Beach Bumming: The Balkans, Barcelona, and Basque Country

Today was supposed to be a trip out to Heidelberg before catching the flight home, but I was too lazy - stuck around Frankfurt instead, which surprised even myself, since I'm not a huge fan of this city.  You get the feeling that most people don't necessarily choose to visit here but end up doing so as a matter of circumstance.  It's one of the biggest transport hubs and financial centres in Europe, so I would guess that many people end up being accidental tourists here.  Myself?  Though I have never intended to visit Frankfurt, this is my third time here.      

Simply put, Frankfurt isn't a great tourist destination, though it manages to consistently rank near the top of "Best Cities in the World to Live" lists.  It's definitely one of those cities that makes a better home than place to visit - lots of jobs, a bit of a cosmopolitan feel, beautiful location right on the Main river, a reputation for excellent nightlife ... so just bumming around town today wasn't the worst way to end off the trip.  Honestly, a lazy day was quite welcome, as I've been feeling quite run down lately and am on the verge of getting sick.  This is a typical problem for me after a month of non-stop travel.     

This trip back to Eastern Europe has been, in one word, killer.  Montenegro offered a bit of everything, from extremely fun tackiness to stunning vistas.  Croatia was as beautiful as I  remembered, but even more fun than I recalled.  And Spain?  Nothing needs to be said about that, the fact that this was my 8th trip there says more about its virtues than any words I could write.  But the star of this trip has to be Bosnia and Herzegovina - expecting little, I found so much here, much more than I ever could have imagined.  I can't even say what made it so amazing; it's just an incredible place to be.       

So yet another chapter in my travel diary comes to an end and like always, I'm already thinking about the next trip before even getting home!  For a while, I've been kicking around the idea of finally heading to Asia - it'd be something different to do during Christmas.  Not sure how great Japan would be during winter, but at least I'd be able to see the famous macaques that bathe in the hot springs, in some bizarre monkey hot tub party.  Maybe also hit up Hong Kong and pop into Thailand for a couple weeks of beach time, spicy food, and squat toilets, with the latter two potentially having some unfortunate associations!  Turkey and Egypt are always high on my list, but winter doesn't seem to be the best time to visit as it is too cold to properly enjoy any of the seaside destinations.  Iran is another place that popped onto my radar recently and would definitely make for an exotic getaway.  And perhaps a return to Eastern Europe is in order next summer - I'm thinking of heading back to Bosnia and Herzegovina, down through Serbia and Albania, then over to Bulgaria and Romania. 

But I digress - if I continue along this course of thought, I'll keep typing and typing about places I need to visit until my hands become gnarled with carpal tunnel syndrome.  This journey is over, so the blog must be brought to its conclusion in the usual manner - with a little bit of music.  There are a number of good candidates for that one song that neatly encapsulates this latest sojourn in Europe, that made themselves apparent during the course of my travels.  However, the selection for this year is a song that stands head and shoulders above all others, one whose association with this summer was unequivocal - Airplanes.  

So what could a song about the life of a rap star possibly have to do with this trip?  It's simple - in the blog <a target="_blank" href="http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/pwong/11/1281825105/tpod.html">entry that kicked this trip off</a>, I talked of how sometimes the instant in which you hear a song can be defined by that very song, and once that association is made between the moment and the melody, it can't be broken.  Perhaps the song is meaningless on its own but coupled with personal experiences, that all changes.  For me, Revolution of the Sun, the song that started this blog, was about remembering certain moments, about never forgetting the good times.  But Airplanes represents a diametric concept - it's about those moments you'd rather forget and wish never happened.

It's a killer song - a nice balance between Hayley Williams' voice and B.O.B's aggressive rap delivery, and coupled with a catchy tune and even catchier chorus, it was one of the best songs that came out this summer.  I've never been a huge fan of hip hop, but over the years I have come to appreciate certain artists and songs, and I couldn't get enough of Airplanes from the first time I heard it played on the radio.  Seeing the visuals from the video took it to a whole new level. 

