Jack Johnson, palm trees and perfect weather: what else can you ask for in a weekend? I took the overnight bus from Aix to Barcelona on Thursday: a 6.5 hour ride for just 35 euro round trip: really not a bad deal. Miles and I met up in the Barcelona bus station at about 5:30 am and hung around for awhile until we got up enough energy to trek to Hostal Fernando. After dropping our things off in a locker there, we headed straight to the port: we both had a clear craving for the sea. The port of Barcelona is amazing: very welcoming. There is a nice boardwalk/promenade with benches right on the water. We basked in the rays for awhile, soaking up the sun and loving every minute of it. At 9:30am, the opening hour of the "biggest aquarium in Europe", we were the first in line, along with 3 large groups of Catalunyan school children. We did our best to avoid the masses of Barcelonan ninos, and very much enjoyed the exhibits. We left the aquarium starving, jonesing for some alimentacion. All of the good looking lunch places being closed (it was only 11:30 or so), we killed time checking out the shops in the Barri Gotic, eating deliciously ripe plums from a fruit stand and sitting in the Placa near one of the huge churches. The Barri Gotic, which is where our hostal was, is awesome, by the way. An interesting melange of lively nightlife (LOTS of Irish bars), chic shops, modern art museums and ancient architecture: it's very dynamic and alive. Eventually we happened upon a great veg restaurant called Vegetalia. Miles had miso soup and I had a "seitandwich"...it was delicious and really refreshing to find vegetarian food that doesn't take the form of a cheese crepe. Afterwards, feeling exhausted and a bit dirty from the bus ride, we checked in to our hostel, showered and relaxed for awhile. We ate a late dinner at Maoz: the greatest, cheapest (VEGETARIAN!!) falafel house in all of Europe. Miles' is spoiled with a Maoz in Madrid, but as I'm not, we stuffed our faces. We ate there three times over the course of the weekend. :) The next day we got up relatively early and headed first off to Park Guell by way of La Rambla: the main street in Barca with street performers, palm trees and lots and lots of sun. We metroed to the park where we discovered a great view and LOTS of Gaudi art: sculptures, and his famous never-ending, tile mosaiced (sp?) bench. We spent some time there marveling at Gaudi's amazing style, then grabbed a quick lunch and headed on to the church Sagrada Familia. Though under heavy construction, the church was amazing. It strongly resembles a sand castle, and is absolutely massive. We waited in the line to go up in the towers: big mistake. Packed with tourists, it took almost an hour to get up. The view from the top was nothing special, and the crowd-induced claustrophobia drove us both crazy. Needless to say, we were happy to be back on Catalunyan soil. That night was the big event, the main reason we were in Barcelona in the first place: JACK JOHNSON!!! We headed out to the venue about 3 hours before opening time: to our surprise the crowd was quite small, and we were about 5th in line. I was not surprised to find ourselves among a largely American crowd: lots of fellow abroad students, some on high school rotary exchange. We people-watched and ate strawberries, cheese and baguettes. As the sun went down, it got pretty damn cold as there was a slight sea breeze: nothing a bottle of cava can't help :) (By the way, we bought the cava at a stand in the Barcelona indoor market, right next to a meat stand selling pig feet and tails!!! I'll post pictures: look if you dare.) Finally, the doors opened and we rushed in. Our seats: general admission, FRONT AND CENTER!!! Couldn't have asked for better. After two openers, Jack Johnson started playing at about 9:30. (Previously we had worried that the crowd would be small, “poor Jack”: but at this point we looked around, and it was absolutely packed). He went straight for about 2.5 hours. He was amazing: great voice and absolutely gave us our money's worth. His stage presence is very refreshing: a little bit shy and reserved, but still interactive. He even threw in a Spanish phrase now and then..."mi espanol es muy mal". He really played like he meant it, and we sang along. The encore was amazing: surprisingly long. We took the metro back to the hostal, absolutely high on Jack. The concert made us both feel at home, Miles especially with the ties to UCSB. A seriously unexpectedly uplifting experience. The following day we slept in, and checked out of the hostal at which point a minor bit of drama commenced. Without us knowing it, my laptop bag was stolen from the hostal. We were alerted by two Spanish "guardias urbanas" that the robber had been caught, and that we would have to follow them to the station for the collection of the stolen item and for a declaration of the victim. We walked alongside the police car, the culprit in the back seat and my bag laying on the dashboard. In the four short blocks to the station, the car was backed into by a cleaning truck: I'm glad we were walking. That created more drama. We ended up sitting at the police station for about an hour while Spanish bureaucracy followed it's slow and circuitous path. The police, who spoke no English, were very accommodating and actually quite amusing: typical policemen with machismo attitudes and not a whole lot to do. Miles did a great job translating all of the paperwork for me: good practice for him, and good luck for me. After all the paperwork was filled out (passport number, parents names, address, phone number) we were on our way. The irony of the situation: my laptop was at home in Aix this whole time. The bag contained a pair of cheap boots and my slippers. Though very dear to my heart, I can't say these shoes would have been a grave loss. Joke's on the criminal :) We spent the day walking around town, meeting with a UCSB friend for cafe, eating Maoz (3rd time). We saw more Gaudi architecture and spent some study time at Starbucks, enjoyed the perfect weather. We ate a great relaxed lunch of cheese pizza and huge glasses of delicious sangria, just what we needed, right near the Arc de Triomf (Catalunyan spelling is the weirdest).
