Madrid no es como el Sevilla

To all my readers out there, I know I’m overdue for a blog post.  If you read my last one, you know why it was difficult for me to post while we were in Spain; and if you didn’t… well go back and read it then silly!

So my last post while I was in Toledo, I updated you on the majority of what we did while we were in Spain.  Our day-to-day activities really didn’t change much.  There were always weeds that needed pulling, things to be fixed, and a horse to take care of, which of course, it being crazy and hating its stable, ran off while the three of us were in Toledo, so when we arrived back to where she lives we learned that the Spanish can be incredibly stupid sometimes.  First of all, the horse went into Almorox, the little tiny village, and when we asked the police if they had seen her horse, they just replied saying they had… Wouldn’t it have been smart to try and contain the horse?  All sorts of terrible things could happen with a horse on the loose.  It or someone else could have gotten very hurt.  Second, her neighbor who caught the horse and managed to keep it said that it followed a man on horseback who has many stables, and yet he didn’t even think to hold it there until surely someone would start asking about.  Silly Spaniards.

So, given the lack of stimulating events around us, we spent a lot of our time in heavy conversation with our host.  I also managed to read a lot, which was nice and relaxing.  I found that the Spain that I had fallen in love with many years ago as a child varies greatly from one region to another.  Madrid and Toledo are nothing like Sevilla; the people aren’t as nice, the food isn’t as good, and the atmosphere just isn’t the same.  We didn’t see much of Madrid, we merely used it as a means of traveling since it was a bit far away to spend our days off there, but I got enough of a vibe to sense that it was completely different.  Things our host had to say about the difference between central Spain and Andalucía confirmed my hunches too.

That being said, I can’t say we didn’t enjoy our time in Spain.  Our host made for wonderful company, wonderful conversation, and great food.  Oddly enough, a huge chunk of our conversations were frequently about the crazy variety of food we have in America, both the good exciting sort, and the kind you can’t pronounce all the ingredients in.  We managed to teach her Jon’s mom’s “kitchen sink” cookie recipe, which is basically just a standard oatmeal cookie that you throw whatever the heck you want into: chocolate, nuts, dried fruits, coconut, caramel, butterscotch, all sorts of things.  It took some converting and a bit of a struggle to find something that would work for the oats (they aren’t common in Spain of course), but they turned out pretty darn close.  She really enjoyed them too.

Oh, one negative: our time in Spain fully reconfirmed every hateful feeling I have towards insects, and merely strengthened my severely irrational fear of spiders.  I know this is something I’m going to have to deal with at every farm, but I just don’t like them.  Ick.

Here are just a few more pictures that I managed to take after the ones I uploaded already.  I’ll post something about getting to Italy in a day or two, and try and keep you better posted on the events happening here.  The property here is huge, and there are 4 other HelpXers working, so there is a lot of stuff to do, and a lot of socializing to enjoy.  A good change of pace I think.

Adios!

Toledo

An escalator that takes you into historic Toledo. How neat.

Max

Our side of the house

Knut! (Pronounced Kuh-Noot) He wouldn’t look at the camera :(

Tiki!

Her power source

The house

The stable

No puedo creer que me olvidé de mi español!

First of all, I’d like to apologize for the serious time-lapse between this post and my last.  Though the farm we’re staying at in Spain does have Internet, its tricky business and very expensive for our host, so we prefer to save it for important things, like banking, and telling our mothers we’re still alive. That being said, I have so much do update you on, while sitting in the Castilla la Mancha Public Library of Toledo.  They have free WIFI here, and our host had a doctor’s appointment here this afternoon, so we took the bus this morning from her village to town, and then we’ll ride back in the evening with here.  Decent plan, since Toledo is quite beautiful, but very small (at least the parts worth visiting), so that leaves ample time to catch up on things like emails, blogging, Facebook, and the news (which has proven quite active given recent occurrences!).

First, getting here.  Flight from Nice to Barcelona- relatively easy.  Jon had to check his tripod; a little odd considering its just a tripod, but I guess you can hide anything in those expandable legs… Getting from the airport in Barcelona to the train station- piece of cake.  Getting from Barcelona to Madrid…. well that was a little funny.  You see, we were traveling on Monday, the Monday after Easter to be exact, and seeing as it’s a bank holiday in a lot of European countries, the trains were full with families doing traveling for the holiday weekend.  This meant that all the tickets for Monday and Tuesday were sold out; that is, except first class.  After doing some quick mental calculations at the ticket counter, we bought two first class tickets on the high-speed train from Barcelona to Madrid, dinner included (yes!).  We figured we would have spent that in hotel costs staying in Barcelona for two nights until the trains were no longer full, and though seeing the city wouldn’t have been bad either, we had arrangements with our host and were excited to get there.  After a wonderful train experience to Madrid, about an hour of going from one metro tram to another to get to the bus station, and an hour and a half bus ride into the little village of Almorox, we met the smiling face of our first host; a very nice woman in her early fifties from Holland.

