To watch the way women wear scarves and smoke....

This will take a bit of reflection as I left Paris over a week ago but here goes....

Since I was in my late teens, second only to my desire to live in London, has been my desire to live or at least spend time in the Montmartre region of Paris. I have felt drawn to this bohemian suburb with its rich artistic history and questionable morals. So when selecting where to stay, there was no second guessing on the quality of the hostel or its proximity to public transport, all that mattered was that it was in Montmartre. Ultimately the hostel I found was actually much better than the people who had reviewed it in the past would have you believe- mainly it had lost points from them because it wasn't in the centre of the city between the Louvre and the Eiffel Tower- I'm shocked that they didn't know where in Paris Montmartre was but you can't cure willful ignorance. The hostel, Montclair Montmartre, was a decent place right near a metro stop and just down the hill from Sacre Coeur- it also close to few OK supermarkets which I was desperate for as I was very skint by the time I got to Paris (managed three dinners of pasta with cherry tomatos, baby spinach, feta and green olives plus a large bottle of very good juice for just over 10 euros and the spinach was even organic...go me). It's only problems were that the internet crawled and on occasion crashed, and that sound carried easily throughout the first couple of floors of the building- on my last night I'd been hanging out with some people in the kitchen area on the ground floor and when I went up to bed at around midnight, I found every possible door shut and even with them shut I realised that on the first floor you could hear like ever word uttered on the ground floor- having been one of the people making the noise, I kind of felt sorry for those getting an early night, my dorm mates got their own back somewhat as they had an early flight and were up at 5am the next day.

A gruesome at Notre Dame watching over the Eiffel Tower

Paris was the city I had spared the most time for as I was arriving in the early afternoon on Friday and left at night on the Monday. As soon as I got there and sorted my stuff out at the hostel, I was off to climb Montmartre. I had great plans of just sitting in cafés there and eating cheese and bread, and drinking wine and/or absinthe and imagining that I was a struggling bohemian artist of the 19th century like Van Gogh or Tolouse Latrec- sadly lack of money and time quickly killed that idea. I did go and wander round Sacre Couer inside and outside (there is this weird revolutionary mosiac near the altar which kind of rocks but which sadly I couldn't get a photo or postcard of), sadly due to some rain and heavy wind the dome was closed which was unfortunate though I did catch my first glimpse of the Eiffel Tower from just outside Sacre Coeur so score on that front. I therefore briefly wandered the streets at the top of Montmartre and soaked by the atmosphere. There are lot of artists and buskers hanging around there and though the buskers were mostly good, the artists were universally rubbish which was a bit of a bummer. I also furthered an addiction I'd developed in Nice and hunted the streets and stores for a zitron sucre crepe (that's lemon and sugar, people)...so tasty and usually quite "cheap" (compared to other food in Paris) at only 3 or 3.50 euros. I checked out the Musee de Montmartre which was kind of interesting and then wandered over to Montmartre cemetery to visit the grave of Emilie Zola whose J'Accuse article in response to the Dryfus trail makes him somewhat of a hero of mine. While there I got to get my knowledgable tourist on as I got asked where Jim Morrison was buried and got to put on a snobby voice and tell the questioning people that he was actually buried in Pere Lachaise on the other side of town.

The next day and my first mission was to get myself a Museum card. At 50 euros, this gives you four days of unlimited admission to about 70 museums and sights in and around Paris- there are two day and six day versions as well. This was possibly better than the I heart Amsterdam card as I got at least 60 (probably closer to 70) euros value out of it in only 3 days- just imagine if I'd had that extra day (only downside is that it doesn't include public transport but you can also get a seperate 3 or 5 day card for it ). Being as it is the done tourist-y thing, my first stop was the Louvre. I've never been particularly excited about that portrait of that woman painted by the guy who a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle was named after him and by this stage of my trip I was completely over Italian Renaissance art in any case (I'd got to the point of "another Madonna and Child, hmmm, pretty but so dull" and was craving the kind of ridiculous how-is-this-art modern art that often leaves me cold- I'm sure I'll be able to see the beauty of Leonardo and crew again but it may be a while). I have, however, on this trip been increasing my love of ancient Greek and Roman sculpture and the Louvre's collection, which includes the Venus de Milo and Michaelangelo's The Captive, is AWESOME. The Louvre would take an age to get through in its entireity so it is pity that most vistors dash in, tick the Mona Lisa off their list of things to see and dash out again. I was there for about three hours and saw only a faction of one section. I must revisit one day when I'm more in the mood- I did do a turtle hunt and find works by all four artists the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles are named after but that is my petty victory. I must revisit one day when I'm more in the mood. After that to the Musee de Arts Decoativ where in a display on animals in design in the section devoted to toys were figures of the turtles- the heroes in a half shell have taken Paris! I also discovered in their bookshop that French children quest for a guy in a stripey jumper and beanie called Charlie instead of a guy in stripey jumper and beanie called Wally. The bad points of the Musee de Arts Decorativ were that lift to 9th floor was out (hello stairs from floors four to nine) and that they had the odd modern art display mixed in with the permenant collection and a lot of it was of the kind where people think they're being out there by making things shaped like genitalia and I would prefer my museum experience sans phallic symbols (if it is not a regular modern art museum where such things are par for the course). After this I was off up the Champs Élysées (which it turns out isn't that busy really) to the Arc  de Triomphe and climbing up to see Paris from slightly higher up as the sunset.