I had heard the song many times before and definitely appreciated it musically, but that developed into something deeper when I happened to hear it once more, at an instant when some of the lyrics took on a whole new meaning.  Though I would rather not, I remember that moment far too well - in my car, driving along during one of those awkward and uncomfortable silences that everybody finds themselves in at some point.  It was one of those moments where nobody knows what to say because in certain instances, at certain crossroads, no words can change the inevitability of fate.              

Could anything have been done differently, could any other words have been uttered, that would have changed the course of events such that what you experience now never would have come to be?  It's then that something dawns upon you - it's a no-win situation and always has been, despite your steadfast refusals to acknowledge that fact.

All of a sudden, the music that has been softly playing changes, going from little more than background noise in the shallows of your consciousness and into the forefront of your mind.  Airplanes starts playing on the radio and almost by instinct, you reach out to the stereo and grasp the volume knob between your thumb and forefinger, slowly adjusting the dial until the words become loud and clear.  As if awakening from a dream, your senses slowly bring into focus all that is happening around you ...  <b><i> Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky, are like shooting stars?  I could really use a wish right now, wish right now, wish right now ...  </i></b>

<i>What you wouldn't give to be somewhere else, to remove yourself from that moment ...</i>

<b><i>Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky, are like shooting stars?  I could really use a wish right now, wish right now, wish right now ...  </i></b><i> </i> <i>What you wouldn't give to forget that instant, to wipe clean that feeling from your heart ... </i><b><i> I could use a dream or a genie or a wish, to go back to a place much simpler than this ...</i></b>

<i>If only life was that simple ... but it's not, and you have neither the power to change the stars nor the ability to halt time or stem fate, any more than you could hold back the tides ... </i> Before this song ever came along, for me, airplanes have always been a metaphor for escape, of leaving something behind ... the act of forgetting has a bit of a negative connotation to it, but can become something positive when applied in the correct manner.  Sometimes wiping the slate clean is the start of finding something better for yourself, and quite often boarding a plane is the first step in that direction.  One thing that travel has taught me over the years is that you never know what lies around each corner, and although it may not always be something better, it's almost always something different.  Sometimes that's all that you are hoping to find and once you do, it invariably effects positive change. 

It wasn't my turn to board an airplane that day, nor to leave it all behind.  My chance came a few weeks later and as always, leaving on an airplane provided that desperately-needed getaway.  But without exception escape is only something short-lived because just like an airplane takes you away from it all, inevitably it returns you to where you started ... and that brings it back full circle ...     <b> </b><b>Late Night You-Tubing Moment:</b>  Saving the best for last, this is the last one for the trip - <a target="_blank" href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kn6-c223DUU&ob=av3e">Airplanes</a> by B.O.B featuring Hayley Williams.

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Grilled Meats Galore!

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Shopping Centre, or Inside of a Spaceship?

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Japanese Monkeys in the Hot Springs!!!

Dear Spain,

I was a fool. I beg for your forgiveness. My indiscretions with Croatia and Montenegro were only fleeting moments of fancy, where I was caught in a whirlwind of desire and emotion. They both meant nothing to me; deep down, I only thought of you while I was with them. I am a horrible pig, that will forever live with the guilt and the shame of cheating on you ... I hope that you can find a way to forgive me, with the boundless love that only you can offer.

My life had been dark and empty without you and once again, your beautiful light has illuminated my heart and soul, filling my memory with beautiful moments that will forever be cherished. You, and you alone, are the only one for me.

Perdóname mi amor ... serás en mi corazón para toda la eternidad, y espero que me quedaré en tuyo también,

Patricio Spain ... how is that you so easily reduce me to nothing more than a cheese ball?

If you've seen the movie Inception, you know that the movie's characters carried around a token - an object that served as a test to determine whether they were dreaming, or in the waking world. The idea is that it's a personal object, so only that person can know the weight and feel of it, and thus cannot be deceived and unknowingly be stuck in someone else's dream. Just by holding it in their hand, they can tell what is real and what isn't.

Well ... L'il Buddha has been my token for this trip. I've been to so many incredible places and seen so many stunning sights on this trip, it's been such a blur ... at times, it seems like one big, beautiful dream. L'il Buddha has always been at my side, and has served as proof that it all has been real.

