A tale of four countries

Sat Jun 27, 2009 03:44 EST (UTC -5)

When we last left our heroes, they had awoken in a stylish apartment in Sabadell, a suburb of Barcelona.

Last Friday was a short day since Andy woke up so late. He and I went downstairs to play the keyboard. I taught him a song and he played some others. That was our day, pretty much. Santi and Olga, our hosts, were kind of surprised that we had stayed in Sabadell instead of going into Barcelona, but I wasn't.

Many of you have commented on Andy's tendency to sleep and asked if he had a problem. I said no, he doesn't have a problem. He likes to stay up all night, and he prefers befriending the locals to sightseeing anyway. But actually, he's just told me that he was diagnosed as having an unusual circadian rhythm. Also, for every day I don't mention that he slept late, he probably woke up at a reasonable time. Cut the guy some slack.

On Saturday morning, Andy and I asked our hosts where we could get some more Steinburg Clasica, and they said they had put some lemon Fanta or something in an old Steinburg Clasica bottle. In my defense, 4.8% alcohol could taste like anything.

Mark and Dan were in Barcelona that day, so Andy and I wanted to meet Mark at Park Guell. All we knew is that he wanted to meet us and some of his new friends by a lizard statue. We got lost on the way to the park and arrived half an hour late. There was no sign of Mark or any such statue.

But there were signs of Gaudi, the visionary architect who left his mark on Barcelona. He designed the park, and the flowing forms all around are his.

We went into a cafe to ask where the lizard statue was, and we were told that it wasn't far away. As we went to look for it, we encountered Mark, who had been at the park for a while but was lost and confused. It turned out that the lizard statue was right by the grand staircase at the entrance of the park. Mark's other friends, however, were not.

Mark had already gone around the whole park, so we followed him for a bit. There's a path that encircles the park, and it's filled with tourists. Not long into our walk, we encountered a large open area with a view of the city. It was also my first view of the Mediterranean.

There was also some food right there, so I got a pre-made potato omelet sandwich that was pretty bad. I hadn't eaten all day, though, so it was okay.

We walked a little more and made it to the highest point in the park, which was a sort of mound with stairs going up around it. The view was even better.

Andy and I couldn't stay long, so the three of us started to head back to the nearest metro station. On the way, we stopped at a shop for some more eats and drinks. I had a Fanta, which I wasn't particularly fond of. It tasted like slightly carbonated orange juice.

We parted ways with Mark on the metro. We had to be back at our hosts' apartment because they wanted to take us to a barbecue/campout in the mountains that evening. But when we got there, they said that they were put off by the weather, which was slightly menacing. Instead, we would go in the morning.

They decided to have the barbecue for dinner anyway, so we had a meal of it on the back patio. Since it was mostly going to consist of meat, Andy and I went to the local supermarket so Andy could get some vegetarian food to cook. He ended up making mashed potatoes, which everyone enjoyed. Olga's 10-year-old sister, who was apparently visiting from Russia, had dinner with us too.

On Sunday, we hopped into the van and took a drive to the mountains. There's a small mountain range outside Sabadell. I forget what it's called, but Santi, a mountain enthusiast, calls it his favorite. They said it was their third time taking Esperantists to the mountains. I thought it would be nice to get some fresh air and do something a little different.

We started driving up one particular mountain, going through the neighborhoods that had situated themselves around it. Santi parallel-parked on a street about halfway up the mountain, and nearby we found a place to begin. Oh yes, we would be hiking. Up the mountain.

It started easily enough. But then it quickly got more difficult. I was practically panting before we took our first break. Everyone else, including Olga's sister, was having a grand old time. So I had some water, and we kept going. And going and going and going. We followed narrow paths flanked by wild plants. We climbed stairs of tree branches. We got higher and higher and higher.

Eventually, we were walking around the side of the mountain. The width of the path varied. At one point, it was so narrow that one wrong step could have sent me over the edge if I hadn't been holding on to the cable that was anchored along the mountainside. I wasn't really scared, but I was very tired. Exhausted, even.

At one point, we got to a giant rock formation reminiscent of the southwestern United States. It looked sort of like a giant boulder sitting on a promontory of the mountain. We walked around it and admired the view of the mountainside. There wasn't a lot of room to walk around there, so of course, there were bees hanging around. But nobody got stung, fortunately.

They asked us if we wanted to walk a bit further to get to the restaurant at the top of the mountain or whether we wanted to just leave. Although I was tired and aching, I thought it would be nice to stop at a restaurant and relax. So we kept going higher and higher. The path started to consist of steps, and we saw lots of people going the other direction, so I knew we were close.

Finally, I could see the restaurant at the top of the mountain, but it was still pretty far away. I thought I was going to die as we were finally walking up to it. But nobody else seemed to be that way. There were lots of people hanging around outside, with a lot of kids and dogs. And then there was the view. At the top of the mountain, you could see everything. It was almost worth it!

Rather than going into the restaurant, we sat outside it and had a little picnic, which I thought wasn't as fun. I wasn't very hungry, so I ate a piece of bread and drank gazpacho from a carton. Everyone else had leftovers from the barbecue.

After a while, we did go into the restaurant, which was apparently an 11th-century monastery. ("Every valley shall be exalted and every hill made low." An attractive promise.) We just went in for coffee and tea. Andy fell asleep because, as I recall, he went out clubbin' the night before and therefore slept very little. He had also just hiked up a mountain. Okay???

The restaurant was apparently closing, so we left and went on our way. Going down the mountain was easier than going up, but you still have to be careful not to let gravity get carried away with you. In any case, it was simple enough that I passed the time by just thinking about other stuff. Over the course of my life I've had to endure many boring or tedious things, so I have a high tolerance for boredom.

After a little while, we arrived at a paved road. Instead of continuing down the mountain, we took the road and turned around the corner. It was the street that we had parked on. I looked up. It wasn't halfway up the mountain; it was almost all the way up the mountain. We took a really long and circuitous route to get to the top and a really quick way down. I was as surprised as I was tired.

Andy and I both passed out once we got home. Well, I lay down to rest and apparently actually slept for a little while, which is my equivalent of passing out. I couldn't help but consider Edmund Hillary and Tenzing Norgay my new heroes.

On Monday, Andy and I left Sabadell for a meeting we had been planning for weeks. Andy's friend George was going to be with his mom and stepdad (or somesuch relation) in Barcelona. They had rented an apartment in the Ciutat Vella, the old part of Barcelona. We met them on La Rambla, one of the main drags in town. Andy, George, and I went to a Chinese restaurant and then checked out the apartment.

