Archive for the ‘spain’ Category

barcelona photos!

Thursday, November 22nd, 2007

From the train, somewhere in Spain…

The first picture I took in Barcelona. ‘Cause. Dude. This city!! Even the lampposts!!!

Plaça Catalunya.

La Rambla of the Little Birds

Rick Steves told me about this–an ancient Roman road lined with ancient Roman tombs. It was off a random pathway from La Rambla, and apparently was discovered by some company building an apartment complex. They were going to just ignore it and keep building, but local apartment-dwellers blew the whistle on them. To which I say, yay, because this is awesome.

Back on La Rambla. One of many florists’ kiosks.

La Boqueria, which I loved!

Miró did this mosaic, about halfway down La Rambla.

In a little square off La Rambla.

Apparently these lampposts (there are two of them in the square) were Gaudí’s first public works. (Definitely not as cool as his later stuff…)

Some “living statues” on La Rambla–

Hobos in Spain have strollers instead of shopping carts.

At the base of the big statue of Columbus at the end of La Rambla.

La Rambla del Mar, which leads to a big modern mall.

There were a couple of these dudes floating in the harbor. They’re holding stars behind their backs.

Looking back towards the city proper.

I would like to live in this particular world.

Casa Batlló, down the street from my hostel, in the evening.

SO COOL. Peter told me this building is based on the story of George and the Dragon, which is why it looks vaguely skeletal–the dragon built his lair out of the bones of knights he’d killed, and all that.

The staircase in my hostel.

On the way up Montjuic.

View of the city from the top.

The castle on Montjuic, home of the military museum (which I didn’t visit).

Saw lots of this in Spain.

More my style.

Outside the Miró museum.

La Sagrada Familia… if I try to write about these pictures, I will turn into a little stuttering puddle of understatement. So, uh, here’s some totally inadequate photos–

And one kind of silly photo of me being a giant looking into a plaster model in the museum.

Parc Guell!–

Just outside the entrance.

That banner was obviously placed in such a way that English-speaking tourists wandering Parc Guell would see it. Kinda funny/interesting. Does that metaphor even translate, I wonder?

View of the city and the Mediterranean from the park.

Lots of people selling cheap jewelry, some genuine artists.

The benches are supposed to be ergonomic (Gaudí pioneered that trend, I think) and are surprisingly comfy.

Casa Milà/La Pedrera–

The crazy roof terrace.

This might be my favorite photo I took in Barcelona. Yup, that’s la Sagrada Familia in the distance.

Looking down into the courtyard.

I took this picture for my mom, who collects teapots. It’s the only picture I took inside the apartment, which, while pretty, was much less remarkable than the exterior of the building.

And here’s a huge amount of pictures from just walking around Barcelona–

Even the lampposts…

This was my lunch on my last day in Barcelona. The juice was dragonfruit and pineapple. I bought it for the color and because I had no idea what dragonfruit was (and I can’t remember the Spanish–or Catalan, who knows–word for it, which started, I think, with a P). The bowl of fruit had a slice of dragonfruit in it, but it tasted surprisingly bland. The juice was delicious, though.

Along the Mediterranean.

Where I ate my lunch. Please ignore my finger over the lens and pretend it’s artsy vignetting.

And with that, I am caught up.

we all need somebody to lean on ($%!& spanish trains!!!)

Monday, November 19th, 2007

Tonight was one of those things you’ll (I’ll) laugh about later… so it’s probably a good sign that I am already pretty much grinning uncontrollably to myself about the whole thing. It’s that or lack of sleep or the fact that all I have eaten today is biscuits, peanut butter (food of the travelin’ gods), a few caffeinated peppermints (an attempt at staving off a withdrawal headache) and the last of my ibuprofen stash (’cause it didn’t work; maybe it was a hangover but I only had three drinks last night). Oh, and a mediocre chocolate croissant that this Japanese couple gave me. Hahaha, I’ll get there.

So last night I went on the tapas tour my hostel offered (by the way, I loved the hostel I stayed at in Granada. If you ever find yourself there, stay at the Oasis Hostel… great location, completely adorable, painfully easy to meet people). Directly before that, at the encouragement of a Kiwi staying in my room, I got around to cashing in my “welcome drink” (mm, sangria) and participated in a game of drinking Jenga (hahaha) just long enough to down it all in a waterfall. Then tapas… in Granada (and other places in Spain) tapas are little free dishes of food you get when you order a beer. Sometimes you can choose them, sometimes you can’t. Anyway, I got a girl named Jessica who speaks Spanish to order for me, and I ended up with some tasty things. Lots of standing around chatting and trying to juggle a mug of beer, a plate of food AND a fork. But I was social and buzzed and having a pretty good time.