But sadly, the time has come to awaken from this beautiful dream ... goodbye Spain ... goodbye Julia ... sigh ... she's so cute - when I told her that it was time for me to leave, she told me "No! You're not allowed!" I said that the next time I returned, I might not be coming all the way from Canada, that perhaps I'll be coming from somewhere in Spain, if I ever do end up making the move here. As I left, I also reminded her to find me a Spanish wife for the next time I return

The way I see it, Spain keeps giving me reasons to return - such as when I was waiting at the stop to get to the bus station. If you could somehow mix Nelly Furtado and Jordana Brewster, you would have the Miss Spain who was also waiting for the bus. How is something like that even possible??? If there is one thing that Spain has taught me over the years, it's that things like that are ALWAYS possible here.

I'm a man desperately clinging to my last few moments in Spain, so this morning's pre-flight activities included doing some traditional Spanish activities - such as having another cafe con leche, and chocolate con churros. I still don't understand why, but in Santander they like to grill their croissants on the plancha grill, kinda ruining them. Not feeling so hot after eating that, the greasy churros and heavy chocolate made me feel positively ill.

But what made me feel like throwing up was having to step onto that plane - though I still have one night left in Frankfurt before flying home the following day, I'm treating it as more of a long layover before going home, so leaving Spain is effectively the end of the trip. BOOOOOOOO!!! The flight to Frankfurt was an interesting experience, being my first time aboard a Ryanair flight. They pride themselves on having the best on-time performance of any airline in Europe, and you can see how everything they do is geared towards this.

Flying from smaller airports where there are few flights, and therefore few delays waiting for other flights to takeoff/land, is a big one. The cattle call-style seating that gives people a sense of urgency, so they quickly rush on board and grab a spot without dilly-dallying is another. They even have you stand waiting in a lineup for boarding, a good 20-25 minutes before anybody actually sets foot on the plane, so that attendants can check everybody's tickets before the plane is even ready for boarding.

One thing that stood out was the lack of seat-back pockets - perhaps this is for quicker clean-up and turnaround between flights, since there is no place to put things or stuff garbage that later needs to be removed. But where do you keep the barf bags? Do they charge you for it? Ryanair is famous for charging for every little extra, after all. But where does it stop? In event of an emergency, do they charge you for the life vest or the breathing masks? Want oxygen to flow through the mask? More money! Is there a coin slot you pop money into to keep the oxygen going?

But hey - whatever the formula is, it obviously works for Ryanair and though they charge for all extras, you can't beat the prices. Our flight also actually arrived 15 minutes early, so they must be doing something right. The bad thing about today's flight is that we flew into the Frankfurt Hahn airport, which was only renamed that as a marketing gimmick for discount airlines that fly there - the airport is one hour and 45 minutes by bus to Frankfurt, which is as long as the flight from Santander.

I had planned to fly home from London, but later decided to fly home Frankfurt, despite this costing a bit more. The reasons for this were twofold - the first was that I thought I'd be able to visit Emilie here before leaving. But unfortunately, it turned out that she was leaving for India just before I arrived - boooooo!!! The second reason was that the London flight departed on Saturday instead of Sunday, so flying from Frankfurt gave me an extra day in Spain. How could I say no to that?

Late Night You-Tubing Moment: At its best, traveling is like living the most beautiful dream. At its worst ... it's still pretty damn good. One of my favourite songs of all time (it's quite the long list) is Staind's So Far Away. Some of the lyrics perfectly encapsulate the ideal travel experience "And these are my dreams/That I'd never lived before", "These are my words/That I've never said before/I think I'm doin' okay/And this is the smile/I've never shown before"

And the way the song ends - "I'm so afraid of waking/Please don't shake me/Afraid of waking/Please don't shake me" - if travel really is all just a beautiful dream, it's one you don't want to wake up from. It's funny that the dreams you've never lived before, the words you've never said before, and the smile you've never shown before ... are usually found when all that you know is so far away ...

My Token

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Final Cafe Con Leche in Spain

Where Are the Barf Bags?