Next day, I decided to get my tourist on properly- that's right the Louvre and the Arc de Triomphe aren't real tourism. First stop Oscar Wilde's grave. Now I see you thinking Oscar Wilde's grave isn't that much of a tourist Mecca- granted I'm sure some of you are just thinking wasn't he Irish, why is he buried in Paris? True Wilde's grave isn't on every cliche tourist list but he is buried in Pere Lachaise- home of many the influetial grave including Proust, Chopin and Pissarro (to name but a very few) and it is the cemetery which the great Victorian cemetery landscapers of London took as the shiny beacon of ideas that they could steal and use at Highgate and the other great Victorian cemeteries of London. And I say in a quiet voice (though I have mentioned it already), Jim Morrison is buried there (now you get the tourist cliche). I was there early to avoid the Morrison crowds and I left his grave until last to check out. The map that they give you is a bit of mess as it is an OLD cemetery and so the graves are a bit all over the place- I couldn't find Chopin or Pissarro though after a lot of searching in some cases I did find Colette, Proust, Wilde (of course!), Edith Piaf and Moliere (and Morrison). The things I loved most about Pere Lachaise were firstly that it feels old- many of the non-famous graves in the cemetery was in disrepair and showing their years- and secondly that people do actively leave things as tributes on some of famous graves- flowers of course, but Morrison and Wilde both also had unlit cigarettes, Morrison had what appeared to be glasses of alcohol and for a some reason, someone left Wilde a gummi bear. I will say however that I didn't follow the tradition of kissing Wilde's grave- it is a bit too flithy and a bit too creepy even for me. Following my visit to Pere Lachaise, I was off for more cliched Parisian touristy fun- that day included visits to Notre Dame (including a shout out to our gruesome and gargoyle friends who grace the outside of the church...they so rock!), the Eiffel Tower and a walk past the Moulin Rouge. I also fitted in a trip to the the Museum of Jewish Art and History,- well worth the visit and not very corwded- Notre Dame Archeological Crypt- not part of the cathedral but near it, it is an archeological dig in action- and the Paris Cinema Museum- which wasn't big enough or in depth enough for a film nut like me but might suffice the needs of the less snobby in their film tastes. I also learnt the art of artly avoiding people trying to hawk sparkling little Eiffel Towers even when they were offering them to me for free.

Pere Lachaise- though not  famous grave

Returning to the hostel that night and looking up my plans for the next day- the Musee D'Orsay and the Musee Rodin- I was shocked to discover that I was an idiot. I had originally planned to do eveything listed above on the Monday and the Musee D'Orsay and Musee Rodin on the Sunday, but my lack of desire to travel in dirty jeans on the Monday night after visiting Pere Lachaise meant I switched my plans- so stupid! As it turns most Parisian museums are closed on Mondays so my museum plans were thwarted and then new plans to visit the catacombs with someone I met at hostel also bust! I had to quickly find new plans. Fortunately the Musee d'Orangerie which I had also planned to visit was open on Monday and as was the Army Museum (I had little interest in most of it but it does include Napolitan's Tomb and the Museum of the French Resistance and Free France which sounded cool to me) and the National Museum of Modern Art. The Musee d'Orangerie as it turned out had a brilliant photographic exhibit on which was worth the visit just on its own and don't forget this is the home of some massive Monets. The Musuem of the French Resistance and Free France turned out to be very interesting though be warned in some displays the signs are only in French- and if you go upstairs in this museum to see the section on the deportation of French Jews and French Resistance fighters you will be met by a giant print of the most harrowing Holocaust photo I've ever seen, it isn't of a pile of bodies or barbed wire or other things you would associate with the Holocaust, it is of a blonde girl of about 3 year old in the striped pyjamas with a yellow star on her sleeve holding a teddy bear and just staring out at you from the photo- it was heartbreaking considering she likely didn't survive the Holocaust. Moving away from the Holocaust, Napolitian's tomb has to be seen to be believed- it is massive and so over the top that you think why did they bother with that Revolution. The National of Modern Art is in what has to be the coolest building in Paris, the Centre Georges Pompidou. The building itself is a work of art. The art gallery is very interesting as it houses a very extensive collection of art by female artists and another collection that tracks the evolution of modern art from the time of Picasso. So in the end, the day wasn't wasted and I have museums left for next visit. 

Following this day of museums/galleries, I was headed back to my home away from home across the pond where I was greeted by a dorm full of people I never met. They were asleep when I arrived at 9.45pm and when I left at 5am the next morning. And after a madcap early morning dash to Stanstead, I was on my discount flight to Malaysia- I have to say if you pay for it, the food of Air Asia ain't bad (especially when compared to China Airlines).

The sun sets on some sculptures at the Centre Georges Pompidou

 

and on Clare's time in Europe

Someone I met in Nice had come from Paris and before going there she was advised to just sit in a café and observe the way Parisian women wear scarves and the way they smoke. Sadly I had little time in Paris to sit down and people watch but from what I did see I can say that it is quite a fascinating different way the Parisians live and from my brief observation I support her claim that the French can't possibly get as much lung cancer because of the speed and way that they smoke. Next time I'll be all about the people watching I think.

