MAJOR UPDATE

OK. I realize its been over two weeks since ive last written and i think i promised myself at the start of the trip and the blog that i wouldn´t be one of those people who writes four posts and then completely bails on the blog once she gets too distracted and doesn´t make the time, because i hate that. BUT i wont be that, and IM BACK. I´ve thought about writing all the time but can´t do it on the iphone and have not had access to a real computer in a while, so excuses aside, here is the two-week update.

I´m currently in Barcelona and the weather blows. It´s been raining incessantly since midnight last night and shows no sign of stopping, to tourists and travelers´ lament. Since i last wrote, much has transpired. I think I was last in Lisbon at John´s apartment and my mom had just arrived. Well we had an incredible time there, we partied and had great food and drink and visted tons of sights, including a small town north of Lisbon called Sintra, and saw castles and cathedrals and an incredible plant-filled paradise with ruins and ancient sites called Quinta da Regaleira. We went to John´s hometown of Alcobaca, and his house which resembled quite closely an LA director´s Mediterranean-style pad, and blew our minds. We saw the band Amalia Hoje (side project of the Gift) perform at Casino Lisboa, we stayed backstage with the band and milked the fame schwag, i.e. free booze and snacks, throughout the performance. Celebrity treatment is an understatement. We saw a game in a tiny local bar in Bairro Alto between Benfica (a much-loved regional futbol team in Portugal) playing some other team, while drinking Super Bock and eating ham and cheese mixtos. We began to understand John´s obsession and life committment to the team, as well as the country´s equally vehement passion for the ever-loved international sport.

After Lisbon, John drove us down to his beach flat in the tiny town of Monte Gordo, Portgual, in the Algarve on the border of Spain and Portugal. I could feel how close Spain was and couldn´t wait to be there. We arrived late at night and struggled to find an open food place, finally settling at a funny wi-fi cafe to eat sandwiches and laugh and drink vinho verde. Which is amazing, by the way; light, effervescent and only available in Portugal.

We stayed in MG one night, went for a run on the beach in the morning and had lunch at a restaurant with the most amazing queso de cabra as a gratis app. We drank beer in the hot sun and got a tan and marvelled at how good the cheese was. We liked it so much that we went to buy it at the market down the street before we left town. Meanwhile we were trying to figure out how to get out of town. After many confusing conversations, we showered and packed and I went on foot to fetch a triple-door mercedes benz cab to drive us across the border to spain, and into the town where we´d catch the bus to sevilla. we had our snacks- the amazing cheese, some crackers and ham in hand, and enjoyed it (with no bathroom) during our 2.5 hour bus ride. some young moroccan guys nearby saw me writing in my journal, and asked to write it it. i complied, and it was returned with a sentence in arabic from one guy, translated to english by the other. it read: "I want meet you If you want?? I wait your Answer!!! My name is Brahim"

Sevilla, for the one day we spent there, was great. We visited the largest cathedral in the world, which was breathtaking beyond belief. We saw the Feria de Abril, an annual mishmash of Spanish tradition and carnival lunacy, with women in flamenco dresses and men on horses, but also cotton candy and ferris wheels and crowds and kids... It was extremely overwhelming after we´d been walking for five hours on a croissant so we bailed after fifteen minutes.

We took the high-speed train to Madrid, where we stayed in the trendy Chuenca area (happened to be the gay part) at a very cool hotel called the Room Mate Oscar. John got us a discounted rate for three nights thanks to his Gift hookup (our celebrity experience evidently continued well after Portugal). We visited the Reina Sofia and saw Picasso´s Guernica, and snuck into the front of a 300-person line at the Museo del Prado like badasses just before its Sunday free-hour between 6-7pm. We saw Goya, Velasquez, and Bosch´s most famous works.

The next day, we trained on the AVE to Barcelona, and arrived bearing great expectations. We were greeted by a frustrated taxi driver when we didnt know the address of our hotel. He had reason to be pissed but it still harshed our buzz. We arrived at the sister hotel of the Oscar, to an equally enjoyable circumstance. We arrived at the beginning of a four-day gorgeous weather pattern in Barcelona, and basically spent all of our time on the beach. It was absolute paradise. So much so that Mona decided, after great angst and financial sacrifice, to stay an extra two days. And boy was it worth it, for as the rain pours, my tan still glows. Our experience together was absolutely unforgettable.

When my mom left I was pretty bummed...returning to travelling alone (and broke) was somewhat shocking. But I found an awesome hostel in the center of Barri Gotic, or the old town, called Itaca, where I met five absolutely wonderful and insane Portuguese guys from Lisbon, coincidentally. They took me under their wing for three days and we had dinners, saw sights, went clubbing, walked around the city, and had a ridiculously great time together. They were Francisco, Miguel, Nuno, Ricardo, and Ruey- a loud, boisterous, fun-loving and sweet army of Portuguese party machines, and I was their American darling. On their last night, we went to a massive club called Shoku on the beach, and left "early" at 4am after hours of drinking and dancing. I had forgotten that clubs in Europe were unlike American clubs...´normal´ people come to dance and party without the skank and bone factor. It was refreshingly fun. Side note: Gin and tonics are wildly popular in Spain, which is great. They are gigantic and tasty. Alcohol is at least four times cheaper than in the US.

My Portuguese buddies left yesterday, at which point I met a great girl named Kelly from Michigan, and went to have tapas with an American guy from Sacramento named Harris, Kelly, and a Swiss chick named Martina. We were in the midst of a very inspiring and heated conversation about America´s various cultural, structural, and governmental pitfalls when we noticed that it was pouring outside. It had been perfect all day, so we were in sandals and t-shirts. The bartender gave us plastic bags to cover ourselves before we ran screaming (i was screaming) all the way back to the hostel through the flooded streets. since then the rain hasn´t stopped. It´s 10pm the next night now. I bought a one-way flight to Ibiza today to stay with Kara´s cousin Cal for a few days. I will go to Mallorca afterwards to stay with Kelly from Michigan, as she will be based there for the next few months. I hope the weather improves so I can camp on the beach once or twice. Once might be enough.

Martina, Harris and I just got back from an unmarked bar that makes their own cava, and only serve cava and meat bocadillos. It was awesome. I had a sausage called Butifarra con Cebolla on a bun with hot mustard and four glasses of cava for under 5 euros. We hung out packed shoulder-to-shoulder in a wooden garage and a glass of cava was 80 cents. Harris and I discovered that we had the same birthday.

Now we will brave the rain once more to visit another local bar Martina knows (she lived here years ago) and I will rock my asics sneaks given that they´re my only closed-toed shoes (I ditched my green rain booties in madrid thinking summer had hit permanently and i wouldnt be needing them, MISTAKE). So here I go on my last night in Barcelona, Ibiza I will meet in the morning. Salud...