Contiki Chronicles, Day 7: BarceloNA? How about BarceloYEAH!

I promise I'll stop making puns on city names soon.

So today was the day in Barcelona. Which, by the way, is a really nice city.

We were dropped off in the middle of the city at the top of La Rambla, which is kind of a big long street with lots of shops and whatnot. Having seen the outside of Gaudi's church - La Segrada Familia (or The Sacred Family), we then decided to head off to see the inside.

Well, that was the plan, anyway.

We took the metro to the church (and here's a good time to point out that Barcelona's metro system is surprisingly easy to use. Although that's to be expected. if it were hard to use, nobody would use it), and when we arrived, well... Take a look:

This is the outside of the church from the walking tour around it the previous day:

Actually wait, first. A bit of an explanation. As the name implies, La Segrada Familia is a church dedicated to the family of Jesus Christ. However, that's kinda irrelevant to the point I'm getting at which  is the fact that the outside of the church is divided into three facades, each representing a different part of Jesus' life: The nativity, the passion, and the glory - birth, death and resurrection, in that order.

So here we go, starting from the Nativity facade, and working our way anti-clockwise through the facades:

The Nativity Facade:

The Back. Nothing much to see here:

The Passion Facade. This is the side that has the ticket booth for entrance to the church:

Aaand the Glory Facade:

Did I mention the Glory Facade is still under construction? It's going to be the biggest and well, glorious of the three facades, and it still isn't complete despite the fact that construction started on the church in 1882.

So there you have it. you have four sides, each with a wildly different architectural style, with the Nativity opposite to the Passion, and the Glory at the front.

So here's the sight we saw when we came out of the metro station:

That's one the side of the Nativity Facade. Remember when I said the ticket booth was on the Passion Facade side? Yeah. that's the same line. 

So we then decided to head on back to La Rambla. Not wanting to waste a perfectly good €2 worth of metro ticket, we decided to take the opportunity to walk back. Noting to ourselves that this particular Barcelonian (Barcelonan? Spanish.) monument was actually off the map we were given. So we promptly got ourselves slightly lost (but not too lost!) and ended up back where we started with little gained but some exercise. Which we promptly remedied by eating lunch at McDonalds.

So with our bellies full and balance restored to the universe, we - 

Wait, I've forgotten something.

BEFORE we decided to waste our time at a church we didn't get to enter, we were taken on a nice little tour of Barcelona's Gothic Quarter. it's a nice place - lots of winding streets with narrow passages, easy to get lost in. We walked past the place where Christopher Columbus first unveiled American Indians to Europe, and sooner or later ended up in a very nice little square somewhere.

It was a very nice square:

Peaceful, even:

Well, that is, until you saw the bullet holes:

Turns out this particular tiny little square was the site of a brutal scene from the Spanish civil war. Unarmed civilians were lined up against the walls of the church, and shot in cold blood. The height of some of the bullet marks suggest that even some children were present that day. Although the height of the others suggest that they just weren't very good shots. Or perhaps some soldiers intentionally aimed high to avoid having blood on their hands. I'll probably never know.

So back to the present, and we are now walking down La Rambla. It's an incredibly busy street (and you'd better keep a close eye on your possessions) but for some reason today there weren't quite as many street side stalls as there are. I mean, there were still a lot, but I wasn't accosted to buy something or other every ten steps.

We ducked out of the street for a bit to look through a bunch of covered markets, and for a while we just wandered around in there, looking at everything there was:

It was while we were here that we were stuck in the middle of a very Spanish peculiarity: Siesta.

Now don't get me wrong. The idea of Siesta is pure genius. Have lunch, close the shop, go the fuck to sleep for two hours, wake the fuck up, and get the fuck back to work. What more could you want?

Well, at least, that;s the point of view from the people actually taking the Siesta. As a tourist, all you get from this experience is two hours where you can't buy anything, and the slightly odd felling of standing in a crowded market, and suddenly realising that not only are three quarters of the shops around you now closed, but there is suddenly a lot less people around. Like so:

No wonder their economy is so messed up.

So we walked out from under the covered markets (without buying anything on my part) and casually strolled down to the beach, where we spent the rest of the afternoon. The beach in Barcelona is one of the rarest sights in Europe: An actual, proper, SANDY BEACH.

Well, scratch the "actual" part, because the beach is entirely fucking FAKE. 