I had to get back to the hostel by midnight, though, to check out, ’cause reception is closed from midnight to 8 and I had an early train to catch this morning. So I left from the second bar before the group was even thinking about heading back. I thought we were pretty close to Gran Via, the main road through town, but I must have headed off in COMPLETELY the wrong direction, because it wasn’t too long before I realized that I was pretty tipsy, alone in the dark in a strange city, pretty much unable to communicate, and COMPLETELY LOST (I did have a map of Granada, but ask me to show it to you sometime.  I do not know how maps this thoroughly bad get published or distributed to clueless tourists such as myself). Add my tendency to be a kinda emotional drunk and some 5000-miles-away stuff I’d rather not write about here… stir…

I asked directions a few times (”Por favor, Gran Via? Gracias…” &try to follow their gestures) and found my way back with about ten minutes to spare, but it was not a happy thing, you know?

So today I was SO looking forward to spending my long train ride back to Barcelona staring out the window and zoning out. All went perfectly according to plan until about eleven hours into what my ticket assured me would be a twelve-hour journey, when… I… missed my stop. Everyone was getting off the train but I knew we COULDN’T be in Barcelona yet. There was a Japanese couple still on the train, too, and I asked them if they were going to Barcelona. They were, so I sat back down and figured it’d be cool. The train was just starting to move again when I got up to use the bathroom. Coming towards me was a train official, whose expression when he saw me was not exactly pleased.

The train official spoke about three words of English, but after a lot of him talking at me/us (I have to admit, it kind of DOES get easier to understand if they just keep talking at you. It also drives me totally nuts), I gathered that we were supposed to get off at the Tarragona station and take a bus to Barcelona-Sants, since the track was being repaired or something in between those stations. Okay, so–in every Spanish train I’ve been on, there’s been a little piece of paper on the seat that said “RENFE INFORMA” (Renfe is the train company) and a bunch of stuff in Spanish. I kinda tried to read the first one and found it irrelevent or incomprehensible or both, and when I saw them afterwards I figured they were all the same. Dumb of me, probably. After this guy explained the bus thing, I picked up the info sheet and… well, damn. If I’d bothered trying to read it, I could’ve figured out that much and, well, been in Barcelona by then.

So we’re riding this ghost train to god-knows-where and the train official is yammering into his cell phone and gesturing violently and probably making fun of us, and we’re eyeing each other and giggling and exchanging bits of food. Finally he explains (for another, what, half hour??) that we’re going to the Barcelona-San Andreas-something else station, and from there we can take a train to Barcelona-Sants. But then that changes to a taxi, which will be free. The problem is that everytime he explains something and I understand it, he says something else that I don’t understand, and I say “no comprendo” in case it’s important, and then he explains ALL of it all over again. The Japanese couple don’t speak very good English and even less Spanish than me, so I’m the go-between.

Oh and meanwhile the official is smoking in the middle of the train car (with no smoking signs at either end) and ashing onto the floor, which I find hilarious. Spain seems to be that way with rules in general.

Long story short, there’s another long exchange about how they’re going to get us a taxi each and they can take us straight to where we’re staying, yes for free, and we get to the station and the Japanese couple each get their picture taken with me because they think the whole thing is hilarious too, and I get to my hostel and the guy at reception recognizes me ’cause I was here, you know, three or four days ago, and they’re playing “Lean On Me,” and I really want some fruit juice but it’s 11 o’clock at night. And, man. Hilarious or what? I am all shakey and weird and emotional. Tomorrow I am going to France. There, I will still be a stupid American, but at least I will be an American who knows how to apologize for her stupidity. (How do you say “sorry” in Spanish?? I just did lots of “gracias, gracias, muchos gracias” tonight.)

vive la langue français et les silly mittens (granada)

Sunday, November 18th, 2007

I discovered that though the shopkeepers around here mostly don’t speak English, they DO speak French! So I had a couple of small friendly conversations that felt so good (plus they thought I was from Canada). One of them suggested I walk up to the Mirador de San Nicolas at night for a great view, so I found my way up there, and he was definitely right:



When I got back to the hostel, one of the Americans I met said, “yeah, I’d love to go up there, but I’d never walk up there alone at night.” I think my sense of such things is a little off. Here’s hoping it never gets me in trouble (KNOCK ON WOOD).

