Airport Blues

Have you ever heard or read or watched anything by Dr. Seuss? The man is silly and wildly creative, yet through all of his abstract characters and rhyming lines, he makes very sound points about life and how to live it. As a kid, I read everything from "Red Fish Blue Fish" to "Green Eggs and Ham", but as an adult, I don't remember too much of what the good doctor had to say. Last night, I came across something I think is a real gem. It is a reading of "Oh the Places You'll Go" done in a musical fashion by a man named Tim Moore.

If you've ever thought about traveling or are thinking about going on any kind of adventure, listen to this with an open heart. I think it is really powerful.

"Oh the Places You'll Go"

Airport Blues

Note: I've uploaded more pictures (08/08)

Weight Changes:

Me: 162lbs -> 149lbs

My Bag: 24lbs -> 31lbs (somehow...)

Dublin, Ireland was great. We ended our trip by taking a twenty-minute train ride to a peninsula northeast of Dublin called Howth. It's rather small and it has several trails that you can follow to walk all over the island. Because we arrived at Howth late in the day, the sun began to set as we began to hike. It was, I think, one of the perfect last memories to have of Ireland- the cliffs, the green hills, and the orange sun beating down on the ocean.

Currently, I'm living out of the Oslo (Rygge) airport. I feel a little bit like Tom Hanks in the movie, The Terminal, but with just a bit less drama in my life. Did you know there is a blog dedicated to reviewing airports for how easy it is to sleep in them? There is: Link.

Today will be my third and final night here. It's been an interesting experience, but luckily Oslo (Rygge) airport is one of the better rated airports for sleeping and staying. It has free WiFi, fast WiFi at that, and access to wall outlets. At night, people pull out floor mats and sleeping bags and basically make camp on the first floor. I was pretty surprised when I saw this- I thought I would have to sleep in the shadows. I've managed to sleep on the second floor these past two nights and I pull a giant advertisement near the corner in which I sleep to block out the light. Luckily, I am able to sleep up here until around 06:30 to 07:00, whereas downstairs, I would have to deal with more traffic and people coming in and out of the airport.

What do I do to kill time?

I've realized that when you're on your own and without a home, this can be very difficult. Having a laptop and the ability to charge it is a big deal. I've listened to a lot of music, done a bit of writing, browsed reddit a bit too much, and taken trips down nostalgia lane to watch my fair share of Johnny Bravo episodes (Whoa, mama!). A lot of my time at the airport has been spent researching future plans and organizing my schedule and how I am going to handle school next semester. It's been a nice break  as well, and I even spent some time learning French and trying to meditate in the lobby of the parking garage.

Don't people ask you to leave?

Surprisingly, no. I haven't been bothered once or told to move, or even really been talked to. But, when you think about it, it kind of makes sense. I don't think I've seen the same person two days in a row (granted I've only been here for three days). Everyone coming in and out of the airport is a fresh face. People fly in, they leave. People wait for a friend's plane to land or drop a family member off so they can make their flight. No one stays, no one comes back for the shopping mall or the restaurant (there aren't any, but just for example's sake). To them, I'm just another dude in the terminal waiting to catch his flight.

What do I eat?
On our last day in Ireland, I bought two loaves of bread for a total of 1600g of food. This cost me 1.5 Euro. I haven't spent any money in Norway, instead, I've only eaten this bread. I refill my water bottle using the bathroom sink, and when we arrived in the airport, they gave us some free chocolate. I eat that, too. Oh, and blueberries from the nearby bushes.

You must get sick of the airport, right?

Heck yes I do. I don't just sit here next to the outlet on my computer. The first day I spent most of my time exploring what was in a three kilometer radius around the airport. I debated about jumping a fence that said "No Access Allowed" for a little too long, found some wild blueberries and chowed down, and made a valiant effort to help a lady call her family using my computer (I failed, sadly!). I felt that it was very important to get a strong feel and understanding of the area so I could be extra safe.

