a tale of 5 cities

The transitions from one city to another have consistently stood out on my trip…both because of the circumstances surrounding them (illness, unexpected detours, time changes, etc.) and because each place and my accommodations there have been so different from one another. The trek from Prague to Milan was no different. Milan was chosen as the final destination primarily because my dear friend Nikole and her now-fiance (!) Toto live there and hosted me. Since I arrived on a Friday afternoon, Nikole was still at work and so our plan was for me to meet up with her there.

Nikole is training for management at a high-end Italian luxury department store, La Rinascente. The store itself is right next to Milan's Duomo (huge, beautiful church), and my plan was to arrive via bus from the airport around 4:30 PM. Well, my flight was delayed due to an Italian air-traffic controller strike so I didn't even make it to the airport until 5 PM. I couldn't access the WiFi in the airport or figure out how to use the pay phone with my credit card, and I was still nursing a pounding headache and sour stomach from the night before, so I made a quick decision to jump in a cab, worried that Nikole would get off work before I could contact her and leave. 

The cab from Malpensa airport to the Duomo was horrifically expensive and took about 45 minutes…so in retrospect, bad decision. At this point in my trip though, I was really just rolling with the punches. It's the only way! Nikole found me dazedly ascending the escalator inside La Rinascente, taking in floor after floor of expensive shoes, clothes, purses, cosmetics, home decor and gourmet food. I was in my travel attire, which was very…functional (read: I looked like a hobo), and with no makeup and the good ol' hangover, I can only imagine how I looked.

However, it was Friday night and Nikole had plans for us- Heineken was unveiling an exclusive product at Rinascente, "The Sub", and we were attending the launch party on the terrace of the top floor. I stashed my bags and decided to do nothing about my appearance, despite the fact that we were surrounded by sophisticated, fashionable Italians. I just hoped people would think that I was going for the "effortless" look with my leggings and boots and army jacket, and my mess of a bun. I don't really know if I remember how to get dressed up anyway, it's been so long now.

We started the night by checking out "The Sub" and indulging in some free beer. "The Sub" is essentially a capsule-shaped mini-keg intended for home use, that keeps your Heineken cold and ready to drink. In my opinion, it is a slightly ridiculous product, because you have to plug it in and it only holds a small amount of beer, so really why wouldn't you just use the fridge? Plus it's something like 300 Euro and can only be refilled with Heineken. Still, rich people will buy anything if you create enough buzz, and they certainly created some buzz with this event.

We had settled in on the terrace to wait for the event to officially begin, and there was already a good turnout (invitation only, of course). Suddenly the lights dimmed and an eery green washed over the terrace, as futuristic electronic intro music blared. The crowd parted as dancers dressed as robots made a dramatic entrance, jerking and gyrating towards the stage. They lined up together, and after an impressive, cliffhanging pause, the beat dropped and "THE SUB" was revealed to the crowd. After a few more minutes of breakdancing to dubstep onstage, the dancers cleared out and DJ Satornino ("Little Saturn"), who is the bassist of a well-known Italian band, made his way onstage to get the party started.

It was such an interesting, strange, hilarious situation to find myself in, and we had a great time. Everything was free, from beer to mojitos to delicious hors d'oeuvres and we indulged in all of it. After hours of drinking, eating and dancing, we stumbled back to Nikole's and passed out.

Our indulging continued the following day…it's what Italy is about, after all. We started the day with cappuccinos and went straight from the cafe to a pizza place nearby, where each of us ordered our own pizza, as is customary in Italy (and AWESOME). I ordered a pizza with spicy salami and tomatoes called Diavolina, which means "little devil", which incidentally would be my DJ name if I had one. I don't think I need to tell you that the pizza was heavenly and I ate nearly all of it. 

After we recovered from our food comas, we had coffee again. LOL. This was followed by a few hours of exploring Milan (The Duomo, a castle, the fancy shopping area), and then of course it was time for Aperitivo. In Italy, around happy hour, if you order drinks at a bar or restaurant, Aperitivo is included for free-it's usually olives, chips and some type of bruschetta or panini. We had this accompanied by what's called "Spritz", which is champagne and Aperol (an Italian orange liqueur).

Nikole loves and appreciates food more than most - she even has a Masters in Gastronomy, which is the study of food and drink. She's also an excellent cook, and has a great food blog. So, being Nikole, she wanted to cook dinner for us. We picked up a plethora of appetizers (bread, gorgonzola, olive tapenade, olives, stuffed tomatoes, sun-dried tomatoes), wine (red and sparkling white) and the makings for risotto a la Milanese. 