Also, my hands are now warm and anthropomorphized:


¿donde esta la libertad? (granada, spain)

Sunday, November 18th, 2007

There will be pictures in this entry if the internet connection is cooperating, but I’m not holding my breath. Here is at least one, anyway:


The more I think about that question the more I have no idea how to answer it.

Sometimes traveling is all fun and adventures and sometimes it’s too much being lost and unable to communicate, and today is one of those days when it’s the latter. So where is freedom? That’s suddenly one of those big questions that life is a machine for answering. I don’t know.

I am in Granada. I’m glad I came here. My hostel is completely adorable, with a roof garden and a kinda-sorta courtyard in the middle and last night there was a delicious 5-euro Italian dinner. It’s right in the Albaicin, which is the Moorish/Arabic area of town, on the side of a hill… I gather it was built and lived in originally by the folks building the huge palaces of Alhambra, which I’ll get to. It’s all tiny streets with steps and gutters carved into them, paved beautifully with stones. Most of the streets near my hostel are lined with shops selling incense and hookahs and cheap clothes imported from Nepal or India, but that’s cool ’cause I kinda like that stuff.

So yesterday I decided to get as high up on the hill as I could to see what kind of view I got. I just took whatever street headed uphill, and got very, very lost, which is more or less what I intended. Oh, look, here’s some pictures of the Albaicin:










That’s the hill I was trying to get to the top of… then I found myself walking along this wall:


That’s Alhambra in the distance. Eventually I found a way through the wall, which I took, to see if I could get a better view. And this view was definitely breathtaking!



But, okay, when I’d read a little about Granada before I came here, I read something about cave dwellings. I imagined something ancient and abandoned (I was just skimming), but as I was walking along little dirt paths at the top of this steep hillside, I suddenly realized I was surrounded by very much occupied cave dwellings, with the entrances charmingly done up, and even a few people going about their morning business.


I suddenly felt like I was trespassing, and, honestly, somewhat unsafe for pretty much the first time on this trip–just because I can’t communicate or explain myself here, and I was, well, a bit of a distance away from anyone who might hear me if I yelled. And then I found myself critically analyzing my reaction for privilege and all that. Of course, no one bothered me while I tried to find my way down again (ended up having to backtrack back up and over) and no one spoke to me except one man when I was back among streets and buildings who asked me if I was looking for a nearby church (I think).



(There are feral cats ALL OVER Spain…)

After that I found my way up to Alhambra, which I didn’t know much about it except that it’s the big tourist thing to see in Granada and theoretically hard to get same-day tickets for. I walked up the steep streets to the entrance and bought a ticket for the “afternoon” visit, which meant I could enter after 2, with an entry to the Nasrid Palaces between 4 and 4:30. It was maybe 1 then, and if I’d known how big the gardens were and how many other palaces and such there were to see, I would have waited around and gone in right at 2, but instead I wandered the city a bit more and came back at 3 or so.



I hadn’t slept very well on the train the night before (a story in itself) and by the time I was inside Alhambra I was sleepwalking past all too much beauty. Here’s some of it, though.







(Just for kicks, a picture of the hillside I climbed up earlier, from the buildings I was taking pictures of from that hillside!)

And inside the Nasrid Palaces–oh my god! You can pay less to just see everything else, but this detail was totally worth the extra 5 or 6 euros (and so different from a lot of the gorgeous detail you see elsewhere in Europe):













After dinner I went out with some Americans from my hostel to a flamenco show at a tiny bar, which was really cool.



Mostly, though, I seem to have hit a wall I haven’t quite figured out how to climb over, so I’m spending the next couple of days on trains back to France, parce que j’aime parler français et je ne peux pas parler espagnol. Mon dieu. C’est une problème aujourd’hui.

Oh, but I’m, like, 6, and I thought this was hilarious:


viva españa

Friday, November 16th, 2007

Well, the man at the train station told me that even the TGV to Paris isn’t running right now, and won’t be until “maybe Monday,” which I admit confused me because I thought the unions were voting every day on whether to continue striking.  Oh well; in any case I bought a ticket to Granada and walked out of the station grinning to myself, so I guess I’m excited.

