Greece Road Trip: Day 1

The night before I left Israel I hung out with some old friends at their Hebrew U apartment. While there I ordered a sheirut (communal cab) for 9:45 the next morning. After saying goodbye I shared a cab back to the city center with Hayley Schwartzman and after we got to the hotel she was staying at I went on back to the apartment. I did some laundry and got in bed and set my alarm for 9:00.

I woke up at 9:00 and adjusted to the waking world for about five minutes before I received a call. It was from the sheirut driver, saying he’d be there in ten minutes. I told him that that made no sense and that I ordered the sheirut for 9:45. He tried explaining that he had a lot of pickups and that he had to get me early. I told him that he couldn’t expect me to be ready a half hour early. He didn’t really understand English, which made this more frustrating, but ten minutes later I was ready to go. He called again saying he’d be there in 15 minutes, and I got even angrier and told him I was ready to go. We hung up and I stood in my apartment and waited. 9:45 came around and I went to the front of the building. He was sitting there in the sheirut and waved for me to hurry. When I got to the door of the cab he pointed to his watch and gave me a facial expression that was pure desperation combined with a look that I interpreted as, “my children will starve because of you.” I raised my voice and asked him why he didn’t call me when he got there. “Okay, okay, just sit down and we’ll go.” I was pretty upset about this whole ordeal and continued to be for the next ten minutes. But when we got to the next stop the other people were taking longer than me and he kept yelling out to them, “c’mon we need to go. We need to go!” He had to pick up three more groups after this one, and staring out the window I then burst out laughing to myself, because I realized that this man was approaching potential blood clot and that he has the most stressful job in Israel.

Getting to the airport after that and going through security was a breeze, and in no time I was on a flight headed toward Athens. Thus began my six day solo journey through Greece. I got to the Fivos hostel and put my stuff down. If you go to Athens, I recommend staying here. It’s cheap and the staff are extremely friendly and will book trips for you. I told them I was planning on going around the country via the bus, but they quickly convinced me that I should just take a car. In about 10 minutes of the travel agent yelling over the phone at some guy in Greek I had myself a booked Hyundai. Here's a nice picture:

The next day, after the guy showed me to the car, I saw that the GPS didn’t work right, and refused to pay him until he got me one that worked. I would not have been able to do this trip without that GPS, and the guy spent the next four hours running around Athens to find one that worked. I lost half a day of the road, but I got to see more of the acropolis and the agora, so it wasn’t too bad. When the GPS finally arrived I took off. And by take off I mean I was stuck in pre-Good Friday traffic for about 45 minutes. I was so anxious to get out of the city at that point I was going nuts in my Hyundai. In my Shakespeare class we watched The Merchant of Venice where Al Pacino plays Shylock. In an interview he was asked how he was able to build the tension in the court scene when Shylock is about to cut the pound of flesh from Antonio’s chest. Pacino’s response was that he funneled the anger from road rage. Sitting in that car in Athens I was about willing to cut a pound of flesh from someone myself.

I got gas before I left, because the gage read zero, but then realized that the gage was broken. Discouraged, I decided that if I tried trading cars I would lose another day of the road trip, and I wasn’t willing to do that so I just left and planned on filling up the tank each morning.

Driving out of Athens I felt unbelievable. Open road in a country I didn’t know at all about to go on a five day adventure, this was freedom.

I got to Corinth and the person in charge told me they were closing in 10 minutes. I was annoyed but looked around as best I could. The main attraction there is the temple of Apollo.

I also discovered that the first five letters in “Korinthos” in Greek are KOPIN.

Corinth’s history with Jews goes back to the 4^th century C.E. so maybe there is some obscure connection there.

The site closed so I went to the town and found a café to use the internet. I think I walked into the haven where the senior members of the Greek mafia hang out. When I walked in all these finely dressed old men looked up at me and held scowling expressions as I walked past them and to the back of the bar. I sat down and some of them were still staring, mostly silent, and a poker game was going on in back. I stayed for an hour. I then went across the street to get some food. I ordered a spinach pie and as I was eating it a very sad looking cat came right up to me, giving me these sad hungry eyes, so I threw it half my crust from the pie. It sniffed the crust and without touching it looked at me again with sad eyes. I was pissed because I had thrown food on the ground it didn't want, and then I ignored the sad cat. After that I decided to save time and drive to Mycenae (Mikenes). And this is where my adventure begins to get very interesting.

As I was driving I saw in front of me the most ominous fog moving in my direction.

My route cut right into the fog and I didn’t think much of it. Inside the fog I couldn’t see more than 20 feet in front of the car and the roads were on mountainsides and curved relentlessly. I just focused on my GPS and hoped that the fog would soon end. At this point it was around 6:00 PM. The GPS then led me to a village and I pushed up very steep and narrow streets until the point where my GPS betrayed me and wanted me to go over a dirt path covered with sharp rocks. I was not going to make the car go up that way, so I tried going a different direction. I went down another very narrow street and about 50 meters in front of me were two trucks trading goods. They were blocking the street and in front of them I could see it dead ended. I started panicking a little because it was getting dark out and I was stuck in a street too narrow to turn around in and in a random village my GPS couldn't navigate. I put the car in reverse and worked it back up the hill, and realizing that my GPS was going to want me to go back toward that dirt road, I put the car in park and starting thinking about how I was a complete idiot, stuck in a village I didn’t know in the middle of wilderness Greece alone and surrounded by people who didn’t know English. In addition to this, my cell phone ran out of credit, not to mention the gas gage that consistently pointed to zero.

