Travel Adventures - Day One
Well, my goal while traveling the next few weeks was to try, at minimum, to blog a few times about the experiences we are having over here. I thought it would be fun to have sort of a journal about the memories being made while we are immersed into another culture. Hopefully I will be able to keep it together! We have had an easy time thus far with having access to wifi. I'm not sure how that may go in the future.
Day one of this adventure began with waking up in Hilton Head Island early after a long night out celebrating our dear friends, Chris and Laura's, wedding. I figured if I was sufficiently exhausted that I may actually have a chance at sleeping on Sunday's long overnight flight to London. We drove back to my parents house to leave our car for three weeks and also did some last minute laundry since I, apparently, can't eat without getting things all over myself. We had planned on getting dropped at North Springs to take MARTA to the airport, but my parents decided that they would taxi us all the way down there. We had a great, yummy dinner at Manuel's Tavern on the way down and then we were off!
It was our first time getting to see Atlanta's new international terminal and we were really impressed! We checked in and breezed through security with no problems. I should also mention that despite several math equations between us and our scale at home, both of our bags were overweight...ooops. Thankfully, the very nice German woman checking us in took pity. She let us slide with no charge and we were very thankful! Airport scales are rigged.
Unfortunately, we we still squashed into coach seats for 7 hours. After being fortunate enough to have flown First Class from Germany last time, I think we are spoiled for life. In fact, O vowed to never again fly to Europe in coach after this trip. He said that even if we have to spend an extra six months saving, it's worth it. I am definitely inclined to agree! It's been 25 years since I last flew British Airways and I was 7 years old, so I had no real idea how they would be. It was fine for the most part, but I was really, really surprised at the volume of Indian nationals on our flight. British Airways even served chicken curry as the main dinner on the flight. And let me tell you, our stomachs did not enjoy any part of that dish. Gross. I'm pretty sure an airline should most definitely not make any attempt at a curry. Ever. I seriously wondered if I was bound for London or Mumbai.
My neighbor on the flight (I took the middle seat) was extremely helpful to us getting our backpacks placed in the overhead, but that was right about where things ended with our relationship. Things started going downhill big time when he started picking his nose and eating the findings. (O looked this up later and apparently it is a cultural thing?) I don't know, but I was having a really hard time dealing with the constant - and I mean constant - gold digging. If it is even possible, things got worse when he traded in digging in his nose for digging in his nether regions. The near hour long bugger mission was replaced by constant scratching of parts that should really not be itching like that. I elbowed O black and blue on that flight and when he finally caught on to what I was dealing with, he was also looking pretty green at the gills. We decided to hit the wine and hope for being able to pass out.
That was a nice idea, but my neighbor there then took to very loud snoring. I guess, all things considered, that was better than the digging and scratching, but I basically did not sleep. Go figure.
We arrived in London on time and had about a 6 hour layover. We decided not to chance leaving through customs to try to see something with only 6 hours to spare. We were also exhausted. We wandered around a bit since Heathrow is really like a giant mall. And we were able to grab a bite to eat at Gordon Ramsay's place, Plane Food, which was enjoyable, if not pricey. We then found some seats and entered what I would like to refer to as the Twilight Zone of this trip. Neither of us could keep our eyes open. We tried multiple different combos of positions to rest our heads - none were comfortable. We briefly contemplated forking out an absurd amount of Euros for one of those airport rooms where we could snooze. Eventually we hauled it over to the Starbucks for a big caffeine injection which took us through the next 4-ish hours of the layover. We also saw a pretty awesome rainbow (excuse my crappy photo).
Our flight to Barcelona was on time, but I can tell you that we both conked out during taxi and when I woke up, seemingly a very long time later, we were still taxiing. Woof. Due to the loooooong taxi, our short flight to Barcelona felt endless. Once again British Airways came through with a nice Indian wrap complete with Bombay paste. Nope, nope, nope. I took one bite of that thing and decided that was a no go. Why, British Airways, why?? Why not a turkey wrap?