It was pretty nice. I didn't know you could rent an apartment for a few days like a hotel room, but you can. It also smelled like a hotel room, which wasn't bad. We caught up with George's parents there, and when George's stepdad and I were the only ones awake, we went out to explore the old part of town. There were lots of locals walking up and down the narrow streets. There were also a lot of small plazas, some with their own churches. On our way back, we got some groceries.

Then, it was dinnertime. This was the dinner we had been been aware of well in advance: Monday, June 22, dinner in Barcelona with George's family. For dinner, we had a lot of options. We ended up going to a hip place just around the corner. The menu had entrees categorized in a grid, with the main ingredients on the horizontal axis and the cooking style on the vertical. I think everybody liked the food. They had Italian, Mediterranean, and Asian dishes of all types, so there was something for everyone.

Part of the dinner plan was to spend the night with George's family, so we did that. We were going to leave on Tuesday, but Andy wanted to stay an extra day. I didn't think it was a bad idea either since we had hardly seen much of the city. So Tuesday was a full day in Barcelona.

The five of us started by going to the Picasso Museum, which was only a few blocks from the apartment. Due to its location in the Ciutat Vella, it was necessarily a small place. And when the guidebooks say that this museum mainly has early works by Picasso, they're not kidding. There are only a few of his cubist paintings. And the rooms containing what's supposed to be the highlight of the museum, some of the versions of Las Meninas that he painted in the '50s, were closed for remodeling.

It wasn't all bad; The First Communion, one of his first major works, is very nicely done. But if you're an art major or someone who's otherwise interested in Picasso's early development as an artist, you would probably enjoy it more. Otherwise, you're not missing much.

We spent some more time walking around the area, including the Plaza de la Constitucion:

We had lunch at a quiet, kind of fancy restaurant around there. I had a dish of Catalan sausage with rice and vegetables. After that, we eventually made it to the beach. We sat on a bench behind all the sunbathers and watched the Mediterranean. I also watched the sunbathers for a bit. Andy and George got some beach-type alcoholic drinks.

When we Americans talk about Europeans, we often mention their laissez-faire attitudes toward things that for some reason get our collective national undies in a bunch. What we don't often mention, maybe because we don't know, is that Europeans take things in moderation. They walk their dogs without leashes—sometimes. They take their tops off at the beach—sometimes. They drink in public—sometimes. I don't know how we got this way, but we seem to be afraid that society will collapse if Uncle Bob savors a cold one on the sidewalk or the kids see a nipple. We can learn a lot from the Europeans. Everything in moderation.

It was sometime on Tuesday that I realized it was less than three weeks till my 20th birthday. My days as a teenager are numbered. What, if anything, does it mean? Maybe not that much. After all, our decimal number system is arbitrary. I like to think that I'm 23 in octal. But on the other hand, it means a lot in society to be in one's teens or twenties. My friends who have turned 20 seem like they were when they were 19, but I don't think I would feel the same inside. There's so much I haven't done, and it feels like a weight hanging on me. I don't want to be someone who didn't have so much as a girlfriend until his twenties, but I am set to be. A lot of people would say it doesn't matter, but it doesn't reflect well on me, and I care about that.

It was getting kind of late, and some of us had to go to the bathroom, so we went over to a fancy hotel and used the facilities there. We sure looked out of place since we were all touristy and everything. My comment about the place "oozing with fancy" probably didn't help much either.

We walked home from there. At one point, we went through a park where there was a tire swing. Of course, Andy and George had to swing each other around. I joined in too. After regrouping at the apartment, we went to one of the Ciutat Vella's many other restaurants. This one was called Juicy Jones, and according to some guide that George read, it's the only all-vegan restaurant in Barcelona. I had some gazpacho and some Italian corn thing that I should have remembered the name of. As you might expect for a vegan restaurant, our waitress had lots of tattoos and the decor was crazy. The food was pretty good, though.

By then, it was dark, and we could hear all kinds of fireworks, firecrackers, and other fire-related things. While in Sabadell, we would hear the occasional firework, which sounded like a gunshot or a car backfiring, and we were able to gather that an important holiday was coming up. Tonight was the night before the feast of St. John, the patron saint of Spain. We walked by the Cathedral and saw small children lighting fireworks. In the plaza outside the apartment, there were fireworks too, but I didn't find it too hard to sleep.

Some things were closed on Wednesday, but Andy and I hoped we could get a train out of town so we could continue our journey. George accompanied us to one of the major train stations, where we spent hours waiting to get tickets to France. We had time to eat a quick lunch, but we could have made it a very long one.

Once we got our tickets, we felt free to roam around the city for one more afternoon. We walked through the city's plaza (as I've probably mentioned, every Spanish city has one) and then walked down La Rambla. The tourist books describe La Rambla as such a fun place for kids, but I'm not sure that I would agree. The human statues are supposed to be exciting, but I think they would frighten small children. Heck, they would probably frighten some people I know. My European guidebook also gleefully explains how vendors sell birds on the thoroughfare. Parents would love that, I'm sure.

To be fair, things got more interesting as we moved down the road. That's where the artists are. Some draw portraits and caricatures; others systematically spray-paint alien landscapes. I could have hung out there a little while longer. Also, I think it would be cool to have a caricature of me, but not from one of those artists who draw all their people the same way. Exaggerate my nose and mouth only if I have a big nose and mouth!

We made it down to the Columbus statue, where we sat for a while before returning to the apartment.

Andy and George got gelato and a smoothie on the way, so their appetites were wrecked. We ended up having dinner with George's parents at a bar that happened to serve some food. It was good because I wasn't very hungry. Then Andy and George went to a crepe place and had more gelato.

On Thursday, Andy and I set off early for the train station. The train that was waiting for us was a little different from the ones I had been used to. Rather than kicking back in a relatively modern train, we bounced along in a Franco-era tin can. Our destination: a town in the South of France called Pignans, where we had been putting off meeting our next Pasporta Servo host due to our extra nights in Barcelona with George. On the way to Pignans, we had to make stops in Montpellier, Marseille, and Toulon, so we were on trains and in stations for most of the day.

When we finally got to the little station, we were ready to follow the directions we had been given when a man on a bicycle greeted us in English. I try to ignore suspicious-looking people who try to strike up a conversation with me, but when he mentioned Esperanto, I knew he was our host. He took us back to his house, which wasn't far. The town seemed to be little more than a few houses.

