Lagos goals

After a five day stop in Lagos at the Rising Cock, we finally left for Lisbon to meet up with our Tios coming to visit us. Our last night involved packing all of our stuff up and thinking about trying to sleep but getting peerpressured into a night of staying up (the capitulation was remarkably fast ;) ) at various bars.

So long Chicken man, Nahnah burgers, 3 Monkeys with Scotty and his Chupitos alerts. And of course, so long to Mama with her awesome crepes and lemon tea.

The trip to Lisbon was via Tunes and was roughly 5 hours. The perfect amount of time to not get any sleep whatsoever, but we were quite proud to achieve the near impossible; catching transportation as it was scheduled...in the morning!

We were pretty exhausted, fortunately for us our Aunt and Uncle very generously decided to get us a hotel. While I will never give up hostels completely, a hotel break once and a while can be very welcome. After three weeks of taking as luke warm a shower as I, and my boys, could tolerate, I think I was just a few minutes away from making the shower a bath.

We got to the hotel ahead of them and collapsed after we helped Kezia, a fellow backpacker from the Rising Cock, get her trip to Paris settled. Having been burned on the Lagos to Sevilla trip with some of the times in GMT others in Spanish Standard Time (GMT + 85 minutes) we wanted to confirm the horario. So the guy at the desk calls the information number listed on the website...which was wrong. Patience is a virtue and a requirement for traveling in Iberia. Hoping the information was correct, we sent her on her way. (She later confirmed all went well)

Super Bockalao

Lisbon was the first city where I did next to no prepwork at all. I had no idea what to see (other than the castle as recommended by some backpackers in Lagos) nor any of the language other than to ask if they spoke English or Spanish, and Obrigado. Fortunately, our Tios did and recommended a museum near our hotel which had an impressive collection of ancient Greek coins, Egyptian knickknacks and Japanese artwork. Best of all the entrance is free.

After leaving, the first order of business was to find a place open to have some dinner. We strolled around the city which seemed about as tired as we were. As we got toward the coast we found a nice little place that was showing some futbol and served up Super Bock (which is neither, but still quite enjoyable) and some Bacalao which was delicious.

We all kind of thought it was weird that for a capital city, it didn't really buzz. It was more like a medium sized town. The next day the newspaper confirmed that the Portugese economy was lagging the rest of Western Europe.

The next day we decided against Sintra because of the misty weather and instead headed to the castle, cathedral and the old town. The main mode of transportation within the city was by trolley or metro and with the hilly roads it seemed remarkably like what I think of San Francisco and with a touch of Budapest thrown in. When we got to the castle we even saw a bridge that was the spitting image of the Golden Gate.

Having put in our share of uphill walking we returned to the hotel and watched a little bit of the Spanish election. Zapatero's socialist party (PSoE) won handily. That night we went to the best chinese restaurant I've ever visited. I went with lucky number 127 and hoped for the best. Maybe it was numerology, the fact that I was hungry or that I ordered it in Chinese. It was so good I came really close to getting another order to go.

We figaro'ed it was time for Sevilla

Day three in Portugal started with the usual breakfast and had us rushing to the bus station, with 10 minutes to spare. The worry from our more senior travel companions was hilariously palpable. 10 minutes is a luxurious cushion for the two of us. As it turned out, there was a more direct Lisbon to Sevilla bus that was not publicized on the web that left 30 minutes later. Awesome.

We began the log trek to Andalucia by way of Faro. Along the way I noticed how different the scenery was. At the Lisbon latitude it was way greener than arid Andalucia. The ride was long so we had a stop at a rest stop for about 45 minutes. All European rest stops have a similar feel. They are usually pretty nice, they have a gas station, a restaurant/food court and a souvenir stand. In the states, we have so many places to pull off. In Europe, they are few and far between partially due to the lack of intercity travel by car and also the urban centric lifestyle.

We pulled in to Seville at 8ish. From the Plaza de Armas we took a cab to Samay and while crossing Menendez Pelayo I felt a kick. It turned out to be two of our hostel mates from the Rising Cock who on the recommendation of Joe, Ben, Luke and the two of us made a reservation. There was room at our place but the Tios didn't get too thrilled by the prospect of dorm room living. (It turned out there was a private room that wasn't advertised on hostelworld they could have used...whoops!) So we showed them our pension from visits one and two to Sevilla on the Puerta de Carne. It is a very basic kind of place. Two beds, hot water, dripping with character but no TV (although anyone caught watching TV in Sevilla should be shot).