The second day, I woke up to the sound of people moving through security and curled out from my spare sheet like a grizzly bear waking from hibernation. I had a crook in my back from the way I slept, but I shouldered my backpack, ate a two-slice-of-bread breakfast, and did some final research before heading out of the airport on foot toward the city of Moss. It took me about three hours to walk there. I chose not to hitchhike because I needed the exercise and I stopped off every now and then to try and take the perfect photo. I eventually came to this wonderful bench at the edge of a lake. I was pretty beat. I put my backpack on one side, curled up against it, and took a nice snooze in the sun.

I hitchhiked home, though. This was my first time hitchhiking and it went smoothly! It took me about thirty minutes to get picked up and when I did, it was by this funny Norwegian dude in his early-thirties. He was already retired, had really rusty English, and spoke more in grunts than words. He was very nice though, and when he dropped me off at the airport he offered his blessings and the best of luck to me. I couldn't be happier with how it went.

What is next?

I'll meet up with Chris and Laura again later today. They took a bus into Oslo and explored the city while I chose to make base-camp here. We'll all sleep this final night in the airport. Tomorrow, at 07:00 Norway time, we will fly to Poznan, Poland. Here, the Homeless World Cup will begin on August 11th. Hopefully we can help with any remaining set-up they have to do and get a strong idea of how things are going to work in the next day or two before it all starts.

I'm really looking forward to it, but at the same time, I'm sad I won't be able to experience the entire week of the HWC event. However, I'm going to get to see many friends that Chris and I made previously in the trip, so it is going to be so wonderful from that alone.

Guess what? 

We fly home in 9 days! That's countable on your fingers, folks! Thanks to all y'all that I've talked to, even just a little bit these past few days! It's nice to chat with someone when boredom starts to creep in at the airport!

Best wishes,

-Sam

I Wanna Dance all, Dance all Everyday

I Wanna Dance all, Dance all Everyday

I am quickly finding that I have a lot to write about and a lot on my mind. I'm not going to cut my writing short, but I am going to provide headers to each topic. That way, if you, the reader, are uninterested or only want to read about something specific, you can jump around. Oh! And I've been updating the Pictures and Videos section of the blog, so check those out for more images and such.

Thoughts on Madrid

Graffiti in the City:

On this trip, I'm really trying to avoid looking through that glossy and dreamy tourist lens. But it is difficult when you enter a new city, especially those with fantastic reputations, to push yourself away and analyze it objectively. Of course, this doesn't mean you ignore the good things each city has to offer. Instead, I think, it means you have to be more open to accepting the bad qualities within each location.

With that said, I find little fault in the center portion of Madrid in which I stayed. Even greater still, after walking a good portion of the cities SE and central regions, there was little that I could place a statement against. The architecture was splendid- both new and old- the streets and other infrastructure were either in great condition or currently being repaired. The office buildings looked like something out of a science fiction movie, glaringly-shiny or light-absorbingly black, they appeared powerful and official. The only bit of wariness I have with Madrid's construction was the ever-present graffiti.

Some of it, I'm sure, is artistic. But graffiti always leaves you wondering- why was this placed here, who placed it, and what was their intention? Was it to gain attention, mark territory, or to add flavor to a neighborhood? I'm not sure. I remember reading an article about New York City a while back, specifically on cleaning up the city during one of it's harsher times. At this point in NYC's history, the subways were littered with graffiti and gang signs. This scared people. During the time, crime was present in all regions. To eradicate the problem, the city focused on cleaning the subways, rinsing them of the dirtiness that graffiti produced. As a result, two things happened. First of all, crime was reduced as the subways regained a better relevance in the city. Secondly, graffiti spread from the subways to the streets. Even so, the crime rates dropped significantly, and it would appear that the focus fire on specific areas aided in reconstruction of NYC's representation as a safe place. As for how this relates to Madrid, I'm not certain. At the short glance I had of the city, it was difficult for me to come across harder issues.

Homelessness in Madrid

Just outside of a local McDonalds a man sleeps next to a cardboard sign and a plastic cup.

I didn't take the stance I wanted to initially with homelessness in Madrid. I came into this project urging to approach and talk with people on the streets, but I wasn't able to do that in this city. Maybe it was a lack of courage or a lack of understanding, but here I only observed from a short distance. Still, I did my best to look at it with an analytic eye.