We had planned to go out, but somewhere along the way we got drunk (probably due to the two bottles of wine followed by gin, followed by vodka). We ended up sitting at Nikole's kitchen table talking, telling stories, reminiscing and laughing for hours. Really, it was the perfect ending to my trip. Of course, I paid the price for mixing my drinks the next morning (WHEN WILL I LEARN?), and again boarded my flight with a miserable hangover. 

Another unexpected twist was discovered the morning I left Milan…I was vaguely wondering how it was possible for me to leave MIlan Sunday evening and then arrive in San Francisco Monday afternoon, but I didn't explore that concern until it was too late. I unknowingly booked a 12 hour layover at JFK. Oops? Again…roll with the punches, even if it's your past self that threw them. Especially if it's your fault, actually…I was too tired to really care after my 8 hour flight, so I booked a room at the airport Hilton and called it a day.

What a whirlwind Prague was! Even though my time there was brief, only one full day to explore the city, I feel like I made the most of it. The excruciating Absinthe-induced hangover I endured all day in transit to Milan is testament to that! 

How can Prague be explained…let's just put it this way: were I to write an inspirational self-help book, I'd want to live in Barcelona while I was writing it. It's easy to be upbeat and positive in Barcelona, for reasons I've already explained. The book I'd write if I was living in Prague though, it would tell a story of tragic, poignant heartbreak, or maybe it would be a murder mystery. Prague is beautiful in a dark and brooding way and it's also very romantic…which only adds to a feeling of heaviness one experiences when visiting it alone.

Partially because of the city's moody vibe, and partially because I was at this point going on 20 days of traveling, an overwhelming sense of homesickness enveloped me. The sensation of being totally and completely alone, thousands of miles away from my life, an awkward, fumbling outsider everywhere I went started to get to me. It made me want to hide in my room all day- it happens when you're traveling for an extended period of time, trust me. But my room wasn't that great, and it's not every day I'm in Prague, so I bundled up and headed out to explore.

As with the rest of my trip, in Prague I engaged in what I've termed "guerrilla sightseeing". It basically entails me wandering around with a very loose concept of where I'm going, stopping to look at places or things that catch my eye, and piecing together the story behind them on the way or afterwards. It's not the most efficient or educational way to see the world, but it's fun and relaxing. My trip, my rules (or lack thereof). It was in this way that I wandered through Old Town Prague, across Charles' Bridge, and found my way to the monastery and castle.

Here's a quick rundown on Prague's history: Prague used to be part of what was called "Bohemia" in Central Europe. The term "Bohemian" actually originated in France, in reference to freewheeling nomad/hippie types who were thought to have come from Bohemia. At one point Prague was capital of the Holy Roman Empire, and at another it was occupied by Nazis; for a while it was under Communist rule, and then in the late eighties there was a revolution and that was overthrown. After that, Prague became the cool place for young, radical Americans to move for a period, and now it seems focused on being a top tourist destination. In any case, all of that history makes for lots to see and do. 

Luckily for my homesick, lonely self, I had a friend in Prague, Kamila…a new friend who I'd recently been introduced to with the intention of our meeting up on this trip. She's Czech, but lives partially in San Francisco and partially in Prague. She returned to Prague only a couple weeks before I arrived, and she was a great host. We met up that night and bar-hopped, taking too many shots of aforementioned Absinthe (it's disgusting, by the way, like Fernet but burns more-it does the trick though!), laughed at the local celebrities she pointed out (DJs and rappers that clearly thought they had their pick of any women in the place), and talked about everything and anything.

There's something about having company after being deprived of it, especially when in foreign surroundings, and especially when that company represents a little slice of home-it inspires a new appreciation for connection and conversation that can easily be overlooked in day-to-day routine. Same with the friends that I saw in London and Barcelona…it added a lot to my trip, to be able to take a night off here and there from being the independent solo traveler and enjoy a night out with someone I felt comfortable with, regardless of how long I'd known them.

Inevitably, my time in beloved Barcelona has come to an end. This morning, before my flight, I woke up early to squeeze in one last adventure…the Sagrada Familia (that huge, beautiful church, Gaudi's most famed creation). And wow, did I save the best for last. Keep in mind I'm not a religious person (spiritual, thanks very much), but when I walked in, after waiting a relatively short 40 minutes in line, I was OVERCOME. Otherworldly is the only word I can use to describe this place.