Across from the pension there was a nice Italian place where we got some grub and then headed back. The 10 hour bus ride had taken its toll so we made it an early night.

The first full day back in Spain, which funny as it sounds, was a little like coming home. That feeling I had as I left France for Irun came flooding back. Em was feeling bad so she met us later. My 3rd time inside I finally got a little more numb to it's awesomeness. Although, in preparation of Semana Santa it was decked out a little. We roamed around and entered the courtyard where I ran into a girl I knew from a messageboard I post to. I knew she was in Sevilla and we planned to meetup that night so I wasn't too shocked to see her and her friends but it was a nice surprise none the less. A few more pictures later we went out to meet Emily who was feeling a little better. Off to Euro fastfood; Pans and Company a place I frequented in Salamanca because of its proximity to the Plaza Mayor and its daily lunch specials.

We took a leisurely paseo to the Plaza de España and from there split ways. Em and I to the hostel to arrange some transportation for ourselves, and the two of them to an archaelogical museum.

We got a Tapas bar tip from the woman who worked in the hostel. Near the Alameda was calle Eslava home to the eponymous Bar Eslava. It was a packed hole in the wall with delicious food. Round one was delicious and everything I understood. Round two was a mixed bag including blood and onions and things I preferred not to look up after I left. Em went her own way from calle Sierpes and I walked with the girls to the Plaza de Armas.

Having had a stationary day we figured we were rested enough for Cordoba. We'll pick it up from there next time ;)

--Joey

(Photos to come within the next day or so right now I am having some technical problems)

Faro and away

Our second trip to Sevilla was 7 days of soaking up the town. Yup lucky number 7. We missed the bus to Lagos on Monday for the sake of 50 euro cents off a chicken sandwich meal at the BK Lounge.

Bonus night in Sevilla was kind of meh. Something I sort of knew but didn't have drilled home until recently. Your hostel experience is part the hostel itself and more so the people you meet around the common room. The place was dead come Monday. All of the great people we met were either in Lagos, Malaga, or Granada. All the music, communal cooking and joking around was replaced by silence.

The next morning I woke up arond 7a and checked my mail. The rest of the guys had made it to Lagos and were telling us the bus left at 7:30 not 8:30. I double checked the bus schedule and saw that 7:30 was the departure time from Lagos to Sevilla. With that reassuring tidbit, we took our time getting to the station. 10 minutes before we were scheduled to leave, we learned our friends were right and the website was wrong. At tourist information the typical Spanish mentality of customer service as an after thought prevailed again. The lady said she can get us on a bus to Ayamonte. Great, then how to we get to Lagos from there? Yo no se. What? She told us to ask someone at the station when we get there. You have to be kidding me. Okay fine. We get to Ayamonte and there is no station just a closed kiosk on the side of the road.

We talked to a cab driver who said that for 14 Euros he could get us to Portugal. To a town that has a train to Lagos. It was better than the alternative of waiting 8 hours in Spain so we went for it. Plus, he gave us a crash course in Portugese on the way there.

Two and a half hours via a stop in Faro and we were in Lagos.

When in doubt, follow the bleeding guy

With tourist season in a lull, the owners of pensions, hostels, and homes are hawking their accomodations. Nao obrigado, we have our accomodation...at the...Rising Cock hostel. It is rooster themed. It may also be a double entendre ;)

One of the guys pushing his house told us he would walk us there...he also had a bleeding lip. Not in the little blood crusts sense from a shaving mishap, but like a juicy, bright red bleeding corner. Not sure if he realized this or not but when you are trying to convince someone to stay in your house, the fewer open wounds the better. Anyway, the hostel was literally 10 minutes from the train station and 5 from the beaches.

Lagos is a Portuguese beachtown that reminds me a bit of Amity. It gets heavily touristed during the summer but it is a different kind of tourism than you see on the costa del sol. Right now, the shops along the sun beaten streets are catching their breath in anticipation of the endless lazy summer days to follow.

Our hostel, the Rising Cock, is an interesting place. It is essentially study abroad kids on break, the usual cadre of young Aussies, Kiwis, Brits, Canadians and Americans relaxing and longtermers that have no idea how to find an appropriate encore. Anyone with any flexibility at all in their schedule overstays. In part due to its common room (with a huge couch sectional) and also due to the lack of sites to see (you come here for the beach and the beach only) makes it the best social hostel I have ever been to. After a night of hitting up the local bars the hostel mom Maria, makes you lemon tea and a mountain of crepes to cure your hangover. Quite an easy life to become accustomed to.