After backing up I was able to turn the car around and parked in front of a friendly looking house with flower pots in the front. A man peaked his head out of the front door and I called to him, “Do you know English?” He said he did and invited me into his house. So I went into his house. His name is George, a 32 year old guy living with his parents who works in a casino. The way he talked and carried himself I inferred he was gay also. He gave me water and some snack and I was very grateful. He told me I was in the village Lemnos and that I could make my way down to Nafplio which was an hour and a half away. The sun was down at this point and I was sort of hoping he’d invite me to stay for the night. That didn’t happen and I got back into my car. He offered to make me an omelette, or to at least take eggs with me to make at my hotel, but I told him he was very nice and not to worry about it. I was really fortunate to find George in this place, and after going down some winding streets per his advice, I was back on the main highway headed for Nafplia. By this point I was very shaken up by all of this, being lost, confused and alone, no sunlight, and the worst thoughts were passing through my head: what if the gas runs out, or a tire pops? I wasn’t a fan of the Greek radio so I put in my iPod headphones and listened to some calm music. But the fear never subsided and soon I was driving on dirt roads in the middle of this Peloponnese wilderness. I passed by some stray dogs that looked more lost and hopeless than I did, and I was sorry I couldn’t give them a ride. George told me I would hit two more villages before Nafplia, and I remained on edge until the next village, praying that someone there would know English also.

Part of me thought I wasn’t going to make it to Nafplia, and I never get that nervous about anything, so this was unusual. To distract myself from that, I focused on the fear emotion and tried to describe it to myself. I was thinking how similar fear felt to sadness—that same involuntary grinding of the stomach muscles, the feeling of hopelessness. I think fear and sadness all bottle down to the feeling that for a moment in time you are not the captain of your own ship. You just fumble around in obscurity until the darkness clears. But I'm risking being overdramatic now.

I made it to the next village and asked some old people where I was, but they didn’t understand a single word of English. Up ahead in the village a religious procession was going on for the approaching Easter. Older people were carrying ritual objects that swung on small chains and wafted incense through the crowd. Others carried burning candles. Luckily, three people roughly my age were in the back of the procession and I got out of the car and joined them. I asked one of the guys where I was and he said I was only a half hour from Nafplia. Out of habit I tried striking up a conversation with him, asking how long he’d lived there, then stopped myself and said goodbye. I needed to get to where I was going. I got back in the car and drove on. I remained tense the whole ride, and in the distance in a valley I finally saw thousands of city lights set in a grid pattern. I had to drive the car down a mountain with narrow streets with turn radii not large enough for my car. After getting to my GPS destination, which turned out not to be Nafplia, but a creepy farmhouse surrounded by dogs and cats, I had enough and typed in a location for a four star hotel, called Hotel Nafplia, which I assumed had to be in the city center. When I arrived in Nafplia and saw the city sign, I stopped my car and put my face in my hands. I had never been so relieved to be in a city, and planned on going back to Athens the next day because I couldn’t do this alone. I got to the hotel and checked in and got onto my computer in the lobby to figure out my cell phone situation.

A great couple from Athens who were on a biking trip asked if they could use my computer to book their next hotel. I started talking to them (they knew English perfectly) and the husband told me he is a columnist for one of the major great newspapers “ETHNOS.” He showed me his page. He is a travel writer. I told him about my experience that night and told him I was planning on turning around back to Athens the next day. Then in a very straightforward way he looked at me and shook his head: “No, keep going. You have a car, you’ve come this far. Don’t turn around.” Well, I thought, if you put it that way I guess I should keep going. No need to go back to Athens with my head bowed to Greece. I survived a scary situation and actually began to feel really good about it. We talked a little longer and they wished me a good trip. It was 12:45AM and I walked around the city, happy to be surrounded by people. Nafplia reminds me of a 1980’s Barbie town, and has a great nightlife with a lot going on. I walked around for a while and eventually went to bed. After all that nothing beats the comfort of a bed. The end of day one.

Israel for Passover

Last week I was in Jerusalem for Passover. The flight there was very long and I made two connections in Heathrow and Athens. The layover in Athens was long enough that I was able to go into town for about an hour. On the train ride back I bumped into two people who used to work on Ramah staff (Audrey Kudis and her husband), on their way back to Israel.

When I landed in Israel I took a sheirut to my family’s new apartment and explored the premises. My parents installed video cameras so they were able to see me when I called them, and I told them they had to turn the cameras off because it was creepy. The floors are still partly covered with cardboard, the kitchen is not done and there is no furniture except a pullout couch on which I slept, but the apartment is great. The backyard is mostly finished and it’s awesome. 

I had pretty bad jetlag and fell asleep around 5:00 AM.

I was planning on waking up the next morning at 10, because Jacob Goldstein was getting to my apartment at 11. I woke up to him banging on an outside window. When I opened the door he was relieved. I asked him the time and he said it was 2:00. He had waited in the neighbor’s apartment for 3 hours because I wouldn’t wake up. They were all banging on the windows periodically over the last three hours but I never woke up. I hadn’t met the neighbors before so this was an awkward first impression, but they’re very nice people and invited us over for lunch.

We then got ready for seder. That night we were going to the Warshawsky’s apartment, who were doing seder with the Flink family. It was really great, and though it was the first time I wasn’t with my own family, it was very cool to be in Jerusalem for the holiday and very cool to see another family’s traditions. Jacob and I then walked home, which took almost two hours because we got lost multiple times, and the walk itself takes one hour directly on foot.