He showed us the guest house that he rented out and used for Pasporta Servo guests. Then we went inside the main house, where we met his wife, who also spoke Esperanto, and his 17-year-old son, who practiced his English with us. It was sort of late by non-Spanish standards, but they had dinner waiting for us. We got to learn a little about the family. The husband was French and the wife was Polish; they apparently met because of Esperanto. They had an older son who was about to finish a trip across the United States. The younger son claimed not to speak Esperanto, but he understood it well.

The after-dinner entertainment consisted mainly of Andy rocking out on the family piano. I accompanied him on the son's guitar. The father had a sort of bongo drum that he played to keep time. After a while, Andy took to the drum and asked if I would sing. I was hesitant at first, but I let it loose on "Stand By Me." We also played that annoying song, "Calabria," which is soooo 2007 or whatever. It was funny.

By then it was late, so after a brief e-mail checking session, we retired to the guest house. Andy really wanted to stay there another night, and I did too, but we were running out of time, and I felt that we had to keep moving on.

So today we awoke for a quick breakfast, and after the son took us to the train station, we made our way back to Toulon, the nearest major city. From there we were supposed to go to Nice, but there was something wrong with the train, so we had to get off at a different station and wait for the next train to Nice. Finally, we were in Nice, which was pretty nice. But we couldn't stay there for long. We were headed for... Monaco.

I always thought it would be interesting to go to Monaco, so I thought we should stop there and check out the world's second-smallest country for a while. We were going to have three hours there, but because of the delays, our Monaco time was cut to one hour.

The French national railway serves Monaco, and its station is pretty large. We walked outside, and the weather was beautiful. Outside the station we saw a map of the country with a "you are here" sticker. It was awesome.

Monaco is a playground of the rich, and it shows. Monte Carlo, the city that is coterminous with the country, is filled with ritzy-looking places, and the water is filled with yachts. Look at me in front of the yachts!

You can also see ritziness on the road. You can find Ferraris and Rolls-Royces next to Renaults and motorcycles. Even the taxis are fancy. I saw a Mercedes-Benz and a Volvo limousine for hire.

Apparently, I wasn't the only tourist who wanted to wander around in Monaco while snapping pictures. To my mild surprise, lots of other tourists were there too, and I even saw some tourist-type shops. About halfway through our hour, we stopped in a small park amid all the hustle and bustle. Then we decided to head back to the station.

On the way, we stopped at a little bakery, where Andy got a little treat that was kind of expensive. In the shop, I saw what seemed to be a photo of the previous Prince of Monaco, flanked with flowers. I wondered how much nationalism it's possible to have in a tiny country that is in many ways dependent on another. I did see the national flag quite a bit.

After Andy had some gelato (hey, it's good stuff), we made it back to the station for our Italy-bound train. After about 20 minutes, we were at the border station of Ventimiglia. This was the first time I had visited two new countries in one day, and it's interesting to note that I had been in three countries in the span of half an hour.

We hit up an Internet cafe across the street from the station so we could make arrangements for our stay in Pisa that evening. We booked the cheapest place we could find, a bed and breakfast. Right after we booked it, we realized it was in the nearby town of Lucca. Undeterred and vaguely aware that Lucca was a beautiful town, I booked a hostel in Rome after that. The website wouldn't let us make a reservation for Saturday night, only Sunday and Monday, so we decided that we would call the hostel and ask about Saturday.

The next train was to Genoa, and there we changed trains for Pisa. Once in Pisa, we realized that we had missed the last train to Lucca, so the only way to get there would be by taxi. Instead we checked out some hotels near the station and found one that was comparably priced to a hostel. That's where we are now. It's not the greatest, of course, but it's not bad either. They have free breakfast and Wi-Fi, but their firewall blocks certain pages, such as those with "gay" in the URL. Not cool.

Today we'll check out the sights in Pisa, and then we're off to Rome!

Nine in the afternoon

Fri Jun 19, 2009 12:12 EST (UTC -5)

Once, I had a friend named Laura. We went to school together. Then, she moved to Seville, Spain. We exchanged a few letters, but they soon stopped.

A few months ago, Laura contacted me through MySpace, and we caught up on things. I told her that I'd be going to Europe in the summer and asked if I could meet up with her.

On Sunday, I took a high-speed train from Madrid to Seville. As you might have been able to guess, it was pretty fast. Laura was waiting for me at the station. I hadn't seen her in 12 years.

We took a bus to her house; they've been building a subway system in the city, but it's not close to being finished, so people get around by bus. Her place is pretty nice. She lives with her mom and her sister (who currently isn't there) and their six cats.

One of the first things I did at her house was drink lots of Coca-Cola. I had been guzzling it all weekend, surpassing the 2-liter mark (not including Pepsi). Laura said she's heard of Americans who visit and can't stop drinking Coke. I didn't think I had noticed a difference between Coke with corn syrup and Coke with sugar, but apparently I don't get tired of the latter as easily.

I was also hungry, so I made myself some small sandwiches. They had an interesting meat that tasted like a cross between bologna and pepperoni. I would call it bolepperoni.

Laura got out her yearbook from second grade, and we shared stories that we remembered about the people in our class. I told her what the ones I've been in contact with were doing now. Laura's mom had some stories from back in the day as well.

Later, Laura and I went out to look for a good place to eat down by the river. By this time, it was about 11 o'clock at night. The Spaniards usually don't eat dinner till late at night, but since it was Sunday, not a lot of places were open. We got a couple of hot dogs and then went to an ice cream shop, which was actually hoppin'.

I was tired. We had walked around a lot, to be sure, but I think weeks of walking have caught up with me. Plus, the days go late in Spain. They wake up late, have a little breakfast, eat a big lunch in the afternoon (around the time of the famous siesta), and have a small dinner late at night. Around 1 or 2 in the afternoon, Laura would still be calling it the morning; it's morning till lunch. She would also say "7 in the afternoon," which makes sense in the summer when the days are so long. It would get dark around 10.

On Monday, we went walking around the central part of town. Seville is a big city, but it feels suburban most everywhere. I wanted to check out the local El Corte Ingles since I didn't get to visit their flagship store in Madrid. It was a department store, but they also have a travel agency and other crazy stuff. In a similar vein, we checked out Fnac, which is an electronics store that also sells movies, music, and books. They should have something like that in the States if they don't already. I would probably live there.