I don’t think its necessary to fill you in on all of the things we’ve done around her finca, but I’ll highlight the major things; we’ve prepared a patch to start a veggie garden, got rid of a whole bunch of these pesky poisonous (only if you eat them) plants, and put up an electric fence to get ready for the horse she was given by a close friend.  Yep, given.  Long story short, the horse has been traumatized by something in its past, and the family that owned it felt a little overwhelmed.  He’s a very sweet horse, but very nervous.  She also has three wonderful dogs, seven cats, and a plethora of insects I hope not to take to Italy with me.  The little village she lives near is nothing worth visiting, so we spend all of our time on the finca, which is fine.  She’s also a wonderful cook. I’ve finally done a little bit of souvenir shopping, so Brittany and Cristina, if you’re reading, you’re covered! :)  Some things in beautiful Toledo spoke your names to me.  I hope you like them.  :)

First Class!

Jon didn’t look so excited, but he was.

As was I :)

Yep. This was a hot towel! ITS BEEN YEARS SINCE I GOT ONE OF THESE!

Delish. I can now say I’ve tried bull.

AHHH!!! :D I miss this stuff!

The same chocolate. We received the eggs from our French host. Haha.

Middle of no where can be really pretty.

Sun in the picture. But I like it.

Spanish sun, fields of daisies, and spider webs.

Jon thought he was neat looking.

The house from the field of daisies.

Jon standing on a rock.

My feet standing on the same rock. And my camera strap. Ugh.

Rainy day, but MOUNTAIN!

Very purple.

Love these!

I had forgotten all about the wild poppies! So cute!

We took a picture of the map of Toledo because, as you can see, its easy to get lost.

Pretty church of some sort thats now part of the university.

And the top.

Imagine having these as your neighbors!

Old and the not so old.

He’s upset because I found the sign fitting.

Don Quixote!

View from the top of the Alcazar, where they have the public library!

Difficult to read, but its a map of Toledo with points-of-interest marked. Neat!

EDIT: Pictures flipped! Finally! Tenga un buen día!

Jon voulait voir des montagnes, donc j’ai trouvé des montagnes.

So, as we were approaching our second to last weekend in Nice, Jon’s mom (and most of our other friends) asked us “So what are you going to do this weekend?”  Likely question, but we didn’t have a definitive answer.  Jon just wanted to see some mountains.  After asking a friend if he would help us with a good place to go, and if he would like to join us, he was only able to provide some help with the former; apparently a thesis was calling him, poor guy.  He did however, suggest Mercantour National Park.  Well, Jon did some research and couldn’t find anything to get us into the park, despite its rather great size.  So he went to bed suuuuuper late after doing some night photography (while I slept, because I thought he was crazy), which allowed me some time alone to do some research in the morning when I woke up a few hours before he did.  Before Nicolas’ screams had a chance to wake him up, I found us train times and a village to see in one of the valleys that feeds into the national park.  Sure, we weren’t actually going to be in the park, but they were mountains, and we figured that was good enough for us.  Since Jon got so little sleep, I decided (after consulting the unpredictable weather forecast) against waking him up and saying “Come on, lets go!” and told him when he was awaken by the screams that I had plans for us the next day.  I figured that might make waking up to a screaming 3-year-old a little less annoying.

Saturday went by with not much to say about it; just some homework, some eating, some screaming, and some reading.  I finally finished Julia Child’s My Life in France and I loved it.  I’ve now moved on to my list of classics that I never read as a child, and the first on the list was Lewis Caroll’s Alice’s Adventure’s in Wonderland.  It’s definitely interesting!

Our plan Sunday morning was to get up early and take the 7:30ish train into Breil-sur-Roya.  Well, apparently it took Jon 20 minutes to even get me awake (I didn’t sleep well the night before, probably because I knew I needed proper rest), and after getting ready and double checking the train schedule, I realized that the times I had remembered we backwards; the train that left Nice left at 7:21, and the train that left Breil left at 7:38.  So on top of being late, we lost 17 minutes in my mistaken planning.  Thankfully though (and I already knew this), there was a train that left at 9:05 and we considered this not much time lost.  The train into the village was fairly smooth, mountainous views all about, and my ears popping like crazy the entire way.

Once we got to Breil-sur-Roya, we were met by a very tiny, adorable little village.  It being Sunday, and the fact that its touristy season doesn’t start until its warm enough to enjoy any water sports (since theres a wide river that runs right by it), not much was open to get something to eat.  We found one place were we had the most amazing fries, and Jon ordered something called the Americain and I ordered a kebab.  The Americain is basically France’s interpretation of American food smacked between halves of a baguette; one or two burgers split in half, lettuce, tomato, some sort of sauce to your preference, and fries.  Yes, fries in the sandwich.  It was delicious, but he couldn’t finish it.  After finishing our food, we told our server that we were looking to do some hiking and asked if he knew of a good place to start and how to get there.  He beckoned another girl, and she rambled off directions in the fastest French I’ve heard yet.  Thankfully though, we caught enough words, and I was able to follow most of what she was saying through her hands, and we found ourselves a path.  And boy was it a path.

The original path we found came to a fork, and we opted for the one that looked significantly steeper.  The name of the path was the Boucle de la Cruella which translates to the curls of Cruella (DeVille? Hehe).  Given the nature of Cruella, this path was nasty.  Really steep, really narrow, parts of it were extremely loose, and I was not doing well.  Part of the problem is our inability to plan proper amounts of water.  We ran out of water about halfway up the mountain, and had to take frequent breaks to combat the rest.  Its the sort of hike that gets your heart rate going pretty hard, but then every time my foot would slip on the loose rocks, my heart would skip a few beats out of fear, which would send it into an uncontrollable heart rate.  Not fun in the slightest.  But when we made it up to the top where the old château and its ruins were, it was well worth the hike.  The view was fantastic.