The next day Joel Pachefsky came to stay with me (I was turning the apartment into a hostel) and the three of us went to my family friends, the Rosenberg’s, house for lunch. It was lovely, especially because the man of the house, Gilad, is a gourmet cook. We stayed for a few hours and talked with the family. We went back to the apartment and hung out for the rest of the day and I went on a run through the neighborhood. On the run I bumped into another Ramah person, Jon Bubis.

At night we pregamed with dusty wine I found in a cabinet and then went to Ben Yehuda street to meet up with some friends. We hung out for a while and then got some pizza. I feel like Passover in Israel is sort of a joke. They replace leavened bread with potato flour bread, which is still bread, leavened as well, but is somehow kosher for Passover. Kosher for Passover food was everywhere, and tasted nothing like American Passover food, and it was great.

The next day Jacob met up with his cousin Shira and they went to the Old City. I woke up later and went to the Old City as well and explored. It was Easter so I visited the Church of the Holy Sepulcher. After the church I bought some orange juice from an Arab guy who told me to come back the next day, and I promised him I would as we gave each other smiles that indicated on my part I wasn’t coming back and his indicating that he knew I was bullshitting him. Then I headed for the Western Wall.

That night my friend Danna Koren came down from Haifa to see me. She stayed over and we spent the next day and a half together.

Other events in Israel included hanging out at Hebrew U dorms, hanging out with camp friends and old school friends, and going out to dinner with my former camper Avinoam Kahn. Knowing that I was about to go to Greece solo, I spent the last two days trying to plan my trip and failing. Whatever plans I made for Greece I fairly quickly abandoned once I got there, and that leads me to my next series of posts. I had a great time in Israel and definitely needed all of that chill time before Greece.

Gabi and Brie's Wedding Weekend

How strange it was to be back in the United States for just one weekend, and in Wilmington Delaware at that, but it was certainly a great weekend. I got in Thursday afternoon and met Mom and Dad at the airport. One of the best parts about that, besides seeing them for the first time in three months, was that Mom brought four corned beef sandwiches with her. I ate two on the car ride to the hotel. The DuPont hotel is beautiful. When I got to my room I was in shock at how luxurious it was. Two major beds with a big TV, and a bathroom with a shower and separate bathtub.

My parents and I then went to the Men’s Warehouse and picked up my tux. After that we went out to dinner with Uncle Irv and cousin David from California, the only other people in town at that point. Dinner was very nice and Gabi met us there. Uncle Irv didn’t want all of his pasta so he requested that it be packaged up. He then told us that he was going to give it to the girls at the concierge desk. We thought that was hilarious.

When we got to the hotel Uncle Irv walked right up to the desk and handed them the pasta. When he got into the elevator he looked at us and said, “You want to know something? Those girls were so happy when I gave them that pasta.” It was hilarious. He is a great man.

The next day I took the rental car and drove to Philadelphia to hang out with Gabi for half the day. I saw his apartment and he read me his d’var torah for the tisch. After he packed up we made our way to the hotel.

That night Grandma hosted Shabbat dinner for all the guests who were there. There were around 100 people there and it was a really nice event. I sat at the cousin table and caught up with many of the family members and friends who were there.

The next day I went out to brunch with my brother and some of the family at a really great local diner. On the wall was a hilarious framed newspaper article about the restaurant with the title: “Restaurant Wins Fight Over Condemnation.”

Later that day my sister, Yoni, and my cousin Jordyn went to go buy shtick for the wedding. We found glow sticks, big sun glasses, lays, and a lot of other random toys.

That night the whole wedding guest list went to a rented out tent next to a bar about five minutes away from the hotel. It was a lot of fun to see everyone who came in for the wedding. After that my parents opened up their room for the after party and I got the chance to meet a lot of my brother’s Penn friends.

The next day was the big day. After getting dressed we took pictures and after pictures started the tisch. It was great. My uncle Jonathan led the tisch and Jacob Cytryn signed the ketubah. After that everyone sang and danced with Gabi toward Brie for the bedeken part of the ceremony. After the bedeken everyone found their seats and the ceremony started. The walking down the aisle got pretty emotional, especially when Bubby walked down, who worked out for the last month just so she’s be able to make the walk. I walked down with Sammie and took my place on the left side of the chupah. The service took about 50 minutes and was led by my uncle, Rabbi Kurtz, and the Mamberg’s rabbi. All three did great jobs. After that was the cocktail hour, followed by the wedding reception. The food was great and four toasts were made. The first was from Brie’s father, the second from my parents, the third from Brie’s sister Anika (maid of honor), and the last by yours truly. This is what I said:

“First, I’d like to thank you two for giving me the honor of speaking today. I hope I do it justice.

One of my earliest memories with Gabi was when I was around 5 years old. He had thought it’d be a good idea to get our Mom some flowers. In retrospect it was probably because he had done something wrong and wanted to make up for it. At the time we were young and destitute, so Gabi told me to get on my Micky Mouse tricycle and follow him. He walked and I toted behind, past the neighbor’s house and down the street. We stopped at a patch of daisies and Gabi told me to start ripping them from the ground, for Mom. So we did, flower after flower, the clods of dirt flinging upwards like terrestrial rain [see what I did there?]. It took about 15 seconds before an old woman came screaming out of her house for us to stop destroying her flowers. Gabi took off running and yelled back over his shoulder, “Brett, run!” But that tricycle was no speed demon, and in no time the old lady was holding onto my handlebar, threatening to call the police, while I whimperingly explained that my brother told me to do it, and that I meant no harm.