Take a look at my pictures, but as always, they don't do the Sagrada Familia justice. I mean, when Gaudi does religion, he does religion. It truly blows my mind that the church is still under construction, meaning they must be working off plans that the great man himself put together (or models, I suppose, since we know that Gaudi didn't do plans). In any case, it was a great sendoff, and I rushed back to the hotel to grab my bags and catch my flight to Prague.

I suppose the real sendoff was my creepy cab driver, who I initially thought just wanted to help me practice my Spanish. Mid-conversation, I realized he was trying to convince me to pull over and get a beer with him, since I had two hours until my flight. That was awkward…it's only the second time on this trip, traveling alone as a woman, that I've felt uncomfortable. 

The first was walking up the hill at Montjuic Parc to the castle…a man parked his car, got out, and stopped me. He started speaking to me in Spanish, then English, and informed me that he was from Brazil and practices energy reading, and noticed some negative energy on my left shoulder. He wanted me to let him do a reading on me. Being the hippie that I am, I was of course curious, but I heard my best friend's voice in my head scolding me ("JESSICA…"), so I turned him down and walked away. Quickly.

In any case, made it to the airport, which to my delight was fantastic like everything else in Barcelona (great shopping). Some Euros down the drain later-oops!-I boarded my flight to Prague. It was bittersweet leaving, of course. If I thought I was falling in love with New York two weeks ago, well, Barcelona may just be the love of my life. But you know what they say…if you can't be with the one you love, hope and pray that someday you'll be rich enough to own a timeshare. Or something.

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Barcelona, city #3 recap:

Weather: Sunny, warm bliss

Favorite place(s) visited: The beach cafe, Barri Gotic (really cute, fun area with lots of bars and restaurants), Sagrada Familia

Best meal: Tapas are cool and all, but I didn't have any that BLEW my mind. Food wasn't really the focus of my Barcelona experience. I did have some incredible fried, cheese-filled jalapeños at a Mexican-ish restaurant, weirdly enough

Street style: Edgy, tailored, body-hugging, lots of leather jackets 

Stand-out features: Attractive people, anything Gaudi, pristine beaches, SO MUCH TO DO

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After a two hour Czech Airlines flight over some lovely snow-capped mountain ranges (including the Dolomites, if that rings a bell), I arrived in Prague. With, of course, no clue how I was going to get to my hotel. I was SO OVER cab drivers, and needed to be a bit more economical, so I hit up a BUS-TRAIN-TRAM info booth at the airport. A very nice man who reminded me of Alexsandr Petrovsky from Sex and the City (the old Russian guy Carrie got with right before she got back with Mr. Big-SPOILER ALERT!) broke it down for me.

I'm honestly amazed by European public transportation. It's so easy, so fast, and so frequent! All I had to do was hop onto a bus that picked up directly outside the baggage claim, then transfer to the metro which took me essentially straight to my hotel. I know hearing me blabber about public transportation probably isn't that interesting, but I just have to stress it because it's made my trip so much easier. It's also empowering, in a way, to navigate the metro in a strange city. At least for me.

So, Prague. I emerged from the metro a little disoriented, because I truly felt as though I'd stepped into a different world. I found myself in a plaza, surrounded by serious, Gothic-looking buildings. It was dusk and the air was extremely crisp…here it really is Fall, unlike sunny Spain. I was looking for a street called "Hybernska", where the Best Western Plus I booked two days ago was located. Luckily, I've learned to read a paper map (Dad, take note) over the past two weeks, and Alexsandr had circled my destination for me. 

The girl at the front desk was a sweetheart, and we laughed about how completely unprepared I was (did i have any sightseeing destinations planned out  yet? No, of course not). She gave me another map of Prague (now the third that I had obtained since leaving the airport) and lots of great tips. She also mentioned a "wine restaurant" downstairs, and because I hadn't eaten since a quick breakfast on-the-go from the Sagrada Familia Starbucks, I decided to check it out. After dropping my bags and freshening up in my decidedly no-frills but cozy nonetheless room, I headed down.

What I've come to love most about traveling is the unexpected delights and surprises at every turn. I'm a Best Western, for God's sake…I was expecting a standard, run-of-the mill dining room. Instead I walked into a dimly lit CAVE, the tables set in full fine dining regalia, with Medieval-looking lances and shields proudly displayed on the wall. Dramatic, ominous music played in the background. I was the only guest. Naturally, I sat down and ordered a glass of wine and a steak.