Compared to Phoenix and Tucson, the habits of  the homeless I saw in Madrid were nearly identical- and it makes sense. Find a busy avenue or street, preferably with tourists. Get a sign to tell your story. Ask for money. Either that, or find a parking place for the day with an empty cup, hat, or box. This is the surface level, of course. There are many homeless people that don't beg or make themselves visible on the streets- I am only discussing what I was able to see. One difference I would like to make note of is the grouping of the homeless. In Phoenix and Tucson, I rarely see different people that are homeless chatting on a street corner or taking breaks. There doesn't seem to be a sense of community but rather an overwhelming lone-wolf mentality. In Madrid, however, I noticed several members of the same ethnicity talking with each other. Looking further, I could see that these same people would set up on a very large street, each one of them at a strategic section, in order to maximize their efforts. This gave the act of asking for money a much more business-like image in my mind. Additionally, it put me off from going up and talking with them. It was disruptive.

Currently, in Barcelona, I'm finding that this isn't the case here. But I still have a few more days to see the city, and hopefully I can  find out a little more by observation and conversation.

Early Musings in Barcelona

Barcelona greeted us with wind and an extreme amount of dark clouds. Raindrops floated in the air at low quantities and the language of Catalan was far more present than Spanish, to my chagrin. Our nerves were on edge, too. From little sleep, the long bus ride, and the lack of a place to stay the night. We made base camp at a chain-like restaurant near the Barcelona-Saints station called Pan & Company. Plus: there was an outlet to charge the dying laptop. Minus: internet access was restricted to thirty minutes. Good thing I’m quick with my keys and faster with a mouse. CouchSurfing fell through again, which was really disheartening. So again, we went to the second option- a really cheap hostel. A place in Barceloneta, a neighborhood in the southeast of Barcelona, had one that was reputable for being clean and relaxing. Perfect.

Hostel #1 of Barcelona

Still, we had to get there first, which took over two hours of hiking through the city and getting lost and mangled in avenues and boulevards. It was a harsh contrast to our arrival in Madrid, where we had a good amount of time to kill before even having to worry about finding a roof over our heads. Here, we as time dipped later and later, it was becoming a real concern. By pure luck, though, we came across our target hostel and we each let out a little yawp of joy. Then more luck: we got the last possible beds available. Ahhh. I couldn’t imagine how distraught we would be if we were sent away.

But how is Barcelona? Pretty. Rough. Rustic. It’s right next to the water, but many times the city doesn’t even feel like a port-kinda town. Poverty is more present here than it was in Barcelona, especially along Av. Parallel (less so along Av. Meridian and near the Arc de Triomf). From what I’ve seen, there are plenty of parks in the city- wondrous ones, too. They have secret gardens and tiny museums, even some wild tidbits of architecture and statues. Many homeless live in the parks, though. Walking through the Park de la Ciutadella, I noticed groups scattered around water refill stations and on the benches (around 10:00am).

A Secret Jungle inside a Building!

The beach  at Barcaloneta, which has a reputation for being crowded, was absent of people when Chris and I visited it on an early morning walk. Excuse the unsteady hand, I had just been skipping rocks for the past thirty minutes and was trying to avoid getting sand on the camera!

We haven't really seen the sights of the city yet. Today, I think, we will see what we can. We are getting ready to trek through the city again to find another new place to spend the night. This one is back in Barcaloneta, closer to the beach. I found it for a great price on AirBnB. It will be our first time using that website, so hopefully it will be a good experience.

Regrets, Fixes, and Bad News (in that order):

Phone: It was a mistake to not bring a phone. While it does save a good amount of money, having a phone would make life so much easier. Many organizations and websites require a phone authentication via SMS or a call. Luckily, I’ve been able to get by with Google Voice. But with a phone, I could provide my own WiFI tethering in places that lacked it, and I could use it as a secondary/primary resource of communication. At this point, if I have to call a number I’m screwed. Email is all I got.