Childhood is riddled with stories of the “Gabi genre.” As the younger brother I’ve had the delight and privilege of watching these moments of this man’s glorious youth. These moments included his kleptomaniac phase where he literally stole everything from caution tape to Exit signs to the strawberries at the dessert table. And then let us not forget his skater phase with the baggy Kangaroo jeans and back-pocket chain links. I think the hallmark of this era was when Gabi tried making his own wax for his grinding skater shoes, but thinking that Tupperware could hold scalding purple wax (the wise engineer he was), wound up accidentally pouring it all over the kitchen drawers, telling me not to say anything to Mom, who was out at the time. Wow, was she pissed.

Yet there came a time when Gabi wanted to take things more seriously, from my perception it was around his freshman year of high school when he dropped the “I” from his name and replaced it with an “E”. Gabe funneled much of his energy into becoming intelligent, motivated, and incredibly well read. In fact, he was known to ditch activities at Camp Ramah in order to stay in the cabin and read books—from the history of the circle to the wisdom of the Greek philosophers.

Now you will all have to indulge me for a moment. Among their many contributions, the ancient Greeks had a beautiful understanding of time. They outlined it with two words: Kronos, and Kairos. Kronos is linear time, the derivative of chronology. Kairos is the more abstract, when things happen unknowingly. A good example of kairos is: every boy becomes a man eventually, but you never know exactly when that is. At a certain point in his life Gabi turned into Gabe and with that transformation wowed everyone with his intelligence, foresight, and desire for accomplishment. At a young age he taught me to love being American, and that no topic was too big for my understanding. When you are with Gabe, you choose your words more carefully, you straighten your back a little bit more, your comments are slightly more thought out. Though I still and always will call Gabe, “Gabi” he has come a very long way from the boy I once pulled the flowers with. Him and I go for long stretches of time without seeing each other, but despite that Gabi has always been one of the people in my life I never get tired of being around. And I think it’s because I don’t know anyone else in the world quite like him.

Many of us have had the privilege of watching him grow up, and as his brother I can say for certain that this man will one day change the world in a profound way. But the thing about that is, if you’re going to change the world, as he undoubtedly will, you just can’t do it alone. Brie has made Gabi happier than he has ever been. Sitting down at Rosh Hashana lunch this year, Gabi and Brie were on my right, and to my left my dad turns to me and says: “Look at them. It’s like two peas in a pod these two.” And it’s true. Brie has had the most profound effect on Gabi over the course of their relationship and will continue to as the years go on from here.

Two years ago, as Sammie, Gabi and I were driving home at night, we stopped in a parking lot and Gabi said he’d be back in a second as he got out of the car. He then went around to the back of our Jeep and opened up the trunk. All of the sudden, a dirty stop sign that had been lying on the side of the road came vaulting over the back seat and up to the front. Gabi closed the trunk and got back in the front seat and held onto the bottom of the sign and looked at Sammie and me. He said, “I need to do these kinds of things sometimes to keep myself in check.” I drove home and Gabi maintained this self-accomplished, little boy smirk on his face the entire ride, periodically giggling to himself, his hand held tightly around that Stop sign that to this day sits in our Highland Park garage. This is Gabe the man: a person who sees and conquers, who never cringes before power, who makes those around him better, and who never forgets that a little tomfoolery goes a long way. Never stop being the ridiculous, hilarious boy you always were, Gabi. I love the both of you. Mazal Tov.”

The rest of the party was really great with a lot of fun dancing. It seemed like everyone had a great time. I spent that night hanging out with my brother’s friends in Evan Driefuss and AJ Rosenberg’s hotel room. This included an ice fight and other shenanigans.

The next day there was brunch for everyone still in town. We said goodbye to the guests. Another funny moment with Uncle Irv: as we were sitting in the lobby he was getting up from the chair, and in an old Jewish man way started saying, “Oy, what a kvetch,” but then stopped and looked at me and asked, “What’s that disease where you can’t stop swearing?” I said that was called turrets. “Right. Turrets. Shit, cock, sonofabitch.” As you can see, Irv is awesome.

After that I had a flight to catch at 9:00 PM so I spent the day with Gabi and Brie, eavesdropping on their first day as a married couple. It was great to be with the both of them. Around 7:15 they drove me to the airport and I said goodbye. I told my brother it was an honor being his best man and wished them a great honeymoon in Bermuda. With that, I headed for my plane back to Ireland.

IES Trip to Kerry

As in the natural spirit of all adventures, whenever I go to a new place I learn something new about myself. After the Spain/London trip the IES program took us all to see County Kerry. What I learned about myself in this place is that with the loss of some significant weight I am now enabled to do more physical things. Kerry became a natural jungle gym, and it seemed as though everyone had an amazing time. Kerry is also known as probably the most beautiful place in Ireland, and having been there I agree. The whole country is gorgeous (maybe not Cork city) but Kerry is on another level.

Brad and I woke up at the ass crack of down, 5:30, and got our stuff together and took a taxi to Heuston station where we met with the rest of the program. I slept for most of the first train ride, then for most of the second train ride, and then we were in Kerry.

The first thing we did was take a short bus ride to a group of horse carriages. We got off the bus and formed groups of four for the horses. I was with Peter, Sam and Patrick, and a very nice Irishman named Dan took us to his horse named Billy.

As soon as we get in the carriage the horse took a massive dump and Dan said, "Oh, that means he doesn't like ye." But Billy turned out to be quite the speed demon, and even though this was the horse's first ride since the winter, he ran right past all the other horses without being whipped. I was impressed.

The ride was obviously hilarious, and when we approached major hills we had to get out and walk them because it put too much strain on the horse. The countryside was really beautiful and took on a very primeval look.