For lunch, we went to one of Laura's favorite restaurants. It's kind of a small place, but there's a bar and some tables. In one corner, there are some large steps, like bleachers, where people can sit and eat. We had some sandwiches. One of mine was a potato omelet sandwich. A potato omelet is called a tortilla de patatas, and it's a traditional dish in Spain. I've also found out that they have lots of words for sandwiches.

Later, as it was getting dark, we went to the Parque Maria Luisa and the adjacent Plaza de España. My camera's new memory card decided to crap out right then, and I didn't have my spare on me, but the lighting was bad anyway. The Plaza is really grandiose, and its grandiosity was evident even though part of it was being renovated. There are lots of benches, each one representing an important city in Spain and showing an illustration about it.

For dinner, we went to a restaurant near Laura's house. Actually, it was apparently a drinking establishment that happened to have a large selection of food and outdoor seating. We each got a couple of tapas, or small plates of food. They're great for trying new things. I can't tell you what I ordered, but it was pretty delicious.

My new memory card had been working intermittently, so on Tuesday, we went back to Fnac to look for a new one. Since they didn't have the right one at a similar capacity, I decided to use my old one, and we went to the Cathedral.

It's one of the larger or largest such buildings in the world and, as is the way of these things, looks even larger when you're inside. Laura explained to me the religious significance of a lot of the things because Spain has some unique traditions. And check out that organ!

One of Christopher Columbus's sons is buried in the Cathedral. Columbus himself may or may not also be entombed in Seville; there's a rival grave in the Dominican Republic. Interesting!

At the church, we climbed the Giralda, the highest tower in Seville.

Most of it was built by the Muslims, who had the foresight to make it wheelchair-accessible. Actually, they built the tower with a series of ramps so they could ride their horses up to the top. The Christians added the top part, with a few stairs, later.

Laura says there's an unwritten rule in Seville that no building should be higher than the Giralda. From it, you can see the whole city.

Next, we went to the Reales Alcazares, built as a royal palace in the Islamic style. The place is pretty open and airy, with lots of gardens that I was, of course, too tired to fully check out. We got to see royal bedchambers with magnificent Islamic designs. They looked like the other chambers because they were empty, but it was still neat.

We went home for lunch, and Laura's mom made paella with chicken and seafood. After I got some work done (I still have my job while I'm on vacation), we went to a classical concert. The ensemble was pretty small, and the people there wanted a donation of €10, so we went somewhere else. Sorry, Oxfam.

In Seville's Macarena neighborhood, there's a small church that's magnificently decked out. I believe it's called Our Lady of Hope of Macarena. We got there too late to go inside, so we had dinner. I had a cold soup called salmorejo, which is like gazpacho but with a stronger taste. I liked it.

On Wednesday, my last day in Seville, we started by going out of town to the ruins of the Roman city of Italica. It's located in another town, and there are restaurants and stuff across the street.

Even though it was very hot, we spent about an hour going around to the ruins of the arena and some various streets and buildings. A lot of them had fantastic mosaics, like this one showing some gods and goddesses:

There was a statue of the Roman Emperor Trajan overlooking the site. He and Hadrian were born there. I've heard of them!

Laura and I were both really hot and tired, so we went to a restaurant across the street from the Roman ruins. I had garlic chicken and some tinto de verano, which is apparently red wine with fruit juice added. It tasted refreshing and not very alcoholic. (Yeah that's how you get schwasted before you know it, by mixing drinks. Feh.)

After that, we returned to the church in Macarena. Behind the altar is a statue of the Virgin Mary, magnificently decked out.

The place reminds me of something, but I can't quite put my finger on it...

I went to bed relatively early in preparation for a long day. My stay with Laura was a lot of fun, and I thought it was cool that I was the first person from our school to visit her at her home in Spain. She also taught me a lot about the culture of Seville. At every turn, she had an opportunity to explain to me something about the local religious festivities such as those during Holy Week. Religion and traditions mean a lot to the people there.

On Thursday, I woke up just in time to catch the taxi that was waiting outside at 5:30 in the morning. Since Andy wasn't there, I had to make do with what little Spanish I had. If any of my Spanish teachers are dead, they'd have been rolling over in their graves.

I made it to the station and caught my train back to Madrid, where Andy would be flying in after going home for his grandfather's funeral. We had decided to meet at Chamartin station, but since our trains were entering and leaving the city at Atocha, I had told him that we should meet there. I sat near the ticket desk, where I told him to meet me, but a pig made me leave even though I wasn't harming anybody.

The situation was complicated. Andy was supposed to go back to Manolo's place, where we had stayed the previous week. Andy had left a lot of his stuff there, and he needed to get it. I thought I would try calling Manolo at work, but my credit card got stuck in the payphone, and I had to ask a random guy who didn't speak English to help me get it out. When I did call, I got an answering machine, and then I didn't have enough change to call his home number.

I thought that I could try to meet Andy where we had originally decided, but I was afraid to go there in case he went to where I was at the same time. I didn't think he didn't have his cell phone with him, so I couldn't call him. But I tried. Well, I tried to try. For the first time in three weeks, I turned on my cell phone. I was supposed to have an international roaming plan for use in case of emergency, but instead I had no signal.

Next, I tried hunting down some Wi-Fi in the likely event that he had sent me an e-mail. Of course, there was nothing usable in the station, and I even went outside the station looking for a cafe or other establishment that would have Wi-Fi. No dice.

Our train for Barcelona was going to be leaving soon, so I headed back to the station, thinking that if I could count on him being in a certain place at a certain time, it would be there and then. I went down to the train and found our seats. He wasn't there. As the train was about to leave, I got off to see if he was anywhere on the platform. He wasn't, so I decided to carry out my next plan.

My next plan was to try harder to find Wi-Fi. I stopped at some benches on the sidewalks outside the station looking for an unsecured network, but with no luck. I was sitting outside a hotel trying to get their Wi-Fi when I heard a familiar voice.

It was Dan, who was traveling with Mark on a concurrent leg of our trip. I knew that they were in Madrid, but I had no idea that we'd run into each other on the street, especially when I needed help the most. Everyone, including Dan's new friends from his hostel, was surprised by the coincidence.