One our way back down the path, we ran into a mysterious dog that scared the living daylights out of us, but ended up being totally adorable and unbelievably happy.  We also found his owners a few meters a way further back on the path.  Nothing like some doggy lovins to make you feel great!  As we continued to climb down, Jon insisted that instead of going back to the village (where there was nothing to do for a few hours before our train home, but there was water) we should take the other part of the path that forked off at the beginning and see where it takes us.  He always wins.

After some convincing, we headed that direction, and noticed that the river that the mountains surround was getting closer and closer to us.  Given our thirst, and how crystal clear the water looked, we decided to keep going until we could find a way to get down to the water.  We eventually did, and found the most peaceful place to spend about an hour and a half of our afternoon.  We filled up our water bottle, examined it thoroughly, smelt it, and then eventually took a sip.  It tasted wonderful; just like the water that originally filled the bottle.  Sure, in a survival situation I wouldn’t have done that without testing the water first, but we were thirsty, not lost, and not far from help.  So far, its proven to not be a bad choice, as neither of us have come down with mysterious symptoms out of no where.  Jon was wearing his FiveFinger shoes again, which are much better suited for water than my Nike tennis shoes, so he took of his shorts (don’t worry folks, he was wearing under armor underneath!) and got in the water to take some pictures of the little bitty water falls around us.  It was too cold for me, so I stuck my toes in ever few minutes too cool off.

Even more interesting though, was there were quite a few of these little purpley-blue butterflies everywhere that insisted on landing on us.  I don’t really know much about butterflies, but they were not shy like they usually are.  They landed on our feet, shoes, Jon’s socks, our hands, watches, hair, everything.  They were adorable and entertaining.  So while Jon was off mid-thigh high in ice cold water, I was being entertained by a bunch of adorable butterflies.  I thought that sort of thing only happened in Disney movies!

Once we started to feel a little too relaxed, we decided it was time to head back into town.  We figured we had just about enough time to stop at the first place we saw that had ice cream, have a little treat, and head to the train station to take the first train back.  Sure, it left Breil-sur-Roya about an hour earlier than we had intended on leaving, but we did a lot more in our 7 hours than we thought we would have, and did not regret our decision.  We were exhausted, and didn’t want to push ourselves so far that the last couple hours just wouldn’t be enjoyable.  Ice cream proved to be a wonderful idea, as I ordered possibly the best vanilla ice cream I have ever had in my entire life, with chocolate sauce and whipped cream on top!  It actually tasted like vanilla, something most vanillas lack.  With a Coke to wash it all down, which proved to be a good thing to order since it helped make Jon’s lemon sorbet and vodka a little easier to stomach when he mixed some in.  Definitely a good idea.

Our walk back to the train station seemed longer than we thought, since we’d had time to relax while we ate our ice cream, and were growing more tired by the minute.  The train ride home was the same as the one there, but with a lot more napping.  We got home and basically went into zombie mode; we didn’t even have dinner.  This was all made better by the absence of a screaming 3-year-old, since our host family is out of town until Friday or Saturday.  Yay for silence!

I’d say, good day accomplished.

Oh of course, les photos.

Breil-sur-Roya

Water and mountains? Yes please!

This is how the river is able to widen so much. Cheaters :P

Just an adorable alley.

My lunch.

Jon’s monster.

Before we started our hike.

The arch that marked the beginning of our trail.

Earth is so cool

Pretty stream

The view from the top!

See the little building pretty much centered in the picture? Thats where we started.

The castely thing.

The mystery puppy!

Jon can’t resist a puppy.

Did I mention how cool Earth is?

Trying to find our way down to the water.

I sat on the little bridge while Jon investigated.

Butterfly!

Butterfly on Jon’s shoe!

Butterfly tickling my toes!

Butterflies on my watch!

Butterflies on Jon’s icky sock!

Jon pouring really cold water on his head.

Butterfly on Jon’s camera!

The view from where we sat.

Our “new” bottle of Evian!

The best vanilla ice cream on the world.

La mozzarella è migliore in Italia: Parta Prima

Since I know very little Italian, I hope Google Translate doesn’t fail me this time! But hey! Look to the right! I finally got to use a different category!

I’ve been some what dreading this post, simply due to the magnitude of information and experiences I feel the need to share with you.  I learned a lot in a very fast three-day period of time, some good and some not so good.  Regardless, it must be said, so I’ll do so in parts.  Here goes nothing…

First let me say, I don’t think trains will become my preferred method of travel any time soon.  Especially in Italy.  This was my first time riding a train, and I found the whole process to be extremely unorganized.  I can’t exactly figure out why a more efficient and organized system can’t be implemented, because I thought of several things that would help just waiting for our first train.  I think it just boils down to the Southern European mentality.  Why bother?  It works just fine.  Except when it doesn’t.  I’ll get to that later though.

I will say that riding a train through the mountains in Italy had its ups.  Literally, my ears were popping like crazy.  Haha.  But in all seriousness, the views were spectacular.  At one point we were high enough that we got to a little mountain town just covered in snow.  It was beautiful, and for a few moments I seriously wished we had gotten off the train there.  Also, unlike in a car, I was able to read comfortably without feeling sick to my stomach after a few paragraphs, which made the nearly 5 hour train ride a little less annoying.