As we rode, Dan sang little charming Irish ditties to himself which definitely added to the ride. This part of the country is so isolated that in certain parts that we passed Dan told us they didn't have electricity until 1979 and the first phone line was installed in 1988.

We were the first carriage to arrive at the destination, said our goodbyes to Billy, and got lunch. I had an egg salad sandwich. The last carriage arrived about an hour later, because their horse was lethargic and about to die en route, so they told the driver they'd walk the last mile and a half. After lunch we took a boat ride across an 8 mile long lake, and I sat next to the boatman who lived in the area and said that his job was to drive people across the lake once a day every day and that was it. He said life was good and he looked to be very content.

We arrived at the other end of the lake and walked around for a bit, climbed up a sweet tree, and then went to a waterfall. This was jungle gym number one. We were climbing all over this thing though it was pretty dangerous, and I decided to not care that I was dirtying my one good pair of pants on the trip. Luckily there were nice Filipino tourists who were good at fording waterfalls and lent a hand. It was at this waterfall that I made the observation that no matter how far you climb inside or upwards, you always want to climb higher and are never quite satisfied. I realized this everywhere we went afterwards.

The Waterfall

After this we walked to a very large field with an open mansion in front of it and hung out. This was a lot of fun. We were pretty slap happy and tired so we played such classical games as piggy-back races, tag and ninja. Brad was especially goofy at that point because he was so tired, but it was entertaining.

After that we went to our hotel in Dingle.

The hotel was very nice but they didn't turn the heat on so it was pretty cold. I needed some shampoo and some cider so I walked into the small yet charming town and went to the Supervalu. I bought a six pack of Bulmer's and came back to the hotel. After that it was pretty late and everyone else had gone to dinner, so Brad, Patrick, Peter and I went down the street to Murphy's Bar and got dinner. I ordered the only non-meat dish, which was the "potato platter," which included a dissatisfying amount of potatoes and then a small side of peas, and then of course a Guinness. We ended up staying at Murphy's Bar all night with a lot of people from the program. At one point Browyn ordered everyone drinks because a guy in a cowboy hat on the street handed her 50 euros and told her to have a good night. She didn't ask questions and we were all happy with that. Later that night we made our way back to the hotel.

We woke up early the next day and had breakfast at the hotel. Our first stop that day was to the ancient beehives, which are 5000 year old stone structures that look like beehives and are not held together by anything but the gravity of rock upon rock. I was amazed and somewhat skeptical as to how those structure were able to last for all those millennia without some pre or post Jesus punk knocking it down as a practical joke, like cow tipping. But maybe they've always been well protected.

We got back on the bus and stopped at many different places to appreciate the awesomeness of the coastline. In one place we stopped at a beach for about an hour that was situated below a cliff about 80 feet high.

The beach was right on the ocean and we took off our shoes and ran around in the cold sand. Here was jungle gym number two. I, along with a few others, climbed up a natural rock wall all the way to the top. Again, the higher you get the higher you want to climb, though it was pretty dangerous. Ireland is very much a country that you take on "at your own risk." If you fall down a jagged rock wall barefoot and break your head open, it's your fault. I'm sure it's happened before.

After the beach we went to the Blasket Island Heritage Center, which is a museum glorifying a small community of about 50 people who once lived on an isolated island for generations. Some of Ireland's most well known literature comes from this community, including the Islandman by Tomas O' Criomhthain and Peig by Peig Sayers. In the museum they had quotes from different people on the island. This quote from Peig's book stuck with me, because it held a gravity and creativeness I don't often find, and I still think about it a lot. I'm definitely going to read her book.

After the center we went to lunch at a pottery place. Before lunch we got to use the clay wheel and make little bowls. My bowl is now a change holder in my room back in Dublin. Lunch was delicious.

Then came one of my favorite parts of the trip. We stopped at this coastline mountain called Kiosharaha (that spelling is incredibly wrong, I can't find it on google). I raced a few people up the hill and then we explored. I went down the peak toward the cliff edge, which was pretty dangerous, but this was the most spectacular view I'd seen of Ireland the whole semester. We sat at the edge while one of the girls on the program played ukulele and sang. The whole thing was glorious.

That night we went to dinner with the entire program at a great place and then went back to the hotel and played a hilarious drinking game called "Cheers, Governor." After that we went out to a pub called Paul Geaney's with live music and stayed there the whole night with about half the program. I had my first Irish Car Bomb (Don't ask for this, it's insulting to Irish people), which was a Bailey's shot dropped into a Guinness, in a race against Peter. He beat me and it was sad. The night ended when my friend chucked her empty pint glass across the street and it shattered everywhere.

The next day we had free, so many people went to see the lighthouse. We took some pictures with cows and then went over to see the lighthouse. Here was jungle gym number four. I along with a girl on the program wound up climbing really far on the edge of the mainland and found a cave. At many points we were hanging literally over the deep cold water and it was awesome. I really learned to appreciate climbing on this trip. We met up with some people after at a place called The Diner and then boarded the bus to get back to Kerry. Overall, very awesome trip. Thanks IES for the memories.

London

After boarding the plane I quickly realized that (as a consequence of never being prepared/responsible for my well-being) did not write down the address for where I was supposed to stay in London or the phone numbers of the contacts I was meeting there. We got off the plane and I followed Devon and Evan on the subway. Devon had to take a different train at a certain point, so she left and I went with Evan to his hostel. Pretending to be a guest at the hostel, I used the 20 free minutes credit slip for their internet and found the address along with the phone number to call. I said goodbye to Evan for the first time in 10 days and went out to find a cab. After waiting on the street for about 20 minutes a friendly enough looking old man stopped and I gave him the address. It took him about 20 minutes to drive to the location, and it was pretty expensive, considering how much more the Pound is worth than the Euro.

