Travelling in True Backpacker style, Almost!

This post is coming a little late as I had a very special visitor this past weekend in Metz. This special little visitor is actually my 'love interest.' Not to mention, the weekend that began late Wednesday night with her arrival and lasted all the way through Monday night, was absolutely wonderful! This past week has been absolutely beautiful; just the way Spring should be; Sunny and warm. On Friday we ended up renting bikes and riding around Metz along the Moselle river that actually joins the Rhine in Germany. I hadn't realized how pretty Metz was until I saw it glowing in the sunshine the other day. Streets bustling with people of all ages, birds chirping, the sun reflecting off the river and the smells of fresh patisseries and boulangeries.

As much as I would like to write about my time with my 'love' this weekend, this post is rather about the weekend before in Italy and the French South coast. Before I begin I need to introduce a character. A true traveler from the far east. How do I describe this man. Holder of an American passport,mom who lived in Cuba, a dad who was Italian, and raised in the Philippines. Having petted exotic snakes and monkeys as a kid, 'Jungle boy' is his middle name! This is one man that is thirsty for adventure and will do anything to survive. Since the first trip we made to Reims early in the semester, we at once had a third world connection. We both hail from busy and hectic cities. We both know what it takes to get around; what it takes to survive as a matter of fact. The name was Mangiamelli. Josiah Mangiamelli!

With him being a forth Italian, and me just an adorer off food, it was inevitable that a trip to Italy needed to happen. After having experienced the flava and the colour of Spain, I knew I had to go to Italy soon. We readied ourselves. I reached the station in a huff as usual, leaving my class early and just getting on the bus that would get me to there just in time before a nice long 12-14 hour train journey, but it was not to be. As has been the problem with the Eurorail all throughout my time here, is that most of the times the Eurorail seats on the trains you want our booked. I wonder how many seats they have, because it is really annoying especially after you have paid top dollar (or Euro) to get this train pass, which you thought you could freely travel with. In the case that the lady behind the counter, sags her head, and with a very solemn face tells you, "Je suis desole, les trains sont occupent."(I am sorry the trains are occupied). At first I used to be dejected but I have come to learn that you are not to give up and ask them to get you to your destination any which way possible.
It might take a good 10-12 hours to get you there, but heck how else am I going to abuse my train pass.
We were supposed to take a train to Milan overnight and be in Florence by mid afternoon, but we could only manage to get ourselves overnight sleepers to Nice, which is on the south east coast of France. As long as we are going somewhere we said to ourselves. We made another pact before we boarded the train, we were not going to get any hostels and spend less than 60 euros.

The thing about overnight trains is that they somehow move at speeds, that lull you into sleep right away while chugging away through the night. After being comfortably asleep for about 10 or so hours, as I got down my bunk and opened the massive window in our compartment, my jaw dropped! Outside, all I saw was the 10am sun shining on the Mediterranean as the waves gently hit the coast. On the other side were hills with houses on slopes. We had a connection from Nice to Ventimiglia, the border town on the Italian side. The train ride from Nice to Ventimiglia was by far the most beautiful one I have been on. The ocean on one side and the mountains on the other, the train made it's way though rock cut tunnels and small towns as we entered Italy, just like that! Now completely up, and with a smile on our faces because of the weather and the scenery, the adventurers in us started to surface. This small Italian town looked ideal. Local crowd, quiet beaches and beautiful weather. We decided to stay put and spend the day there before heading to Firenze(Florence). After cleaning up a little, and roaming around a bit in the small town, we decided to go to Monaco or Monte Carlo for a few hours before we would explore Ventimiglia. It was a 30 minute train ride back to France.

I have grown up watching Fomula 1. Every other Sunday afternoon, sitting with my dad in our living room, we would have our eyes glued to the screen as the Schumacher's and Hakkinen's and Alonso's scorched even our measly TV screen. Every season, there was one Grand Prix that I would anxiously await all year long; The Monaco grand prix. What made this track so special was the fact that it was the only street circuit, with people packed into houses, hotels and shops, while cars zoomed past narrow roads at around 300kmph. The room for error was minimal.
Walking out of the station in the Principality of Monte Carlo(It's under French laws but not French) all I wanted to do was walk the track. The track I had watched and raced on in video games countless times. Monte Carlo is a Tax Free 'Country' so as a result the whose who of France and the world end up buying property or yachts here. All of Monte Carlo fits in a valley! Small, posh and luxurious is how I will describe this mountain 'country.' No wonder the richest sport in the world, F1, has been coming here for years.
To actually walk the track was a dream and I actually did. It wasn't too hard to find it as I just went towards the coast and followed my instincts at first. Though it looks very different from during race time, some things our undoubtedly Monaco. The Rascase turn, the hair pin turn at the hotel and the tunnel. We leisurely walked the little under 4km track, while seeing the other sights of Monte Carlo. Expensive stores, hotels and casions is all that lined the narrow and up and down roads. After having walked the whole track, and pretty much seen the whole place, we walked up to the castle of Monte Carlo, that gave us a stunning view of the whole valley. At a distance you could see the valley end, and maybe another town and on clearer day's you could probably see Italy in the distance.

We left Monte Carlo to go back to Ventimiglia. It was around 3pm when we got back and we were starving. We still had some boiled eggs and cheese we had carried from home. There was a local farmers market, and we decided to buy some fresh bread and meat to make some sandwiches. After using my French to buy two different kinds of fresh sandwich meats and a loaf of fresh hearty bread, we sat down on the rocks facing the Mediterranean, prepared ourselves scrumptious sandwiches and sat there eating! At that moment and a few more on this trip, I felt like nothing could be more perfect!
As I mentioned earlier, we are crazy adventurers, and for some reason we had decided to bathe in the Mediterranean. Now when we had decided that, it was sunny and warm in the day, but by the time we actually got to doing it, the temperature had dropped to below 10 degree Celsius and sun was nowhere to the see. The same waves that had seemed to be inviting and gently hitting the coast, now seemed to be vicious and unforgiving. We had to do it, after all it was a question of our wild spirits. And in that wild spirit, we took of our clothes and plunged into the icy cold salty waters of the Mediterranean. I will only say this; there is a lot we can control with our minds! In the moment I was in the water, I was like a beast, taming the waves, but it's when I stepped outside and started to dress again, that I felt the chill down my spine! Absolutely content with our decision we moved on to walk a trail on the mountain.