Once we arrived in Torino, we found that our hotel was much closer to the train station than we had originally anticipated.  We also found out that 3 stars must not have the same meaning in Europe that it does  in the United States.  The reviews we read promised that someone at the desk always spoke English, which we found to be untrue, that there was a good continental breakfast, which their wasn’t, and that the rooms were nice.  The room really wasn’t bad, just extremely small.  Not a huge deal, since our plans didn’t include staying in the hotel all day anyway, but we definitely didn’t feel like it was worth what we spent on it.  But alas, in Torino, all lodging is expensive, especially in the center of town.  If we wanted cheaper, we would have had to stay 10 miles or so out of the city’s center, which is quite difficult when you don’t have a car.

After we settled in and relaxed for a few minutes, we set out to try and find some pizza.  I’ve decided, after visiting Italy, that there is just no justifiable reason for Chicago style pizza.  Italians eat it like the New Yorkers do, and it will always be my favorite.  It was simple, and delicious.  We followed this with some real Italian gelato (which tastes pretty much just like any other gelato, but thats not to say it wasn’t delicious) and a walk to do some exploring.  We found a lot of what we planned on further investigating the next day, and bought a map of the city with all the popular tourist attractions marked on it.  It was actually kind of cool- they had those “You are here” maps in a few places, and on the side of the case it was in had a thing where you put 50 cents in and you get the same map that was displayed.  50 cents well spent, because it had everything, and in Italian, English, Spanish, French and German.  We headed back to the hotel a little earlier than we probably would have normally so we could get some proper sleep for the following day.

I have to gloat a little, because I’m proud of the fact that not only did I manage to get up and out of the hotel by 10 AM, but I also managed to shower, put make up on and straighten my hair.  Usually when I try to leave the house that early, I only manage to get the first done.  But the Italians are quite fashionable, I couldn’t let a lazy appearance scream “I’m a tourist” any more than my freckles already were.  I even remembered to bring and wear my contacts so I could actually wear my sunglasses, that I actually remembered to bring.  I was feeling quite organized.

On our handy little map, we saw a market just past the Duomo.  It being a Saturday, we figured that would be the perfect place to start.  After frequent stopping to take pictures of things (we were easily distracted), we arrived around lunch time and the market was thriving.  I’ve nicknamed it “The War Zone” because it is serious there.  Crazy even, but totally exhilarating.  Since we did arrive later than we’d hoped, we decided to buy some bread, some cured sausage (closer to a salami maybe, or those summer sausages that are popular around the holidays, but obviously much better), some fresh mozzarella di buffalo, a bottle of Sprite, an orange, and some beautiful little tomatoes.  We ended up with (on accident of course) about 4 people’s worth of food, all for under 12€.  Food is really pretty inexpensive in Italy, and since a small town close to Torino serves as the home office to the Slow Food Movement, it was all incredibly delicious.  We found a nice little place to sit down and enjoy “the goods” and then ended up giving the rest away to a homeless lady we saw with a baby on our way to the market.  It would have gone bad on such a warm day in my purse, or been smushed.   Good food, and good karma.  Yes, please.

Everything in Torino just seemed huge.  The plazas (called piazzas in Italian) were much bigger than any I’ve seen in France, and flanked by gigantic, ancient buildings on all sides.  This I found a little overwhelming, but in a good way.  I also wasn’t all that surprised (and neither was Jon) by the sights simply because of how over-taught Roman architecture is in most European history courses.  This didn’t make it any less beautiful of course, but I felt like I wasn’t seeing it for the first time.  I did enjoy seeing the sort of buildings that modern architecture was based on though.  I find architecture extremely interesting, and if I had any talent with a pencil I may have considered majoring in it, but alas, my Uncle Jay will have to remain the family architect for now.  All that being said, Torino really was beautiful, and considerably cleaner than France.  It had the same little silly trash (like cigarette butts and small pieces of paper and such) that most big cities have, but not in excess, and they didn’t leave their dogs poo in the streets.  It was nice to look up while I walked for a change.  I’ve always known the Italians to be proud (proven by the abundance of Italian flags, even though this may have been because they’re currently celebrating their 150th birthday), so the fact that it was cleaner than France didn’t surprise me.  It was refreshing, to say the least.

To be continued… (but not without some pictures!)

Torino Porta Nuova. The biggest train station I’ve ever seen.

My first gelato

Jon’s first gelato

The market, AKA “The War Zone”

The market, AKA “The War Zone”

The market, AKA “The War Zone”

The market, AKA “The War Zone”

The market, AKA “The War Zone”

The market, AKA “The War Zone”

The goods.

The yummy little sandwiches we made.

This is what we ate next to. Where else?

And the view just behind us.

The Civic Museum of Ancient Art in Piazza Castello

Roman Architecture. & See, a bunch of Italian flags!

Roman Architecture.

Royal Palace in Piazza Castello

Roman Architecture.

Roman Architecture.

Us in Piazza San Carlo

Aujourd’hui j’ai acheté un miroir de poche

You know when you’re really hungry, and all your friends around you are talking about food?  Your mouth starts to water, you can hear your stomach growl louder and louder, and when you close your eyes you imagine your favorite foods dancing slightly out of reach in front of your eyes?  That was my experience in class today.  Almost all day too.