When I got to the apartment I discovered that the doorbell was broken and no one was picking up their phones. I wound up standing outside for about another 20 minutes, yelling up to the windows “Jacob Goldstein,” who was in there, hoping someone would answer. I got a little desperate and decided to do something douchey and rang another person’s doorbell. By this time it was 1:30 AM and a man opened the door. He asked me where I was staying, then in a calm, reserved, though clearly agitated way expressed that I had woken up his three and five year olds and that it was completely inappropriate to ring doorbells at that time of the day. Then he asked me where I was staying and then asked me for my name. I asked why he needed to know it and he said that he was going to report this to the university. I wouldn’t give him my name because I wasn’t in the mood to be told on, and being tired and stressed, walked right passed him and up the stairs while calling back “good night” over my shoulder and that I was sorry for disturbing him. I did feel bad, but when you're standing outside after traveling all day and have to go to the bathroom you sometimes need to do things like ring doorbells at ungodly hours. I saw a few Wash U students on the way up the stairs and then Jacob who greeted me. I went to sleep shortly after.

The next day I went with Jacob and Andie (the girl we were staying with) to the British Museum. I’d been anticipating visiting this place for a long time since I learned about the Elgin Marbles. The museum itself is very beautifully made. The artifacts inside are a compilation of all the things the British stole over the centuries from the countries they dominated. I walked into one room and immediately see the Rosetta Stone surrounded by a throng of people. They have quite the impressive collection of Egyptian artifacts and mummies. But the best part for me of course was seeing the Elgin Marbles.

Statue thought to be Aphrodite

I learned in an Art History class last year about the dispute between Greece and Britain concerning the marbles. Now that Athens has the glorious Acropolis Museum, they want their marble back, but Britain refuses to give it back, and they sum up their reason on a kid-friendly plaque outside the Parthenon room:

Really..?

As a side note, it's interesting to be writing this post as I sit in a hostel in Athens having just seen the Parthenon and the outside of the Acropolis Museum. Britain should give those marbles back. They belong here. We walked around for a little longer and saw some other pretty amazing things, then left feeling satisfied. Andie left and Jacob and I got lunch at a pizza place. Then, not quite knowing how to see London in a day and a half took the sightseeing bus tour around the city. It was a good tour with a solid tour guide. We got off the bus in front of Buckingham Palace and tried getting into the Queen's art gallery exhibit. But as we stood in line an old man who worked for the gallery walked right up to us and told us that it wasn't worth the money because it's just pictures for the time being, not paintings. We thought it was pretty funny that one of the docents would tell customers that the exhibit wasn't worth it, and it reminded me of that scene in Phantom of the Megaplex with Movie Mason (start clip at 1:00).

We continued to go around the city and ended up at the National Gallery. This museum was great and I got to see many more pieces of art. Then we embarked on the greatest part of the trip. I hadn't eaten meat for about two and a half months at this point, so we researched a kosher restaurant in Golder's Green and took a subway for about a half hour and got there. To our happy surprise, Golder's Green happened to be a street that was all kosher restaurants. I was jovial. We bought a big hamburger for an appetizer, then went two restaurants down and I got matzah ball soup and a schnitzel sandwich. After that we went to a market and bought some cold cuts, and since Purim was around the corner I bought a lot of hamentaschen. It was fantastic and was really the icing on the cake for this Spain/London adventure. We were pretty tired by that point and to my recollection went back to Andie's for the night.

The next day we took the subway and Jacob bought a theater ticket to see Ghost. It was hilarious listening to him order the ticket, because his love for theater comes through like an excited little boy at a toy store. After that we got a tour of the Globe Theater, Westminster Abbey and Parliament. Can two people be more touristy? My flight back to Dublin was fast approaching and after Parliament we went back to the apartment to get my stuff. I said goodbye to Jacob and went back to the airport and flew home with Devon. Thus I have finally finished chronicling Spain and London more than a month after the fact. Hopefully my memory served me well.

Spain Part IV: Madrid

We got to Madrid around 5:30 PM, checked into our hostel and found some dinner. I called my friend Jessie who was now on the bus to Salamanca and told her the bus station story. Though she was angry I didn’t get to see her, the story was so ridiculous that everything ended on a fine note. Our flight the next day was leaving at 3:00 PM, so with less than a day to spare I realized that some intense Madrid toe-tapping action would have to take place. That night we went to a convenient store and bought bottles of wine for under a euro and then went to meet up with Ryan’s friends who were studying abroad there. We got to their apartment and met some other people who were there also. As strange coincidences go, two of the people in the apartment happened to be studying abroad in London and were close friends with the girls who stayed in our hostel room in Cork.

With our wine we played a big game of Kings for over an hour and then everyone was planning on going to the big club El Capital. Because I had no time in Madrid and wanted to see as much as possible I left them at the club and went back to the hostel with the plan of waking up at 9:00 AM. In the spirit of religious processionals carrying over from Seville, as I walked back to the hostel I saw the longest line of people I’ve ever seen waiting to get into a church. The story behind this is that once a year this church lowers a statue of Jesus from the ceiling and if you touch the statue’s foot and make a wish it will come true. People stand in line up to three weeks prior to this event so that they can get their wish. When I saw them, it was three in the morning and people ages 8 to 80 were waiting in line. That takes some good faith.