The day ended the way it started. Wandering, and going wherever seemed worth going. From the most heavenly blues to the greens I have only seen in movies like the Lord of the Rings, it was a complete feast for the senses. The sun came down on the Mediterranean and the the sky erupted into a myriad of colors. What a simple day it had been, yet how perfect it was!

The next leg of the journey was to be as interesting as the first day and we were ready to flow in the directions are hearts lead us. We were to take a train from Ventimiglia to Genova and then on to Pisa where we would arrive at about 2am. Since we hadn't planned to go to Pisa even though we wanted to, we were happy that we would have 2 hours to roam the city and actually the see the world famous tower. It was cold and the streets were deserted when we came out the station at Pisa. Looking at a map once, we just started walking in the northward direction and after about 45 minutes of walking through dead silence we came up to it.
There is stood, at the most unnatural angles that my first reaction was to look away. It is really that bent and they say it's getting worse with time. The leaning tower of Pisa was a magnificent tower, more so magnificent because of the unusual bend. With it illuminating the night sky, we could now say that we had seen the famous tower!

At 4am freezing, we stood outside waiting for our train to Firenze. Somehow we missed the train as it left from some magical hidden platform far ahead. After another gruelling hour that soaked all the energy from within we caught the hour or so long train to Firenze. The air was still cold when we arrived at Firenze and we were still tired. We ended up sleeping in the waiting lounge for an hour or two. When we finally got up, we were rested, not cold, and ready to tear the city down. Walking out the station that morning, with the sun at about a 60 degree angle up to the east, we soaked in the first sight's of a big bustling Italian city. Firenze at once reminded me off home with cars and busses and other means of transport bustling around honking away, while human beings continued to cross roads in random zig zag manners deliberately avoiding the zebra crossings. I knew this was going to be fun. There were a few things that were on the agenda, and eating some gelato and pizza were up there.
It was still early and people the open markets were still being set up, as the sellers tried to get their first catch of the day by immediately getting into selling mode on seeing us. It was a very charming market in one of the stores, with everything from wallets to ties and shirts being sold. I ended up buying a pure black silk slim tie for 3 euros. I would like to think it was a good bargain!
Though a little messy in parts, one thing there wasn't going to be a dearth of was of art and culture and history. Every building looked more beautiful than the other with classic renaissance architecture.
Michelangelo's famous sculpture 'The statue of David' is housed in the Academia di Belle Arti in Firenze. The museum also holds some other of his works and other renaissance sculptures. I consider myself to be quite an illiterate when it comes to art, but one look at the statue and I knew it was special. There was something about the nakedness of the statue and the beauty of the form that held my gaze in raptures. As the hundreds of people in the gallery looked at the statue in awe, shock and amazement, I understood what the fuss was all about. This huge structure was carved out of a single piece of stone, with each vein on each muscle crafted to perfection. Without even exaggerating the slightest, that was 12 euros that I do not regret spending.
By the time we got out, the sun shone brightly and we had started to feel a little hungry. The Ponte Viccio is a bridge that crosses over the Arno river and is extremely unique as there are hundreds of shops on this bridge. Mostly goldsmith's and artists that replaced the butchers, tanners and blacksmiths back in the day, and brought prosperity to Firenze. On crossing over to the other side we arrived at a quieter more quaint part of town. Old shops and small restaurants run from houses. We found the cutest pizza place. I had to bend to get in the door and the 4 person table barely fit 3 of us. But the Pizza was amazing. Maybe it was because we were starving or maybe because it was Italy, but that pizza tasted incredible.
What we did after this was the defining moment of the trip, of Italy and of our wild spirits. We climbed the fleet of stairs to the top of Firenze. (I am forgetting the name of the plaza). The view from there of the city was absolutely breathtaking. All of Firenze including the famous Duomo with its circular dome was distinctly visible. What made it perfect was the open amphitheater whose steps people sat and lay on while a group of guitarists and violinists performed. We lay down, seeing nothing but all of Florence. All of the magic, all the color. Listening to the strum of the guitar I fell asleep. It was the best 30 minutes of sleep and it was because that moment was perfect. The wind blew at the right speed. The temperature was just right. Nothing could have made it better!

Florence was a town teeming with art and musicians. Everywhere you looked there were stunning sculptures and extraordinary beauty in the simplest of designs. Why be surprised though!? Italy alongwith France was the center of all things art back in younger days! If I ever wished to be transported in time, at that moment in Florence I wished I could be transported to an Italy of the past. To a time when the magic was being created!

The mind has been enriched by such beauty, that it would be a shame if it can't retain it long enough for what I saw I want to imprint in my heart forever!

A wild journey! A great Journey! Ciao Firenze!

Let's talk about a place where they take their Beer damn seriosuly!

After a thoroughly enriching and exciting time in Spain, I was very happy to be in Metz! Though being back to freezing temperatures wasn't the best thing coming from the warm sunny days of Spain, but at least it was home. The local Boulangerie and the Ca Va's and Saluts, it felt good!

A regular week of school, mostly filled with all of us exchanging stories from our travels, passed by rather quickly. Little did I know, that the weekend I was expecting to be a calm and relaxing one, would turn into another great experience in another great city.

As I woke up on Friday afternoon, I had already missed the opportunity to go to Munich with a bunch of people that left early in the morning. After the initial short lived disappointment, I was indeed happy to be staying back. I thought I would catch up!
Soon I found myself running out the door, with 10 euros in my pocket, a banana in another pocket, and a hurriedly packed backpack on my shoulders; I was going to Munich! Now I know you're probably thinking, so what's the big deal, you were just a little rushed that's all. Well here's the deal; For those of you who may or may not know, I had been pick pocketed in Barcelona a mere 6 days ago, losing all my id's, credit cards, money everything. When I barged out that door, I literally left with 10 euros, a passport and a Eurorail pass. To make matters better(worse), I had no clue where the others were staying, so hopes off borrowing money from them were contingent on finding them.