A cool, crisp morning ... the peaceful sound of birds singing awakened me from my deep slumber ... I love the melodic song of birds chirping ... except when it's f*cking 6:30 AM!!!! But at approximately 6:31 AM, the sounds were silenced ... because that's when the earplugs went in.

My favourite part of staying at Pension Luisito is chatting with Julia and practicing my Spanish; I love the fact that Julia isn't afraid to correct my grammar. How else can I improve and eventually find that Spanish wife? But unfortunately, this can sometimes make for some pretty drawn-out conversations in the morning, since my brain has yet to fully awaken and the Spanish mistakes are a plenty.

The first order of the day was breakfast at Expressate, a place I really wanted to try after seeing their delicious-looking cakes last year. I walked by this place quite a few times last year but never had a chance to sample them, so I made a point of doing so this time around. The verdict? Not worth the wait. White cake layered with dulce de leche, and covered in shredded coconut - way too sweet. I've noticed that Spaniards like their desserts super sweet - my suspicion is that the extreme sweetness of Spanish women has created a high tolerance for sugar, making them crave sweeter and sweeter things.

I needed to do a bit of shopping because for once, there is a souvenir I must have from Spain (besides bringing home a Spanish wife) - a Spanish soccer jersey! They are the World Champions after all, so any good wannabe Spaniard would get his hands on one.

Mango is a big fashion chain in Spain, and for a long time the face of Mango was Penelope Cruz - made sense, given that she's the most famous Spanish actress in the world. I would normally take offence that their poster girl is no longer Spanish, but having recently become a Scarlett Johansson fan after seeing her go brunette in Iron Man 2, I am all for this new international approach they have adopted. Now if only Scarlett would pick up a Spanish accent ... sigh ... another Miss Spain ...

Today, I realized something - that I need to visit The Dominican Republic. Why? I'm not a fan of pre-packaged holidays, where the whole point is to lie on the same beach for a week, drinking your face off, and over stuffing yourself at mediocre buffets where the food is like what you can get back at home, or is a pale imitation of what the locals would eat ... but I've found an overwhelming reason to go there. What might this reason be?

According to a sales girl I was chatting with, it's where lots of Spanish tourists go!!! Apparently, certain hotels can be completely filled with Spaniards during the fall and winter ... she once went herself during October or November. And now, for the kicker - she told me that Dominican women are known for being even sweeter than the Spanish ... how is that possible??!??! I need to see this for myself! Somebody sign me up! Apparently, Santo Domingo is the place to be ...

Being my last full day in Spain, for lunch I opted to have the most delicious of food you can find in Spain - a kebab! What can I say? I find some foreign foods to be tastier than anything the locals can produce! I ended up at a place I made note of last year while in El Sardinero - they brag that they have over 20 years experience with kebabs, but I dunno ...

I chose the wrap-style kebab, and they simply rolled it up without sealing at least one of the ends - a rookie mistake! As expected, a mess spilled out of the bottom ... though they did use an interesting technique when grilling it in the panini press - a steel rod was placed next to the kebab wrap to prevent it from getting squished while being grilled. I also ended up with some mild stomach problems after ...

So I think I figured out how Spain managed to beat Holland in the World Cup final - Julia told me that while watching the match, she placed this Don Quixote statue in front of the TV during over time as a good luck charm ... and of course, Spain won! The funny thing? Don Quixote is from La Mancha, as is Andres Iniesta, the player who scored the winning goal. Coincidence? Maybe, maybe not ... On my final evening in Spain, I had a very romantic dinner with myself, as the restaurant's TV on a music channel that was playing a "Top Songs From the 80s" countdown - Chris DeBurgh's Lady in Red and The Bangles' Eternal Flame! Awww ... how perfectly cheesy and romantic!

Late Night You-Tubing Moment: On the subject of cheesy love songs, I walked past a Pizza Hut on the way back to the Pension and they must have been on a music channel that was playing a "Top Songs from the 90s" countdown. They were blaring Love is All Around by Wet Wet Wet - haven't heard that song in ages!

El Sardinero beach

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Pension Luisito!