I adhered to my plan and woke up at 9 the next morning. As my alarm rang, people were sill getting back from the night. I walked around for a bit until Evan woke up and then we went to the Reina Sofia. I wanted to go here to see Picasso’s Guernica, and we walked around the museum searching for it. I didn’t realize how large it was, but it spanned such a distance that an entire large room was devoted to it. It is quite an amazing painting. The museum included many other famous works of art and has a pretty great collection of Dali’s.

After this we stood in line at the Prado museum. This was my favorite. There are so many awesome pieces of art here that it is overwhelming. Among the many, I got to see Velazquez’s Las Meninas, Titian’s Bacchanal, and then my favorite, Bosch’s The Garden of Earthly Delights. It was hard to believe that all these paintings were in the same museum, but it was quite awesome.

After the museum we met with my friend Jessie Lurie for a little bit and went to the major park next to the Prado.

She showed us around and soon enough we had to get our stuff and get to the airport. As I said, Madrid was short lived but I’m glad I got to see some of the highlights. We got on the plane and took off toward London.

Spain Part III: Granada

Remember, I'm writing this a month after the fact so this will be a shorter post than it would have been, and the details might be shaky, but we have some hilarious stories.

In Travels with Charley by John Steinbeck, when he arrives in Montana he says that he is utterly in love with it, and that there's not much else to say. I thought about John when we came into Granada, because I felt the exact same way. What a fantastic place! I never wanted to leave, and I'd like to go back. I'm not sure what it was. I met a girl in my hostel in Seville who said she liked Seville, but that there was something special about Granada, and she was right. I see the city as divided in two--half modern, half old. The older section, called Albeyzin, is built on a hill, and the modern part is in the valley. Our hostel was at the top of Albeyzin in Plaza de St. Nicholas. The hostel, to our surprise, was operated by a man named Blake who is originally from Madison, WI. Blake comes off as very chill and smokes his fair share. This wasn't really a hostel, but more just Blake's house that he deems a hostel to make some money. He informed us that he wasn't going to waste money paying for heat, and compensated with sleeping bags in the bedrooms. When Devon couldn't figure out how to use the shower, Blake went off to Evan and me on how he hates women who can't figure anything out for themselves, and just the general "obtuseness" of them in general. He seemed pretty upset about it, and we told Devon what he said. She was planning on writing him a "nice" review on Hostelworld.

The whole group reconvened (Kassey and Ryan stayed longer in Barcelona) and we explored. Blake gave us some suggestions on places to go, which included a neighborhood painted over by a graffiti artist, the Alhambra, and a really cool hillside above Albayzin populated by people who live in caves without electricity or running water. We wound up going to all those places.

The graffiti neighborhood was pretty cool, and after walking around the city for about 3 hours, Evan and I decided to go see the Alhambra.

This building is quite magnificent, partly because it's been influenced imposingly by Muslim and Christian cultures when they ruled during separate times. There was also an M.C. Escher exhibit there, and I was able to see the originals of some of his most famous works, including the hands drawing each other. You can spend all day touring the compound, but we only went to the main parts, which were really incredible, as were the views of Granada surrounding the palace.

On the way home I saw this piece of graffiti, and I found it so striking that I remember it even a month later as I write this post:

Some food for thought

That night we met with one of Evan's high school friends who was very nice and showed us a great time. We wound up going to the same tapas bar every night in Granada called Poe. Poe was established 9 years ago by an Englishman named Matt who was a former teacher in need of a scene change. He says that owning the tapas bar has been his most enjoyable occupation. I was amazed by his prices. For 1.80 euro you can get a full mug of beer along with a tapas of your choice. The tapas selections were all incredible, especially the salt cod, of which I could not get enough. The nights we were there were very fun. The most memorable place was a club that served free drinks until midnight, then opened up into a big dance party. Before many people were there, we watched one of the girls there dancing with a guy who looked like a cross between Andy Sandberg and Napoleon Dynamite. Her dance moves kept increasing more intensely until the entire club stopped dancing and instead stood and stared at these two people outdoing everyone else. I had never seen an entire club stop for one couple, but there it was.

The next day we walked around the modern part of the the city and saw the church Isabella and Ferdinand commissioned for their burial. These anti-Semites built quite the church for themselves.

That night Evan and I walked to the top of the village of cave people Blake told us to see. These people did live in caves, but civilized caves with doors and furniture. We had to walk up a lot of stairs, but it was well worth it. The view from the top was exquisite, and while there we watched the sun set. Romantic, myes.

This preceded what turned out to be one of the most absurd nights of my life. Everyone else went on to Madrid, but Evan and I stayed an extra day in Granada. We went back to Poe to see Matt and to say goodbye to the salt cod one last time. Then we made our way to the bus station. We were told that we would be able to get a ticket easily since the bus wouldn't be crowded, but the advice was very wrong. The 12:30 bus was sold out, as was the 1:30 and the 4:00. The next bus leaving was at 11:00 and I was shocked and in disbelief. Mind you that this bus station was also in a sketchy area of town and far from the city center and we didn't want to spend the money going back.

When we found out that our bus was at 11:00, I had two thoughts: 1) I was letting down my friend Jessie Fleeman who was in Madrid and pushed her bus back to Salamanca so she could see me, and 2) I realized that I had to sleep in a fucking bus station. At these two thoughts I walked away from Evan in a fury and went to the bathroom to get ready for bed...and by bed I mean floor. In the bathroom, as I was taking out my contacts, Evan walked in.

Evan: Listen, at least I remembered to print out all of my boarding passes before Spain.

(Before Spain I neglected to print out my boarding passes, and a theme running through this trip was where could I find a printer to get my next pass)

Me: Why are you saying that now? That's unncessary.

Evan: Because, Dude, you're all mad at me now. It's not my fault.