We’ve been talking a lot lately about food; how to order food, how to buy food, how to cook food, etc.  We today we spent the majority of the afternoon speaking about meal habits in our respective countries and how they compare to those of France.  This included things like “If you have a dinner planned at 8pm, what time do your guests arrive?”  In the United States, between five minutes early and on time is expected, and anything later than 10 after requires a phone call.  Well in France, if you show up five minutes early you may catch your host in the shower.  15 minutes late is normal in France.  We also talked about table manners, which was interesting, what you bring to a dinner you’ve been invited to (be it flowers, wine, chocolates, etc), and the amount of courses a normal and a formal meal has in each country.  A lot of food talk for a girl who’s been giving half of her breakfast away.  This is because the thought of a croissant or pain chocolat makes my stomach turn now, seeing as I’ve eaten it nearly every single day since I arrived.  Either way, considering the fact that I’m always a little hungry when we get out of class on a normal day, today I felt exceptionally hungry.

Jon and I decided to treat ourselves to a meal in Vieux Nice.  We walked around, reading the menus and consulting our wallets, and settled down at a table at a restaurant in the main square.  The name fails me, but thats okay, we won’t be going back.  First, one of the menu boards on the wall said “Menu 14,90€” where you could chose an entrée, plat et dessert from roughly four choices each.  We saw a few things that sounded appetizing, and thats why we picked it.  Unfortunately, though the sign said nothing about when you could order from it, we were not allowed to order from that menu.  In the US, I would have had no problem saying “Oh, sorry, we were under the impression that we could, and thats why we picked it, we’re going to find some place else.”  It wouldn’t have made them super happy, but its mildly acceptable in the States.  In France, its extremely rude, because they display their menus outside.  Essentially, you’re supposed to decide that you want to eat there, and essentially what you want before you bother wasting their time sitting at a table.  So, we found something on the menu that sounded okay, added some socca for us to split, and said “Oh well.”

I would have much rather been that “rude” American.  I ordered Poulet à la Caesar, something I’ve found to be surprisingly easy to mess up.  The chicken was really dry, and tasted like it was canned.  Given that it probably was, it was more grey in color than normal, and just generally unappetizing.  The croutons were stale and soft, the tomatoes were practically flavorless, and the lettuce seemed like its seen better days.  Jon ordered a calzone with tomatoes, cheese, mushrooms, ham and eggs, made it half way through when he noticed there was some sort of clear-ish liquid in it that seemed a tad unnatural.  Given that the yokes were runny, we both instantly thought “Uh oh, uncooked eggs” and he lost his appetite.  To make the whole thing worse, the socca wasn’t even that good, and I had been craving it for a few days.  Ugh.

After our dreadful meal, we went to the market close by.  We were expecting it to be all fruits, vegetables and flowers like we usually find it to be, but today it was a whole bunch of vendors selling all sorts of really neat things.  For instance, we spent a good twenty minutes at a table FULL of old (like, 1960s old in some cases) advertisements for nearly anything and everything.  The Coke ones were particularly fun to look at, and of course rather pricey for some.  We decided we had to go back when we had more money, because I could probably find a few really neat things for my friends, family and myself.  I did treat myself to a little mirror compact though.  I have been looking for one for a very long time, but one thats kind of nice.  The problem is, I always find the ones that are either cheap, plastic and have some brand name printed across it, or I find the super fancy and terribly gaudy ones with ugly rhinestone and gold plating designs.  This one is simple, perfectly round, and has a  mother-of-pearl design on the front.  After an entertaining conversation with the vendor, who knew instantly we spoke English and teased us by saying “We only speak French here”, only to later comment me on my ability to carry on the necessary conversation in French (score!), I had a wonderful new compact mirror, all for only 8€.  Kind of a silly purchase, but I really have been looking for one forever.

After looking through all the tables, I found a lot of neat things I would love to go back for if I had the money.  For instance, designer silk scarfs (only 80€), really awesome old festival and event posters from around France (anywhere from 200-400€), large sets of real silver table settings (of which I didn’t bother to consult the price), and whole bunch of old keys (only 1,50 €!).  It took up a good portion of our afternoon, and we saw some really cool things, so I’d say afternoon well spent.

Given that we still hadn’t had anything tasty to satisfy our taste buds, we got some sorbet from a place we hadn’t tried before, and decided to walk up to Chateau de Nice (the wonderful park with the great panorama views I’ve mentioned before).  Sorbet proved to be a wonderful idea.  Jon got apricot and I got pear.  Mine was incredible.  It seriously tasted like I was biting right into a really juicy pear.  Jon kept stealing bites and said with sarcastic frustration  “Damnit! Now we have to come here every single day to get some of this” all while making his oh-my-gosh-this-is-the-most-delicious-thing-I’ve-ever-eaten face.  After the long, dreadfully steep walk up the hill, Jon enjoyed playing on the rope play thing while it was kid-free.

We took a few detours going back down to sea level so we would know where all the paths were, and proceeded to go home.  But not without stopping at Zara to get Jon some new jeans.  Two pair, to be exact, since he’s managed to wear holes in one of the pairs he brought.  All and all, a very wonderful afternoon.  I hope the sun sticks around for a little bit longer, and that the tickle that popped up in the back of my throat isn’t the sign of a cold to come.  Especially since we hope to go to Torino this weekend.  And yes, for all my motherly readers, I’ve eating and drinking all the Vitamin C I can manage.  :)

Bonne journée!