Me and my Spanish granny

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20 years experience, my ass!

Don Quixote, the Spanish World Cup hero

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As great as Santander is, one of the best things about the city is its proximity to a number of great little towns that are perfect for day tripping. I originally planned to visit Comillas last year, but at the last minute decided to visit Santillana del Mar instead. So Comillas was the choice today!

I had an idea of finding a way to visit both Comillas and San Vicente de la Barquera, but the bus connections are terrible once off season hits. If I stick to the original plan, I'd only have two-three hours in each town. So the only options are to spend a few hours in each town, or the entire day in one of them. But ... Comillas was too pretty to stick around for only a couple of hours, so I ended up staying the entire day.

Cantabria is so beautiful ... I've never understood why it's not completely over-run with tourists, though that is probably a good thing. There is the idea that all of Spain is like Andalucia - hot, dry, and desert-like, with Moorish architecture, and the land of bullfights. Cantabria is almost the antithesis of this common perception - it's lush and green, with charming little hillside towns that look like they belong more in Tuscany, than any place in Spain. But perhaps I should stop extolling the beauties and virtues of this region, lest this relatively well-kept secret get out and it be turned into another Dubrovnik, bursting at the seams with tourists. Don't get me wrong - Cantabria gets its fair share of them, but it hasn't completely sold its soul to the tourist devil, and manages to retain its charm.

Back in Santander - grabbed my backpack from the Hostal and headed off to El Sardinero to go see Julia and check into Pension Luisito. I ended up chatting with an older guy at the bus stop and as I reached into my pocket looking for change, he says to me rather gruffly "What are you dong?" "Uh ... looking for 1.10 Euro for the bus?" "No! I shall treat you!" Too funny ... he comes off as a bit of a rough type, but is super nice.

Not only did I get a bit of a tour while we chatted on the bus, but more importantly, a little insight into life in Santander during the winter. Apparently, its climate is very moderate with average winter highs of 15-17 C, and it occasionally dips down to 12. Maybe I shouldn't yet cross Santander off of my "Places to Live in Spain" list, just yet. Of course, it wasn't great to hear that there wasn't much in the way of engineering jobs in Cantabria - his son is an engineer who moved to Barcelona for a job, but has been out of work since the economic crisis hit.

I hopped off the bus at Plaza Italia, and immediately had a bunch of those "Oh yeah ..." moments, recognizing and remembering so many things from last year, that it felt like it was only yesterday. I rang the buzzer at the pension, and saw a little ol' Spanish granny come up to the window, with her face lighting up as soon as she saw me. Julia told me that she kind of recognized my voice when I called to reserve the room, but that she couldn't remember exactly who I was until she saw me again.

But unfortunately, she didn't remember one very important thing - when I was here last year, we had agreed that if I ever returned, she will have found me a Spanish wife. Sadly, there was no Miss Spain at her pension awaiting my return on this evening

Now, I need to bitch about something completely unrelated - I have terrible luck with blue sneakers. I bought a pair that I absolutely loved in Paris last year, which is rare, because I had been looking for years for a pair that I actually liked. I wore it about 10 times and the sole started cracking, leaving a huge hole in it. They were fairly cheap but still, I loved those things and they were already toast!!! Recently in Calgary, I found another blue pair of sneakers that I loved - this time, they cost quite a bit more and seemed to be much better quality. But again, they are wrecking! I first noticed in Barcelona, but the sole is coming apart completely - very shoddy quality, as it's cleanly coming apart from the shoe's upper. What to do? Thank goodness for duct tape, because while it isn't fixing the problem, it is at least slowing down the destruction of the sole. Sadly, this is the best half-assed backpacker fix I could come up with!

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The curse of the blue sneaker!!!

Too much time in Logrono ... I would've loved to catch a morning bus to Santander, which is one of my favourite places in Spain, because that would've given me some beach time there today. But on weekdays there is only a 16:30 bus that arrives at 19:45 - BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! Of course, Logrono isn't the worst place to waste a few hours away - after all, is any place in Spain bad for just hanging out? A bit of coffee, a bit of lunch, a bit of Rioja, lots of time chilling on Logrono's pedestrian streets ... come to think of it, it was quite the pleasant morning and afternoon!