Me: I'm not mad out you, I'm mad at the situation.

Having taken out my contacts I then left the bathroom and sat down in one of the seats next to a homeless man. After a minute Evan walked over.

Evan: Is this seat taken?

Me: No. Listen, I'm not mad at you, I'm mad at the situation. You need to let me be angry for at least 5 minutes. This situation sucks.

Evan: It could be worse. I mean, sometimes a bird takes a dump on your head, but it could be an elephant...

Me: What?! Dude, just let me scream into the canyon, okay?

Evan: You can scream into the canyon, but not if you're mad at the friend.

I really wasn't angry with him, which clearly wasn't getting across, and as you can see this conversation was useless and absurd. We took this picture immediately after so we could remember the moment. We weren't posing for this, we were just legitimately upset.

Thus began our night in the bus station. It cleared out soon and we found a space on the ground and fell asleep. I woke up an hour later--cold, vulnerable, scared--to find a homeless man sleeping right next to me. I looked over at Evan who was awake, and we both burst out laughing.

4 am, rock bottom moment of trip

A few hours later Evan went to the bathroom and when he got back said he stood next to a different homeless man and stared at a pile of cardboard boxes drooling over how warm they looked. Eventually we went into the cafeteria after it opened for breakfast and fell asleep crouched over a table. When I woke up I found myself surrounded by a throng of bus-riders chatting away at the tables. I felt gross and groggy, but eventually 11:00 came around and we got on our bus. I made sure I was the first to step on the bus and I had never been more grateful to enter one. 10 hours after we were supposed to leave Granada we finally left.

We made our way to Madrid, our final stop in Spain, where we now had 18 hours to spend before our next flight.

Spain Part II: Seville

We decided to take it easy in Seville since we were hurting after Barcelona. When we got off the plane a very nice group of abroad students helped us find where we were going. We took a train to the city center and almost immediately fell in love. On the train, people were offering older people their seats, and Evan found it moving, saying he wished that kindness for the rest of the world. That sentiment increased when we got off the train, greeted by a street band of Native American Indians performing ancient tribal music. How random that they were there, but we loved it.

We walked down the street, were stopped by a group of gypsies who tried selling us spice stems for 5 euros after reading our palms, at which time I said no thanks, and then found a place to eat lunch. A terrifying street performer was there, dressed like a baby in the stroller, squeaking at people on the street. It was like something out of Bill and Ted’s Bogus Journey.

After lunch we found our hostel, and I napped on the wonderful rooftop terrace. We then walked around and found the river, which is like another piece of paradise. All along it people sit by and eat, drink and hang out. This goes on all day, especially during siesta time. It was so ideal. That night we decided to make dinner for ourselves, so we found the only store open with food. It was run by a few tired looking Asian people and most of the food was coated over with dust. We had no choice really so we bought what we could including some rotting vegetables and went back to the hostel. We made rice with vegetables. I met some very interesting people that night. My favorite was a British guy who was a writer. He told me his story while I sauteed the non-rotten parts of the vegetables. He was writing a book on his experiences learning how to dance in South America. Being an uptight Englishman in his youth, he wanted to test out what would happen if he spent a significant amount of time learning how the Latinos move, so he lived down in the southern hemisphere for 9 months. He learned many of the different forms of dances, and he coined this as his "research." He said that his least favorite dance style was the flamenco. The way he put it, "the bloke shimmies a bit, the lady twirls, and every time I'm just like, 'Oh fuck off.'" I liked this guy immediately.

The next day was awesome. Evan and I rented bikes from a local store and roamed around the Seville for four hours. We visited some of the major tourist sights, including the awesome Plaza de Espana, an archaeological museum, and then zipped around the narrow streets and alleys.

Plaza de Espana

Earlier that day I met an Australian guy in our hostel who was traveling Europe until his money ran out. His name is Billy, a former drug dealer who spent some time in prison and now wants a fresh start. Though I was a little on guard around this guy since everything about him was sketchy, I found him pretty interesting. As it turns out, Billy was the reason for why Seville became so important for my abroad experience. A few years ago he got a tattoo from his friends who used a Play Station motor with a needle, but his tatto was wearing down and he wanted to get it redone. He told me he was going to the tattoo parlor that day, and I asked him if they did ear piercing, which they did. I ended up going with him to the place and got my left ear pierced. I was a little nervous, but the whole thing is painless and te guy doing it was professional and showed me how his utensils were all cleaned beforehand. The room he did it in was lit up with fluorescent lighting, ad he had me sit on a bed one sees in a doctor's office during a checkup. I asked the guy a good amount of questions before he did it, until Billy, who was in the room watching, said that I was just being nervous, so I stopped talking and let the guy do his job. Now there's a little stud in my ear. I left Billy at the place and made my way back home.

That night was very cool. As we were walking to meet up with some of Devon's friends, we were stopped by a very large religious procession walking through the streets. The procession was headed by a choir of children and adults, followed by nine clergymen carrying big candles on top of large poles, followed by a few more wafting incense, followed by about ten men carrying a solid gold platform supporting a very large statue of Jesus carrying the cross. The way they walked reminded me a lot of the workers in the opening scene of Metropolis on their way to work (Start the video at 1:30 on youtube, then rent the movie because it's awesome). The Jesus was surrounded by flowers. Behind the procession there were easily over 500 people following. The whole thing was beautiful. These people were going from church to church in honor of the day commemorating St. Lucia. It was a very legit cultural experience, and sadly I did not have a camera with me.

We did not want to leave Seville, especially Evan, who just wanted to know at all times where the Rio was. The next day we hopped a bus to Granada.