Cliff Cravin'

The beaches are beautiful here. Coarse yellow brown sand, blue green waters, and rock formations reminscent of American west loom invitingly. Em and I being beach and water snobs are finding the testicle destroying 17 degree water horrificly hypothermic and nearly unswimmable but when you get out it feels like jumping into a hot shower on a cold morning. Good times.

To relaxing days, long nights and suggestive accomodation. Cheers :)

--Joey

Flight Makes Right

My 2008 year o' backpacking is officially underway. Stay tuned to the blog for all the usual stories and commentary. (Related note: Apparently my RSS feed is broken (in Mozilla it keeps telling me it is (Empty) not sure why...) so I am working on a fix, or at least a work around.

Long post warning

My flight over I thought would be pretty decent. I had a bulkhead aisle that was being shared by a young English couple and their adorable-when-not-crying 7-month old daughter. Unfortunately, she waited until after meal service to start. Otherwise, flying non-stop to Europe has it's advantages. On the route map, they took off to the south and hung a hard left just south of Fort Myers before heading north. On a trip of that length, the difference in miles is hardly worth mentioning.

So that's what London is like the majority of the year...

Having only seen London during the beautiful month of May, I have avoided the harsh reality that it is seldom like how I remember it. In addition, London was always among the cleaner cities I had been to because my experience was limited to a hotel on top of the Piccadilly, Jubilee, and Victoria lines at Green Park (thank you Dad and your Holiday Inn points!) that runs just shy of 400 USD a night this time of year. I was headed for more modest accommodations ;)

The Generator is one of those hostels that everyone has either been to, or knows someone who has been there. People also either love it or hate it. It is a complete party hostel with an 800 bunk capacity. The rooms smelled like a gym locker room but were reasonably clean. Lockers off in the corner for your stuff etc. My first day in any country is primarily a work off the jetlag day.

So when I arrive at the hostel my plan was to see the Tate Modern and chill with my fellow backpackers. My pack was loaded down with an extra 6 lbs of clothes for my host family in Spain which did two things.

1.) Added 6 lbs
2.) Made it tougher to cinch down the pack and keep the mass closer to my back

I decided to wait the hour and change until my room was ready so I wouldn't have to find a place for my bags. I collapse on a couch and start talking to a few Irish girls and an American guy about the usual sort of thing when a guy with a walker approaches the back of the American guy who is sitting on a stool. One girl mutters "look out" and he turns around, looking slightly annoyed. The guy then comes over and sits next to me and starts telling me about his life in Hungary. I learned about how much it costs to build a shed, how he broke his foot and several other things I didn't care about but he still felt like I needed his 2 Forints on.

During this distraction the 6 girls and the American made a break for it leaving me with Mr Magyar's stories that faded in and out of English and Hungarian. After 15 minutes of zoning out during the rambling it occurred to me that maybe I would be able to use my key, sure check-in was at 2 but maybe they already activated it and my room was done? So I told him I would see him around and got a green LED on my door handle! Awesome :)

After stuffing my bag in a locker I headed off for the Tate about 60 pounds lighter. Southwark station was apparently main station for doing a lot of museums along the Thames. I stumbled around for a while trying to find it, and it quickly became 4 and 4:30 so I realized today was just going to be a stroll around day. Even on a Sunday there are people out for walks, a docked boat pumping out some Count Basie, street vendors selling hot dogs and yes, even tourists during this less than desirable time of year. Ironically, I heard a lot of Spanish being spoken. At a time when visions of the Costa del Sol dance through Briton's heads, the Spaniards were soaking in the bleakness. Irony huh?

By 7p it was pitch black and I was sleepwalking. I tried to make it an early night and do the hanging out at the bar downstairs bit the next day. Dinner consisted of a stop at Valencia's for some fish and chips prepared by a guy who collected money and still picked up food from his plate to plop it on yours. It was that questionable sanitary condition that made me only eat there twice...the food was damn good ;). Straight off to bed. Between people running/screaming in the hallway, my roommates coming and going, and an early morning jackhammer I was wishing I had the infant's crying to block out the noise. No more than two hours sleep for the second straight night. Unfortunately that sleepwalking first day feeling left room for a sequel.

