Beyond The Hole

Cape Dail, Monaco

July 28, 2002 @ 04:21 AM

Buenos dias from Barcelona. Last I write, I was relaxing on the beach in Nice. But just as I was growing accustomed to living on bread and cheese, I heard the call of the rails and pushed on to Barcelona.

Travelling to a new place every couple days breeds a certain infectious sort of impatience. You grow accustomed to new surroundings, new people, and the best experiences every single day. Bustling change becomes the norm, and anything remotely sedentary is unbearably frustrating. Such was the case in Nice.

I had a delightful final night: dinner at the hostel, then a nice long stroll on the waterfront. Meet an interesting woman and her seven-year old son, Max.

Max speaks both English and French, his mother being English and fluent in French from living in Nice for 10 years. When conversing with Max, she alternates English and French every other sentence. Max prefers French, but seems to understand both quite well. Seems best to get them started young.

Also met a nice couple from England, an American who´s been living in Amsterdam the past 4 months, and an older Italian man vacationing from his stressful day-trading career in Milan.

Spent the next day in opulent Monaco. Quite a clean little place, keenly pruned hedges, open-air escalators, security cameras, and all the other toys and trappings of some very wealthy people. Monaco´s three harbors must contain one of the largest and nicest collection of yachts, sail and speed boats I´ve ever had the chance to stroll amongst. And of course looking through the parking spaces near these same harbors, one is quite likely to see all manner of opulent cars. While I was there, I saw a number of Ferraris, 911s, Benzi, and even a couple Rolls Royces.

Saw the Monte Carlo casino from the outside. Nice big helipad its seaward side. Walked up the hill to the prince´s palace, where they have some guards equipped with silly hats marched back and forth. Went to the aquarium.

Went to the car museum. Lots of Roll Royces, Bentleys, early Fords, Cadillacs, Fiats, and Peugots — early Fiats remind me of the mock slot cars that you often find at fairs — the ones kids can hop in and pretend to steer. Nicest looking cars there, a ´37 Jaguar and a ´68 Maserati. Stealthily clipped some from flowers from the garden before taking off.

That evening took a night train to Barcelona. Arriving at the station around 11pm, I proceeded to wedge myself into the rather sardine-can accomidations; six bunks to each cabin. Sheets were provided and I brought my own snacks to litter them crumbs. Lights out and we we´re on our way. If it´s possible to be lulled asleep by the lurching of a train, it happened to me that night.

A most old and ill-tuned buzzer sounded our arrival in Spain at 7am the next morning. Catching a connecting train, I was in Barcelona by 9am.

Found a very nice hostel run by a spanish guy named Moses. He even did my laundry for free. Barcelona is a comfortable place for its size. Have been doing lots of sight seeing in the five days I´ve been here. Ran into James Tingey at his pottery workshop in Poble Espanyol — a small mock town where each building represents a different style and time period of Spanish architecture. Nick Martin was there, trying to spike a giant melon with Rum.

Went to the Picasso museum. Went to the Zoo.

Don´t go to the zoo. It was depressing. Poorly kept, sick looking animals. They had a penguin exhibit with some of the mangiest penguins I´d ever seen. In their cage grew all many of cacti, very odd sight. The crowning sight was an elephant reliving itself — really quite stomach-turning, but I just couldn’t avert my gaze.

Ah and most insane and disturbing thing happened to me yesterday. Whilst sun bathing in a public park, a Syrian man came up to me and told me I was very sexy — which earned him a very puzzled look from me in exchange — apparently not what he was expecting. At that point I decided it was a really bad idea to sun bath in such a place and quickly gathered my belongings and pressed on in the afternoon sun.

Shortly thereafter I then ran into what I think were some pick pockets or muggers. Walking around looking lost with my map out, a man approached me from behind trying to get my attention in Spanish. He seemed interested in my map, so I handed it to him. Then another man approached, flashing some kind of phony looking ID and asking for our passports. The first man quickly whipped his out. I told him no and started to walk away he told me to wait.

When I asked to see his papers first, he became uncomfortable and told me to leave; I happily did making sure neither followed. I suspect if I had pulled out my passport (in my money belt normally, safely locked up at my hostel) they would then have made a grab for the whole thing.

I´ve met some interesting folk at this hostel. A couple young spanish guys, three Brazilians, a girl from Quebec, two older women from Germany, an Aussie, and last night three gents from England. I´m the only American.

Ran into Perry from Rome at the net cafe, such a small world. So whats next? Tomorrow I leave for southern Spain: Granada, Seville that area. Really looking forward to it, although not the weather. It was about 100F there the other day. Wish me luck…