Alright now that the picture has been painted, lets talk about the journey and the city as such. Having been on the TGV's, then the AVE's in Spain, I didn't think it could better. The ICE's or the fast trains of Germany actually did exactly that! They went a step further. Beautiful, fast and comfortable trains zipping through German towns and cities. My train ride to Munich was uneventful as such, but I did manage to read a good amount of the book, 'A child called 'it'!'
After about a couple of train changes standing on cold windy platforms, 6 hours and 2 naps later, I got off at Munchen HBF(Munich Central Station). Now Germany to me drew a blank in my mind. For some reason, I had no idea what to expect. Expect for a few basic things I knew about the country I really felt dumb getting off at the station. The thing I realized at once was that Germans unlike French and the Spanish, neither hesitate in speaking English nor our offended if you approach them not speaking their native tongue. Quite the contrary to the French I would say.

The train station was very impressive, and for some reason had a wide array of food stalls. People might have just come from outside to eat at the station. Looking around, I knew my first task was to find my friends, so at once I decided to start looking around. After having talked to someone on the phone I had found out a cheap hostel close by. After searching through a good 5-6 hostels and calling another 4, my luck hadn't struck. I was stuck. After a little help from an Aussie behind the desk at a youth hostel, he agreed to take my girlfriend's credit card details to book a night there. So that was it I thought, I had 10 Euros to do whatever I could and get back too. I roamed the streets, cold, yet excited at the prospect of discovering my first German city. I had heard they called it the Beer capital of the world; Oh was I in for a pleasant pleasant surprise!

I awoke early the next morning to find it snowing outside. Considering I had just been in the most gorgeous weather just a week ago, I wasn't really looking forward to this. Nonetheless, with an enormous appetite to discover the city and with an even bigger thirst to taste the Beer, I walked into the snow with one of the Free tours. The tour assembled at a place called the Marianplatz, where other tour leaders also joined, and all the different groups were to go from here. As I was standing in this regal square, I am tapped from behind and to it is none other than my friends. After telling them how I had tried to locate them the previous night, and how I was saving every penny to survive the day, we split up into different groups heading for different tours. They were on the Third Rite tour, which talked about the rise and fall off the Socialist Nationalism in Germany. I was but obviously on the free city tour. We decided we would meet at the Square again at 2.

The 3 or so hours with the guide Sonja(An American Masters student in Germany) were one of the most entertaining, informative and useful I have ever spent in an unknown city. From the funniest drinking stories off the Hofbrauhaus and the Beer revolutions of Munich, to the rise of Hitler and the strides Germany has made to educate its youth about its past; dark or not, we talked about it all. We started off at the Glockenspiel. A famous site in Munich, the Glockenspiel is a mechanical display on a massive clock in the Marianplatz, that is actually quite anticlimactic. At 11, 12 and 5 every day, there is a loud noise, and then two mechanical scenes are enacted on the tower. It wasn't the most exciting thing, but it was however entertaining to see the hoards of people gathered to see it go off. The snow had picked up by now, and there was a constant fall. It was getting colder, but our guide was just getting in the groove. We made past alleys and lanes, talking about the history and culture of the city, while almost always ending up with a beer story. It sounded like the Bavarian's were very serious about their beer. A very interesting fact about Munich is that though it does look like an oldish city, it was actually almost completely destroyed in the world wars. What was very interesting was that the people knew this and took pictures of the building beforehand and were able to rebuild them. The churches had very interesting myth's and legends surrounding them. One allegedly was ordered to be built by the devil while the other had a story of a man who dropped a beer glass from atop one of the towers while affixing the cross, and it did not break. The more we walked and saw, the more stories Sonja pulled out. But every now and then, she would talk about serious stuff. She moved the crowd. She made us feel, what Munich and Germany went through, after the first world war, with hyper inflation and the country in heavy debt. She invoked in us an inquisitive feeling towards Hitler and his doings! And she damn sure made us realize how important Beer was to the people of Munich!

Mid way through our tour, we stopped at a local beer garden, named Augustinar. Allegedly the last pope's favorite beer is from here! Heck if the pope loves this beer, God loves the beer! As our guide told us more and more about beer norms like as to how you need to look into the other person's eyes while doing a cheers to how you hold the glass, I saw a my first half liter in Germany being brought to me. Beautiful color, an amazing frothy head and an absolutely magnificent taste! As I gulped my beer, I was content! Oh I love beer!

As we moved on, the beer helping keep warm a little, as the snow fell and fell, completely engulfing everything and everyone. I sight that was close to perfect! I have never seen this much snow in my life. If it was not for my numb toes and fingers, I would have thought it was heaven. We walked past the Hofbrauhaus, the world renowned beer garden of Germany. More a 'touristy' attraction than a true Bavarian beer garden, the sheer amount of tables, people and beer indoors said otherwise! Walking further, we were shown something very interesting. Munich unlike cities like Berlin, believed in paying their respects to the Martyrs and lost lives through subtle honorary mementos like a golden strip on the ground in one of the alleys. The conversations were a mix of important moments in Munich history to interesting knick knacks about everything Beer. One of my favorites was the story that went with the Maples. Now Maples are these tall poles which are found in every german town, village city etc. They showcase the regions traditions and attractions. Since centuries there has been a tradition where people from other regions would come and steal the maple and not return it until they were given a party. One of the best such incident happened in 1995 at the Munich airport. Now the Munich Airport had it's own maple, showcasing to the tourists some of the traditions of the city. One day in 1995, the airport securities arrived to find their beloved Maple gone. Now this was very unsettling as something as huge as a maple was stolen from under the nose of the Airport security! Any guesses as to who took it?... It was the local Munich police, and they actually got a party from the Airport officials. True story! I think it was at this point I realized that I loved these people! They loved their beer more than anything else, and I loved them for that! As we stood next to the town hall building with the snow falling in front of us, I joined in as Sonja used my favorite quote to end the tour. "Life is Like a book and those who don't travel, read only the first few pages."