Saint Paul de Vence (Finalement!!)

Jon and I have been trying to go to Saint Paul de Vence for the past 3 weekends with Fabiola and Niko, but the weather has just been awful.  Well yesterday, the sun was out all day long, and after getting there, we realized exactly why going on a rainy day would be a waste of time.

First though, let me say that it was a surprise that we even made it there.  Jon went to bed the night before with a stomach ache, and woke up feeling even worse.  Our plans were to leave at 3, and he pretty much slept until I made him get up and start getting ready at 2:30, despite asking him numerous times if he wanted me to tell them than we’d have to postpone because he wasn’t feeling well.  I thought I was stubborn.

Once we got there, his stomach ache slowly started to become less unbearable, but then he started to develop a terrible headache.  Definitely no fun.

Anyway, Saint Paul de Vence is a beautifully preserved medieval village perched in the mountains, a few miles from the sea.  It was simply breath taking.  The views up there are worth the trip alone, but its refreshing to see a village that old so well kept.  It is very small, and didn’t take long to meander through its stone streets, but it was very enjoyable.

There isn’t much to actually do there, just a few restaurants, but it is full of art galleries.  We mostly just peaked through the windows, given the unlikelihood that any of us could afford to buy any art that day, and stuck to enjoying the architecture and views.  We did however, go into a store that specializes in olive oils, and I got to sample some of their fruit vinegars.  Fabiola and Niko got a little sample kit with three types, and should I make it there again, I might do the same.  They were delicious.

Once we got home, Jon’s headache was so bad he could hardly stand up, or focus his eyes on anything.  I had to try and explain to our host family that he had a terrible headache that was making him feel nauseous, a concept that was apparently difficult to grasp in French culture (Jerome kept saying “A stomach ache and a headache are two different things” and Marie-France insisted “Eating when you have a headache helps”).  Either way, he definitely picked the wrong day to bail on dinner, because it was Marie-France’s birthday, but considering the fact that he never has a problem eating anything she makes, I’m sure she understood he really wasn’t feeling well.

This morning, he still wasn’t feeling well, and insisted I go on to class without him.  I didn’t want to leave him here alone, considering the fact that he was too achy to bother getting up for anything, but he kept saying “Its okay, we’re learning stuff we don’t know now, one of us has to go.”  So, despite my attempts, I went on to class without him.  Which proved to be pointless anyway because we didn’t learn anything today that she couldn’t have just explained in a few sentences to us the next day.  Oh well.

As for the rest of the day, he’s still not feeling 100% (though better, so thats a start), so I doubt we’ll be doing much.  I do need to do some toiletry shopping and get stuff to make sangria this week, but that will be an easy trip to the store.

Ciao!

Aujourd’hui, nous sommes allés à la Cathédrale Orthodoxe Russe Saint-Nicolas de Nice

THE SUN FINALLY CAME OUT!  It kept going in and out during class, and we were concerned for a while that it would go away for good, but it stayed!

So Jon and I decided we’d finally head over to the Cathédrale Orthodoxe Russe Saint-Nicolas de Nice. It was a long walk, but considering that we’ve been cooped up for a while, we welcomed it.

The cathedral was gorgeous.  I’ve always wondered why all churches can’t be as beautiful and as colorful as those in Russia, but alas, I guess maybe that’s what makes us appreciate them- their rarity.  After gaping up at the top for a few minutes, we proceeded to the entry, only to find a rather unwelcoming sign: Entrée €3.  Why should I have to pay to enter a church?  But alas, I felt compelled to see the inside, given how beautiful the outside was, so we paid.

Now, construction for this cathedral started in 1903, and ended in 1912, and I’m sure the paintings on the wall and copula were stunningly vibrant then, but the last 99 years has certainly taken its toll on the place.  I found the inside a little underwhelming, despite the abundance of gold at altar.  This probably wasn’t helped by the fact that there was a tour bus full of people inside, which was small to begin with (despite the fact that it’s the largest Russian Orthodox cathedral outside of Russia).  To make matters a little worse, pictures were not permitted inside the church.  I know this is usually a matter of respect, but isn’t the fact that it has souvenirs and an entrance fee disrespectful too?

Well, at least we could still take pictures of the outside, which we spent a good while doing.  It was gorgeous.  The plot of land surrounding it was also full of life off all different sorts.  There were so many different kinds of trees, from all different climate zones too.  It was a little crazy, but definitely made it appealing.  The grass was perfectly green and filled with little white and purple flowers.  We spent a good while enjoying the scenery, and then decided that it was time to visit the beach.

The wind on the Promenade des Anglais was relentless, and freezing, but it was approaching the 4 o’clock hour, so the sun was no longer keeping you warm.  The Med had waves on it like I’ve never seen, and there were a few pairs of people flying kites.  Once my fingers and toes went numb, it was time to return home.  It felt so good to get out today.

If only I could count on it being as beautiful tomorrow for the Bataille des Fleurs. *crosses fingers*

Bonne journée!

Je ne comprends pas l’art abstrait.

