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

Hier, on a trouvé une chute d’eau

Yesterday proved to be one of those days where it pays to be a little adventurous.

First of all, let me start by saying that at the start of the day, I didn’t anticipate doing much more than napping.  The tickle in the back of my throat turned into an actual sore throat, and my glands were so swollen they made my entire head and neck ache.  Well when our professor asked us “Qu’est-ce que tu vas faire cet après-midi?” Jon replied (much to my surprise) “Peut-être, on va aller à Èze.” So much for a nap…

We invited Ilona to come with us, since she said she hadn’t been, and made plans to meet her near the bus station at 1:45 to make it to our 2:00 bus.  Unlike last time we went to Èze, when the weather was freezing and we welcomed the warm bus, the weather was gorgeous, which made the bus seem quite stuffy and warm.  Alas, for a single euro, I can manage a stuffy 30 minutes.

Once we got to Èze Village, Ilona realized that she had indeed been there before, and had fond memories of it.  I guess thats better than taking her some place that she hated.  We did pretty much the exact same thing we did before; a lot of uphill walking to the top of the exotic gardens.  A few of the cacti were of course, still covered, but the sunlight made everything much more beautiful.

As we were leaving Èze Village, instead of stopping some place for a bite to eat, we opted to take the path next to the hotel’s valet parking area that said something to the effect of “Èze-Sur-Mer 45 minutes.”  Èze-Sur-Mer is a relatively new little village at the bottom of the mountain that ancient Roman Èze Village sits on.  Jon, having remembered that a bus goes through the little village that could take us back to Nice, insisted we give the little path a try…

… This was no little path.  And just because it was downhill doesn’t automatically make it easy.  Though given that some of the poorly places steps were concrete, and there for not as old as the Roman village we left, it was still quite old, and not exactly well kept.  Regardless, knowing in the back of our minds that we wouldn’t have to trek all the way back up the path kept us going.  The sign was clearly written when watches ran slower though, because it definitely took us nearly an hour and a half to reach the bottom.  We did however, take a little detour.

About half-way down our little mountain trail, I kept insisting “I hear water, there’s water near by.”  Ilona was half convinced, but Jon wasn’t; figured it was just the wind rustling through the trees through the valley.  As we got closer to the source of the noise, we all agreed it was water, and that we should find it.  Jon thankfully spotted a very well hidden little path that went past a small, old ruined building, and just a little ways behind it was the waterfall.  It was beautiful.  They don’t exactly exist in Florida, so I haven’t seen one in quite a long time.  We got right up next to it too, could have showered in it if we’d wanted to.  We took a few needed pictures and after consulting our watches and our clothes, which were growing wetter with the mist, we proceeded back to the path.  Definitely a wonderful find.

That being said, the past after that seemed rather long.  Except for a few spots were the view opened up to something quite spectacular, there were no more waterfalls.  We could hear it for a while, and in one little turn of our path we could just barely see through the shrubbery to see it, but other than that, the rest was just a rather long, downhill mountain hike.  We slowly began to grow tired, and as the trees thinned and exposed us to the sun, we got warmer too.  Eventually through we noticed the path become more civilized, and a few meters later it was a paved path.  Unfortunately, if you’ve ever walked downhill something completely smooth, this part of the trip proved to be the most difficult.  Your feet and knees hurt from gravity pulling your body on them in weird ways, and you’re gate is in that awkward stage between feeling the need to walk, and the need to sprint; sprinting of course resulting in the typical snowball effect, minus the snow.  Once we made it down to flat ground, our knees and feet thanked us, and we sighed almost in unison “Oh thank goodness, flat ground.”

Now, since we decided to ignore our growling stomachs at the top of the mountain, they were particularly upset with us when we reached the bottom.  We were a little underwhelmed when we got there too, because there wasn’t much more than just some rather lavish and expensive houses, and a restaurant that doesn’t serve food in the evening (someone please tell me how that makes sense, France…).  We went searching for the beach and when we finally found a public entrance (something I’m not used to having to look for, being from Florida) we realized why Èze is known for their perfumes and not their wonderful beaches.  They weren’t really anything special, and they were inside a bay where the water didn’t move much, so it was dirty and smelly.  Either they found that they had wonderful ingredients to make perfumes and never bothered advertising for beaches, of their citizens needed something to make them smell better after swimming in the water.  Who knows?  Either way, we were ready to catch the bus home.

