Now long story short, Petey was supposed to come on this extravaganza, but we had some minor setbacks in the planning department. Alas, I had to go solo. I would be taking off Wednesday night at midnight on what would be the stupidest train rides of my life. You see, I had to get to Dusseldorf for my flight, which is technically a five hour train ride from Berlin. Sure, well that turned into 9 hours of train rides, buses, and cabs.
We, Petey and I, had mentally prepared me for this trip I was taking. I of course do not speak German, as much as I would like to this so, so I was presented with cue cards that would help me out in the case of an emergency. Things like “where is the bus?”, “where is this train?” and “this is my friend Paddy’s phone number…please call her immediately to help me”. Great cue cards really; very effective.
I got on the train just before midnight and was on my way. I was supposed to be arriving at my first transfer just after 5am, and needless to say it arrived late and therefore I missed every connecting train/bus/shuttle after that. Awesome. Way to start things off wonderfully at 5am. Being resourceful I got my stuff together ASAP and went to find someone to show my cue cards too. Turns out I came across the two sweetest older men who worked at the station and they helped me out! I didn’t even need my cue cards! Yay! I was directed to platform 9 and there two more fellas helped me out. One actually spoke to the conductor and then the conductor promised he would let me know when I had to transfer off his train! So nice.
So there I was, on train two, transferred onto a bus, back onto another train, and finally a shuttle taking me to the airport. Exhausting to say the least, but of course making friends all the way. At a certain point, there seemed to be a group of us that all migrated together for the airport so everything worked out well.
All I can say is I have never in my life been so relieved to get to an airport. I mean this thing was in the middle of nowhere, bordering the Netherlands, but fields, cows, who knew what surrounded this airport. I freshened up, made sure my bags were good to go and went to check in. I had not been able to weigh my suitcase before hand, but I was just praying that it would be 20kg or under. Please, please, please. I had it all planned out in my head that if it was over, I would wear my sweater, my winter coat, and put on a pair of my heaviest high heels. Okay, mentally prepared: check.
When I got up there, to my amazement…my bag was 19kg. WOOO! The guy laughed at me clearly because of my reaction and I tossed in my coats. No need to carry those around unnecessarily right? Excellent! Things were looking up! After this, is was smooth sailing. My flight was great and we arrived a little bit ahead of schedule.
Of course, Pabs was there to pick me up and I was once again loving life. I swear I should have been born in Spain. For once, the sun loves me. The five days went by like THAT (cue finger snap) and it was legendary weather. But before I get ahead of myself, let’s talk about the night life!
I was thrilled to be meeting up with Pabs boys again; after all they are probably some of the funniest people I have ever met. So we got together, had some drinks and hit the town. Somewhere in our pre-drink basketball came up, Canada came up and then of course, Toronto. Turns out a Spanish player plays on Toronto’s team, anyways, news to me, so of course it became a fashion show of jerseys. Excellent. And true to their jerseys, the boys wore them to the bar: even better. What a great night. I don’t know what it is about Spain but I could be out at the bar until 6am, 9am, and have no concept of time. I think the whole notion that you only get together around 11pm-midnight, go to the bar at like 2, and well, dance until 6 is crazy…but it works. In Canada my ass is in bed by 2am. Nobody stays until last call. Funny eh?
My days were spent wisely: reading outside in the sun. I can honestly say I would happily do that for the rest of my life. Sit outside in the Spanish sun, and read my novels It was heaven on earth. And like I said, the Spanish sun is the only one that doesn’t seem to burn me. Even better. It’s the little things right. Us pasty whites can appreciate some good tanned colour; which happens once in a blue moon.
We also had the chance to go to dinner (sushi! Finally!) with Pabs cousin and his girlfriend. The food was fantastic and the conversations just as interesting. Post our dinner we started a little bar hop. This is what you do. You eat, and then you go to 2-3 places for drinks. This is normal. God I love Spain. So we went to a little cocktail joint, then a sort of rock bar. Really, really cool. A wonderful night to say the least.