First, let me say, still no sun.  I saw the sun for maybe an hour today, and it was while I was stuck in class.  On top of that, there has to be some sort of storm out in the Mediterranean, because there has been a really strong wind coming off the coast that I can only compare to the wind gusts I feel at home in Cocoa Beach before a storm.  Nevermind the fact that the air has a relentless bite to it that has left my cheeks and legs quite chapped.  I did come to Nice, right?

Okay, I feel awful for sending out so much text about the weather into cyber space- especially since I’m sure I only have a handful of readers, and I can imagine you’re tired of hearing about it.  But its all you have to post about when there’s nothing to do!  C’est la vie.

I will say though, that last night, Fabiola, her boyfriend Niko, Jon and I went and had a magnificent dinner at Khalid’s house.  Last night was also the first time we got to meet Niko, and we all got along quite nicely.  Khalid prepared a wonderful meal, as usual, and we sat for over four hours talking, eating, and sharing a few bottles of wine.  Well, Fabiola and I did most of the wine drinking- Jon prefers dessert wines, which we were saving for later in the evening, Khalid doesn’t drink, and Niko arrived an hour or so after we opened the first bottle, and then went out for a second.  All and all, four bottles of wine later, we were a little pink in the face, full of laughter, and not exactly looking forward to our early alarms this morning.

As for today, the cold, harsh, relentless wind made it the perfect day for a museum visit.  Fabiola met us at the Musée d’Art Moderne et d’Art Contemporian. Now, I love museums… of a certain type.  Particularly history museums, natural history museums, science and industry museums, even interactive children’s museums.  But the past several contemporary/modern art museums I’ve been to have proven to be… a little unimpressive.

I consider myself an art lover, but I find some things about abstract art to be a little… pretentious.  I also consider myself an artist of certain types, but I am no good with a paint brush or clay.  However, a lot of the things I saw today I could have easily done.  The only reason it makes it into a museum is because of who created it, probably because they’ve done something crazy, or they’re the daughter of someone famous.  One exhibit in particular just looked like someone didn’t clean up their garage work bench one day, thought it “looked cool” and expanded on it.  Sure, that probably took a lot of time, but since when does the amount of time put into its creation automatic grant it the title “art?”  What happened to the days when art was simply beautiful, and that was easily seen, before artists had to defend and argue why they believe its art, before television shows turned something that is supposed to come with time, patience, dedication, vision and hard work into something that can be forced through competition?   I guess, in a nutshell, you should say I just don’t get abstract art.  At least not in a sense that museum exhibits should devote their space too it.

However, despite my inability to “get it,” we still enjoyed ourselves, and the view of Nice from the roof of the museum (which is of course open to the public, we aren’t lawbreakers!) was worth the entire visit.  The museum itself seemed to be pretty close to the center of Nice, so the view was 360°.  Well, with the exception of the fact that the Theatre National de Nice was blocking what would have been a beautiful view of the Mediterranean.  But alas, it was still nice.

After the museum, we went for a stroll through Vieux Nice (Old Nice) where Jon indulged himself in some rather delicious cookies, and we had some socca from a corner shop that, according to Niko, has the best in Nice.  It was delicious, and super fresh.

I will leave you with this picture: wouldn’t this be a lovely terrace to have dinner on in the evening, or tan on?  That is, whenever the sun finally decides to show itself?

 

Until next time, bonne journée!

Bienvenue à Monaco

So after a somewhat rough start this morning, complete with minor bickering about the time, I forfeited sleeping in for a windy bus along the coast to Monaco.  Okay, I wouldn’t say forfeit, though the bus ride wasn’t entirely pleasant.  I can deal with bus rides, I can deal with car rides through windy roads, however I cannot deal with bus rides through windy roads.  At least not well.  So after finally getting off the bus and breathing in the cool, clean beautiful air of Monaco, and a quick lunch of Margarita pizza and tomato mozzarella salad on the beautiful Rue Princesse Caroline (thats right, I knew I was a princess!) I was feeling much better.

Now, let me answer the obvious questions: No, I didn’t see any of the Royal Family, or where they lived, and I did not set foot in the Monte Carlo Casino (but I did find it).  However, I did walk the ENTIRE route of the Monaco Grand Prix.  For all my car crazed buddies, be jealous.  Jon was really quite fun to watch.  His face would light up like he’s driven this course a thousand times, and got so excited every time we got to a particularly crazy turn, and just had to take the time to explain how the race would go through each of them.  Okay, I don’t mean that like I wasn’t enjoying it, because I was.  Of all the crazy obsession this boy could have, cars and races is a pretty good one.  That is essentially the whole reason for this trip to Monaco.  There will definitely be more though.

Just like we’ve been doing in Nice, we did a TON of walking.  Only the streets of Monaco are so much nicer than Nice.  I feel its unfair to compare the two though.  Nice is a very old resort town of France, right on the Mediterranean that has history dating back to the Greek Empire.  Monaco, on the other hand, is a microstate that I would describe as the European Las Vegas; a beautiful, expensive, constitutional monarchy that has been ruled by the House of Grimaldi for the past 7+ centuries, and could cost you nearly $2,000 a night just in hotel costs should you decide to vacation there.  You see why these two are incomparable- two completely separate and unique sorts of beautiful.  All that being said, I did thoroughly enjoy not having to watch my every step for dog doo.

