first bridge built in Venice, and we sat around and basked in the sun for awhile.

As we sat on the steps leading down to another canal, pigeons (Jo’s favorite animal) approached us and tried to make friends. Jo shooed her map at them and they just fluttered their wings for a second as if to say, yeah? I can shake things at you too!.

We glanced to the right and we saw a tragetto, a sort of commuter gondola, picking up passengers and ferrying them (for 50 cents) to the other side of the canal. We deided, because we weren’t going to pay sixty euros an hour on a private gondola, to jump on and standing (because you cant sit) and laughing and taking pictures, we made it to the other side without falling in (much to the amusement of everyone else on board).

Upon arriving at the other side of the canal, we realized that we had no reason to be on the other side, so we found a bridge, crossed back over, and continued to explore all of the tiny streets and canals that made Venice so wonderful to behold.

We explore a bit more in the student district, got another gelato, (they were only a euro each). And lounged around a bit in Campo Santa Margherita as the sun slowly set. That night we wandered around looking for dinner and new sites and ended up eating at a tiny restaurant full of very old Italian people playing cards and yelling at eachother. We went home early (via a gelato shop for one last goodbye scoop) because the next morning we had to be on a bus at ten after six to get to the RyanAir airport for our flight to Rome.

(Go grab some popcorn or coffee or something or if you have to go to the bathroom go ahead, now's a good time. We're just riding on the bus.)

Bleary eyed, incoherent, and blustering, we went from a leisurely, quite slow pace on the bus (while you were getting coffee/popcorn/bladders emptied etc.) to checking in at the ryan air bus stop with passports flying, conformation numbers being wipped out and bags being organized and zipped to get on the plane. After a delayed flight (we still arrived on time because apparently planes go slow on purpose... I bet I could get from the states to Spain in a hour if they wanted..) we arrived in Rome, or a bus station of an airport, an hour outside Rome with a Rome derived name as was the case.

One more RyanAir bus later (and very interesting music on board aka Prozac fm- ask us and we’ll explain it to you) we found our hostel and some interesting roommates. We headed straight out using the Roman Metro where Italian metro etiquette educated us on how Spaniards do it incorrectly. (apparently one is supposed to crowd the door before one’s stop despite all of the free space not right by the door). Arriving at the Vatican, we went inside to see some of the most amazing statues and paintings and murals in the world. How can one describe the cistene chapel and it’s collection of loud, picture taking, non-revering tourists? (all ignoring the shhh that was mechanically sounding every minute or so).

(Hercules w/ Medusa's head. Cool.)
In a span of six hours or so we saw the Vatican (not just one room mind you), St. Peter’s square, St. Peter’s Basilica, The Pantheon, The Trevi Fountain (we threw pennies in guaranteeing our return to Rome) and denied the offer of blessed yellow flowers from about thirty men. That night, after our hostel’s free pasta dinner (not as typically Italian as we would have liked), we trundled down to the Coliseum and the Roman ruins with our legs and feet aching and
throbbing.
(Trevi Fountain)

(Pantheon.)
(Colluseum at night. Really cool)

With our must see list exhausted, we rewarded ourselves with chocolate fondue before heading back to the Freedom Traveler and trying to avoid our interesting roommates, we collapsed, knackered, into bed. The next morning, Victoria, almost bumping into a semi-naked australian man in her first waking moments and Jo, still trying to avoid the stupid American boys in our room snuck down to breakfast and prepared to go back to Spain.

Tomorrow: "Bilbao and San Sebastian" or "Why we like Northern Spain" or "No amount of rain will stop us from doing anything because we're HARDCORE!"