Still cold but warm from the emotions our guide had evoked in us, I arrived back at the Marianplatz, the decided place to meet my friends. Unfortunately our tour had gotten really late and to my horror, I lost my friends again. At this point I hadn't eaten anything and all my money was over. The next hour or so, I thought of all possibilities. I didn't even have enough money to get a reservation on a train home. As I sat in my hostel, running through all my options, I decided to go to my friend's hostel and wait! 10 min, 20 min, 30 min, they came! They actually came back, and I wasn't going to leave them this time. As we exchanged stories, the first thing I did was borrow some money and eat something. As I was feeling rich now, I decided even to get a haircut, which I got from an Iraqi man. Night rolled by soon, and I was supposed to take a train at 10:30 but I knew I had to have a big glass of beer and have some sort of sausage! I just couldn't go without! We picked up a pork sausage in a bun from a roadside vendor, savoring every bite of it, I wanted a beer to cleanse the taste! What better place to end it than the Hofbrauhaus! Table after table, full of people, drinking copious amounts of beer, served by girls in absolutely adorable Bavarian outfits and obscenely big glasses. We saw our liter glasses of beer come in and I couldn't help but salivate! As I mentioned earlier I have started LOVING beer. There was nothing that came to mind at that moment. A pure liter of unadulterated, purely delicious beer and Me! I drank it all! I felt like a man!

I told myself I was going back as I boarded the night train home!
Burp!!! I dozed off to sleep!

Barcelona and the home stretch!

A lot has happened in the last 36 hours. I write this as I wait for an overnight train to Paris in a small french town in the south east corner called Perpignian. My room in Metz is still 18 hours away!
As I think back at our journey to Barcelona; The place I had been looking forward to since even before I left. But it was not to be. I have mixed emotions about my day and a half there. This posting is more about people and other smaller incidents that seem irrelevant but are actually memorable.

As the train arrived in Barcelona, I could feel my excitement. After all this is what I had been looking forward to. This is the city I wanted to be in. This would be a great end to this wonderful trip to Spain I thought as we arrived in Barcelona Sants. Taking a metro to Ramblas square, as we got out, the sun along with multitudes of people greeted us at the gorgeous square, which had more tourists than I had seen in all of Spain till then. Britishers, French, Russians, Italians, everyone from everywhere was roaming this gorgeous plaza, that was lined with restaurants, bars, and souvenir shops. Our hostel was off one of the small streets on this plaza. After checking in we left at once to a major part of town. The main attraction here was an unusual building designed by Anthony Gaudi. Though I didn't pay to go up this building, it didn't take too much to appreciate its artistic characteristics. The three of us decided to roam Barcelona. We walked and we walked, moving again in the direction of the setting sun. From major shopping streets, to neighborhoods to business centers we saw it all. Most of the time we were moving towards a huge tower like building that curved at the top. As we got closer and closer, its magnanimity became clearer to us. The building soared into the sky, and we lay on the ground looking at the sky trying to trace its reach. Night had fallen, and we had become very casual and comfortable. We were having a great time in each others company. But a big blow awaited me. As I walked up the stairs off the metro station close to our hostel, I was suddenly interrupted by a Spanish woman from the behind. Before I could understand what was going on, and what she was trying to tell me, I realized someone had picked my wallet, and it was a group of 2 ladies I saw walking away into the huge market that was right in front. It happened so quickly, none of us knew how to react. Should we catch hold of the lady next to us, or follow the one that went into the market. And in that daze she disappeared into the huge market. For a few hours, my spirits were a little dampened, but I came out of it. I decided to make the most of it.

A little dejected me and my friend found ourselves at a Turkish joint. It turned out to be a great time, as the person working there was Pakistani and we engaged in conversation that was a mix of English, Hindhi, Urdu and a little bit of Spanish thrown in. Over the great shawarma and rice, we talked and I decided to give Barcelona and it's people another chance.
Three of us headed to find the beach for the night. After walking for about 45 minutes, we saw it. 3 clubs one after the other on the pristine beach of Barcelona. The one we went into was called Shoko and it was one of the best clubs I have ever been to. A huge dance floor spread across a few levels, with a mix of house and popular music playing. There was an outside area right off the beach, had tables and a great view of the sea. As we danced the night away, I had already forgotten the incident in the evening, and was liking the city all over again. In retrospect, what happened after the club, was a fitting end to the trip. We walked out the club towards the beach, took of our shoes, and sat in the cold sand looking at the Mediterranean for the first time. Sitting there, with the rush of the clubs in the background, a magnificent Westin hotel towering into the sky east of us, and rocks on the west, we stared straight into the sea. .The waves were small; They were calming. We saw a brilliantly lit ship depart from a port on one end and moved across from east to west in front of us. I sat there, soaking it all in. All the people I had met. All the food I had had. All the memories I will take back. It was a fitting end; Cuddled in each others arms for warmth we took a taxi home.
Muchos Gracias we said getting off!

Me and Josiah left Barcelona for Cerbere, a town in the south east just across the border from Spain, at 3 in the afternoon. A little heavy hearted for leaving but glad to be going home at the same time. A few trains later through some of the most picturesque small french towns, we made it to Perpignian, hoping we would be able to get a reservation to somewhere. Being back in France, seeing the signs in French, hearing people speaking in the unmistakable French, it feels like I am back home; in a way it feels nice. When I reached Spain, I thought Spaniards were the sweetest people. Coming back to France, I knew at once I was back, as I was met by a rude lady, not willing to help at the Cerbere station. A little ticked off we arrived in Perpignian, to be met by the sweetest lady behind the counter. She went out of her way to help us, always had a smile, worked past the closing and found us a way to get to Metz. I change what I said at first. You can meet all kinds of people everywhere. Weather it be the women that stole my wallet, to the woman who helped us get our train back, more than anything I have met a lot of people on this trip. And one thing that I have come to realize is, if you try to adjust, if you try to understand their ways, they will help you and they will be nice to you. I said to the old lady at the counter as we left , “Je dit aux mes amis que les francais sont les meilieurs.”(I tell my friends that the French are the best) And I say it now again, with the odd rude or bad person you can find everywhere, you will find more people who will try to help you out; but with a slight stipulation to the tune of the old saying, “When in Rome, do as the Romans do!”

This closes an amazing chapter of an amazing trip. I have wonderful memories of the people, the food and the places of Spain! I would love to go back sometime. As of now, it is onto the train to Paris, and a few trains after home at last!

…..I had thought, that when I get home, that this blog would be ready to post, but little did I know there was a little more drama left....