Entertainment while a-travellin'

OK so on the eve of my jumping on a plane and returning home, I leave you with the first of four end of trip postings- one on Paris, one on KL and a summary to come. This post is devoted to how I've entertained myself while travelling especially on LONG train trips and the music/TV that others have inflicted upon me during my travels.

Movies

At home, I'm a snob and I tend to only stick with films that are independent or in a foreign language or by a cult director and so on. I rarely go and see the big commercial films. While travelling though, the films I'm forced to watch on planes aren't that bad (last time- Zodiac and The Darjeeling Limited among others; this time- Inception and 500 Days of Summer (granted I'd seen them both before and own 500 Days of Summer on DVD)). I, then, tend to find average films to watch when I feel like going to the cinema while travelling (last time- The Golden Compass (not great and Nicole Kidman was miscast) and Beowolf (OK but not brilliant and the evil Jolie was in it)). This time, I excelled myself with the badness of film choice- Harry Potter 7 Part 1 (OK I always watch HP films and they are never brilliant so I knew what was coming there), The American and, worst of all, The Tourist. One word reviews in order, average, dull and lacking. Still trying to figure out how The Tourist  was nominated for multiple Golden Globes- thank goodness it didn't win any.

Be warned people if you feel the urge to watch movies while travelling, you may not be able to find cinemas showing the kind of films you want to see and unless you want to watch rubbish, plan your trip to the cinema, don't just show up and hope that something good is on (this is why I wound up watching The American and The Tourist in the first place).

TV

OK so when staying in hostels you often have little control over what you watch on TV and sometimes you can't avoid it as the TV is in the only room with comfortable chairs and internet access, or the dining room. This means that travelling in UK and Ireland will almost certainly result in the watching of both Emmerdale and Corination St. Just try and block it out or it will melt your brain.

In Germany, I saw a vaguely entertaining variety program and lots of football (of the kind that is played with your feet). In Spain, it was film clips for mostly terrible songs and more football. Thankfully I could avoid the TV in other hostels, if there even was one.

But what about when I did have control? Well in Venice, there was little choice that wasn't in Italian so I flicked between MTV (occasionally not in Italian) and BBC World (who showed the same news report was shown at hourly intervals)- the watching of MTV meant I saw Jersey Shore for the first time and can I say 1) ewwww and 2) who in the hell is watching this; even compared to other reality TV it is scum and that is saying something. In KL, there has been more variety but much of it bad. I don't know if the people of Malaysia really like reality TV but I've watched a lot of True Beauty, Top Model (Canadian, British, Australian and American), and, just beause I couldn't sleep, The Bachelorette- I've also seen more ads for American Idol then is strictly neccessary (I'm seriously it is EVER ad break and the channel has taken the tagline "Home of the Idols"). Thankfully I also found Castle, How I Met Your Mother and Leno so there was some good to be had. Aside for the amount of reality TV, the other thing about KL TV is the repeato factor- the same episodes of reality TV shows have been screened at least three to four TIMES since I've been here. Currently watching the repeat of the Globes even though I already know who won- nothing else is on. Can't wait to have control of my remote in my flat again!

Music

I have whinged long and loud about the quality of music I've had to put up with on this trip. Top 40 rubbish with occasional additions of odd classic rock/pop- though props go to the guy from Berlin YHA who listened to Triple J, one of the mix tapes played at Prague Traveller's Hostel, and the people responsible for the music at both French hostels. By and large though, it has been a wall of Rhiana, Katy Perry and the like. The top three songs that have driven me nuts on this trip are:

1. Only Girl (In the World)- Rhiana (if I had heard this one more time, I swear I would have had a massive rage fit ala the Hulk)
2. Forget You - Ce Lo Green 
3. Firework- Katy Perry (as a sign of how much mush the musical side of brain became at one point, I started to kind of like this song- thankfully I woke up to it being trash again quickly)

Just to show how Top 40 iliterate I am, I actually had to look up who actually sang all three of those songs. 

My iPhone has been my musical refuge though it contains very few of my CDs. For people with more taste, the top 3 CDs that woke up the musical part of my brain and proved that music could be good:

1. Narrow Stairs- Death Cab for Cutie
2. Seventh Tree- Goldfrapp
3. Infinite Arms- Band of Horses

Books

OK so no one forced me to read anything and I steered clear of the "take a book, leave a book" walls at the hostels- I glanced at them in three hostels and found the traditional mix of Dan Brown (in Nice four books, two of which were The Da Vinci Code...urgg), airport lit, chick lit, travel guides for weird countries (i.e not the one you are in) and stuff in foreign languages. So have a brief review of the books I've read on the trip:

Scoop by Evelyn Waugh- delightfully funny case of mistaken identity and a brilliant satire of the world of journalism

Amsterdam by Ian McEwan- so heartless, so cynical, so bitter and so well written. 

Juliet, Naked by Nick Hornby- hilariously funny, full of Nick Hornby's typical brand of obsessives. I think this may have been my favourite book I read while travelling- I couldn't put it down and finished it in like a day.

Norwegian Wood by Haruki Murakami- beautiful, sad and wonderful. Having read a Murakumi novel in the past, it wasn't what I was expecting but it profound none the less.