Yes, that's right, it's an entire fake beach. They opened most of the beaches in Barcelona when they hosted the Olympics in 1992. They also ship stupid amounts of sand from somewhere each year to replenish the sand lost due to storm erosion. Of course, it's all worth it because of the ridiculous amount of people that go to the beach every day.

Take a look:

If you look closely (or at all) you'll see that there are more people on that beach than there is actual beach. It's insane.

So we chilled out there for a while, went swimming for a bit, and pretty much everything else that happens on the beach. I should point out that it is a REALLY nice beach, with amazingly clear water - warm too, and the only problem is that the biggest wave is about twelve centimetres high. But you learn to deal with it.

...Aaaand then we went home, after several hours of the beach in which I got more sunburnt than I can ever remember being. Which was kinda stupid on my part. I was peeling for weeks.

Oh yeah, and on they way back, I saw this sign, which kinda cracked me up:

(I'll make it big so you can actually see it)

With that note, I'm off. Tomorrow is another travel day, to the French Riviera!

I failed.

Dear Kat, 

I failed. 

Well, that is to say, I would have failed, had I not decided to write this post telling you that I failed.

Life's weird that way. 

Regards, Fuddle

 In other news, I'll probably get back to the typing and the clicking and the blog posting soon. And by soon I mean tomorrow.

NOT the Contiki Chronicles!

Well, it looks like I made it to 8 days. That's a personal best! But.. yeah. Sorry for not continuing on with this. I will finish the Contiki Chronicles, I just, uh... had to go on hiatus. Yeah. an impromptu, unexplained, unplanned and indefinite hiatus. That'll do it. "Hiatus" is like a general cover-all for laziness, isn't it? So I'll be back. When I feel like it. Which could be very soon, but probably won't be. See ya!

Contiki Chronicles, Day 6: Some things that happened in Spain one time

So yeah. The next morning we all shook off our raging hangovers and ended up driving West, towards Barcelona. Before we got there, though, we stopped off in the town of Zaragoza (or Goya, I'm actually not entirely sure which). Honestly, there wasn't a whole lot there, but I got some photos anyway:

My entire time spent in this town consisted of walking up a street, buying some Churros, walking a bit further, walking back, buy a shot glass, and then going back to the coach. Good times.

After a bit more driving, we arrived in Barcelona, our stop for the night. And also the night after that. It was kinda late, but we still did some things, like went up the hill to get some pretty nice views of the city:

We also walked to, and around La Sagrada Família, which is a big-ass church. But more on that tomorrow. Speaking of tomorrow, that's it for today. These travel days aren't really all that particularly interesting, are they? Well, day 7 is tomorrow. How about that.

Contiki Chronicles, Day 5: Surf, Sand, and BULLS

Oh boy, now THIS was an interesting day. It rained again in the morning, but after breakfast we were once again on the coach and on our way.

We stopped in the town of Biarritz, on the coast near the Spanish border. And let me just say, it has a rather marvellous coastline (and one of the few sandy beaches we found in Europe). Take a look:

Pretty, huh? There was also some kind of church:

After a swim, some lunch, and a game of touch on the beach, we boarded the bus again, and left for our final destination for the day, across the Spanish border: Pamplona.

Now, some of you may know this, but Pamplona is the city where one of the worlds most famous (and dangerous) festivals is held: The Festival of San Fermin, better known to the rest of the world as The Running of the Bulls.

I mentioned yesterday that today would be Bastille Day? Bastille day is Sunday 14th July. The Running of the Bulls is a week (and a bit) long festival, beginning on the 6th of July and ending on... the 14th. That's right, we were there for the final day of the Running of the Bulls.

Of course, we arrived far to late to compete in any of the running, but we were there for the much safer and much better part of the day - the afterparty.

Before I get into that, though, a couple of words on the Festival of San Fermin. While most cities in Spain do indeed celebrate Saint Fermin, Pamplona has by far the wildest festival. The origin of the Running is kinda unclear, but it's known that during the festival, the farmers would run their bulls through the city streets to the bullring, where they would eventually be killed off by a matador, and the bulls could then be used for food. At some point, though, people started running with the bulls, and this grew and grew every year until it became a major part of the festival.

There are a few restrictions on competing: Firstly, you must be over 18 years old, you have to run in the same direction as the bulls, not incite the bulls, and not be under the influence of alcohol. Ultimately, this means that for a heard of stampeding bulls, it's surprisingly safe. Of course, that's all relative. Since record-keeping began in 1924, only fifteen people have died: All of them were Spanish, save two, and all were killed by goring save two (a different two). Those two were killed when one was suffocated by being pushed up against a wall by the crowd in 1977, and when the other was hit bull the horn of a bull (which somehow constitutes being different from goring, according to Wikipedia) in 2003.