Some other things about Barcelona:

–the other day I saw an old lady with purple hair. I couldn’t really tell if maybe it was an accident, or what, but today I saw a different old lady with PINK hair.

–Dunkin’ Donuts is called Dunkin’ Coffee here. I’m not entirely clear on what you’re supposed to dunk the coffee into.

–man, those juices at la Boqueria. Freakin’ delicious.

–on my way to the train station I saw a woman wearing purple fishnets, leopard-print pumps, a short full denim skirt and a bright purple jacket.

–the “living statues” here have the “living” thing down pretty well, but not so much the “statue” thing, most of ‘em. The sheer variety of things they come up with is pretty impressive, though. The ones who seem to do the best are the ones who offer props to tourists who want to pose with them for pictures. There was a guy at the entrance to Parc Guell dressed like the mosaic lizard, with extra lizard hats for tourists, for example.

–I think one of the reasons I like this city so much is that it feels kinda like Portland on steroids. I mean, Parc Guell is like the painted intersections scattered around southeast Portland, times 10 and crawling with people. Montjuic is kinda like Mount Tabor. Etc.

–animals sold, in addition to pretty much every kind of bird small enough to be kept in a cage, on la Rambla of the Little Birds: sea turtles (tiny ones for 9 euros), land turtles, mice, gerbils, hamsters, bunny rabbits, ferrets, chipmunks (!), hedgehogs (!!!), chameleons, fish.

one last day in paradise (barcelona)

Friday, November 16th, 2007

I’m going to be sleeping on a train tonight, but I still haven’t decided in what direction it’ll be going–either to Granada or back up to Paris, and from there to Blois to see Robin.  I also have the email of some old friends of my grandparents who live outside of Paris, who would be delighted to have me stay with them, and I keep thinking how nice it might be to wander small-town France and practice my French skills.  I’m kind of intimidated by Spain, really, which maybe means I should stay here and confront that, though. Or maybe I should just do what I wanna do.

I have really loved Barcelona. Today I’m planning to mostly wander on the beach and take it easy. Yesterday I went to Parc Guell in the morning which was AWESOME. It’s like Candyland done in mosaic. Afterwards I went to Casa Mila a.k.a. La Pedrera, a Gaudi apartment building. I did the tour of the inside and all that, but I gotta say Gaudi’s exteriors are way cooler than his interiors. I went up on the roof terrace, though, which is rolling and full of stairs and arches and has a great view of la Sagrada Familia. They’ve added all these fences and railings, for obvious reasons, but I wish they’d made some effort to make them Gaudi-esque… oh well. In the early evening I went to the Picasso Museum. I liked the Miro Museum in part because following the thread of his earlier paintings made it easier for me to have epiphanies about his later ones, but in the Picasso Museum I just found myself getting impatient for the later stuff. I loved the room full of riffs on Velasquez’s Las Meninas.

Then Peter-from-Seattle and I went out for tapas at a place enough off the beaten track that I’m pretty sure we were the only people in there speaking English, which was pretty cool. And also delicious. We talked a lot about Portland and Seattle, and I missed home (as opposed to people) for the first time. Ahhh, Portland…

blue sea, blue sky (barcelona)

Wednesday, November 14th, 2007

Today on the subway on my way to la Sagrada Familia, a beautiful man with dreads walked through the car, followed by his off-leash dog. I watched him pass and thought to myself, “I could get used to this city.” Really though, there is nothing like Barcelona. I have extended my hostel stay twice. I mean, I am not used to this city. It looks so different from any other city I have ever seen. I mean, beautiful!! Plus, I still haven’t seen the Picasso Museum or Parc Guell (and I’m sorry about the lack of accents… despite these keyboards theoretically being Spanish keyboards, I really can’t figure them out).

This morning I met a kid named Peter who’s from Seattle, and he introduced me to some other kids he’s met, an Aussie and another American, and we walked up Montjuic. The views were pretty fucking stunning, but though it was nice to be talking and friendly and all that, the two guys were very American. I think there’s something about Americans when you get us together. Like Devin, Caitlin, Lauren and I trying loudly to decode the menu in the Thai restaurant in Den Haag. It’s not necessarily bad, it’s just… very… American. And I’m in Barcelona!!