A Short History of Tractors in Ukrainian by Marina Lewycka- very funny, though maybe not best read while in Eastern Europe, I kept seeing women who cruelly reminded me of the scheming gold digging wife from this novel

Grave Secret by Charlaine Harris- Shameful that I read this. Harris's Sookie Stackhouse books are guilty pleasure books back home but the train station in France didn't have the only one of them I haven't read in English when I was searching for guilty pleasure reading. This isn't even the first book in Harris's Harper Connelly series so I had to catch up a bit not having read the earlier ones. Not brilliant and not as good as the Sookie books, but could be quality guilty pleasure reading for some.

Tender is the Night by F. Scott Fitzgerald- Brilliant and sad.

Metamorphsis by Franz Kafka- in all seriousness it was in a book of Kafka short stories and it was one of only two I read. Harrowingly great story of isolation.

The Corrections by Jonathan Franzen- Now I understand what the fuss is about, wow! Funny and sad and visionary.

Left for the plane, I have The Castle in the Pyrennes by Jostein Gaarder and Barrack Obama's The Audicity of Hope (I needed a break from the fiction).

The books I am carrying around

For the closing word on entertainment while travelling, it may not work out as you wish even when you have control of it, but just take it in your stride. Though maybe don't cart around as many books as I did.

Lisbon....well you were bound to happen

From my nice clean hostel in a non-dodgy part of Paris, I bring you Clare's summary of her time in Lisbon. When I left you, I was labouring through an 8 hour wait for luggage at Lisbon airport which ended with them telling me that the luggage came in at the 7 hour mark but despite having my number they didn't call me and tell me this. On the plus side, I've now seen the luggage distribution section of an airport in all its glory and believe me, not that exciting.What I didn't include last time, as my mother is among my readers and I didn't want her to know until after the fact, is that when I wrote my last post, I had already been warned that my hostel was in a dodgy part of town. The girl at the travel info desk at the airport told me that it was where the hookers and the drug dealers hang out so I wouldn't want to be out too late but that I should be OK as long as I didn't speak to anyone on the streets after dark. I also discovered from her that the airport is not on the metro or train lines in Lisbon and what with me being there until 10pm at the earliest the bus was out of the question for my part of town, so taxi was my only option. Piling myself into the taxi at 10pm on a rainy Lisbon night, I was thinking while it can't get any worse. The cab driver reinforced the warning about the part of town the hostel was in but as he couldn't speak much English, his warning involved him pointing at the area around the hostel and giving it a thumbs down sign. He then proceeded to charge me 20 Euros for what I later discovered was a 4 Euro cab ride. The hostel was in a dodgy looking building on the main street of what was clearly the dodgy part of town. Getting to the hostel, I discovered behind the security doors it wasn't that bad if you just needed a bed. I wouldn't recommend it though as cleaning is something that clearly doesn't happen there often (my pillow case was dirty when I got there) and there is a tonne of mould in the bathrooms and a bit in the bedrooms.  The walls are paper thin so if like me you are in the room next to reception you won't sleep at first as, when they are actually on the desk (they often weren't), the reception staff have personal phone conversations at 10000 decibels. Also as it is the top floor of an old building and the windows don't shut well so if it rains, and it did, the mositure gets into the room and if it is windy, and it was, the windows clunk loudly.

I had bought a Lisboa card so I could get into museums easily and cheaply and so my public transport was covered (I doubt I got value for money out of it as I didn't end up visiting that many museums covered on it- unlike the Amsterdam Card I wouldn't recommend it as I think it would be difficult to get value out it). On my first morning, I thought I'd check out the "famous" Lisbon sites so went out to Belem- the part of town where they all are. Bad idea....it was pouring and very windy near the river so within 10 minutes of getting off the bus I was soaked. The rain was so heavy that it leaked through the zippers of my waterproof jacket. I visited the Monument to the Discoveries which wasn't that exciting as I didn't go in just stood outside in the rain and then went to Belem Tower which I did go into but which was in desperate need of more displays/signage. After this I located some super cheap lunch and headed to the Jerónimos Monastery which was the most interesting thing I saw in Belem. Following my visit to Jerónimos Monastery, I experienced the highlight of my time in Lisbon- a pastéis de nata (Portugese tart) in its proper home...mmmm very tasty and at only 75 Euro cents a bargain compared to how much they cost back home. I decided to head back into the centre of town and explore a bit. It wasn't that exciting but did result in my finding the Museum of Modern Design which was free (not because of my Lisboa card but because it always is) and it is a very good design museum. The most interesting bits were a section on urban/street design (usually ignored by design museums) and their use of the building's vault (it used to be a bank), in what as an indication of the going value of them in the modern world, they have put seeds in the vault drawers.