Ryanair: No regrets yet, but plenty of fixes. I’ve been doing research on several of the airports we will be flying into and realizing that there are some major logistical issues. For example, in the upcoming flight from Barcelona -> Milan, we won’t be arriving in the city of Milan. Instead we will land in the city of Bergamo, 50km NE of Milan. This creates the issue of having to get a connection by bus or train, which increases the overall budget.

Dreamhack: Some of you may know what this is, but in case you don’t, it is the world’s largest videogame event. It’s enormous. Chris and I were hoping to see what it was like first-hand, but we’re pretty sure that isn’t going to be possible. Originally, we thought it was located in Stockholm. However, it is in the city of Jönköping, which is a $150 train ride away.

Wrapping Up
That's it for now. I did my best to catch up on things. I'm not sure if I wish to discuss typical sights- we've been to several museums, explored the Botanical Gardens in Madrid, and found monuments around both Barcelona and Madrid. If anyone has a specific question about that stuff, you can always ask me directly by email or a quick message on Facebook. I'm around on WiFi when I can, and I'd be glad to answer any questions!

For now, it is time to abuse the Urbany Hostel's "All You Can Eat Cereal and Oranges" for a little longer before diving back into Barcelona.

Hasta luego.

-Sam

Madrid, Madrid- A Somewhat Lengthy Update on the Beginning

Madrid, Madrid- A Somewhat Lengthy Update on the Beginning

Early Saturday morning, we hit the airport. Ed, Chris’s friend, drove us as we jammed to the new Daft Punk album, cruising with our fingers crossed for two things- that Ed’s beat-up Nissan wouldn’t explode and that our first international flight went smoothly.

It did, more or less.

Our plane descended into Madrid at 6:50am. Peering through the little window near the wing, the clouds looked like the waves of a curling ocean. A few of us pulled out our cameras and awkwardly tried to get pictures, and we all laughed. It was a long flight and nice to be rewarded with such a pretty sunrise as we landed. The Modest Mouse song, “Talking Shit about a Pretty Sunset” came to mind, and I thought to myself that not a single bad thing could be said watching the sun rise at eye-level with the clouds.

Chris and I were in a daze as we walked through the airport. His head was only two inches from crawling along the ceiling and I kept focusing on the advertisements and trying to translate the Spanish announcements as they echoed across the tile floor. I nervously approached the clerk at the customs line, deciding on how I should open the conversation.  Would a simple “Hola” suffice or should I break out “como estas?” as well? I opted for the second option and received a stern glance and my first rectangular stamp in my passport. If I had Instagram, I think that would have been one of the few times I would have wanted to use it. The stamp just felt so official. I guess it was. After all, without it, I wasn’t allowed to enter the country.

Three options hummed for getting to the center of the city hummed in the air as we stepped outside. Walk, taxi, or bus. The walk, we realized, was too far. So we tried the taxi. With our bags in the trunk, the cab driver told us it would be 35 euros. Whoa. No deal. Thus, the bus. It took about ten minutes for the right one to arrive, but that wasn’t an issue. The weather outside was fantastic, clean, and a steady sixty-six degrees.

Madrid, as a city, opened up with graffiti-ridden walls and a mix of modern and old, stone-based architecture. Rolling hills that screamed something like a Tuscan backdrop surrounded the airport, but as we closed into the center of the city they were exchanged for apartment and governmental buildings. Parks, fountains, and monuments seemed as plentiful as Madrid’s roundabouts, which, as we found out quickly enough, were quite common and confusing.

This place called Hotel de Las Letras (Hotel of the Letters) ended up saving us. With no WiFi and little understanding of the maps and streets, we needed to get some kind of GPS reference to our location. We almost didn’t try the hotel. It looked glamorous: complete with red carpets and high ceilings, ornate walls of marble and those white, shining pillars that are only in glowing ballrooms. But the people inside were kind and helpful and willing to be patient with my rusty Spanish. With access to WiFi and an outlet adapter, we found a hostel to stay in and get our bags in one place. CouchSurfing, sadly, didn’t pull through and we didn’t want to be worried about finding a bed when the sun was setting.