From Mondrian to Jackson Pollack and everything in between

The best way to get around the tube is with an Oyster card. Instead of 4GBP one way or 5-7GBP for a day's Zone 1-2 pass, it is only 1,5 each way, and the card knows change your ticket to the cheapest available. So you use it 8 times in a day, no problem it is still a day's pass cost. Plus it makes for a great souvenir.

Not being a huge fan of Modern Art, I figured I could blitz through the Tate in about an hour or two leaving time for the British Museum, or the Imperial War Museum. I had the typical cereal and toast hostel breakfast and hit Southwark again. I followed the "lights" as a sign instructed me to the Tate (turns out they meant the orange light posts which didn't show up in the twilight hours the day before). I question whether that is the closest stop though. St Paul's appeared just as close and more direct.

The main entrance to the museum is pretty empty with a small crack in a concrete floor that extended all the way to the otherside. I believe this was done to draw attention to the abnormal floor. Just in case you wouldn't otherwise notice, the Brits have some signs warning you of a trip hazard on both entrances. Just as the artist who designed it wanted, I'm sure ;)

As you might expect there was a lot of real crap there that didn't resemble art, but there was some really cool stuff there as well. My highlights were getting to see a famous Mondrian up close (he did paint the white squares Em), some of the surrealist paiintings, and some hanging woven tapestries that when flight shines through, cast a Moorish shadow pattern. On closer look they are actually words. Then there was a video of a man tripping but the cause is always blocked by something. As you walk through the floor you get different angles on it.

Through the museum visitors have a great view of St. Pauls, the connecting Millenium Bridge, the river Thames, Downtown, and at times Tower Bridge.

After two hours I had my fill, and left for the tube station near St Pauls. I saw a sign that directed me against my intuitive sense of direction (which in the past has proved a bit faulty ;) ) so I followed it and ended up making a half hour loop. When I got back to the Tate, the misty air turned to rain so I took some cover next to a group of Americans. We decided to make a run for the St Paul's stop. Along the way they asked where I was from. "Tampa? Really?! No way!?!" Hehe, what newbies. I told them about running into people from my university in Salamanca, fellow hostelmates in Munich, and an elementary school classmate in Vienna and again by chance in Dublin. They were from Eckerd college and after a month in Paris and London were very happy to be heading back to warmer, sunnier weather.

I stopped back at Valencia's for a 5 GBP special kebab and chips before heading home. My room was ready so I got my backpack out of the luggage room and my laptop bag out of a locker and settled in. The room was a mess from the regulars that have been staying/working there for a few months. Five Aussies, two Czechs and yours truly. Apparently the nation of Australia has no one between 18-30 left because every hostel in the world has 20 of these characters.

The bar area was pretty empty so I went back to my room and thought it would be another chance to get some sleep. Apparently not. More running, yelling, which culminated in about 10 people getting kicked out of the hostel by police. I woke up around 11a to a maid telling me that I leave today. Fine, sounds like a good idea actually. I headed to where I should have gone after night one, the Globetrotter Inn in Hammersmith, just off Ravenscourt Gardens (sounded like a place I could make myself at home ;) )

Tuesday was just going to be Indian curry night and I strolled King Street looking for a place open at 6a and that wasn't 40 USD for a meal. The combination proved difficult so I stopped off for a Burger, Fries and Cider at a local pub. I finally got sleep in London thanks to sane roommates who also had morning flights (one to Sweden, one to Shanghai, and I to Spain) with one or two interruptions.

My pack was loaded and I was out at 10. My flight was at 14:55, so using my famous 3 hour rule for large cities, I had to be leaving wherever I was in London by 11:55. So by the time I transfered at Green Park for Victoria station it was almost 10:30. Leaving me roughly one hour to tour the British Museum. I felt that wouldn't do it justice, so I opted for leaving on the next train to Gatwick and using the time to complete some homework for a class I am taking online. The picture to the left is of a bar in Gatwick with these water cyclones that are pretty cool.

The flight to Gibraltar was delayed which meant my chances of flying by the rock in the daylight diminished significantly. When the all clear was given, we made our way across Guersey, Bilbao, Madrid, Cordoba and eventually to a bumpy landing on the one mile landing strip (a seated ovation from the main cabin). During our descent I kept seeing boats passing us getting closer and closer and then I could see the waves. The whole time I was thinking wow, I better see some runway really soon and no sooner did I swear we were in for a water landing did I feel the touchdown, I saw the edge come into view. In typical British humour, the pilot comes on to say "Well folks, glad to have made it here, the landings are always a bit interesting here". Had I thought about it, seeing almost any of the runway without having touched down would have been far worse.