Portugese Tarts

Getting back to the hostel, I was feeling a bit let down by Lisbon. It was a capital so where were the beautiful old buildings and churches? I talked to the girl in my dorm who had been there for about four days and she said she felt the same. She and another girl from the hostel were going to check out the UNESCO World Hertiage listed town of Sintra the next day in an attempt to find the good in Portugal and I ultimately joined them. Sintra is about 30-40 minutes from Lisbon and it is MUCH more interesting than Lisbon. The first thing about Sintra was that while very foggy, it wasn't raining up there. Secondly and more importantly, it is just a profoundly beautiful place- Byron once said that he considered it one of the most beautiful places he'd ever been and this is guy who spent a lot of time in the Italian lake region. The girl from my dorm was committed to see one of the palaces (there are several) which she said looked in the pictures like something from Pan's Labyrinth- I asked her which one she meant and it turned out it was the same one I wanted to visit. The palace (mansion really) was Quinta da Regaleira and it is a crazy place. The guy who orginally designed it was into a whole bunch of wacky ideas and his designs of the gardens and building therein give it a very fairy tale quality. The best bit is the Intiation Well where you descend down many steps into what looks like an upside down tower- research on Wikitravel tells me that even the stair layout was planned as there is a plateau every 9 steps and this is supposed to symbolise the nine circles of heaven, purgatory and hell in Dante's Inferno- the well ends in a cave which loops around to an exit lower in the gardens. After this, one of the girls headed back to Lisbon to catch a plane while two of us continued on, jumping on the Sintra tourist bus which loops round all the palaces. We went out to the Moorish Castle which was possibly prettier in the fog than it would have been otherwise- it was also a bit on the dangerous side as it was quite damp up there and the wind was very strong and there are very few barriers, someone with slippery shoes and a poor sense of balance (especially a small person or child) could easily have been swept off the castle to meet an unpleasant end- worth the visit though. We had planned to take a few photos of the outside of Pena Palace but the fog was too thick to see it from the gate and we weren't paying to go on. Back in the centre of Sintra, we quested for an umbrella (for her not me) and in the midst of this ultimately fruitless quest we found a gourmet shop which gave tastings of its products (port, liquers, jams and cheese) as long as you first bought a drink of cherry liquer in a chocolate cup for 1 euro- score and all the products were very tasty. After this we headed back to miserable Lisbon where a massive storm hit that night preventing anyone leaving the hostel.

The Moorish Castle in the fog

Quinta de Regalerie's Intiation Well

I'm sure Lisbon has a pleasant side when it isn't pouring rain and plagued by massive winds but I didn't see much positive to report so recommend you visit Sintra but not the capital.  The final twist of the knife came the morning of my departure when I was planning to catch the metro and then a bus to the airport- both of which would have been covered by my Lisboa card. I had to get up at 5.15am for my plane but then when I left the hostel, I discovered that the metro doesn't run that early (the bus I had checked but the metro I had assumed) so I walked with all my luggage trying to distance myself from the dodgy part of town thus being able to hail a cab without any chance of being mistaken for a hooker (the girl at the airport was right I found out as a guy and his 16 year old son who were staying at the hostel went wandering near the hostel at night and found less than a block away the major pick up place for hookers). This cab ride was only 6 Euro this time but the meter read 4 something so I'm certain above all that the cab drivers of Lisbon were ripping me off. Even though it was raining here when I arrived, I was just over the moon happy to be in Paris and having left Lisbon far behind me.

Getting to know Gaudí

My luggage had so much of a good time in Barcelona it seems that it decided to stay there. I currently starting the beginning of what will be a 6 hour wait for it at Lisbon airport- good thing I bought a copy of The Corrections yesterday. The people who left it in Barcelona kindly offered to arrange for it to be send to my hostel but considering the line of people who were asking about lost luggage there was no way I was trusting them to get it to me- Groundforce Portugal...their promotional line “We handle, you fly”. I did my bit, what about you Groundforce! That said I can’t really blame them as it was the airline's fault not theirs.

While the wait does give me time to me to tell you all about my time in Barcelona, though I will eventually have to locate an internet connection to do so. In my last post, I mentioned the fact that I almost didn’t get to Barcelona. When I first arrived in Nice, people asked me at the hostel where I was off to next and I was like “Barcelona, I haven’t sorted out my seat reservation yet though” and they just laughed. The word on the streets was that there was no way to get between Nice and Barcelona by train until the tomorrow (5 Jan) at the earliest and my even suggesting that I could get there on the 1^st was pure insanity- two girls at my hostel changed departure dates and then decided to go to Madrid, several others were talking of taking similar action, and some people were riding trains without reservations (which will net you a hefty fine in France when you get caught and you would have got caught). So I’m thinking ‘yikes I didn’t even think that was a possibility’. I head to the station the next day and the guy there is happy to book me up to Montpellier- a route that was supposedly solidly booked in the second class but was pretty free in the first (thank goodness I bought a first class ticket) - but then I was stuck and would have to beg for a connection or to be permitted to ride without a reservation. I thought I’d try for optimism, especially after discovering that a flight from Nice to Barcelona would cost around 250 Euro or one from Montpellier to Barcelona would cost over 600 and in either case the flight would be an hideous hour. I was hoping that people had big New Years Eves and were too tired or hung over to travel. So after only getting to bed at 2.30 myself, I was up at 7.30, not in the mood to travel and hoping against hope that the trains would miraculously sort themselves out. Travelling to Montpellier through the south of France was very pretty but I slept through a few hours of it and was also close to being too stressed out to notice. I got to Montpellier and found the most lovely train ticket guy who, after an initial slight grimace at my request, found me tickets to Barcelona leaving four and a half hours later. Brilliant man, was quite a bit enamoured with him after that. So four hour and a half hours ended up being five and quarter thanks to delays (my new least favourite French word- retardé (delayed)) but most of one trashy book later (book finished on train), I was Barcelona bound arriving in city just before midnight. I even met up with some of the Canadians I had met in Nice (who had been smart enough to book seats further in advance) at the train change just over the Spanish border and again at Barcelona station.  HA to all you people in Nice who weren’t willing to pray for a train miracle!