So when they wandered back down towards the Mediterranean (!!! it’s so beautiful here), I wandered off in search of the Fundacion Miró (ahh, I figured out THAT accent) and had myself a fine time there. Some of his scuplture is really fantastic (and some of it is, as is to be expected, pretty weird). There was also an exhibition called “the body without limits” about exploration of the figure in 20th century art. The poster for it, which I saw as I walked into the museum, is a painting by Frantisek Kupka, who just happens to be one of my favorite-painters-I-always-forget-about, and the whole exhibit just kinda made my early afternoon.

(Planes of Color, or something like that, by Kupka)

What made my DAY was la Sagrada Familia. Oh my god, you guys. When Devin and I were at Notre Dame in Paris, we talked a little about what it must have been like to be a part of its construction and all that. At Sagrada Familia, IT IS GOING ON RIGHT NOW. The first stone was laid in 1882. Right now construction is a little more than half complete. Gaudí started it but died in the 20’s. Many of his plaster models and such were destroyed in the Spanish Civil War*, but designers and craftsmen have restored them where possible, and otherwise continued contruction according to their idea of Gaudí’s “vision.” It is AMAZING to me that something on this scale is under construction right now. It is undeniably a deeply religious project, but I watched the little video they have in the surprisingly large “museum” of the project, and it included shots of shirtless tattooed construction workers, which kind of amused me and got me thinking. I don’t know–la Sagrada Familia overwhelmed me. The scaffolding and construction noise only added to its impact in my mind. That people have been coming together for OVER 100 YEARS to build this thing… that’s as close to religion as I get. I don’t know. Plus, it’s incredibly beautiful. Google it, guys.

So, I’m here for at least another day of curvy buildings and beautiful Mediterranean skies.

*One of the things I really like about traveling is how much history you accidentally learn. Like the Spanish Civil War. I don’t think I could’ve even told you what century it happened in a few weeks ago. Which is pretty pathetic, I know, but hey, I’m learning now!

visca catalunya! (barcelona)

Tuesday, November 13th, 2007

Pretty much all I did today was ramble down La Rambla (heh–Rick Steves’ joke, not mine) and people-watch (many of the people here are, um, muy guapo.  Also, I’ve seen more facial piercings here, especially on men, than I have since, well, Portland) and all that, enjoying the LOVELY mild weather and blue sky. I didn’t even bother with my jacket! My favorite part was La Boqueria, which is this huge (huge) covered market with fruit stalls and meat stalls and little tapas bars. I got some really really tasty papaya and mango juice (basically puree) for 1 euro.

I wandered all the way down to the harbor, sat in the sun for awhile, wandered back. Tomorrow I’m gonna get serious about this sightseeing thing and go to the Picasso Museum, the Miro Museum (!!!) and as many Gaudi buildings as I can. Have I mentioned there is one a block away from my hostel? It is so cool. This city looks so different from anywhere else, all these Art Nouveau and Modernista touches. The touristy part of the city is a tiny tiny tiny piece of Barcelona, but it’s the part with the MAZE of tiny streets the map doesn’t even bother naming. Tomorrow I’m also gonna go get lost in some of those, maybe, towards the cathedral, which is also supposed to be worthwhile.

I reserved another night at this hostel because I was so lazy today and there is so much I want to see here. I think I might go to Granada next–as far as I can tell, the train is a night train, so I might have all of Thursday to see stuff here, too. I’m gonna go to the station tomorrow to see if I can figure it out. After that hopefully I’ll be able to get back into France. I thought I was gonna head from France back down to Italy, then Greece, but the hostel I want to stay at in Gimmelwald, Switzerland (TINY town in the Alps, recommended by Rick Steves AND a Reedie acquaintance of mine) closes for the winter on December 1st, so I think I’m gonna head north first instead.

whirlwind (barcelona, spain, via everywhere else)

Monday, November 12th, 2007

Oh my goodness, you guys! I last wrote in Amsterdam, which was probably only a few days ago but feels like a world away. I mean, hell, I woke up in the Hague yesterday morning. I fell wholly and unexpectedly in love with Holland. I kept going, “I love this country! I want to live here!” Then today on the train in the south of France I looked out and saw a yellow house, and I thought of Portland and had second thoughts. Traveling is about the going home, after all.