Even so, the bull running is a major part of life in Pamplona. On one of the main streets, coming up to the arena, they've even erected a rather disturbingly gory statue of the bull running:

(That's me on the back of the bull.)

So that's the history over and done with. And now, on to the main attraction: The massive piss up/street party that was the afterparty for the Running of the Bulls.

...Well, I'd tell you if I could remember it. Truth be told, my rationale for that particular evening was that A LOT of predrinking would be required. So in the hour or two before we got on the shuttle bus into town, I drank a litre of Sangria (fruity-type wine, about 7% alcohol), drank a bottle of red wine, and about half a bottle of white. The rest of the night was kinda a blur. After we got off the shuttle bus, I remember falling over backwards and fucking up my wrists (they still hurt a little bit) and breaking another bottle of wine I had in my backpack. I remember swapping hats with a lot of people, to the point that I lost my favourite hat EVER. I remember randomly dancing on the street in front of a club with a new hat in front of me, on the off chance that I'd make some money (I made 50c). I remember having a swig of absinthe that I'd bought in Biarritz, before realising how disgusting it tasted and passing it off. I never saw the bottle again. I remember going into a random souvenir store and buying a shot glass (which I didn't discover for about four more days). I remember ordering a JD & Coke from a bar, having about twi sips, and the putting it down. I remember breaking off from the group, walking about on my own, and eventually meeting up with them again in the main square. And I remember most of everything after that, including what were, at the time, THE WORLD'S GREATEST KEBABS. And, among other things, I remember eventually taking the taxi back to the campsite, and passing out in the tent.

It was a good night.

Tomorrow is day 6. Is anybody excited?

Contiki Chronicles, Day 4: Rain! Travel! Rainy Travel!

Have I mentioned that it rained for most of the time we were in Paris?

Well, I just did. And it also rained for most of the next day, when we were travelling from Paris to a small town outside Bordeaux, St. Emilion.

That wasn't really a particularly interesting day. It rained when we got there, we had to set up tents in the rain, and when the rain stopped and we decided to go out for a night on the town, we discovered everything was closed because the day after was the French national holiday, Bastille Day (in commemoration of the day when the French stormed the Bastille during the French Revolution).

So... yeah. Nothing particularly interesting there, although there was some minor trouble with the coach in the morning - the engine had cut out, and we couldn't figure out how to pull the battery out so we could jump start it. Still, it all got sorted out.


So... yeah. That's it for today.

Contiki Chronicles, Day 3: Versailles and the tomb of the Emperor

Enter day three. The plan for today was to take a drive down to the palace at Versailles and the attached village, wonder around there for a while, before going back into Paris for the second free day. There were also some optional activities in the evening which were pretty fun.

Now, remember when I said that the Louvre was big? That was because it used to be the French Royal Palace, and the French Royalty liked big stuff. Which is why Louis XIV decided it wasn't big enough. He ordered a newer palace to be built outside Paris, on top of a Royal hunting lodge near the village of Versailles. And let me tell you, that place is MASSIVE. Here are some photos:

Like I said, massive. It has a floor area of something like 67,000 square metres. and over 2,000 rooms. And that is where the French Royal Family lived. Until, of course, the French Revolution came along and fucked them all over. Some time after that, it was reopened as a museum, and that is why it's such a huge tourist destination, and why the town fills up every day, and empties out every night. Take a look:

I don't know if you can see it, but that first photo shows the ticket office all the way in the distance.

That second photo shows the end of the line.

Naturally, I didn't go in, but instead just took photos from the outside. I've already been in one time before, and it's all hopelessly over the top and ridiculously expensive-looking.

So, we hade lunch at a conveniently located McDonalds, and before long were on our way back to Paris.

Now. Nobody who goes to Paris leaves without seeing this. It's the most visited paid monument in the world. At the time of it's building, it was the tallest structure in the world. It was also one of the most mathematically perfect structures ever built. What is it?

If you said the Eiffel Tower, you'd be wrong.