What a day! What a MONTH this has been so far…I realized I've now been away from home for 20 days. In some ways I feel like a satellite, bouncing around in space, sending out information to you all in waves. More significantly, though, I'm learning that a combination of self-determination and an open mind can get me further than I ever thought possible. In Barcelona, it felt like any time I needed something, the universe presented it to me- as long as I remained calm and didn't get frustrated. There is a deep, deep lesson in that, and it's one that I'll process through when I'm not so FREAKING tired.

Always in all ways,

Were there any point on this trip when I was going to decide never to come home, this would be it. Barcelona has been everything that London was not; everything I needed and wanted is here. I barely identify with the person who wrote the previous post, actually, she of perma-frozen feet and wrecked nerves.

Let me paint a picture for you of the life I've grown accustomed to here. It's 70 degrees and sunny, so I start my day on the beach; there's a cafe literally on the sand that looks out onto the still, sparking water. People are already sunbathing; it's a public beach but pristine recliners and umbrellas are provided, by the city I assume. One Cafe Americano isn't enough, so I usually have two. Today, for breakfast, I have a simple but delicious ham, cheese and tomato quesedilla. Norah Jones plays in the background.

I could honestly stay on the beach all day, but I'm drawn into the city because there's so many fascinating things to do and see. Let me put it this way- if I could change anything about Barcelona, it would be nothing. It's very much a modern city, but it has a distinctly old-world Mediterranean feel to it.  Other than main thoroughfares like Avenguda Diagonal and Las Ramblas, the streets are adorably narrow and full of life; people hanging out on their balconies, bodegas overflowing with colorful fruits and vegetables, street vendors, gelato shops. Tons of gelato shops, actually.

The history of Barcelona is extremely rich and layered, and it's literally built into the city itself. Yesterday I went to the Museo de Barcelona, mainly because it's free after 3 PM, not knowing that I'd be taken underground to walk through the ancient Roman ruins that sit below the streets. Legend has it that the city of Barcelona was founded either by Hercules or Hannibal's dad…either way, pretty cool. And then there's Gaudi.

It would be impossible to come to Barcelona and not feel the overwhelming impact of the architect Antoni Gaudi's influence here. In short, for those not familiar, Gaudi was a Catalonian guy who was born in the late 1800's and came to Barcelona to study architecture. He was incredible, and kept getting commissioned to do bigger and bigger works. He's designed several of the major attractions in Barcelona, from parks to huge houses for rich people, to the Sagrada Familia (an enormous church which STILL has another 30-80 years of construction left to go).

Gaudi's work is like nothing else that I've seen before. He was technically part of the Modernist movement, but he didn't really follow their rules, or anyone's except his own. He was inspired by nature, and especially the ocean, so his work reflects that in a way that you really just have to see to believe. I'm talking wavy walls and dramatic, twisting spires, and over-the-top use of mosaic glass. It's as if Dr. Seuss had been an architect. It's as if none of the other architects throughout history KNEW they were allowed to be that creative and fun, so their work looks incredibly boring in comparison.

He was an interesting guy…most people thought he was a mean, arrogant recluse, but his close friends said otherwise, so he was probably just one of those people that you have to get to know to understand. He only loved one woman in his entire life, and she didn't love him back, so he basically threw himself into his work. My favorite thing about Gaudi is that he didn't really make detailed plans for his projects…just started with a basic model and figured out the details as he progressed. Obviously, I can identify with that!

The most tragic part of Gaudi's story, however, is the way he died. Toward the end of his life, entirely devoted to construction of the Sagrada Familia, he didn't care about his appearance at all and essentially looked like a beggar. He was walking down the street one day, and he was struck by a tram and knocked out. Because of his disheveled appearance and the fact that he wasn't carrying any identifying documents on him, he wasn't identified quickly enough to get proper medical care, and died shortly after.

So there you have it. An eccentric genius who lived a lonely, workaholic's life and died tragically. Ironically, he's loved and lauded now, and he's made a permanent impact on Barcelona (and the world). Isn't life crazy? Isn't Barcelona crazy? 

Other than obsessing over Gaudi (and his Wikipedia page), I've been exploring parks, castles, restaurants, bars, shopping, walking, walking, and walking some more, and sleeping a lot as well. It's easy to relax and enjoy oneself here…it feels built into the culture. The people are pleasant. Nobody has bumped into me once. Cars making a right hand turn into a crosswalk actually wait for pedestrians to cross first before turning, instead of trying to race out into the street first, like in the US or London.