February 2010
21 posts
Last words
I landed back on US soil on Feb. 15th at 3:30pm. I think the best way to sum up my trip is a top ten list. So, here’s a list of the top ten differences I noticed between life in the US and life in Spain, Portugal, and Morocco:
10. Everywhere: Amazing public transportation
9. Morocco: Children begging on the streets
8. Spain: Ancient cathedrals across from McDonald’s and KFC
7....
home.
:/
Day 41
Sonofabitch, it’s over!
But I’ll write about the last couple of days anyway. I wandered around the Medina (the old part of the city, generally enclosed by an ancient city wall) in Marrakech looking for a cheap place to stay. I found a hotel just off the Jama’lfna square for 60DH a night, so I stayed there. I spent the next few hours wandering around on my own, and I understand...
Big continent begets big post
Just after getting my third stamp on my passport and passing through customs in Sevilla, I noticed a girl with a UW-Madison sweatshirt on. Insta-friend. Her name is Ana, and we sat and chatted on the turbulent trip to Marrakech. The woman sitting across the aisle from me and Ana, who was seated on row in front of me, which is a completely unnecessary detail that ought to be removed but most likely...
Last of Lisbon
I went to dinner with an English guy I met in the hostel I’d checked in to, as well as a German guy who was on holiday. The English guy, Alan, had been in Lisbon for a week or so, and he knew a good area of town to eat in. The general rule on restaurants is this: If the menu is translated in English, the food will be mediocre at best, and if you are the only foreigners sitting in any given...
So much to write...
And no time at all. Plus the keyboard in this internet bar is really messed up… the a q z w and m keys qre in the zrong plqce. Here’s what I need to cover: delicious food and crazy nightlife in Lisbon, UW graduate on my plane, complete culture shock in Marrakech, my unexpected living conditions, eating lamb head, tobacco hookahs and everything that hasn’t happened yet but will.
Frustration
Back to the neglected four and a half hours from my last post. Machado dropped me off by car in a square near the center of town. I walked up to the metro stop that I arrived at my first day in Lisbon; this was close to where I needed to be. I knew the general area, and I remembered seeing a map of the location of the Oasis Backpackers Hostel. It wasn’t far a way, and I figured if I got...
Machado and Lisbon
After I finally connected with my host in Lisbon, we made way back to his place for some dinner and some conversation. Machado knew his stuff. He talked about Portuguese history; how Portugal was a major power back in the 15th and 16th centuries, that it had several territories around the globe, and that since entering the European Union the country has not improved as much as was expected. He...
Welcome to Lisbon
I took the bus to Lisbon yesterday. Randomly I saw an Australian guy from the first hostel I stayed at in Sevilla, so we got to chat about what we did since we last had seen each other. The bus ride was over six hours, but I slept a good portion of it so it wasn’t all that bad. What was all that bad was what happened after I arrived in Lisbon.
My instructions from my couchsurfing host were...
Cádiz
On Monday, I finally was able to break out of Sevilla. I checked in to the one youth hostel. It was a perfect day; sunny and 65 degrees. I was surprised, then, to find I was the only one wearing shorts. Almost no one was at the beach, and everyone walking around was bundled up in scarves and jackets; bunch of wusses! I wandered along until I found a castle with a moat. Took me about five minutes...
Plans
Feb. 3: Sevilla
Feb. 4-7: Lisbon
Feb. 8-12: Marrakesh
Feb. 13-15: Barcelona
Day 28
I suppose I’m due for a post or two. I’ll jump back to Friday night first. The hostel group went to a different neighborhood across the river for tapas and Flamenco; I skipped the tapas since I had already eaten, but met up with the group at the Flamenco bar. I sat with a German kid with crazy long dreadlocks. Remember when I said you’ll never see a Flamenco dancer smile, that...