Tried visiting Franco Espanolas Bodega, not so much for wine tasting, but because I harboured a hope that with a name like that, it would be packed to the rafters with Spanish women, kind of like a Spanish version of the Playboy Mansion. Perhaps that thought was the child of excessive Rioja consumption lately, or perhaps it was just one of my many delusions while in Spain ... probably the latter! The visit to Franco Espanolas was a bust - all of the Bodegas reduce staffing once the off-season hits, so the girl running the vinoteca portion was unavailable to sell me a glass to try, presumably because she was off giving a tour. Another worker said she'd be back in a little while, but I didn't have time to hang around since my stomach had other plans.

A place called Entrepuentes for lunch - more good bread after the tasty breakfast sandwich! What's going on???!?!! Crisp and soft inside, it was slightly reminiscent of a kaiser roll, but better. I had originally wanted a simple meal like a kebab or mixed plate, but was tempted by the lunch menu here, not so much for the first or second courses listed, but because some of the dessert choices included nectarine or watermelon. The Spanish diet is lacking in nutrients - I need fruit!!!

Late arrival in Santander - I've got three nights here and would've gone back to Pension Luisito again, which is owned by my Spanish granny, but decided to stay the first night at a place in the centre instead, because of the aforementioned late arrival, and also because I would be day-tripping tomorrow. There's no point in staying at her pension out in El Sardinero where all the beaches are, if I was going to leave relatively early tomorrow for the town of Comillas.

Santander is great because it offers a bit of everything - the beautiful beaches of El Sardinero, with its slightly touristy but fun vibe, and the energy of the centre, where all the shops, pedestrian zones, and cafes are. It doesn't have that cosmopolitan French flair that San Sebastian has, and while beautiful in places, it doesn't have that uniformly gorgeous architecture of Barcelona's Gothic Quarter - some places here are even a tad gritty. It's lively, but not over-the-top crazy like Barcelona can be; its food isn't gourmet like the Basque pintxos of San Sebastian, but it's decent by Spanish standards. Santander somehow strikes a nice balance, and is almost a mix of the two cities, if that is at all possible.

I love returning to places in Spain and having that feeling of familiarity - as I walked around, everything started coming back to me ... it has been a year after all, and I have only been here once before. But it was funny, as I remembered obscure things like "Hey, I quickly ducked into that bar last year to pee!" I had that same moment of recognition a few times as I walked around tonight, which made me wonder if I actually remember which bar I ducked into to pee, or if I actually did that in three or four places last year.

Calle Vargas - not really a neighbourhood marked on any tourist map of Santander, but I stumbled upon this great little street last year and loved it. A tad gritty, it has a nice pedestrian area where families hang out at cafe patios while their kids play nearby, and feels like an everyday neighbourhood where people live and enjoy Spanish life to its fullest.

I even went back to the kebab shop where I ate on my first night in Santander last summer. This time, I opted for a kebab wrap, instead of the usual one stuffed in a bun, and also went for a beer and fries to accompany it, not the bottle of water I had with it last year. It's kind of sad that I remember such small details on what I had to eat here last year, but honestly, some of my best memories over the years have been of eating kebabs - pathetic, but true! As I ate, I also remembered that this place while good, overstuffs its kebabs with too much meat. Kebabs were available all over the Balkans but I purposely avoided them, because I knew that out of necessity, I would be eating more than my fair share of them while traveling in Spain.

As I ate, I realized something about unsung heroes in the world ... what about the kebab man? Because of him, no backpacker on a budget will ever go hungry, since a kebab man seemingly pops up during your darkest moment, when your stomach is running on empty. Because of him, no backpacker will ever go cold, since a few moments in front of the kebab oven will warm you right up, although care must be taken, as too many moments in front of it could give you third-degree facial burns. Hungry at 3 AM? The kebab man will find you! He only lets you think you've found him but in reality, he miraculously appears when you need him most. A simple kebab man? I think not - the kebab man should be made a Saint!

Bodega Franco Espanolas

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