Arriving in Barcelona was easy - thankfully. Our bags came fairly quickly and we figured out where and how to catch the Aerobus to Plaza Catalunya and for the low, low price of 5 euros per person. Once arriving at Plaza Catalunya there was some delirious confusion over which way to walk to the hotel. Hey - when you are awake for 36 hours, the unicorns are looking pretty good. We did, finally, figure it out. Ok. We asked the policia. And they very nicely told us. Once we figured it out, it was not a bad walk to our new home away from home: Violeta Boutique and it is everything I was hoping for and more. It is located in a a traditional old apartment building with marble floors and giant solid wood doors. And I fell in love instantly. Reception was quick and efficient and the poor guy dragged my overweight bag up 3 flights of stairs to our quaint, small room with an amazing shower, comfy bed and adorable private balcony. Also he gave us an wonder recommendation for a close place to grab some food.
Lucky for us, the Spaniards like to eat late. Arriving at 10:30 pm at a restaurant was no big deal. Our wonderful host at Violeta pointed us to a place about a block away called Casa Alfonso. It is lovely, off the beaten path, and they sell red wine by the liter at the low, low price of less than 10 euro. Say what?? We were really in heaven. O, of course, speaks fluent Spanish so we got the Catalan menu (they apparently think we know what we are doing!). This is the really hilarious part of this story. I ended up ordering a churrascco style steak and he ended up with what he thought (in his Puerto Rican Spanish) amounted to grilled pork. Nope. They definitely brought out a big old plate of pig's feet. The look on O's face was too classic. We were so hungry and I swear I thought he was going to die right then and there. What else would a good, easy going wife do, but switch plates with her husband? Luckily I am "whatever" enough to pretty much eat anything (especially after I have been subject to weird airline curry all day). And so I did. And in case you were wondering, the pig's feet were delicious! If not ridiculously fatty. Explain to me how the native Spanish speaker ends up with pig's feet. I have no idea. I saw O's Grinch heart grow three sizes last night though. His adoration rivaled his disgust as I washed down pig's feet with a liter of red wine. I think he was both in awe and in complete astonishment that I put that meal down. But hey, as I always like to say: "When in Rome, be a Roman!". There is no better way in this world than to dive in, with no prior knowledge, and experience what you can only experience with no plans or pre-conceived ideas.
When you travel you realize you are part of the human race. And when you allow yourself to experience travel fully, in true, un-edited technicolor, you become someone you never knew you could (or wanted) to be. Despite long days and weird travel neighbors, you become a part of the world community in a way that you never could before. And who could ask for more?
Day one of this adventure began with waking up in Hilton Head Island early after a long night out celebrating our dear friends, Chris and Laura's, wedding. I figured if I was sufficiently exhausted that I may actually have a chance at sleeping on Sunday's long overnight flight to London. We drove back to my parents house to leave our car for three weeks and also did some last minute laundry since I, apparently, can't eat without getting things all over myself. We had planned on getting dropped at North Springs to take MARTA to the airport, but my parents decided that they would taxi us all the way down there. We had a great, yummy dinner at Manuel's Tavern on the way down and then we were off!
It was our first time getting to see Atlanta's new international terminal and we were really impressed! We checked in and breezed through security with no problems. I should also mention that despite several math equations between us and our scale at home, both of our bags were overweight...ooops. Thankfully, the very nice German woman checking us in took pity. She let us slide with no charge and we were very thankful! Airport scales are rigged.
Unfortunately, we we still squashed into coach seats for 7 hours. After being fortunate enough to have flown First Class from Germany last time, I think we are spoiled for life. In fact, O vowed to never again fly to Europe in coach after this trip. He said that even if we have to spend an extra six months saving, it's worth it. I am definitely inclined to agree! It's been 25 years since I last flew British Airways and I was 7 years old, so I had no real idea how they would be. It was fine for the most part, but I was really, really surprised at the volume of Indian nationals on our flight. British Airways even served chicken curry as the main dinner on the flight. And let me tell you, our stomachs did not enjoy any part of that dish. Gross. I'm pretty sure an airline should most definitely not make any attempt at a curry. Ever. I seriously wondered if I was bound for London or Mumbai.