Interior of the Sagrada Família

The next morning at the hostel, I was wondering what to with my Barcelona time and promising myself not to devote it entirely to the works of Antoni Gaudí. That morning the plan was Casa Batlló and then maybe the Picasso Museum. Well that plan was ultimately a complete failure. When I consulted my map, I discovered  that the stops for the public transport were not labelled and so getting to where I wanted to go would be hit and miss. I thought, forgetting it is still under construction and therefore not a working church with services on Sundays (it was Sunday), that I would get to the Sagrada Família and then walk as its metro stop was named after it so at least I could find it and maybe taking a few photos of the outside- I was actually planning to skip visiting it while in Barcelona. I got off the metro and looked up at the beautiful facade of the church and the line, the crazy long line. It was about 10.30am and it was then I remembered that there aren’t services in the Sagrada Família. I decided well I’m here, I might as well join the line and check it out- the line stretched around the block the church is located on but thankfully it moved pretty quickly so it was only about 30 minutes before I got in. So happy I joined that line as the Sagrada Família is without compare the most beautiful church or religious building of any kind that I have ever seen (St Paul’s was first but now it lags WAY behind). You can see why they have been constructing it for more than 100 years (it was started in 1880s and won’t be finished until around 2025 at current estimate) and how since his death the people working on it have tried to keep strictly true to Gaudí’s original vision for the church. It is full of light and stained glass at perfect proportions- there will be more stained glass but I was a bit of fan of the plain glass that is in some of it now- and the arch of the building and tree like design of the columns is just astounding. The sculpture on the Nativity facade is gorgeous with its myriad animals and plants, and on the Passion facade is suitably stark and harrowing. I had known very little about Gaudí  before coming to Barcelona- pretty much that he designed nice buildings and that was it- and was shocked to discover a man who I have a profound new respect for. As I have now discovered and will report for your info, Antoni Gaudí was a strict Catholic whose faith so overwhelmed his life that for the last years of it he refused secular work and devoted himself to creating the Sagrada Família, his designs for the Sagrada Família’s glory facade (still under construction) show that he had a genuine devotion to his faith and to strengthening the community of Christian believers (it will include the Apostle’s Creed in massive letters and the Lord’s Prayer in many languages and will represent Christ returning in glory), he had a massive respect for God’s creation and took many of his designs' structures and motifs from the natural world, and finally, scoring him big points with me, he was a vegetarian. I can’t wait to go back in 15 years or so and see the finished product of the Sagrada Família but it is definitely worth the visit while still under construction.

My ticket to the Sagrada Família included a ticket to go and see the Gaudí House Museum in Park Güell so I looked at my map and thought it looked like only 15 or so blocks and decided I might walk. Now if you ever find yourself travelling with me and you hear me make a statement like this, please pull out your handy topographical map. It was a sunny day and I had forgotten that Barcelona is on some hills and that, as I have seen in films like Woody Allen’s brilliant Ricky Christina Barcelona, Park Güell is on one of the hills. The walk from the Sagrada Família is actually a bit of a hike as some of the streets are quite steep so I was a tad tried by the time I got up there. I was thinking Gaudí would have to work hard to wow me again as much as he just did but wow he did. Park Güell is actually a failed design for a residential, private park development- only two houses (one Gaudí ‘s own) and two guard/gate houses were ever built- which is now a public park. As I said it was sunny, it was in fact a perfect winter day (in the Australian sense) at about 12 degrees with a light breeze, and the park was packed with tourists and locals alike. When you arrive you see the famous Gaudí dragon and some of beautiful mosaic work (much like that at the Sagrada Família and the other Gaudí buildings) and you walk though a columned area which was originally designed to be the market place for the private park area. As you head up the stair, you encounter more mosaics, people pending tourist trinkets (lots of fake Murano glass for some reason- not sure what the connection is), buskers and a beautiful view of Barcelona. What with all the tourists around, you’d think that they would be no locals but there were tonnes of them sitting, talking, listening to the buskers (some of whom were very good) and soaking up the sun with beer and cigarette in hand. Lose the cigarette and I could have joined them- it looked like a lovely way to spend a sunny winter afternoon looking out as they were over the vista of Barcelona. The Gaudí House Museum in Güell Park isn’t hugely exciting but the park is picturesquely situated and in general just a beautiful place (it may be my favourite park now....watch out Sydney Botanic Gardens and Kensington Gardens you may have been overtaken).

Some fairly decent buskers playing Spanish classical guitar at Park Güell

Next morning, I was torn. Now that I was obsessed, did I need more Gaudí or should I look for something else to do? The answer was yes as I did both but sadly never got to the harbour area or Picasso Museum both of which I had wanted to look at. I’m a sucker for a bit of cable car action and there is a cable car up to Castell de Montjuïc on the peak of one of the hills. In the middle of an estate, you have to first catch a funicular (love that word) from one for the metro stops to get to the cable car station. The park of the estate is very nice (no Güell Park though) and the walk up the hill to Castle was a little steep but doable. That said who would walk when there is a cable car on offer? The cable car is 9.50 Euro return but access to Castle is free- it doesn’t have displays or anything but it is a great vantage point for photos of the city. After this I was off for more Gaudí at Casa Batlló (the most beautiful house ever) and Casa Milá or La Pedrera (the exterior of the building isn’t that great as people have installed hideous metal roller shutters on many of the windows on the lower floors (good work corrupting quality architecture people of Barcelona) but the attic, the open areas and the roof are lovely).