In the hours we spent “killing time” before our late evening bus rides, I had time to collect my thoughts about Barcelona:
SOOOO much more laid back than the typical French city. Seemingly more liberal since people seem to be more free, and actually wear COLORS!!
Absolutely beautiful: amazing mélange of history and modernism, with fascinating Gaudi architecture and swaying palm trees everywhere.
Best spent with a best friend, a good camera and a large glass of Sangria. Salud!!!

So, I have exciting stories of my recent weekend in Barcelona, but as I'm waiting to receive the relevant photos via email, I figured I need to write a random blog just to satisfy my avid readers. Haha.
This past weekend (and Saint Patty's Day) was spent in Aix. We had planned a trip to the Camargue, a marshy wetland near Aix, but postponed it a week due to inclement weather and a slight hangover. Thursday night we stayed out til 5am dancing in an underground cave bar called Skat Club: really great atmosphere that was a breath of fresh air from typically snooty Aix clubs. Friday night, though intended to be "chill", ended up being another late one. We splurged and bought real alcohol, Guinness and Bailey's, for Irish Car Bombs. Unfortunately, for lack of real glassware, we ended up pouring the Bailey's into mugs of Guinness rather than the more upscale dropping of the shot into a pint glass. They still tasted good. Played a few rounds of cards then headed out on the town where we hit multiple packed Irish pubs and had a general blast.
The rest of the weekend was spent relaxing and making delicious food with friends. Saturday night we tried out our first (hopefully of many) Provencal cuisine nights. Sarah, a friend from Ohio, was in charge of baguettes and cheese. (What French meal is complete without those?) I was in charge of the appetizer: Potato Trian. An extremely simple dish, my portion of the meal consisted of a potato, tomato, cheese, onion and thyme casserole. It turned out well, even without access to an oven. Tobie, a good friend from Seattle, made breaded aubergines (eggplant). That was delicious, even though I'm not usually an eggplant person. Last, and ABSOLUTELY not least, was my roommate, Sarah's, "poire au chocolat". Usually not much of a chef, she dazzled us with her culinary abilities. Actually a rather simple recipe: you should all try it. Get some delicious, large pears. Boil 2 cups water w/ 1 cup added sugar and 1/4 tsp added vanilla extract. Peel the pears, then add them to the boiling sugar water. Turn heat down and simmer pears for 15 min or until very tender, turning half way through. Melt a copious amount of semi sweet chocolate, drizzle it over them, and enjoy :)
As my weekend was relatively uneventful, I wanted to share with y'all some random thoughts that I've had of late.
French public affection:
One thing Americans are often mocked for by the French is their lack of ability to show affection towards another. The French uphold an image of intimacy through their famed kiss on the cheek greeting, relatively miniscule personal space bubble and sometimes overly public make-out sessions. I am not duped. When you really get down to it, it seems the French are not affectionate in any of the ways that matter: swapping the occasional hug between friends, offering a neck massage to a sore “ami” or general physical interaction that’s typical of the quotidian American conversation. Sigh.
Aix as home:
It’s been fascinating to see Aix en Provence develop as a place I call home. Beyond knowing the streets well, frequenting a few regular cafes and knowing some market vendors by name, the things that strike me most interesting and most often are the way I get annoyed when the weekend “tourists” come to town, the way I’ve learned to dodge dog dirt without even looking, the way I recognize cigar smoking regulars at bars in the centre ville. Sure there are days I get sick of Aix, have no desire to explore, want nothing more than to get away for a weekend: but I would vigorously assert that the best thing about traveling, or just living in general, is getting to know the backstreets, spending time at holes in the wall and recognizing even the slightest of evolutions. In some ways the everyday routine of doing laundry on Rue du 4 Septembre thrills just as much as a whirlwind tour of Paris or Barcelona.
Photos: in order to make this blog more aesthetically pleasing, I’ve added a few photos. Some are of our Provencal cuisine night, and some are of a trip to the Pont du Gard, near Nimes, from a few weeks ago. A la prochaine fois, tout le monde!!!