We went to Mark and Dan's hostel, where I promptly jumped on the Wi-Fi. Andy had sent me numerous e-mails telling me where he was and where he would go next. I e-mailed Andy and called his dad to say that Andy should meet me at the hostel, which was close to our train station. Next, I opened the lunch that Laura's mom had packed for me: a ham sandwich, a sort of bread with bits of chocolate in it, a cup of yogurt, and a banana. I ate it all except the banana, which didn't really survive the hectic journey.

I caught up a bit with Dan and Mark, who was very surprised to see me hanging out at his hostel. After waiting at the computer for a while and doing nothing in particular, Andy finally e-mailed to say he would be on his way. Dan and Mark left for Barcelona, and then Andy arrived, tired and sweaty.

He told me his side of the story, and I have to say that it was much worse than mine. It involved meeting where we originally said we would, catching lots of trains, sending lots of e-mails to someone who never replied, and making it to the platform a few minutes after the train to Barcelona had left. He had just gone on his way to Manolo's when I e-mailed him, so he had to go all the way out of town and back. But we were together and safe.

Next, we had to go to Manolo's for real this time, so we contacted him, and he had his wife put Andy's bag outside the door. It took us forever to get there, and finally one of the residents let us into the building. We made it back to Atocha just in time to get tickets for the 19:30 to Barcelona. I collapsed as we ran into the train.

We arrived in Barcelona and managed to find our next Pasporta Servo host pretty easily. We got to the neighborhood just before midnight. The narrow streets were completely silent. We finally found the place, but the door was locked. We had his phone number but no phone. Just a minute later, he pulled up in his car with the young woman he lives with. They showed us into their unfinished yet stylish apartment, where they treated us to food and drinks and we chatted in Esperanto. Then I went to bed. I was very tired.

Today, I woke up Andy at 6 PM (in his defense, he had been jetlagged), and we made ourselves sandwiches. Since the water here tastes kind of funny, we helped ourselves to the alcohol. Steinburg Clasica is a pretty good beer, and at 4.8% alcohol by volume, it's basically a pre-mixed drink. (omg jordan is turing into an alcoholic) I guess we won't do much today, but hopefully we'll see some interesting sights in Barcelona tomorrow.

Se habla español

Sun Jun 14, 2009 04:47 EST (UTC -5)

We didn't do much on Tuesday. I woke Andy up rather late. He used Skype, and I wrote my previous blog post. Before we knew it, it was the early evening, and we hadn't gone out all day. I wanted to see if the nearby Pere Lachaise Cemetery was open, and Andy wanted to go to a particular electronics store for something. He found out that it was closed, and I figured that the cemetery was closed, but we decided to go out anyway.

After confirming my suspicions, we felt free to wander around Paris for a little while. As he has tended to do, Andy found a market and got a piece of fruit to eat. And as he also has tended to do, he went to a bookstore. During our time in France, he decided he wanted to learn French. The woman at the bookstore recommended another bookstore that specialized in learning languages, so we went there, and Andy picked up a French textbook and an Italian phrasebook.

After parting ways with our generous host, we made our way to the train station. We arrived about an hour early, so we went to a cafe, where Andy had some wine and I got a beer. It was my first legal drink. When I return home, my body will once again be too immature to process alcohol. (I've actually heard that used as an excuse for the USA's draconian drinking age, which I don't support at all.)

Anyway, the beer was disgusting, and our train left at 11:10 PM for Irun, a town just across the border with Spain. Seated in front of us were two girls about our age with large backpacks like ours. One of them was wearing a Nova Southeastern University sweatshirt. NSU is a private university in South Florida, i.e., near where Andy and I live. We chatted it up with them for a little while, and then the lights went out and people went to sleep.

Except me. I tried, but I'm not heavy enough of a sleeper to nod off on a plane, train, or automobile. So I went though the entire eight-hour train ride awake and at least semi-conscious.

So that was Paris. The first thing I could do when I got there was contrast it to London. The London Underground is cleaner than the Paris Metro. I didn't realize how nice the trains and stations were in London till I went to Paris.

As I've probably mentioned, this was the first time I had ever spent a significant amount of time in a non-English-speaking country. They do some things differently in France. For one thing, they often have water closets rather than having a toilet in the bathroom. I find nothing wrong with this unless I want to, say, wash my hands or (if the room is actually the size of a closet) sit. Also, I found out about the whole shower thing. Their shower heads are the kind that you can hold, allowing you to shower selectively.

France is pretty much like you'd expect. People play tonsil hockey with each other on park benches and take their loaves of bread for a walk. It is wonderful.

As the sun came up, we were approaching the French border. There were a lot of Spanish-looking villages nestled in the mountains, and at one point, the only thing between our train and the Atlantic Ocean was a little house. Andy and I got off at Irun, where we had just enough time at the train station to pick up some food. We had potato omelet sanwiches. Weird, but good.

Then we caught another train to Vitoria-Gasteiz, the capital of the Basque Country. We had decided to stop there between Paris and Madrid to stay with another Esperantist using the Pasporta Servo. After two hours of more beautiful landscapes, we made it to the city, but our host wouldn't be home till later. We finally found a cafe that had Wi-Fi, so we camped out there. I figured we should buy something, and they had these potato omelets out, so we each got a slice.

It was there that Andy found out that his grandfather had died. He decided that he would go home for the funeral in a few days and then rejoin me a few days later.

We went to our host's house, which again was actually an apartment. Unlike the last one, it was pretty luxurious. He was a very nice guy, and soon he was showing us around town with another local Esperantist.

I learned quite a bit about the city. It's called Vitoria in Spanish and Gasteiz in Basque. The central part of the city is on a hill; it has several churches and other buildings that are hundreds of years old. And everywhere, people were walking around. It seemed like a pretty decent-sized city, but our host and his friend kept running into people that they knew.

At one point, Andy tripped on a curb and hurt his toe, so we took a taxi to the hospital. While we were waiting there, Andy had time to go over his Italian flash cards and get a crash course in Basque from our host. The Basque language is unlike any other, and it has official status along with Spanish in that part of the country. Also, Andy's toe wasn't broken or anything.

After that, we went to a restaurant for some sandwiches and went home. I guess it was a pretty bad day for Andy, but he was still glad that we had stopped in Vitoria, and so was I. The scenery was good, the people were good, the health care system was good, and the sandwiches were good.

On Thursday, we went back to the station to catch our train to Madrid. Our host, who I believe went to work that day, was kind enough to meet us at the station and see us off. Along the way to Madrid, the scenery gradually changed from mountains and valleys to something like a desert. It started to feel like a desert too.