My neighbor on the flight (I took the middle seat) was extremely helpful to us getting our backpacks placed in the overhead, but that was right about where things ended with our relationship. Things started going downhill big time when he started picking his nose and eating the findings. (O looked this up later and apparently it is a cultural thing?) I don't know, but I was having a really hard time dealing with the constant - and I mean constant - gold digging. If it is even possible, things got worse when he traded in digging in his nose for digging in his nether regions. The near hour long bugger mission was replaced by constant scratching of parts that should really not be itching like that. I elbowed O black and blue on that flight and when he finally caught on to what I was dealing with, he was also looking pretty green at the gills. We decided to hit the wine and hope for being able to pass out.
That was a nice idea, but my neighbor there then took to very loud snoring. I guess, all things considered, that was better than the digging and scratching, but I basically did not sleep. Go figure.
We arrived in London on time and had about a 6 hour layover. We decided not to chance leaving through customs to try to see something with only 6 hours to spare. We were also exhausted. We wandered around a bit since Heathrow is really like a giant mall. And we were able to grab a bite to eat at Gordon Ramsay's place, Plane Food, which was enjoyable, if not pricey. We then found some seats and entered what I would like to refer to as the Twilight Zone of this trip. Neither of us could keep our eyes open. We tried multiple different combos of positions to rest our heads - none were comfortable. We briefly contemplated forking out an absurd amount of Euros for one of those airport rooms where we could snooze. Eventually we hauled it over to the Starbucks for a big caffeine injection which took us through the next 4-ish hours of the layover. We also saw a pretty awesome rainbow (excuse my crappy photo).
Our flight to Barcelona was on time, but I can tell you that we both conked out during taxi and when I woke up, seemingly a very long time later, we were still taxiing. Woof. Due to the loooooong taxi, our short flight to Barcelona felt endless. Once again British Airways came through with a nice Indian wrap complete with Bombay paste. Nope, nope, nope. I took one bite of that thing and decided that was a no go. Why, British Airways, why?? Why not a turkey wrap?
Arriving in Barcelona was easy - thankfully. Our bags came fairly quickly and we figured out where and how to catch the Aerobus to Plaza Catalunya and for the low, low price of 5 euros per person. Once arriving at Plaza Catalunya there was some delirious confusion over which way to walk to the hotel. Hey - when you are awake for 36 hours, the unicorns are looking pretty good. We did, finally, figure it out. Ok. We asked the policia. And they very nicely told us. Once we figured it out, it was not a bad walk to our new home away from home: Violeta Boutique and it is everything I was hoping for and more. It is located in a a traditional old apartment building with marble floors and giant solid wood doors. And I fell in love instantly. Reception was quick and efficient and the poor guy dragged my overweight bag up 3 flights of stairs to our quaint, small room with an amazing shower, comfy bed and adorable private balcony. Also he gave us an wonder recommendation for a close place to grab some food.
Lucky for us, the Spaniards like to eat late. Arriving at 10:30 pm at a restaurant was no big deal. Our wonderful host at Violeta pointed us to a place about a block away called Casa Alfonso. It is lovely, off the beaten path, and they sell red wine by the liter at the low, low price of less than 10 euro. Say what?? We were really in heaven. O, of course, speaks fluent Spanish so we got the Catalan menu (they apparently think we know what we are doing!). This is the really hilarious part of this story. I ended up ordering a churrascco style steak and he ended up with what he thought (in his Puerto Rican Spanish) amounted to grilled pork. Nope. They definitely brought out a big old plate of pig's feet. The look on O's face was too classic. We were so hungry and I swear I thought he was going to die right then and there. What else would a good, easy going wife do, but switch plates with her husband? Luckily I am "whatever" enough to pretty much eat anything (especially after I have been subject to weird airline curry all day). And so I did. And in case you were wondering, the pig's feet were delicious! If not ridiculously fatty. Explain to me how the native Spanish speaker ends up with pig's feet. I have no idea. I saw O's Grinch heart grow three sizes last night though. His adoration rivaled his disgust as I washed down pig's feet with a liter of red wine. I think he was both in awe and in complete astonishment that I put that meal down. But hey, as I always like to say: "When in Rome, be a Roman!". There is no better way in this world than to dive in, with no prior knowledge, and experience what you can only experience with no plans or pre-conceived ideas.
When you travel you realize you are part of the human race. And when you allow yourself to experience travel fully, in true, un-edited technicolor, you become someone you never knew you could (or wanted) to be. Despite long days and weird travel neighbors, you become a part of the world community in a way that you never could before. And who could ask for more?
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