Roof of the Casa Batlló

Big pluses of Barcelona:

•  Increased admiration of Antoni Gaudí and his work. I have a bit of a crush on his architectural masterpieces.
• Paella- tasty!

Minuses:

• Brazilian insomniacs in my dorm. One of them was out all night the first night I was there and the other showed up and loudly woke me up at 7am (after my 12.30am arrival at the hostel I was none too impressed). The next day they both got in at around 6am (again loudly) and at about 8am (I was still trying to catch up on sleep), one of their boyfriends knocked on the door and was admitted to the room without question. I got my grumpy old lady on at that point and told them that I was trying to sleep and that he needed to get out (it wasn’t a mixed dorm and there were only three (the two Brazilians and me) of the seven people staying there in the room at the time (if it had been later in the day and the whole room had been there and OK-ed it that would be fine but seriously not cool otherwise). After that I got many an evil look cast at me and I’m not certain but I’m fairly sure bitching about me went on in Portuguese.
• The 3 day transport card in Barcelona. Be warned it is days as in days not as in 72 hours. I expected it to be 72 hours when I bought it at 11.45pm as I arrived in the city and it expired this morning (much less than 72 hours later) so the 15 minutes of the first day counted as a whole day as far as the card was concerned. What a rip!
•  Lines! Get in early and I mean REALLY early for anything Gaudí, except Güell Park, or you will be waiting for at least half an hour.

OK two hours until luggage gets here now (in theory). If the number of people at the groundforce lost and found past customs is anything to go by there are a LOT of people out there in Lisbon without their luggage. I’m flying with the same airline (TAP Portugal) in a few days so I hope the same thing doesn’t happen again on the way to Paris.

A Nice way to welcome the New Year

 Currently cringing at the music video show in my Barcelona hostel- hugely bad for the most part- just in case you doubt me, it is currently playing Cher's Do You Believe in Life After Love? I have discovered in the past day that for all people say about Italians being the Europeans who are least likely to speak English (which is profoundly false in Venice- most of the Venetians speak at least a little English), to my belief it is the people of Barcelona. As I've forgotten practically all of my primary school Spanish and they mainly speak Catalan in any case, it's been a fun couple of days. More next time on why I almost didn't get to Barcelona but first back to my time in Nice

Flowers at the Nice Flower Market

After my last experience with France (see my blogpost on my time in Zürich for more info), I was a bit cautious about returning there. Thankfully though one Italian train (from Venice to Milan) was super slow and late, I managed to get to Nice without a hitch. I do love that the French refuse to do train announcements in English- regardless what countries you are travelling between the other countries do as well as the language of the country you left and the one you are going to. It is a bit hit and miss figuring out the announcements after the train left Italy as I speak neither French nor Italian. I did have a bit of help for a guy from Ghana who insisted on giving me his phone number and email address on the train despite my obvious lack of interest and my clearly not liking the very forward nature of his questions (I'm sorry but asking someone you just met how old they are and how much they earn isn't going to win you any points especially if the person in question isn't interested in the first place). Having successfully got to Nice, I was debating following the hostel's instructions of getting a left in their shuttle after catching the tram or whether to walk. Walk I did but thankfully the hostel van recognised me as a being bound there and picked me up JUST before I turned onto the street which was one massive steep hill. Villa Saint Exupery in Nice is without comparison the best hostel I've ever stayed in (Barcelona ain't going to bet it and Lisbon and Paris will have to work hard to do so). It is housed in an old monastery right up in the hill part of Nice (this would be a negative but the trams from centre of town run every 5 minutes and the shuttle from the tram stop to hostel runs from 7-10am and 5pm-12am as well as by special arrangement if you call them). None of the staff that I met were French which a little odd but they were very friendly and I'd go as far as to say that along with being the best hostel, it has the best hostel staff I've ever encountered. The biggest highlights has to be the cheapness and quality of the food and drinks on offer. The drinks were astounding cheap and between 6pm and 8pm you could get a cocktail for 3.50 Euros. The chef is Australian but cooks French food like a wiz. The food could easily have been served at an insanely pricey French restaurant for over 25 Euros but was instead 6.50 and served in massive quantities- this was mainly the menu of the day which was duck a l'orange on my first night and a rabbit dish on my second night- I ate neither of these (instead chowing down on massive vego pizzas for the same cost) but there looked really good. The chef outdid himself with New Year's dinner- more on that later- and also had supposedly cooked a five course meal for Christmas Eve. What with the good food, cheap drinks and friendly staff, the atmosphere in the place was also exceedingly positive and most of the people staying there caught the attitude of the staff- I spent my first night in the hostel playing cards with a couple of other Aussies, a couple of Canadians, three Americans and a Kiwi, and I could never have imagined this happening in any other hostel I've stayed at- this was possibly helped by the cheapness of the drinks and the location of the hostel which meant people didn't head into town (where drinks were 8 Euros a pop) until later. If you ever find yourself in Nice, STAY there!