Anyway, after eight hours on two trains from Paris, I’m in Barcelona, home of Gaudi, Miro, and Picasso. I can’t wait to see it in the daytime. The hostel I’m at (one of those huge ones, but I’m a block away from a Gaudi building and there’s a gorgeous staircase) has free internet, but I can’t get at the USB slots, so I can’t share any of the eighty bazillion pictures I’ve taken out train windows and of Amsterdam, Den Haag, Antwerp, Brussels and Paris since buying myself a sweet new camera (merry Christmas to me). So (and ’cause I’m sleepy and telling you everything would take about a million years), here’s some highlights until I get a chance to do so:

…hitchhiked from Amsterdam to not-quite-Den-Haag. A Canadian woman living near Den Haag with her Venezualan boyfriend (who works for Shell) picked us up after a whole bunch of Dutch drivers grinned and shrugged at us or gave us thumbs up. She told us that we were the first hitchhikers she’d seen in the three years she’s lived there. Anyway, it was exciting for me ’cause I’d never hitched before, and it was exciting to Devin ’cause the Dutch were so responsive to us! We stood on the on-ramp and giggled a lot. And got a ride through hellacious traffic to a train station where the ride right into the center of the Hague was only 2 euros.

…met Caitlin, a Reedie friend of Devin’s who I didn’t know, and Lauren, who’s studying in Paris in the same program as Caitlin, at their swanky hotel. They were in the Hague for the Holland Dance Festival. We all went out to dinner and had a grand time. Wandered the city, which I liked almost as much as Amsterdam. Tons of culture, art EVERYWHERE, and this dance festival thing which may have been misleading (as far as the city in general goes) but which was awesome to see everywhere.

…wandered in an extensive, forested park and found the coolest hidden playground ever.

…smoked a joint on a very very windy beach.

…saw a dance concert for 8 euros, walked back to the hotel talking about it.

…woke up very very early to get on a train to Antwerp/Brussels/Paris. Had tea in Antwerp. Spent a few hours in Brussels, which was WEIRD. When we first got off the train, it was MAGNIFICENT. We walked a few hundred meters to a gorgeous square surrounded by incredibly beautiful old buildings and delicious waffle shops. Then we wandered some more and the incredibly beautiful old buildings remained, with the addition of trash and squalor and grafitti and, finally, in the dirtiest sketchiest park ever, a dude in a fucking SKI MASK, at which point I said “let’s go to Paris” and Devin said “yeah” and we went. There were also huge groups of chanting schoolkids everywhere wearing what appeared to be scout uniforms or something, which added to the vague post-apocalyptic feel of the whole city. Also my feet were killing me (the sad truth is that my beloved boots and I are growing apart. Tempers and soles are wearing thin) and I knocked over Devin’s bottle of chocolate milk in the train station and I needed some protein or something (after waffles for lunch, heh) and I was in a foul mood. (I got better.)

…wandered Montmartre trying to find the hostel I stayed in when I was 17 by feel. Succeeded! And they had plenty of room!

…wandered Montmartre some more, up to Sacre Coeur. Looked out over the city.

…this morning we walked down to the Seine and through the Tuileries and around the Louvre. Then Devin walked me to the train station and we said goodbye. I wrote on the train:

“There is a part of me that is already lonely, and part of me that will be glad to set my own schedule for the next little while. There is a part of me that still wonders why I am here on this train in Spain 5000 miles from home, and part of me that wants to keep wandering forever–the part of me that’s saying ‘Thailand next! Brazil! New Zealand! India!’”

Well, I took this trip to travel alone, and get past the loneliness to whatever comes afterwards. Maybe that’s ridiculous when I’ve still got people to visit who I can’t wait to see. And anyway two weeks ago I was saying I had no idea why I took this trip. Which is true, but not in a bad way. I’m having a fine time. I’m confused by my feelings, which change as fast as I keep moving from place to place (Devin said, “we are so mobile! Tonight you’ll be in Barcelona and I’ll be in Dublin!”).

There’s a train strike in France on Wednesday, so I’m in Spain at least until that’s over, unless it shows signs of going on for ages and I decide to take a 16 hour ferry to Italy instead of going back up through France to visit Bonnie and Robin next, which is my plan. Any advice on other cool places to visit in Spain? How about Portugal? I met a girl on the train today who’s living here who said Lagos is supposed to be really nice.

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