The bus ride home was probably the worst part of the whole day.  Once we saw a bus stop, I realized that it was the same windy bus route we took to Monaco that left me feeling a little ill.  I was not looking forward to this in the slightest, but I figured I would feel better just to have a place to sit.  Well, the bus was packed; instead of sitting and feeling every little turn, I had to stand, making me feel every turn ten fold.  I kept moving from one spot to another, probably annoying all the passengers around me, in search of a place where I could hold myself looking out the front of a bus.  Unfortunately I only found this a few stops away from ours, but needless to say, I was not hungry when we got off the bus.

I was however, starving just a few minutes after getting off the bus and on to the tram, and even more parched than before.  Jon and I agreed to get off the tram a little sooner and stop at the grocery store.  Normally in the beverage section, Jon will reach for a beer he hasn’t tried before, and I flip flop between Orangina, Fanta Orange, Fanta Citron, and a variety of other juices.  This time, all we wanted was Gatorade.  They didn’t have the same choices I’m used to in the states, but it didn’t really matter what it tasted like, it was gone before we even got out of the store (and we opened them after paying for them!).

Once we got home it was really hard not to fall right to sleep.  After dinner (which I was nearly too exhausted to eat), I took a really long shower, and proceeded to pass out just about when my head hit the pillow.  Oddly enough though, I didn’t sleep that well last night; I was moving around a lot more than normal, which would result in me waking Jon up, and then him waking me up to tell me I woke him up and that I needed to move over.  Lovely system.  All and all though, totally worth it.

Now readers, I may be absent for a few days, because tomorrow after class, we’re going to TORINO!  Finally.  I’m so excited.  I promise though, I’ll have quite the post for you when I return on Monday, so stay tuned!

Until then, the pictures:

The bridge over the valley to get to Èze

Èze Church

Random purple flowers in a bunch of daisies.

View from Èze Village on a much sunnier day.

Prickly Pears!

The crazy expensive hotel at Èze

Èze Hotel’s crazy huge granite chess board.

Uh, yes please?

Our path.

The waterfall!

So pretty and peaceful

Jon and I in front of the waterfall!

The waterfall again.

So pretty!

Halfway there!

So blue.

This is from the bottom looking up. We started somewhere past that big cliff.

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.

Je m’ennuie de toilettes gratuits

My first full day in Nice has awarded me with the following observations:

1. McDonalds really is everywhere.

Jon and I went on a walk in hunt of our bank, or rather, its European partner.  Within our mile walk, we saw two sets of golden arches.  After finding out bank, and figuring out that we can only withdraw €100 at a time, went then continued walking until we found the beach.  Yet another set of golden arches.  Nice isn’t the largest city in France, we maybe walked a total of three miles?

2. Restrooms are not free.

I’ve heard this, but never really been some place where that was the case.  I don’t remember this being true of Spain, and Japan was not only so long ago that I can hardly remember, but we spent the majority of our time on base anyway.  I have a hard time wrapping my head around this concept.  Charging for restrooms?  I just have to pee, my goodness.  So note to self, always pee before leaving the house.

3. I took my view of the beach at home for granted.

Jon and I found the beach, and the Mediterranean Sea is gorgeous.  I have never seen water so beautiful in my life.  You can see straight through it, and its so blue it looks like if you cupped some in your hands, they would be blue too.  To top that off, Nice reminds me a lot of the way I’ve always pictured Santorini, only all of the buildings aren’t the same blue and white.  There are mountains and hills in the distance with houses and apartments perched right on the edge.  Jon and I got to wondering if the people who live here don’t appreciate the wonderful view they have.  Then I started to feel bad for taking my view at home for granted.  Sure, I always knew it was beautiful, and I appreciated looking at it… when I took the time.  I had this mind set of “Oh, its just the canal, it’ll be there tomorrow.”

4. The coast of the Med does not have sand.

I don’t know why I’ve always assumed that resort towns have beaches with sand.  I was very excited when I realized Nice doesn’t.  I hate sand.  Probably want keeps me from viewing the beach at home.  Instead, the coast is filled with the best, softest, skip worthy rocks and pebbles I have ever seen.  These don’t stick to you when you get sweaty, but they are pretty much soaking wet merely an inch deep.

5. The mountains aren’t moving.

I know, this seems like a weird thing to consider an observation, considering how impossible this would be were it true, however, it took us a moment to realize it.  We forgot out cameras, and sort of freaked out for a moment, until we realized we’re going to be here for three months, we could certainly get another picture then.