But first, we urged to explore some more. With big packs and booming voices, we put off the vibe of two buffoons piling our way through the streets of the city and certainly had large nametags that said, “American.” This one guy caught on. He was wearing a blue hoodie and worn jeans and had that shady aura licking his shadow. Chris and I were lumbering around with our map out and he casually stepped into our conversation, directing us toward an alleyway. Initially, we trusted his direction, crossing the street and heading that way. He followed at a short distance, emphasizing his stroll as a stroll- nothing more. That’s when I noticed three guys, wearing similar clothes, leaning against the side of an adjacent building and giving us the stare down. It wasn’t the, “Those look like two cool dudes” stare. Nah, it was the “We want to take your money” stare. So I pulled Chris off to a nearby table, dropped our bags down, and waited for our tail to pass. We got so excited about being in Madrid that we forgot to be cautious and it almost cost us. I felt like a patsy for getting marked so quickly.

The hostel. Located on Calle de Barbieri, it had pretty much everything going for it. Beds. Hot showers. Clean bathroom, clean kitchen with pots and pans, staffed 24/7 with free printing, an additional computer, and WiFi. The only real drag was that my computer seemed to be unable to come to an agreement with the hostel’s internet- it refused to connect. But it wasn’t the hostel that had the problem with its temperament, it was my little netbook. All in all, I can only say great things about this place.

My first real Spanish conversation happened at the hostel. I started casually talking to the maid, trying to remember verbs and tenses and any noun that I needed. It was a struggle at initially, but as we chatted about favorite places, the weather, and her family, I began to realize that my Spanish wasn’t so bad. We discussed Spain in general for a while and it was refreshing to hear how much she loved her country- from vacations she took to Barcelona as a kid to Madrid, where she had lived for over fifty years, the passion she had for her city was tangible. And her favorite place? The worn street of Calle de Barbieri, where she lived and worked. I thanked her for the conversation before we left.

Alright, so even though CouchSurfing didn’t work out in Madrid, I still wanted to be an active member. On Madrid’s page, I was able to find some people in the city and we got in touch with a girl from Philadelphia. After dinner, we went out to a bar called El Tigre to meet her for a drink and chat about travel and our experiences. We got there early and ordered a beer each, without realizing one wonderful thing about some Spanish bars- with drinks come tapas. Tapas are these little sandwiches built from a slice of a bagette and a slice of meat (jamon, chorizo, carne). They are delicious and greasy. But when you order a drink, the bartender smiles, hands it to you, and then gives you THREE plates full of tapas. So Chris and I each bought a drink and walked off to a table with six plates of miniature sandwiches. Awesome, except for the fact that we were already stuffed. We ate anyways, as we didn’t want to look bad for accepting the complimentary food and not doing anything with it.

Shavana, the girl from CouchSurfing, arrived shortly. She hung out while we finished our drinks and then together we walked to another bar to meet her friends from her hostel. It was a group of five or so people, two girls from India and a guy who lived and worked in Madrid. It was actually really cool, sitting and chatting with these people we’d never met. We’d share stories, each one of us adding on experiences- be them from India or Philly or Spain or somewhere any of us had traveled, the conversations were full of excitement and interesting aspects. I can see myself really liking the CS (CouchSurfing) program. It just pulls all sorts of different people together for good times.

As we walked home, the clouds broke above us and it started to rain, very gently. It was relaxing and welcoming, and a good way to end the day.

As I am getting ready to close my laptop, a group across the street is howling and singing “Feliz cumpleanos a ti”, ecstatic and excited. I can’t help but think that their emotion, that pure happiness and enthusiasm, is how I’ll remember Madrid. The people are loving, caring, and willing to help. The streets are easy to learn, once you find out that the street signs are on the sides of buildings, and the weather is like a sunny day in Hawaii with a spicier flavor.

I’ll get a post out on our second day when I can. It was great though- free museums, the botanical garden, and a lot more use of Spanish. I also want to do some reflection. But for now, I need rest. We have to catch a bus tomorrow and it takes an hour to walk to the station, so we are waking up at five to get there on time. 

For now, all I can say is adiois. To the blog, to Madrid, and to this great hostel. It’s been great and I can’t wait to return.