Finally, we were at the station in Madrid. It was late but still daylight. (The long summer days up here have can mess with your head. In England I was often woken up by daylight around 4:55 AM, and you could still see vestiges of sunlight at 10:30 PM.) We decided to eat dinner at a stand at the station. I had some various meats and a potato omelet sandwich. Then we took a local train to our next Pasporta Servo host in the outlying city of Galapagar.

On Friday, we went out and about to explore the city with some Esperantists. Jorge was the editor of a journal of Esperanto literature. He was accompanied by a Cuban, also called Andy, who, though not much older than us, had recently found political refuge in Spain. He love confusing people by talking to them in Esperanto, confusing Esperantists by talking to them in Ido, and drinking Coca-Cola.

After showing us some landmarks and getting lunch, they took us to the Parque del Retiro, which I recognized from one of my high-school Spanish textbooks.

We sat under a tree in the park. American Andy slept while Jorge and Cuban Andy talked in Esperanto about religion, politics, and the like. I mainly listened. It's not just because my speaking skills aren't up to par; I tend not to add much to conversations at all. (A teacher in high school said that when I did contribute to a conversation, it was as if Gandhi had entered a room full of people talking and said "Boo!", first silencing everyone and then making them reflect: "'Boo'... Damn, that's smart.")

After a while, we woke Andy up and continued our walk around central Madrid, including the Puerta del Sol, the point from which all road distances in Spain are measured. I apologized to Jorge for my awkward phrasings and limited vocabulary when I did talk, but he said I was very good for never having met other Esperantists two weeks ago. To improve my skills, he said, I should be an active reader and read his journal. We eventually reached the Plaza Mayor.

From there, Jorge parted ways with us, and Cuban Andy accompanied us to our train station. At home, our generous host had prepared for dinner a homemade potato omelet and a vegetable salad.

On Saturday, we left early so Andy could get to the airport for his flight home. I went with him because he had to use his Spanish knowledge to help me buy tickets to Seville, my (formerly our) next destination. After that, I met Cuban Andy and a couple of other Spanish Esperantists by the Museo Reina Sofia, where one of them was attending a protest against building an oil refinery in Extremadura. After having some free food and free wine (which tasted really nasty), we walked around for a bit and stopped for Cokes. Andy explained that you can't find Coca-Cola in Cuba except at a few hotels.

We went to an anthropological museum that was free because of renovations, and then we had lunch out in front of a restaurant. After that, it was just me and Andy. We had planned to go to the popular museums when the admission would be free. First we went to the Reina Sofia, a modern art museum. We didn't like a lot of the stuff there, but there were some mid-century photographs of Spanish life for which Andy provided a historical context. I also enjoyed the paintings by Miro, Dali, and Picasso. The latter's Guernica is there, flanked by museum employees who keep visitors far away.

We had some time to kill before El Prado would be free, so we chatted, mainly about Esperanto. Andy reminded me that there's a city in Germany that calls itself the Esperanto City and said that we should go there.

Finally, El Prado, one of the world's finest art museums, was opening its doors for free. I'm pleasantly surprised that some museums do this.

As we went inside, I immediately saw a famous painting that I recognized. There were many more where that came from, and Andy seemed to recognize more than I did. Many of the works were by Spanish artists such as Velazquez, Goya, and El Greco, who was actually a Greek. Also, I learned that the Spanish refer to Albrecht Duerer as Alberto Durero.

The highlight of the museum for me was Velazquez's Las Meninas, a very famous painting and one of my favorites. I also enjoyed getting to see The Garden of Earthly Delights. Read about those. They're very interesting!

After that, substitute Andy and I were both tired, so we parted ways. I went back to Galapagar, where I fixed myself a bite to eat and went to bed a little too late. After all the time I've spent with Esperanists here, I've just found out that Jorge Camacho is considered one of the greatest living Esperanto writers. He even has his own article on the English Wikipedia.

I've been impressed by Madrid's art, architecture, and public spaces. The subway system is clean, efficient, and cheap. But today, I'm getting ready to leave for Seville, where I'll meet my friend Laura, whom I haven't seen since she moved there 12 years ago. What sorts of crazy haps will ensue? Stay tuned...

Last tango in Paris

Tue Jun 09, 2009 09:24 EST (UTC -5)

Andy and I stayed in the hostel till Friday. That's when we met up with Matthieu, who we would be staying with for a few days. He first took us to the ruins of a small Roman arena. It appeared to be a park because there were a lot of people around acting as though it were a park.

He then took us to a garden-type place for lunch. There was a crepe stand there, so we had some crepes. The French do love their crepes, and they love to have Nutella with their sweet crepes. We sat on a bench to eat, and it was good because the weather was nice.

After that, we decided to go back to Matthieu's home because it's pretty far from Paris. He lives in Montigny-le-Brettoneaux, which is near Versailles. We took the train there, and it took over an hour. Once we were at his house (actually a condo), we settled in and got to know his family a bit.

They're like an American family. The mom is caring, the dad is goofy. He has two sisters, ages 16 and 1 (one). The older one like to play The Sims 3, and the baby likes to run around and yell and/or cry. They all love "Step by Step" and have taped a lot of episodes. (I wonder where the French guy is from in the French dubbed version.) Their English was much better than our French, so when we weren't speaking in Esperanto with Matthieu, we were communicating in English with his parents.

I had never spent a significant amount of time in a non-Anglophone country, so I didn't know what to expect in the way of customs. When dinnertime rolled around, I got to find out a bit. For dinner was a sort of zucchini-in-sauce-type-thing served over rice, with scrambled eggs on the side and I believe bread as well. The cups they drank out of were pretty small, and they only ever filled them halfway, so I followed suit. After dinner we tasted some cheeses, and the mother presented a traditional Breton cake. It was kind of squidgy and I think had prunes in it, but I liked it.

Also that night, I watched a French movie (subtitled in English) with Matthieu. It was called La Doublure, and it reminded me a lot of other European movies I had seen (not that many) in that it was all about the plot rather than, say, stuff blowing up.

On Saturday, the three of us went to Paris. Our first stop was the Eiffel Tower. Admission was €3.50, which wasn't too bad at all. The first thing I noticed about the Eiffel Tower, besides how big it is, is how brown it is. You can kind of see in pictures that it has a bronze hue, but up close, you can fully imagine the total brownness. In fact, I saw signs saying that the tower was currently undergoing its 19th paint job. Apparently it has to be repainted every few years.