Just as entertaining as seeing Jon describe the race was when he would see a particularly bad ass car.  I think in order to live in Monaco, you have to spend at least $250,000 on your car.  Amongst all the rather impressive Maserati’s, Porsche’s, Lamborghini’s, and a few of the new bagillion dollar Rolls Royce’s, we did see two rather impressive Ferrari’s.  These would have to be impressive to get Jon’s attention, since he generally doesn’t like Ferrari on principle, and boy were they.  The one I got pictures of was the Ferrari 599 GTO.  Apparently called the 599 because thats how many they made, and has a 5.99 liter engine, but other than that, I don’t know why its so impressive.  I keep up with his car obsession enough to know when something is impressive, but not enough to know why.  The other one, I failed to get pictures of, but was the Ferrari 458 Italia, which is apparently their new hyper car.  It was pretty, nevertheless.

Just as impressive as the cars were the yachts.  I’ve decided that my new goal in life is to own a yacht.  I WILL!  Okay, maybe not, since these were the types of yachts you only owned because you’ve grown up in that sort of wealth, but I will damn sure try!

Oh, and I got to feed some ducks.  I bought a bottle of wine for €4,35 (or $5.88) and some bread to go with it (that I’m currently enjoying, yum).  And I realized that I need a different coat.  Its just warm enough here that its too hot with my coat on, but too cold without it.  Its sort of frustrating, so I’ll be scoping the mall on Monday when everything opens back up (because it closes down on Sunday). C’est la vie.

I fell asleep on the bus ride home, which is probably for the best.  Came home and passed out until dinnertime.

And there you have it.  Monaco.  We’re definitely going back with a better itinerary.  I want to check out the museums and find the Prince’s Palace.  I saw what I thought might be it, but whether it is or isn’t, I still want to see what it was.  I think I know what our Saturdays from here on out will consist of: bus trips out of Nice.

Alright, here’s the pictures I took today.  I felt like such a tourist, I don’t find them all that aesthetically pleasing, but everyone who knew we were going to Monaco insisted I take a ton of pictures, so here you are!

See! I knew I was a princess! :)

This tasted just like the Cola Cao I would have in Spain! Nostalgia-gasm!

Tomato mozzarella salad.

Margarita pizza!

The view of Rue Princesse Caroline, where we dined.

Beautiful Monaco

I thought the blue tiled roof was really neat.

Bridge, church, and some Grand Prix statue.

Jon’s “My New Haircut” pose.

This is Sea Force One. I want it.

Mountain view

I don’t know what this building is, but I liked it.

I don’t know what kind of car this is, but I thought it was awesome too.

I had to find out what this building was.

So I got right up next to it and still couldn’t figure it out.

Then after deciding we weren’t going to bother figuring it out anymore, we found the sign!

Oh hi, random cliff hanging apartment building!

Jon said they valeted these cars out front on purpose. Gee, maybe because its the hotel across from the casino?

Ferrari 599 GTO from the front.

Ferrari 599 GTO from the rear.

The famous Monte Carlo Casino

Coolest entrance ever.

DUCKIES!

Awful, blurry picture, but the GP has a tunnel in its circuit that goes right under this hotel.

Beautiful blue water.

I’m determined to go sailing in the Med while I’m here.

Even the rocks are pretty in Monaco.

This was docked a few boats away from Sea Force One. I want it too.

Buildings, building, OH HIYA CLIFF!

View of the harbour.

This is possibly the Prince’s Palace, or just an old castle sort of thing. Either way, I’ll figure it out.

I had to get a picture of us together, no matter how awful and tired we look.

J’adore quand une longue montée à pied est payante

Somehow I don’t think that translates very well, but if my subjects were in English: I love it when a long, uphill walk pays off.

Jon insisted we go back to the harbour and climb up the hill/cliff sort of thing that was above the war monument we saw during our last visit.  I kept telling him, as soon as its easy to breath, we’ll go.  Well I guess I haven’t coughed much today, because we went.  Uphill doesn’t bug me so much usually, but after coughing for weeks, and super cold air, it was a little uncomfortable.  But alas, it paid off.

First of all, we found a neat little area at the base of the hill that we probably wouldn’t have found otherwise.  Jon thinks its a little touristy, perhaps, but it seemed pretty authentic at the same time.  Either way, there was a little stand with crêpes and gelato that we couldn’t resist.  I got pistachio gelato, and Jon got a crêpe sucre et limon.  Lemon and sugar indeed, delish!

Then, almost to the top of the hill, we came across a cimetière (cemetery) and decided to take a look.  Its unfortunate they didn’t permit photography, because it was really very neat in there.  It was the type that had massive family headstone sort of things, for very wealthy families we decided.  Jon enjoyed contemplating how exactly they got these monstrous pieces of granite and marble up the hill and into place.  I couldn’t exactly figure it out either though.

Finally, we made it up to the park.  And boy was it a park.  It had all sorts of stuff, and had tons of people and kids running around, and yet didn’t feel crowded.  And the view… my goodness.  Well, I’ll let the pictures do the talking.  We stayed until sunset because Jon really wanted some sunset pictures from up there.  I think it would have been better on another day, seeing as it was rather hazy today, but alas.  It was still beautiful.  Unfortunately, my camera battery died before the sunset was over, but I still got one in.

Streets at the base of the hill

Another shot of the streets

This is the lighthouse we visited the other day.

The harbour.

More of the harbour.

The $100 million yacht I mentioned…

Cactus… in France?

View of Nice and The Med from the hill.

<3

Sunset.