After finishing the last bit of my account of Barcelona and Spain, it was about 30 minutes to our overnight to Paris. Still amazed at how we had managed to get a reservation, we sat at the station anxiously, now eager to get home. It was extremely windy as we got on the Corail Lunea, the night trains run by SNCF. We had booked sleepers and had the bottom two in a 6 sleeper room. But there was no one else in the room, as the train started moving, and after chatting a little and reading a bit, I fell asleep. I awoke around 1 am to find ourselves parked at Toulouse Mataibau station, and didn't bother much and fell asleep again. A minute before my alarm rang to awaken me to our arrival in Paris, I woke by myself, looked outside, and saw the same signboard saying Toulouse Mataibau. I checked my watch again and woke up with a start and didn't really understand why we had been standing there all night. In my daze I asked a passenger as to when we would get to Paris and was told at 2pm. We went back to sleep, knowing there was nothing else that could be done. We were awoken to another announcement to switch to another TGV as our train had been canceled. Weary and tired passengers lugging their suitcases and bags rushed off the train towards the other train.
After a little confusion as to where we needed to sit, we found ourselves in a bunch of seats, with a Moroccan man, a French girl who had finished interning in Barcelona returning to Paris, a group of 2nd generation Algerians and an old French man. A 5 hour journey ahead, this would turn out be really interesting! As we got to know very soon, the Moroccan man was a very animated fellow; he loved politics and talked about it in about the number of languages on one of our hands. French, Spanish, Arabic and English. He made gestures and spoke very passionately. Every now and then he would pull out something from his duffel bag to get the attention of the group; whether it be natural perfume he had got from Saudi Arabia, or the picture of his young son in his wallet or the multiple magic tricks he showed us. He was almost magical, someone who was born in the wrong age. He provided a lot of entertainment I must say. The other young French lady, Xavier, we ended up becoming quite good buddies with. We talked and we joked and we talked more about traveling and politics and food and all that is great about France.(She was the first French person to admit that French is not a great language. Very surprising) The 5 hours on the train from Toulouse to Paris passed by sort of quickly, with the constant animation of the Moroccan with us and the Algerians and with the new French friend we made. We arrived at Paris Montparnasse amongst chaos. As it turns out, there had been a huge storm the previous night, which had delayed multiple trains and canceled many. The French girl on her way to Paris Gare Du Nord dropped us off at Paris Est from where we hoped to take an alternate train home. After talking to a SNCF official and a train conductor we managed to hop onto a train to Metz, without any seat. As we sat outside the compartment on the small fold-able chairs next to the doors, we looked back at the amazing trip, the amazing people and the amazing places we had been to. As we sped past the green fields, we were glad to be home!
I guess, Home is definitely where the heart lies!!
I'm in my room now, and it feels kinda good!!

Paella de Valencia!

The trains in Spain, though more expensive than the ones in France, have been a level above in terms of luxury. With the AVE being the Spanish version of the TGV, it is a train that moves silently at great speeds, stopping only at major cities. With wooden floors, big windows and a very gracious staff, these trains are a pleasure to travel on. Another thing I had gotten used to was watching the movie they showcased in these trains. On our way to Valencia via Madrid, I watched the movie called Amazing Grace. . A very interesting movie based on a real story, based in the 1700's Britain. It highlights the work of one Mr. William Willburforce who rallied fellow members of the house of commons for years to abolish Slave trade. A very interesting movie that I got completely lost in, forgetting that I was in fact, on a train....

Walking out of the station in Valencia, at once I got the impression it was a busy town. Workers, tourists, businessmen, all shared the sidewalks that led away from the main plaza. We walked to our hostel, and we could see already that this town had a big party scene. Bars everywhere, merchants selling fans and hats everywhere, and multitudes of students brimming about the streets. After talking to the Parisian who worked the desk in French, and her pulling my leg and telling me she didn't think too much of my French, we left for a Tapas bar. Since one of the people in our group was meeting a friend studying in Valencia, she knew the places to take us to. The Tapas bar, essentially specialized in tapas or 'pinchos' from bask country; The region of Navarra and around. I had the most delectable tapas there, including a croquette which is a fried cheese ball with tuna, on a slice of baguette. They also had a local drink which was an alcoholic apple cider they made at the bar.

We went to a few surrounding bars, had a few drinks. I had the sangria, which the make with effortless ease in Spain, and it is as good as the best of cocktails one can have. We stopped by at a bar that had club music on, but soon left for home as we were all tired from the day of traveling.
Waking up the next morning, I saw sunshine seeping in a plenty, through the one big window in our 12 person room. It ought to be a good day, and I brought out my shorts after about 5 months, and my first time in Europe since I've been here. It didn't take us long to find a paella stand in the sun and we were quick to grab seats at a bar style restaurant operated from a sort of stand stall. There was one person working the counter serving up the famous Paella Valencia to the hungry customers that were coming in going. A big plate of Paella and a cold beer with the perfect head was the perfect day to the start. The paella had chicken ribs, something that I had never tasted before. The ribs are very flavorful, but not too fleshy. None the less the Paella was truly lip smacking. Next up we went to the big Mercat, or market. Absolutely amazing. Stalls and stalls of people selling fruits and vegetables and meats and fish and cheese. Flavors and smells intertwined with each other seeped our noses, at once making us crave food. The market was bustling with people, of all shapes and sizes, buying things of all shapes and sizes. The rest of the day we spent wandering from place to place, essentially following the sun. I have now a confirmed theory of how wandering about, if you have the time is the best way to see a city. One gets to see everything from the way markets work, to people work, to what tourists see. And every now and then you discover this gem, that you can proudly say you discovered, and not many would know about!

Our night was to be crazy. I admit, I have become American in the way I party, I like to pregame or drink a 'little' before going out. We played a few games, which I rather not mention here. A few drinks later, a little buzzed we went to the bar/club. In Spain quite a few bars turn their lights off and turn up the music, turning into semi clubs. People stay at bars till about 3 or 4 and then proceed to the clubs. I wouldn't lie but I can't party like the Spaniards as yet, and had to go sleep after the first bar, which was incredibly fun. I didn't get to see Valencia as well as I would have liked, but it was definitely a city with a great vibe.....



…....... Read on for Barcelona and the home Stretch

Oh Seville! Thou art too beautiful!

I've been in Spain for about 5 days now, but the sheer amount of experiences make me feel like I've been here forever. As I move, through Spain, my first opinion about the country is further solidified; Spain's got some serious Flava!