Now to the real question, I know you're all asking mentally. Why the South of France? What draw does Nice have? Did you just feel the urge to act rich and snobby? Not becoming a grubby capitalist quite yet, I headed to Nice because the place I actually wanted to go is snobbier and richer and has no youth hostels. If you asked for a time or a year, I couldn't tell you but ever since I first saw High Society I have wanted to be Grace Kelly- not likely to happen but a girl can dream right? She just had the most amazing style- and I don't mean just her clothes which are gorgeous in most of her films- and was clearly so talented but the more I found out about the royal family in Monaco, the less I've been able to understand why she would marry into it. So for quite a while I've wanted to visit Monaco and see what deal might have been, and also after seeing another of her films I was convinced that the south of France is where you go to find insanely handsome cat burglars to marry (sadly Cary Grant (or his 21st century look alike) was nowhere to be found). No hostels or cheap hotels being on offer (the cabs in Monaco are all Mercedes and BMWs so if they had a hostel it would be bizarre); I opted to stay in the nearest town that did i.e. Nice. Nice is about 40 mins from Monaco by bus which is only a euro - the public transport in Nice is astoundingly cheap- or 25 min by train (I used the train as I had a trip left on my Eurail ticket that I needed to use but I would recommend the bus as it is much cheaper and scenery doesn't wiz past quite as much). Monaco, as it turns out, is an amazing beautiful place especially as it was a lovely day when I was there. The climate is not too dissimilar at an Australian climate in winter if a little colder (this actually goes for Nice as well) and I settled down and tried to look French (don't laugh I have been mistaken for a French person on about 10 occasions on this trip) as I ate my Nicoise salad and crepe for lunch. I then did what everyone does in Monte Carlo and went to the casino. Sadly James Bond wasn't there in either his Sean Connery or Daniel Craig incarnations. The casinos have mastered the act of stealing your money so the slot machine do not take coins only notes, cards or casino tickets and it costs 10 euro to even enter the room with the gaming tables in it at the Monte Carlo casino. Too scared to go anywhere near the tables (especially after seeing the army of luxury and sports cars parked out the front of the casino- four Ferraris, two Astons, a couple of Rolls and a Merc that I can remember but there were more), I let the slot machine steal 10 euro of my money and ran away. Monte Carlo (and as I discovered the next day, also Nice) loves the idea of Christmas Markets as much as I do so I got more Christmas market time in before returning to Nice. Returning to Nice, I thought if it was just of the beauty of the place and the getting to be a Princess, I can start to understand why Grace Kelly did it.

Monaco harbour- note the yachts...so many yachts.

The next day, I had a whole day to fill in Nice...what to do? I had heard people talking about the flower markets and how beautiful they are so I thought maybe I'll check them out. Definitely worth the visit if you are in Nice (they run every day except Monday from early in the morning- on Monday there is flea market in the same spot) though I'd say get there earlier than I did (11am) as it is very crowded and I'm sure the best flowers and produce go to the early birds. After that I headed up Chateau Hill to get a good view of the city and found the cemetery that is on the other side of the hill which not only has great views but also the cutest little chapel (from the outside I didn't go in). I wandered back down the hill through the Old Town and I wished that I had taken the chance to go on a walking tour of it but I didn't have the time. After a very French lunch of fried camembert with red fruit sauce, I wander up the beach in search of museums to entertain me. I located the Musée Masséna which partially a restored old house and partially a museum about Nice and the Masséna family. The girl on the ticket desk at this museum was a bit odd- that there was a ticket desk was odd in itself as admission is free (as it is at all museums in Nice). I was feeling up to attempting some French and so I walked up to the ticket desk held up one finger and said "Un billet, s'il vous plaît", girl holds up two fingers and says "Deux?", in response I hold up one finger again and say very firmly "Un". Not sure how that was misinterpreted as un and duex are quite different words even when you mangle French like I do but the French seem it find it bizarre that anyone does things on their own so that might be why. Back through some Christmas markets and after a crepe, I was off to hostel for New Years dinner. For the cost of 18 Euros, dinner included a glass of sangria (two in my case as two of us scammed a second glass before the bar staff were told that people were limited to one), bottles of wine on every table, and then four courses of food. I had one of my very rare meat eating nights as I didn't want to create more work for the chef who had cooked four courses for 200 people at the two hostels run by the same people in Nice (there is a second one in the centre of town) and chowed down on the four courses- Entree of potato and leek soup, main of French Provencal beef dish (read with lots of onions and mushrooms and wine here) accompanied by a massive load of mashed potato and carrots, dessert was a lemon tart and that was followed by a French cheese plate. The restaurants in the city were charging between 50 and 100 euro for their New Years meal so I think we scored. The people then suddenly all started to clear out and we were left thinking midnight is almost here what to do. The decision was head beachward of fireworks and so six of us- me, two other Aussies, a Kiwi (who was hoarding some fireworks he'd picked up in Italy) and two Norwegians- set off down the hill, having to walk/jog half the way as the trams weren't running down hill. We made it to the beach just in time for midnight and I got the fun of getting to use fireworks (only minor ones and legally I feel I must add) for the first time ever. Turning to head to the hostel, we found the trams now weren't running up hill (they'd started going downhill again) so we had the fun of a 45 minute walk up to the shuttle pick up spot- thankfully the bottom part of the hill isn't remotely steep. Finally off to back at 2.30, I was not looking forward to having to catch the train the next morning but at least I felt I'd celebrated the New Year.

People setting off Roman Candles on Nice Beach

So belated Happy New Year people of blog land and I'll be back soon with my words on Barcelona.