At immigration they stamped my passport with the distinctive Gibraltar logo. I headed off to a youth hostel that I wasn't sure was open as they don't have a hostelworld reservation ability. It was easy to find Emilie Youth Hostel. From the main square go past the Burger King on your left and straight up the hill on the otherside of the street. A bunk is 15 GBP which is pricey but not bad considering the options and that they have a monopoly on hostel accommodation (For comparison the Generator was 20/10 GBP for 4/8 bed dorms, and the Globetrotter was 6,50 GBP for a 6 share--Zone 2 pricing for people who book online, otherwise it is 19,5 for people that show at the door). The hostel was pretty bare but comfortable. It appears that it was a house that got converted. Three rooms with 4 bunks each means you may show up without a place to stay (particularly if you are in a group) so Gibraltar is still best visited as a daytrip from the Spanish coast. That night I finally got some mild Curry before leaving the UK :)

The next morning I crossed into Spain with a hand wave that didn't even check my passport. I had missed the Marbella bus by about 20 minutes so I would have to wait until 12:15 which was only 30 minutes. Awesome! Good time to pick up an El Pais and an Aquarius. I looked at my ticket and saw that my 30 minute wait got extended by two hours. It wasn't "Doce y quince, it was Dos y quince". Meh, all part of travel, and more time to start my Spanish practice.

Deja view

Around 3:30 I was back in that familiar bus station at the top of the hill leading down Avenida Trapiche, through Mercado Municipal right down to the main drag, Av Ricardo Soriano. Nice! I had the strangest deja vu entering Betty and Rolo's apartment. It was like two years of my life hadn't happened. With the exception of some new furniture and a new room, everything was as I remembered it. The weather, the Paseo Maritimo and the like were exactly the same.

On a budgetary note for anyone heading to London from North America, expect to spend at least 50 GBP a day. I spent 100GBP in three days staying in a hostel, eating very modest food, and visiting attractions that were free since I had done all the "must do" things last time. Everything is pretty much double US prices.

--Joey

London (Temp Blog)

I made it safe and sound. The wireless connection here is not the greatest so my first real update will probably be on Thursday morning when I get to Spain. My hostel is decent but kind of loud and I am trying hard to get on a normal sleep schedule. My flight over gave me an hour sleep, and night one was about 4-5 hours. To make up for it I went to bed at 8:30 but woke up at 1:30 unable to get back to sleep.

I spent today at the Tate Modern Art museum and enjoyed the surrealist exhibits...everything else... meh. I more or less ended it, with a rainy run across Millenium bridge with some other Tampans from Eckerd College. The kids thought it was quite a coincidence to meet someone from Tampa abroad...how cute ;)

Pictures and flushed out entry to come.

--Joey

Youth Hostel Supplement

In keeping with my tradition of listing my accommodations...

Sakura Youth Hostel (Tokyo) - Great way to arrive in Tokyo (man that feels like it was a long time ago, way more than two months!). Clean, friendly place in the "old" part of town, Asakusa. Great atmosphere in the common area. Only downside is that it is difficult to find your first time there. 2940 yen.

Backpacker's K House at Mount Fuji (Kawaguchiko) - Possibly the best hostel I have EVER stayed in...ever! Mellow place, lots of "long term" guests, full kitchen, nice common area with large HD LCD. Seriously a wonderful place to be (it is very new) and as luck would have it, right next to a quality (and cheap!) onsen. 2700 yen.

Warakuan Guest House (Kyoto) - Very cool traditional place that will give you the Ryokan experience in this cultural center for a decent price. The rooms are 3 or 6 people on tatami mats. Centrally located (although, since we only spent one full day there, I never got a feel for Kyoto's layout) 2500 yen.

Asakusa Capsule Hotel (Tokyo) - Across from the Asakusa metro entrance, this capsule hotel may not be exactly representative of a Shibuya or Shinjuku capsule hotel but it was fun none the less. The clientele appeared to be more of an older men, smoking watching sumo wrestling demo than the young drunk salaryman who missed the last train. Not exactly great but it worked for the night (not available to book online...4000 yen)

I'll have to work up my favorite hostels all told a little later.

Next up: Probably Toronto. I am meeting a few folks for a camp out in Algonquin national forest.

--Joey