I saw the Sex and the City movie, in Paris, with a packed house, on (almost) opening night. Dear readers, I know that this is perhaps not the most lucrative piece of information I could offer, particularly after about two weeks of travel, with little communication home. Still, it was in trying to see this movie — which started as a joke and ended, of course, in actually seeing it — that Josh and I tore through the Metro, perspiration forming on our foreheads as we navigated unknown streets with more urgency than we had shown in the rest of our travels.
I cite this incident to stress that Josh and I are an organizational powerhouse, and not until we were confronted with the possibility of being late for a movie whose major plot point involves a walk-in closet did we find ourselves feeling unprepared. Though I’d like to catalogue everything we’ve done (and we’ve done it all well, as Josh’s very short ”money wasted” list can attest), I hope these highlights will suffice.
It was in Madrid that I fell in love with pork products, all over again. After months in a Muslim country, an exotic world was opened up to me, particularly in the form of the largest sandwich I’ve ever seen (consumed with the help of Josh and Molly, a friend from D.C. and current Madrid resident). I visited the Prado, the city’s artistic pride and joy, based on the very morbid advice of Arthur Frommer (circa 1965) that I would have no choice but to kill myself if I missed this museum. I must respectfully disagree with Mr. Frommer and say I enjoyed seeing ”Guernica” at the Rena Sofia more. We stayed with relatives just outside the city; their hospitality and large back catalogue of The New Yorker were just the send-off we needed.
We arrived in Barcelona via the most luxurious train of my life (flat-screen TVs, sliding doors, complimentary candies — the future is now). I think I can say upfront that Barcelona, though architecturally beautiful, was a letdown; unlike Madrid, it seemed more like a tourist city than a real city. Nonetheless, we accomplished many noteworthy things here: we sat on the longest bench in the world (I’ve been as bold as to also call it one of the most comfortable stone benches in the world), we accidentally attended a portion of Catholic mass (which was cleverly disguised as a free orchestral concert), we stumbled upon a Modernist street fair (Modernists apparently make great artisan goods), and we basked on the beach near the Olympic village (which resembles downtown Bethesda, Md).
The cloudy and occasionally rainy weather that plagued us in Spain followed us to Nice, on the French Riviera. The city and its yacht-lined coast lived up to the hype, fortunately. Moreover, we couldn’t back down on our promise to visit Monaco (whose existence we naturally questioned), so off we went. There, I learned about the Grimaldi family in a hilarious and seemingly mandatory audio tour at the Royal Palace; I saw Grace Kelly’s tomb at a nearby church. We arrived in the aftermath of the Grand Prix, so the city (principality, really) was littered with tires and bleachers. However, I can assure you that every helicopter pad and casino lawn was spotless.
Despite hitting the obligatory tourist stops in Paris, it was perhaps the least touristy experience in all of our travels. That is, Barcelona was all barcrawls, and the anglophone was ringing off the hook in the Riviera (as Josh may say). I needn’t go into detail about the wonders of Paris, I’m sure. However, beyond the obvious delights, my greatest pleasure here was the cheese; it felt great to not only taste amazing, unpasteurized cheese, but to also know something about it. (For those not in the know, Josh and I sell cheese at Cowgirl Creamery in D.C.) My greatest regret? Not seeing Tektonic dancing.
I’m going into the second half of my voyage now, quite a ways through The Agony and the Ecstasy (Josh is plowing through Don Quixote). I have a bit less money than I started with (1960s Frommer was wrong again when he said you can get by on $5 a day), and I have many photos quickly filling up my camera’s memory card (Josh lives in constant fear that I will make good on my threat to delete his photo of Foucault’s pendulum from the Pantheon.) Mostly, I’m enjoying our hostels and loving their crazy characters.
Currently, we’re staying in the heart of Amsterdam’s red light district. In the middle of this frat boy’s paradise, I’ve oddly enough found the most relaxing leg of the journey — maybe because there’s nothing in Amsterdam I feel like I really need to see. Still, it’s a calm, laid-back city that’s giving me some much needed repose.
Josh’s blog also provides some details on Madrid. And, in the spirit of epic journies, check out my friend Greg’s blog for a hilarious blow-by-blow of his current U.S. roadtrip with the band The Jonbenets.
4 Comments
June 2, 2008 at 8:22 pm
[...] moving ahead at breakneck speed. Mia has courageously summed up many of our adventures at her blog. I think that I’m going to wait until I get home to post about much of it, but know that so [...]
June 3, 2008 at 12:07 am
i felt similarly in my trip to barca. good summation. bring back queso.
June 4, 2008 at 3:15 pm
Mia: Loved reading your update on the trip so far. You & Josh seem to be having a great time.
February 6, 2009 at 8:44 am
Written very nice information about travel..