The tower has three floors. It's quite a walk up to the first one (well, it was for me), but the view is worth it.

The second floor was about as long of a walk, but have a look. Actually, this picture might also be from the first floor. I can't really tell.

At the second floor, there are ticket machines. Yes, you have to pay more to go to the top. It's the same amount you paid for your ticket the first time, which depends on how old you are and stuff like that. But what a beautiful view there is.

From there, you take an elevator to the top floor, which is the smallest of the three. It was pretty crowded with other spectators. The lower part of the top floor is indoors and gives the directions and distances to major cities around the world. The top part is, well, as high as you can go. It's pretty unbelievably high up.

The Eiffel Tower isn't just about looking at the scenery. It has a couple of restaurants, a Ben & Jerry's, and (of course) and official store where you can buy Eiffel Tower anything at an insanely high price.

Walking (and elevatoring) down the tower isn't nearly as bad. It seemed to go by rather quickly. Before I knew it, we were back on the ground. We decided to go to a nearby plaza and have some crepes for lunch. Each of us got a crepe with bananas and Nutella. Pretty dang delicious. The Eiffel Tower was still in view from where we were sitting. Here's a nice shot of it.

The next and last sight I wanted to see was Notre Dame, so we stopped there for a little while.

Then, we went home and had a frozen pizza for dinner. It was a little different in that it had a sort of hollandaise sauce instead of tomato sauce, but it was good. The French seem to eat their pizza with a fork and knife. I didn't feel too out of place because I sometimes do that too.

We were kind of in a hurry to eat because we were about to go to the movies. Matthieu's mom took the three of us to see Star Trek, a movie I had already seen twice but was willing to see again. French movie theaters specify whether a foreign film is the "original version" (subtitled in French) or the "French version" (dubbed in French). Earlier, I had been confused when I heard that the movie theater was playing the "original version" of Star Trek. Also, going to the movies in France is hella expensive. I think my ticket was €9.50 or something like that, which Matthieu's mom graciously paid. It seems that you can buy a pass that gets you in to a large number of movies at an overall discount.

The European elections were Sunday, so in the morning, Andy and I went with Matthieu's family to the local polling place. They explained to us that the candidates were commnunists, fascists, and everyone in between. There was also a pro-Esperanto party, which was really awesome. The way they vote in France is pretty interesting. Each party prints a sheet with its list of candidates. To vote, you secretly place one of the sheets into an envelope and put that into the ballot box. Sounds pretty foolproof to me. (When we talked about voting with Matthieu's parents, they remembered that we were from Florida and mentioned the 2000 election. We can never live it down.)

Later that day, Matthieu took us to the Palace of Versailles. Even though it was being partially renovated, what we could see of the place was spectacular. Just look at the gates.

There were lots of bedrooms and sitting rooms and other fancy rooms with paintings and such. One of the most historically important rooms was the Hall of Mirrors, where many important things have happened.

When we went home, we watched another French movie, which Wikipedia says is being remade by Hollywood, possibly with Steve Carrell.

Which brings us to Monday. We went with Matthieu to a train station in Paris, where he helped us get tickets for our next destination: Vitoria-Gasteiz, Basque Country, Spain. He had to talk to the clerk for us because the clerk didn't speak English. We wanted to leave Tuesday morning or afternoon, but the next train would be Tuesday night. We decided not to pay extra for beds. So tonight, instead of spending the night in Vitoria, we'll be on a train.

Matthieu had to be off for a final exam, so he left. In search of decent food, shelter from the rain, and free Wi-Fi, Andy and I eventually found a Starbucks near the station, where we camped out for a few hours. Matthieu came back to visit for a while, but then he had to go home.

Finally, it was time to meet our host for the night and our first Pasporta Servo host. Actually, we had met him briefly at last week's Cafe Esperanto event. He lives in an apartment in the heart of Paris's 20th arrondissement. (The fightin' 20th!) After settling in and having a chat with our host, Andy and I went out to a grocery store and a bakery to get food for dinner. We got a good haul, and Andy ended up making broccoli, mashed potatoes, and tortellini for dinner.

Today is our last day in France. Andy tried to make an omelet, but it turned into scrambled eggs. I wanted to go to the Louvre today, but I found out that it's closed on Tuesdays. I think instead we'll walk around a bit and go to the famous Pere Lachaise Cemetery, where many great Frenchmen and Jim Morrison are buried. Then, tonight, it's off to Spain.

I see London, I see France

Thu Jun 04, 2009 15:45 EST (UTC -5)

Saturday was pretty quiet. Andy slept until 4 in the afternoon, so instead of going out, we made pancakes. Actually, he made one big pancake that we cut up and ate. Not much later there was lamb for dinner. We don't really eat lamb in the States, but I don't know why not. It tastes like beef.

On Sunday, Andy slept late again. He can sleep forever as long as nothing wakes him up. I convinced him that we should go out, but I wasn't really sure what we could do. We ended up wandering around London for a few hours in the afternoon. We came across a war memorial in Trinity Square, which is near Tower Hill, which is near the Tower of London. Europeans take the World Wars very seriously.

The next day, as you might have guessed, was Monday. I woke Andy up at 5:30 PM. He made soup. Later, he decided to hang out with one of the guys we had met at the London Esperanto Club, but I didn't feel like going. I was dead set on going to a pub and having fish and chips. So we decided to meet outside a pub near the house later that night. Even though I called Andy, he didn't show. His cousin (whose house we were staying at) found both of us as he was driving around; Andy was going home instead of meeting me at the pub. The pub was closed by then, but I was just glad to get a lift home.

Tuesday was supposed to be our last day in England, but we had found that we could get a better price on the train to Paris if we bought our tickets a day in advance rather than on the same day. We asked our hosts if we could stay another night, and it wasn't a problem. Andy was still sleepy, and there were some things I wanted to do in London before we left, so I went out by myself.

Can you guess what country I'm in?

First, I went to Westminster Abbey.

Beside kings, queens, and at least one saint (who was also a king), a lot of notable Britons are buried there, so I thought it would be interesting to see. Photography isn't allowed inside, so I didn't take any photos (unlike some people). Instead, you'll just have to take my word for everything. Cool? Cool.