On Sunday I was lucky enough to go with Pabs to the Pyrenees. It was my fourth time to Spain, third time to Zaragoza, and I had never been. I was psyched to say the least. We packed some lunch meats to have a picnic somewhere when we arrived, but the picnic just never happened.
First off: this was supposed to be a 2 hour drive, which somehow turned into 3+. Those zoom zoom commercials with the winding roads up the mountain…yep. That is totally accurate and then some. We were winding all over the place and it got to a point where we were both laughing. “Do you know where you are going anymore?”. Only one way to find out. Of course he was relieved when we got there, we parked the car, debated the sandwiches in the car and then saw the restaurant across the street. Bye bye sandwiches. This cute little veranda, covered in ivy leaves, was to die for. Not to mention the weather was like 40C outside that day. I ordered a steak and he ordered a meat of sorts and we were starving. Well…I think she thought we were giants or something because I swear the steak was the size of my face: it was massive. Never in my life have I seen such a large piece of meat. His either! I think when I chocked on my beer, I realized I had to take a picture since no-one would believe me.
And the best part? Rare as anything. How is that even possible when it’s as thick as a house? Oh Spain…you never cease to amaze me.
The rest of the afternoon was spent wandering through the wonderful city of Ainsa. Gorgeous doesn’t even cut it. It was quirky, small, quaint, majestic, smelled like heaven and had history you couldn’t even imagine. And then the other thing: the view from the top of the Pyrenees. Go figure. The balconies were covered in ivy leaves and flowers, horses pulling tourists and cobblestone galore. It was a privilege to see it.
We came across this bell tower and I decided we had to go up to the top. It wasn’t that tall, but the history was calling my name. Now I am no history major, but I think mankind was doubled in size over the years. These staircases were made for my sister. We were bent in half, laughing our head off, but secretly holding on for dear life since it was so steep. Just mind boggling. Getting to the top was well worth it though! What a view!
Now, like I said it was over 40C so drinks were well needed. We are sitting there, chatting, me taking in the scenery and I look over and this horse is just chilling beside our table. Pardon? Fantastic. Just hanging out. No big deal. Totally normal. As much as I was tempted to go over and introduce myself to this beautiful horse, I figured if he wasn’t a fan, my previous 15 foot fall would be a laugh compared to this drop over the edge. Yeah, I passed.
On our drive home we were able to pass through the town of Bielsa which was also quite pretty. However, while driving it occurred to us we were going the wrong way. We were about to go into France. Bah. So we crossed the border, into France, took in the view for a good second or two (since it was now raining) and dashed back over to Spain. How funny, simple and yet so exciting all at the same time.
I was supposed to return to Dusseldorf Tuesday at lunch, so Monday night we finished off on a total high. Pabs got all his cousins together and we did tapas. Now, I’m sorry, but Tapas is probably my new addiction. I love everything about it. We started at my absolute fav place with the loaded mushrooms, garlic and shrimp on a slice of baguette. After we literally inhaled those we crossed the street where I was introduced to ‘broken eggs’.
Basically you take potatoes cut extremely thin, toss on some sunny side up eggs on top, and your choice of prociutto, foie de gras, sausage, anything. I wasn’t really sure what to expect, other than the obvious: I would love it. Shocking right. Yumm is the understatement of the century. This was heaven in your mouth. No really though. We inhaled the first jamon covered on so fast, we ordered a second with foie de gras.
Is your mouth salivating yet? I think yes. Mine is just writing this again. To top all things off, we each ordered another dish. Mine was black rice with aiolo smothered on top. To sum this up, Masterchef Graham Elliot would have said it was an orgasm in your mouth. To die for.
What a perfect way to cap off Spain. I think, out of all the countries I have visited Spain is still the most near and dear to my heart. I love everything about it and I can’t wait to visit again.
Estaré de vuelta tan pronto como pueda; I will be back as soon as I can.
xoxo
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