I sit in a train headed to Valencia, with Marley and me playing on the train television. Trains in Spain have been amazing, really clean and comfortable, with TV screens playing a movie. They even give you free headphones on every journey. But as I head to my next destination I can't help but think off the 2 great days I have spent in Seville.

When I got off the train at Seville's Santa Justa station, and walked out as the sun was setting, I was at once hit by a wonderfully cool breeze. For the first time since I've been in Europe I had great weather; An amazing 18 degrees Celsius. Sitting on the bus, headed towards my hostel, I noticed a hectic pace in the evening rush of traffic. People walking around everywhere and cars honking. The way a city should be like. Noisy and full of color. Now walking on the street towards my hostel, in the Saint Sebastian Plaza, with trams going by in both directions, people on cycles frantically moving around, police cars on rounds, a gorgeous palace converted to a hotel on my left, tall palm trees swaying to the cool evening breeze, and plenty a person walking about, I was already in love with the place. Having grown up in a crowded city, where thousands of people flock together in markets, roads and parks, busy cities make me feel at home at once.
As I turned a corner, the sheer size of the Cathedral was overwhelming on first site. As far as I could see in the distance, I saw great towers of the magnificent cathedral, which might as well have been some king's palace. My hostel was right around the corner, and I went ahead and kept my stuff, freshened up and headed out to see the city a little, after consulting the receptionist, Elizabeth, a very friendly Kenyan.

By the time I left, mass was about to begin in the cathedral, and I casually walked in, and was literally awe struck. My vocabulary isn't good enough to describe properly what I saw. Ceilings reaching the sky, ornamental work all over and just the sheer size of it all, gave it a surreal feeling. I left within a few minutes thinking I'd come back in the day, but unfortunately found the main doors closed every time I tried after. My first evening in Seville was on my own. I had other friends who I had to meet up but I didn't know where they were living. So I was out there, with a city to be explored and a place to learn even more from! As I sat at a small cafe bar, eating my Chicken on a bed of fries with a cold cervecsa(beer) to go with it, I saw the evening traffic slowly pass by outside the window, I felt lucky at how I was able to experience such great cities!

The rest of the night I walked around and I walked around a lot. Left Right, Right Left, here and there, I would walk to whatever looked interesting and I stumbled upon some beautiful architecture, picturesque alleys and at times even the not so good parts of town. But what I love about wandering is that you get to watch; you get to watch everything; people, things,nature. It was a cool evening with the rain spitting a little, but as I came back home around midnight, I felt very content.
I was about to call it a night sitting in the lobby checking my email, conversing with the Spanish guy who was working the night shift in French mind you, 3 other kids wandered down from their rooms. As we sat in that small lobby, drinking, I got to know an Austrian, a German, an a Slovenian all studying in Lisbon as part of the Erasmus program(European Exchange) who had come to Seville for a break. As we sat there for 4 hours we talked about countries and cities and languages and everything that goes with it! A wonderful day in a wonderful place. I was falling more and more and love with Spain!

Another day, another experience to be had, the same city awaited, as the sun shone brightly on it. I was expecting to be joined by a group later in the day as they were arriving from Grenada. I left around noon to explore a little more on my own. Walking through Santa Cruz, in alleys so narrow at times that two people had trouble walking alongside, I waded past tapas bars and boutique stores that seemed to spring out of nowhere, intertwined with the lives of people who lived in beautiful homes in these alleys. Life existed in plenty here, and with the sun seeping though the narrow openings between buildings, everything from the plants to the people was alive. Looking for a place to eat, I found a place facing the wonderful historic hotel I mentioned earlier, out in the open, with the tram passing by a few meters away. It was called Boston Burger. I ordered myself a burger with fries and a coke, and sat there in the gorgeous sunshine relishing my meal. Even after I was done, I just sat there. As people walked by, or sometimes hurried by, I was still, absolutely calm and peaceful; Relaxed.

Around 4 my friends from tech had arrived and after exchanging a few stories from our previous travels, they were excited to explore the city, and I, having been in Seville for a day, became the automatic guide. We left again, and we walked again, past the same buildings, and through the same streets, but if was different. I sort of knew these streets now and it felt good. After walking through a few familiar places, we passed by a beautiful garden in the middle of the city to what is called the Plaza de Espana. A sort of regal administration building we knew before going in. From the outside there seemed like there was a lot of renovation going on, but one peek in the main door and our jaws dropped. A huge semi circular building, a mix of Islamic and Catholic architecture, with the most exquisite porcelain work all over. (I will insert pictures soon) We walked around for a bit, closely examining the different tile work which showcased all the different regions of Spain. This city wasn't seizing to impress. On our walk back home we saw boards advertising the Champions league prequarterfinal between Barcelona and Stuttgart and we knew we had to watch it at a bar. One side of the cathedral was a Irish pub called Flaherty's which had a huge screen set up, and the place was full of people. There wasn't enough space, so we requested a middle eastern looking gentleman if we could share his table, and he duly agreed. It turned out to be a great table. 2 of his friends came by and they were extremely friendly. They were all Moroccans who had been in Spain 3 years, passionate about football, and living life respecting others. Once I learned that they knew French (one of the 5 they knew) I was elated and brought out my French. It's interesting that in Spain I have been approaching people in French and not in English. And the pleasure that follows when someone does speak French is, a feeling you might have when you discover that a stranger you met knows someone who is dear to you as well!
After a 1-1 draw we bid to our new friends and proceeded to find a place to party in a big group of 8 which included the 5 of us from Tech and the three kids from Portugal I met the previous night. Though the town seemed absolutely dead as we walked everywhere, we had a very great time just getting to know each other. We came back around 4 and in my mind I knew this was going to be my favorite city in Spain! It has a feel to it, did Seville. Something that put me to ease, something that made me relax.

The next morning, another destination awaited, though excited at the prospect of discovering other cities, my heart was heavy as I had fallen in love with Seville! The train rolled out of Seville Santa Justa...Valencia and Barcelona awaited!

The Spanish Flava!

As I wait for my train to Seville at Madrid's Peurto DE Atocha Station, I can't stop thinking of the wonderful time I had in Pamplona and Olite in the Navarra region of Spain.

