(no subject)
Riding through the French Pyrenees one discovers carpets of forests covering the jaggedly formed mountains. One along discovers along the winding road small towns at indefinite intervals. In each town, small, painted houses, the color of freshly baked pastries, seem to pop up through the carpet of green, like small toys left behind by a wandering child.
The town of La Tour de Carol is a meeting point of two worlds constructed by a curious triad of the tongue: Spanish, French and Catalan…
Then I discover it’s another three hours to Barcelona so the imagery basically dies. j/k. We finally arrived in Barcelona after bidding farewell to Fatima, a woman en route to meet her brother in prison, and the woman we spent several hours helping get a bus as she spoke no Spanish and under the circumstances (i.e. her brother was in prison) she needed to get to aljaceres as soon as possible.
We arrived at our hostel, my buddy Hector and me, and discovered it was a pretty ummm… dirty place. Bunk beds are a funny thing, especially when they seem like they could break at any minute but we were in Barcelona so none of it mattered. The next few days were spent sight-seeing (the famous Gaudi buildings, the humongous town squares, the beaches and the historic parts of town), shopping (of course I spent, and of course too much) hitting up the Barcelona/gay night life (clubs, clubs and more clubs). It was a total blast.
Going home was a drag since European forms of transportation seem to like to get cancelled or delayed by excessive amounts of time. We spent two hours waiting for hour train in La Tour de Carol (a town on the border of Spain and France), and another forty minutes in the French town of Foix. We left at twelve noon and got home t o Toulouse at about eleven; it sucked.
I have two weeks left until school starts and I’m spending most of the time just kicking it in my apartment reading, going out to run small errands, and just getting to know the city of Toulouse a little better. It’s nice to finally get a break from the world. I miss a lot of things back home and a lot of people but for the moment Toulouse is home.
The town of La Tour de Carol is a meeting point of two worlds constructed by a curious triad of the tongue: Spanish, French and Catalan…
Then I discover it’s another three hours to Barcelona so the imagery basically dies. j/k. We finally arrived in Barcelona after bidding farewell to Fatima, a woman en route to meet her brother in prison, and the woman we spent several hours helping get a bus as she spoke no Spanish and under the circumstances (i.e. her brother was in prison) she needed to get to aljaceres as soon as possible.
We arrived at our hostel, my buddy Hector and me, and discovered it was a pretty ummm… dirty place. Bunk beds are a funny thing, especially when they seem like they could break at any minute but we were in Barcelona so none of it mattered. The next few days were spent sight-seeing (the famous Gaudi buildings, the humongous town squares, the beaches and the historic parts of town), shopping (of course I spent, and of course too much) hitting up the Barcelona/gay night life (clubs, clubs and more clubs). It was a total blast.
Going home was a drag since European forms of transportation seem to like to get cancelled or delayed by excessive amounts of time. We spent two hours waiting for hour train in La Tour de Carol (a town on the border of Spain and France), and another forty minutes in the French town of Foix. We left at twelve noon and got home t o Toulouse at about eleven; it sucked.
I have two weeks left until school starts and I’m spending most of the time just kicking it in my apartment reading, going out to run small errands, and just getting to know the city of Toulouse a little better. It’s nice to finally get a break from the world. I miss a lot of things back home and a lot of people but for the moment Toulouse is home.