Monday, April 8, 2013

I admit it: I didn't like Barcelona. Feel free to shun me now.


Check in.
I guess I never got to talk about my spring break trip, so I’ll do that now. I feel that I’m consistently amazed by how essential pre-trip planning has turned out to be. Amidst planning trips to Scotland and Provence, writing essays, and generally getting settled into the program, I found myself just going with the crowd for the first half of spring break. A lot of people on our program wanted to go to Barcelona, and after not really taking the time to research anything else, I booked a flight and a hostel for six nights. Since sixteen of us (out of the 25 people on our program) ended up in Barça at some point, I absolved myself of the responsibility of reading up at all about what there was to do in Barcelona. I only got from the airport to the hostel by the generosity of my friends and the driver of our transport van, who were willing to squeeze two more people than had signed up online into the van for the 90-minute ride. The hostel itself was comically party-oriented; instead of having a lounge area on the ground floor like most hostels, this one had a full bar that played dance club music from 5 p.m. to 2 a.m. I found out quickly that Barcelona is like a glorified Miami—lots of beach, lots of partying, and days don’t start until noon and don’t end until the sun is just about to rise. For my part, I made the mistake of booking a 22-person room to save a few pounds, and was kept up from 4 a.m. to 6 a.m. for two nights by my roommates. By Day 2, I was already worn out and didn’t see much end in sight, so I decided to cut my losses and book a getaway. I was able to find a 3-hour bus ride to Perpignan, France and a relatively cheap hostel there, so I left Barcelona after three nights (I had to stay to see the FC Barcelona game) on that Monday. My time in Perpignan was rather uneventful, but I was able to get into the Pyrenees, snap some pictures, and get some much-needed rest. On Wednesday, I caught the bus back to Barça, where I stayed at a cheaper, quieter hostel before heading flying off to Amsterdam the next morning.
I spent the last four days of my spring break in Amsterdam, staying with my friend who had stayed with me in London at the beginning of the semester. She was staying in a host home, so I was able to experience some true Dutch culture through my interactions with her host mother. I learned that the Dutch are much more environmentally conscious than even the greenest of us Americans: I was banned from doing the dishes after I had absentmindedly left the faucet running for a few seconds. I was also thrust into the Dutch biking culture, as my friend instructed me to rent a used bike for the time I was there. There was really nothing like riding around Amsterdam on a bike, freed from the confining subway or bus walls yet still enraptured in the beauty and newness of the city passing by me. I really enjoyed Amsterdam—I was able to get to a lot of museums there (including the Anne Frank Huis) and we even got a tour of a working windmill! I had a good guidebook for the city, so made a point of exploring different restaurants and bars mentioned, and we were able to find a lot of authentic local places that were also incredibly welcoming.
Looking back, I was happy with where I was able to go on the trip. Had I planned better, I perhaps would have tried to go to Ireland or Paris or Italy, but where I ended up wasn’t too bad. I didn’t really care for Barcelona or much of Spain, and I felt at a real disadvantage there not being able to speak Spanish, but at least I know that now. I still adored France and felt very sad to leave the country—I hope I can make it back there someday. The Netherlands was challenging in its eternal commitment to social responsibility, since it contained an implicit condemnation of my lifestyle that I know to be completely valid. I am too consumerist, too wasteful, more willing to buy from companies who offer eccentric bells and whistles than from companies who commit to environmental sustainability and fair trade practices. There’s always time to change, though.
Check out.

Hôtel de Ville, Perpignan

Centre ville, Perpignan

The port in Barcelona.

Villefranche-de-Conflent, France

View of the Pyrenees from above Villefranche.

View from the Casa in Perpignan.

Working windmill in Amsterdam.


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