Different weekend, different trip, however the same quench for discovering new places. Soon after being back from London, it was time to head to Spain as I had 9 days off from School. This meant no time to empty my bags from my previous trip and being on the road again. With our break clashing with the break of other French students, getting reservations on trains using our Eurorail was posing to be a challenge as everyone was traveling and there are only a certain amount of seats for Eurorail passengers. Me and some others boarded one of the few trains that would get us to Spain, eventually. I was to change three trains, over 24 hours to get to my first destination, Pamplona. In the modest amount of traveling I have done in bikes, cars, buses, trains and planes, but not ships yet, one thing that I realized very soon was, it is the journey itself that should be enjoyed and not just the destination. The sights and sounds of travel are something I cherish.

So we were off. Metz to Lyon Part Dieu in a 5 hour train; relatively slower than the TGV's one gets used to in France but much faster than some of the trains I traveled on in my childhood, which used to literally slowly chug along winding tracks, and slowly changing topographies. From Lyon an overnight train to Toulouse and then a continuation in that train to Irun, just across the border in Spain. It was about 11am on a beautiful Friday that we rolled into Irun. It was at once apparent that we were in Spain. The colorful houses, the signs, and the weather very Spainesque. Having never been to Spain, at least this is what I had imagined Spain to be. We had about 5 hours before my train to Pamplona so we decided to roam around Irun. My very first interaction with a Spaniard was delightful. A beautiful Spanish girl at Kodak store, who spoke very little, was intrigued to see 6 foreigners of different colors in her small town. Very friendly, she had something about her that told me that I am going to love being around people here. And it has seemed to be true till now. Despite the odd grouch, Spaniards seem really friendly and helpful. I guess it comes from the language, which is so boisterous and playful.

It was great roaming around Irun, there was beautiful sunshine out, and we just sat in a square, watching as life went on there. I was excited.

I left. Embarked on my journey in Spain. First stop Pamplona. My plans were to meet a Friend from UNC, who was son an exchange there. I knew she had planned a visit to a small town the next day. I got to Pamplona around evening. The mountains to the sides were gorgeous as we rolled into the station. With the help of the few words I had learnt in Spanish, the friendliness of the Spaniards, a broken conversation with a Spanish bus driver in French, and my perseverance to do find things myself, I somehow managed to get to the 10^th floor of a gated building at the doorstep of my friend. Relieved that I actually found it, knowing only her address, I was ready to explore. We went into old town or 'insert word here' which was absolutely magnificent. Cobblestone alleys, small houses above shops and bars, and ever so many people roaming around to find a bar for the evening. My obvious first question was about Tapas, or the Spanish finger food that are known all over the world and my friend told me that they were actually called Pinchos in the northern part of Spain. Derived from a word that means to pinch, sort of making sense. We found a bar, and I wish I remembered the name but I don't. A counter-top, a few tables, and a lot of people standing around the bar. This was my first experience with Pinchos. In bars, all these foods lined and you pretty much tell the bartender what you would like to apart from what you would drink. The first thing I was made to try was Tosdadas Espaniadas ( I hope I spelt it right), a potato pancake sort of thing, wrapped in egg. Absolutely delicious. The second dish, and something I absolutely fell in love with, was the Patatas Bravas, or fried cubed potatoes topped with an incredible tomato sauce and mayonnaise. It sounds simple I know, but absolutely wonderful. We ended the night by walking around. Pamplona has wide roads, and a very good system for pedestrians. The night ended early as the next morning we were heading to a small town called Olite south of Pamplona.

It was a 45 minute bus journey, and it cost merely 3 euros. As we got off the bus in Olite, we were at once struck by the size of the place. It seemed like the bus had transported us a good 300-400 years ago, and no one us around but us. We knew had to visit a castle, and a wine museum, but didn't really have any directions. Turns out, they weren't required. A few steps forward and we noticed the castle up ahead. Walked a little more, and I already made my decision that this was the most quaint and most charming town I had ever been to. You know when you read about small cobblestone alley's behind houses, with people selling their produce here and there, this is what is seemed like. And it felt like we were the only people in town. We walked up to the castle made the little entrance fee and moved to discover this beautiful castle. The castle was built in 1420 but was restored in the early 1900's when it was found in ruins. It was a carefully planned tower, with guard towers, and ice well's where they stored ice in the summer, to the King and Queen's chamber and even a hanging garden. The castle was very well preserved and it was a treat to go about meandering through the castle. The view from the highest point, gave us a 360 degrees of Olite and the region around.

When we left the castle, it was around 1 and seemed like all of Olite's people were out, and looking for something to eat and drink on this gorgeous Sunday. We proceeded to a hole in the wall bar. At first glance it was easy to miss, but the number of people going in gave it away. Going in we realized, it was a whole bar, teeming with people. We at once had eyes on us, as we looked out of towners, but there was no lack of friendliness there. The people were joking and laughing and were welcoming to us in their hangout so at to speak. The bar had a nice ambiance, dimly lit and with a working fire place in one corner. It was time for more Pinchos and we got a plate of the fried Calamari. Lipsmackingly delicious is the word. We spent a good hour there chatting, eating and drinking, interrupted by the cutest old couple who spoke in such a hurry that it was almost fascinating. Around 3, the town was dead again. Not a soul around. The wind was still. The son shone bright, and the only sound seemed to be the unusual grinding like chatter of these long white birds perched on top of the castle. We sat in the square outside the wine museum, and it was the most amazing moment. The sunshine baking our bodies, the wonderful castle around us, and peace.

When the wine museum did open, we went it to learn about the wines of the region and the process of making wine. It was a small museum, but I learnt things I didn't know about wine. Like how it takes a whole year to cultivate it with interconnected steps, each heavily dependent on the other. We learnt about the different types of grape and the percentage of each grape in a yield; learnt about tasting wine and how it must be done properly. For every 2 tickets of 2.50 euros, one got a bottle of wine, and so did we.

The last hour of the day in Olite was spent in a local cafe, enjoying the local bakery items. As we took that bus back, we were so glad to have come to visit this town. It was a wonderful day trip, something I will take back from Spain. It was one of my first experiences here, and despite how the rest of the trip goes, I think it is the small towns that talk the language of a country, and this small town definitely spoke it well.