Okay, so I knew that there were lots of dead people in Westminster Abbey, but I had no idea how crammed full of tombs it was until I got inside. When you walk in, there are memorials on the left and right sides. They go all the way back to the front door, so that the ticket booth is in front of several sculptures. I was wondering where the actual graves were until I looked down and saw that I was standing on some. They're marked on the floor all over the place, and many of them are of peple you haven't heard of from way back during the time when the Abbey wasn't so crowded. Space seems to be at a premium now.

It was interesting to see the graves of bygone monarchs like Elizabeth I, but I was especially interested in Poets' Corner, the famous section where the literary types are interred. That's where you'll find Robert Browning; Alfred, Lord Tennyson; some other people; and Lawrence Olivier. But the greatest of the great, it seems, are buried in the Nave of the abbey. The famous sculpture of Isaac Newton flanked by cherubs marks the spot where he's buried there. Of special significance is the tomb of the unknown soldier of World War I. As I was wandering around this holiest of holies, I remembered reading that Charles Darwin had been buried here and wondered where he was. Then I looked down and didn't need to wonder anymore.

Next, I went to the National Gallery, an art gallery in Trafalgar Square.

Admission is free, so I figured it would be fun to check out. I didn't know that one of my favorite paintings, the Arnolfini Portrait, was there, as well as several others I had heard of. They also (if I recall) had works by Raphael, El Greco, van Gogh, Monet, and Renoir. I spent most of my time looking at Renaissance-era paintings that were religous in nature. I wish I could have seen everything there, but the museum was going to close soon, and I was getting tired.

I was also getting hungry, so I returned to the cafe on Whitehall where Andy and I had gotten sandwiches a few days before. I had the fish and chips this time. Even though it wasn't the cafe's specialty, I had to say that I had fish and chips in England. I came up about a pound short on the bill and had to ask for money from some other American tourists in the restaurant. Frig, why didn't I just use plastic? Of course I think of that now.

Finally, I set out for Greenwich to see the Royal Observatory, the place that the Prime Meridian is defined to run through. I'm not sure how many other people would want to go to the Prime Meridian; it seems like a boring Jordon thing. It's kind of out of the way from central London, so it took me a while to get there by train, but it was worth it.

As the sun was setting, I made it to Greenwich, which is a quaint little place on the south bank of the Thames, across from the Isle of Dogs. I made my way to Greenwich Park, where the observatory can be found atop a hill.

The observatory was closed, but I was able to peer through the gates to see the "Prime Meridian of the World" sign. Apparently, I had already crossed into the Eastern Hemisphere without realizing it. Fortunately, a short section of the meridian was marked outside the gates, so I paused for the inevitable photo op.

Thus ended my romps in London. Yesterday, Andy and I were getting ready to leave, but we didn't have much time because we weren't supposed to make noise while Andy's cousin was giving a yoga lesson. In fact, she invited us to join her, and we obliged (well, I obliged). Never having done yoga before, I was of course not very flexible, but apparently I'm a natural squatter. Toward the end, I was advised to stop and just breathe while closing my eyes and sitting yoga-style. You know, "Om..." Apparently I impressed everyone with my ability to sit still. Thanks?

After that, Andy and I took a train to Paris and left our gracious hosts and the rest of London behind.

The first thing I really noticed about England (besides the weather) was how the people lived. On the train from the airport, I saw endless rows of little English houses all squeezed together on winding streets. People seem to live that way everywhere around London. The house in Mill Hill was like that too. Andy's relatives told me it was 135 years old. Mill Hill was kind of suburban but still quaint. The high street (main street) had lots of shops, and people apparently lived above them, even if the place was a Subway.

Speaking of which, the cultural differences were really apparent at times. I would see signs that said "Subway," but I knew they couldn't be referring to the underground train system because that's called the Underground. It turns out that a British subway is a pedestrian tunnel under a road. Who knew?

During my stay, I got some lessons on British words and phrases. I learned (or learnt) a bit about soccer (or football). I tried English tea (which tasted the same as any other tea) and found out that Heinz salad cream (salad dressing) is delicious on baked potatoes. And I had my fish and chips. London was a good experience, and I'm glad we could stay in a place that felt like home.

The Channel Tunnel, or Chunnel, is a feat of modern engineering, but it isn't very interesting to go through. Andy slept through it and didn't believe me when I told him we were already in France. I told him to look at the roads we passed by and verify that cars were driving on the right.

We arrived in Paris in the late afternoon and had a heck of a time trying to get to the hostel we had booked. It can be hard to get around in a new city when you don't speak the language. All I really know how to say in French are "Hello", "I don't speak French", "Do you speak English?", and "Thank you". But we did find the place, so we are now enjoying (i.e., having) our first hostel experience.

There's a room on the ground floor with a bar, a kitchen, and some tables. It's also a good place to use the Wi-Fi (which we have to pay for, so I'm writing this post offline). Andy was checking his e-mail here last night when he got a message from one of his Esperanto contacts. It was an invitation to an Esperanto gathering at a cafe downtown. Of course, we went.

There were at least a dozen Esperantists there; most of them were Parisians, but I did see several Japanese visitors as well. Everyone was friendly, and I didn't have too hard of a time understanding them. Some people left, but those of us who remained went to an Italian restaurant and chatted it up. They spoke to the waiter for Andy and me. Suddenly, this strange new city wasn't so scary after all. We had friends.

Andy and I returned to the hostel and slept. I'm a light sleeper, so I didn't appreciate that one of the people in our room woke up at 5:15 in the morning and spent at least half an hour making lots of noise, including answering a call on her cell phone. She also left the light on even when she seemed to have left the room. After that, I slept better.

We got up this morning for free breakfast and then had to be out for the day. To encourage guests to go outside and become responsible young persons, the hostel closes from 11 AM to 3 PM. They also make sure that the place is dirty and disgusting so you never want to be there. I am glad we won't be here much longer.

Anyway, we went out and met an Esperanto friend that Andy had made online. He was a nice guy, and he brought his friend who didn't speak Esperanto but did speak English. We went to a small skate park and Andy tried his hand at skateboarding; I, valuing my high number of non-broken bones, knew better than to try. But a pleasant time was had by all.

After that, Andy and I went Sacre-Coeur, a beautiful church that sits high on a hill overlooking Paris.

Next, we went to Place de la Concord and walked down the Champs-Elysses to the Arc de Triomphe. It was hard to get a good picture because the sun was behind it. That didn't stop me from making a weird face at the camera, though.

And that was today. Tomorrow, we'll be leaving the hostel and staying with an Esperantist as we see more sights around Paris. Stay tuned...