Okay, kidding. It was the Eiffel Tower. Standing at 324m tall, the Eiffel Tower was designed by Gustave Eiffel (funny, that) for the 1889 World Fair, for which it stood as the entrance arch. Funnily enough, when it was first built, it was criticised heavily by the artistic community of Paris, who said it was an eyesore. Oh well, they grew to love it in the end. Or something. Another interesting thing about it is that it was never meant to be a permanent fixture. It was only meant to stay up for 20 years, after which ownership would revert back to the City of Paris, and they would tear it down. However, it turned out to be quite useful as a broadcasting tower, and was allowed to stay up. A good thing, too - the Tower received its 2,000,000th visitor in 2002, and it is the most visited paid monument in the world. This is what it looks like from the bottom.

You can pay to climb up to the top, as well, and as you do, the views only get more spectacular.

Those are three photos, taken from the first, second, and third floors, respectively. As you can see, it gets pretty damn high. Do you need a bit more of perspective? Do you remember the Arc de Triomphe yesterday? It was pretty big, right?

Nope:

Oh, and what about that spire in the Place de la Concorde? 23m is fairly high, isn't it?

Also nope:

...Oh? You can't see it? Let's zoom in more, then.

That's at 16x zoom. So yeah, the Eiffel Tower is pretty big. And you get a pretty awesome view of Paris from the top, including this, which seems to be advertising targeted solely at people climbing the Tower:

I mean, who the hell else is going to see that? The birds? Passenger planes? I just found that kinda funny, is all.

Anyway, I then headed back down the tower and was on my way to my next destination: Église du Dôme, which is down the back of Les Invalides, which also house the Musée de l'Armée. That is to say, I was going to go to the old veteran's retirement home, which also house the Army Museum, and down the back is Église du Dôme, which contains.... Napoleon's Tomb.

Now, Napoleon did some pretty amazing things in his life. First of all, after being put in charge of an army that had never seen victory, he not only crushed his enemies, but in doing so, won their adulation and loyalty... which he then used to lead a military coup in Paris, which was still under somewhat questionable leadership in the aftermath of the French Revolution. During the course of his life, he set himself up as the Emperor of France, forced the Pope into declaring him the Holy Roman Emperor, won some stupid number of wars, crushed five coalitions of nations against him, created the Napoleonic Code, which is the basis of the French constitution, and invaded Russia, even going so far as burning Moscow to the ground. It was there that his career met it's turning point, though - the Russian scorched earth tactics left Napoleon's army to the harsh Russian Winter, and on the retreat back to Paris. The Russian cossacks harassed the French forces, and by the time Napoleon limped back into Paris, his original army of over 600,000 men was reduced to less than 25,000 men. That kinda goes to show you, taking on the Russians is never a good idea.

His story doesn't end there though. Seeing his weakened state, the Sixth Coalition was formed to take down Napoleon, and in shame, he surrendered without a fight. He was exiled to the island of Elba, off the coast of Italy. However, he escaped less than a year later, and returned to Paris. The governing body there sent Napoleon's old army to capture him, but instead they supported him, and Napoleon again led them to seize control of the country. Other countries then tried to take him down again, and he was eventually defeated at the Battle of Waterloo. After that, Napoleon was exiled not to the comparatively nearby Elba, but instead to Saint Helena, about 1,870km off the coast of Africa. That was where he lived out his last years and died.

This is his tomb:

His Tomb is designed on two levels, such that it's only possible to look up to him, or look down upon him, but never as an equal. The tomb is ringed by a dozen angels, each of whom seems to be wielding a different assortment of items. In fact, I actually found these angels to be more interesting than the tomb.

This one seemed to be holding some kind of flying croissant:

This one had a baseball cap on:

And this one had what appeared to be the world's bluntest sword:

While this one had a vuvuzela:

There was another one which seemed to have a cow pat on its head, but I didn't get a picture of that somehow.

Anyway, after looking around in there, I headed outside. Just near the exit, there was a small souvenir stand, selling classic Napoleon/France-related things, like decks of cards, pencils, fake replica pistols... Oh. And batteries. Made in Germany:

I found that pretty funny. Anyway, I was soon on my way out, and after having a brief look through the Army Museum, I headed back to the pick-up point and awaited the bus.

That evening, there were two optional activities (that is, activities which were organised by the tour company, but you had to pay extra for if you wanted to go on them). They were a dinner at this incredible restaurant, where I had the most mouthgasmic Duck à l'orange you have ever tasted, and an... interesting Burlesque show. We were given free wine at the restaurant and free champagne at the show, and this made for a pretty good night, for our last night in Paris.

Day 4 is coming up next, but I'll warn you now that it's not particularly interesting. See you then anyway.