We were back in Pamplona for the night and it was to be a Grand Noche or big night as was planned my friends roommates. I was told Spaniards start their night off at bars, enjoying their pinchos and beer or wine. Then they move to a bar, where they drink hard liquor. At 4 when the bars close, they move to the club and don't end their night till about 7. I was very curious to see this, as it was hard to believe that people can party so long. So we joined my friend's group at the same bar I had gone to the first day. And wow was it something else. The elderly people were gone, the lights were off, and the ambient music was replaced by some serious Spanish chart toppers. We stayed there a little and moved to another bar. We were there for a good 3 hours dancing our brains out. I also tried a very interesting cocktail, which might sound weird but was actually delicious. It was half portion red wine mixed with half portion coke! We danced till about 4:30 and that's when the DJ just had to stop despite the begging of the crowd. We went home, I had had a great night. I was told this was normal to stay out this late. I just wonder what I might experience in Seville or Barcelona.

My visit to Pamplona was my first experience with Spain. And I am glad I got to do it the way locals do. My friend speaks Spanish and that made things easier. As I take my train to Seville, I take with me a phrase I think is enough to get by. Une Cerveca, por Farvor! (A beer, please)

More on my Spanish extravaganza soon!

I'm in London Baby!

I know I have been a little lax in updating my blog but there was just so much going on that I couldn't post any earlier.

So here we were, in February and it was cold and I kinda was missing my love! Earlier plans had her coming to Metz but due to some delay in the visa it meant she wouldn't come till later. Well some of you might be familiar with the holiday that makes you wanna gag, but for us lovers it's a nice excuse to rekindle the love and exchange some gifts. Yes I am talking about Valentines Day!

So I booked my tickets to London on a Eurostar. The train goes from Paris Gare Du Nord to London St Pancras in little under 2 and a half hours. After a full day of classes, I made it just in time for my train from Metz to Paris. Before I came to France, my only memory of trains as such was the overnight trains I used to take as a child with my family up to the mountains in India to visit my grandfather. We used to take a lot of food and me and my sister you used to fight for the top bunk. As it would start moving, the food would be brought out, and the compartments would be filled with myriad aroma's.
Riding on trains here sort of makes me nostalgic and think of those younger times.. I still feel giddy when a train starts moving from the station, and slowly starts to pull away, as friends and family wave goodbye to their loved ones. In a way I think I love observing people. Behaviors, antics or emotions!
I got to Paris around 6:20 and had about 3 hours to kill before my train to London. As I roamed the streets of Paris, I could see people filling up the local brasseries and getting ready for a wonderful night in a wonderful city. (look out for an article on my day trip to Paris)
I looked around, saw the life go about and then went and plodded myself at Gare du Nord. Gare Du Nord is a marvelous station. With hoards of people, from locals to out of towners to even foreigners scampering around to find their train, that would take them to their destination. When I see people transit through airports and stations I always wonder, where they might be heading, what they might do there and what they might see there!

The Eurostar pulled out of Paris at 10:20, an hour later due to bad weather conditions in the North of France and England. I could feel the excitement rising as I would soon be in England and with my love. And for the first time I was going to live in London for 5 days. I was also curious to see if I could feel/hear or sense being under the channel, but unfortunately the tunnel ride took about 15 minutes and didn't feel anything different than the rest of the journey.

Arriving at St. Pancras, I remembered the first time I had come here and the memories attached. The same ceiling, the same corners, the same stores.
I was staying at a Friend's place in London and it turns out that he stays in one of the most central locations of London. On Bond street. At first when I arrived around midnight there seemed to be something going on, as the streets were blocked and the riot police was around. As it turns out the house next to where I was staying, had a facebook publicized party which went out of control, and there were about 2000 people in a very small space overlooking the marble arch. Kids climbed the house and were trashing the street. The situation was very volatile as British cops cannot touch students, despite what they might do until they are not breaking the law. And since this party was on public premises, they couldn't do anything about the drinking either. It was an interesting welcome to London. The first night passed.

The next day was typical British weather; Spitting rain and low temperatures. We wandered about town, still not being able to digest the fact that we were bang opposite Hyde park. We had dinner at a Trinidadian friends Aunt's house. She had the most charming house on Finchley road. Its a very nice part of town, with lovely British homes. After a great night of good food, vine and conversations we managed our way back home.

The next day we headed to Camden town. Camden is basically a large open market, with people selling a bunch of stuff. From witty t-shirts, to Abercrombie clothes from seized shipments, tatoos and goth stores to hats and even a store selling stuff made out of hemp! One thing that I love about England, and especially London, since it's such a multicultural pot of people, is that be it British, Asian, European, Trinidadian or Indian, every one has that British accent. For some it accentuates their original accent and for some it makes for one very interesting concoction.
Walking around, watching people walk around, we ate a little at the outdoor eateries, selling everything from Burritos and Nachos to India curry.

At night was the Valentines day Dinner. Dressed to impress, walking on the streets dressed in a sharp suit, I felt like quite a Londoner. It was a nice feeling, I think I won't mind working there if possible. For dinner we went to a restaurant called Giraffe, specializing in an around the world menu, that included a lamb burger with honeyed onions, a duck stir fry, ribs and much more. The ambiance was great and the food was as impressive. It was a wonderful evening, one that I will cherish for a long time.

The next few days we spent without much activity. I met a few friends from college studying abroad in England and met a few friends from back home in India studying/visiting England. It was fun catching up with them and it gave them a chance to meet my Love. Yes the mysterious woman I am so in love with.

Funnily enough, my only wish was to visit Nandos, and old favorite of mine, and as luck would have it, as we were walking around to search for a place for dinner one night, we saw Nando's at a corner and proceeded to eat there. Nando's is this chicken place, where they grill the chicken in their famous peri peri sauce and you get a variety of flavored peri peri sauces like the herb peri peri, the hot peri peri etc. to eat it with. It is absolutely lipsmacking.

It was one of the most perfect 5 days I spent. Wonderful place, wonderful food and most importantly the most wonderful person! Saying goodbye was hard as usual, and I sat on that Eurostar bound for Paris, I hoped that soon my love could come visit me in Metz. (If all goes well, March it shall be)

I was back to Metz and back to school, but the next week, or days from then was Spring break. Which meant another packed bag, another train, another city!

To Spain we go next!